Chapter three
The Second Beginning, part two
a/n: so sorry for the wait. things haven't been well, and i've been buried under deadlines for other writing on top of it. but this one is a little longer than the earlier chapters! and hopefully that i can make some good progress over my very short school break, but we'll see if my head cooperates.
as always, thank you to everyone following along.
1. February 2015
"Hey, Rach. I'm about to go into my last class before the weekend. My train gets in at Grand Central at two. Let me know where to meet you. You can just send a text."
.
don't be silly. i'll meet you at the station. see you soon! can't wait! *r
.
Quinn heard Rachel's squeal a fraction of a second before she was crushed in Rachel's arms. "You're hereeeee," Rachel said into Quinn's shoulder.
"I'm hereeee," Quinn said back. Rachel pulled away and smiled into Quinn's eyes, then took her arm and led her out of the station.
"Do you want to get coffee now or drop your things off at the loft first?" Rachel asked once they were on the street.
"Coffee. Now." Quinn said.
Rachel laughed. "There's a place a few stops up. It's a bookshop, too. I thought of you when I walked first walked past."
Quinn looked down at Rachel. The flyaways from her ponytail were caught in the sun, set to a metallic glow, and the way the light washed over her face softened her features. Rachel tilted her head to rest on Quinn's shoulder.
Quinn's chest warmed. She squeezed Rachel's arm in hers. Her overnight bag, slung over her opposite shoulder, kept time with their steps.
2. June 2015
"Can I come there this weekend? You've been here the last two visits, and...I want to come to you."
Quinn could hear the smile in Rachel's voice. She looked around her room. Piles of clothing, books, loose papers, dirty tea mugs-all the surfaces were cluttered with refuse. "Um. Sure? I mean when?"
Rachel was quiet for a beat. "Do you not want me to? I don't have to." Her voice was willowy over the line.
"No, it's not that, I promise. It's just-" Quinn chuckled. "My apartment is a disaster. I'll clean, though. Of course you can visit here."
Rachel hummed. "You don't have to clean for me, Quinn. Is this weekend too soon?"
"Not at all. Just be warned; you're small enough to get swallowed by some of these piles."
Rachel scoffed.
"I'm serious, Rach. But don't worry, I'm sure I can find some time to Rachel-proof. I'll see you this weekend."
"Okay," Rachel said. "I have rehearsal tonight, but if you're still up studying can we skype after?"
"Sure. Have a good rehearsal. I'll talk to you tonight."
.
Quinn watched the clock. Rachel had been getting home from rehearsals around nine-thirty all week. She'd been cast as Sally in a just-off-Broadway production of Cabaret. Quinn's ears were still ringing from when Rachel'd called just after she'd found out.
When her phone rang at seven, she picked it up without looking, expecting Santana or Brittany, maybe her sister.
"Quinn?" Rachel's voice was thick, wobbly.
"Rach? What's wrong?"
"I hurt my ankle," Rachel whimpered.
Quinn's chest seized. "What? What happened?"
"I think it's just a sprain, but they put me out and my fucking understudy in. I mean, can you believe it?! It's just a fucking sprain, I can dance through it."
Quinn winced and held the phone away from her ear until she got the volume turned down. Her chest slackened, some, once Rachel calmed from the verge of tears to an emphatic whine. Quinn let out a deep breath. "I'm sure they were concerned if they're having you sit out," she said.
Rachel huffed. "Well," she said after a moment, "I may have fallen...once or twice. But it's fine now! I iced it for a few minutes. They won't let me go back on." Her voice slumped.
"Oh, Rach," Quinn said. "It'll be alright. Just take it easy and you'll be back right back up there."
"It will not be alright! How could this be alright?"
Quinn cleared her throat, cocked an eyebrow, waited for Rachel to catch up with herself.
It only took a few seconds. Rachel sighed. "Sorry, I just-I'm afraid of losing the part."
"I know," Quinn said, in her best soothing-a-baby-animal voice. "Are you still icing it?"
"Yeah."
"Just take care of your ankle," Quinn told her, "You'll be back up there in no time. Did you get home okay?"
"I haven't left the theatre yet. My foot, it's..." Rachel paused, hesitant. She cleared her throat. "It's throbbing, just a little."
Quinn sighed. "Can someone give you a ride home?"
"I already called Kurt. He's on his way to help me home."
"Alright. Should I plan on getting a ticket for this weekend?"
"No-no, I think we should," Rachel swallowed. "Wait and see how I feel. Okay?"
"Yeah. That's fine. Will you call me when you get home?"
"Of course. But...can you stay on the phone til Kurt gets here?"
Quinn smiled and pushed her work aside.
.
True to her word, Rachel called as soon as Kurt got her settled on the couch.
"Did he give you anti-inflammatories? A fresh ice pack?" Quinn asked.
Rachel laughed. "Yes, Quinn. I'm all taken care of. He even put Funny Girl on for me."
"Good man," Quinn said.
A silence settled over the line; just as Quinn went to break it, Rachel spoke up. "I could use some warm snuggles with this ice pack," she said, "But I can probably make it to this weekend. Deal?"
Quinn smiled, nodding. "Deal," she said.
"Was-that wasn't too much was it?"
"No, Rachel. Not at all."
"Whew." Rachel said emphatically; her laugh danced down the line.
.
"Kurt speaking."
"Hey, Kurt."
"Quinn?"
"Yeah, sorry to bother you. Rachel was going to visit this weekend, but I don't want her traveling on a bad ankle, and I also know she's not above fibbing to get her way, so I was hoping to get the truth of it from you."
"Smart girl," Kurt said. "She's still pretty wobbly. She's made it to the theatre every day but they haven't let her back on yet. I'm sure you can imagine what kind of terror my home life is right now."
"Hmm," Quinn said. "Sorry. I've tried to distract her."
"Oh, I know. There's something to being able to outrun her though," he snickered. "But if she can make the multi-train trek to the theatre and back, plus to all of her classes, I don't see why she can't make it to New Haven. Anyway-and repeat this on pain of death-I don't think either of us could stop her if we handcuffed her to the radiator. Let's just say she's got something of an agenda this weekend."
"An agenda?"
"Just...be gentle with her, Quinn."
"What do you-"
"Pain of death, Q."
.
Quinn watched Rachel hobble off the train, helped by an overly-friendly security officer. She scowled at him as she approached and snagged Rachel's attention before he could get so much as a parting glance. She leaned in and brushed her lips against Rachel's cheek and slung Rachel's overnight bag over her shoulder.
Quinn had been obsessing all week over Kurt's words. Be gentle with her. The weight of them, Quinn thought, had less to do with a twisted ankle and everything to do with the way Rachel had been flirting with increasing openness, the way her voice gentled when she called Quinn 'Quinnie.' Quinn had to fight her heart back into its cavity whenever Kurt's words came back to her; everything she'd wanted was a scratch below the surface, and maybe-just maybe-the last layer was about to be peeled away.
Rachel wrapped her arms around one of Quinn's and leaned into her. "Told you I could make it," she said, fishing.
Quinn rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. She pulled Rachel closer and dipped her head, just for a moment, so that her nose brushed against Rachel's hair; jasmine, something warm and earthy, Rachel. "I never said you couldn't," Quinn corrected, "I said you shouldn't. There's a difference, stubborn girl."
Rachel squeezed Quinn's arm, gave her more of her weight.
"So, how's your ankle?"
"Better. Not...great, but better."
"Are you hungry? Did you want to get an early dinner?"
"Can we just...go back to yours? I just want to-talk."
Quinn's stomach pulsed, the skitter of ripples on a pond. "Of course, Rach. Whatever you want."
.
"I thought you said you were going to clean," Rachel said as she followed Quinn into the apartment.
Quinn had cleaned; she'd done dishes, laundry, taken the headshot from that winter show at NYADA down from the wall next to her desk. Her books had been stacked neatly around the room; loose papers were raked into a few mountains under her desk.
"Hush, you," she just said. "Just don't get too close to the closet and you should be safe from getting sucked into any Rachel-Berry-sized wormholes." She dropped Rachel's bag onto the bed. Rachel's back was to her; she was running her fingers along the spines of the books that had made it onto a shelf. Backlit by a strawfire-sunset seeping through the window, Rachel was haloed, a bandaged seraph. Quinn pulsed her fists, willed herself to remain where she was. She looked to the floor, let out a stilted breath.
When she looked up again, Rachel had gone still. She was watching her. Their eyes hooked, and Rachel took a few stilted steps in Quinn's direction.
"I wasn't going to, yet, but-" Rachel let out a short breath, took a step, stumbled, but she was close enough, now that Quinn took a quick step forward and caught her. Her hands lingered on Rachel's upper arms, and Rachel looked down, bit her lip, met Quinn's eyes again. Steadied, she leaned forward, tilted her chin, and Quinn saw the edges of her eyes tilt in a smile before Rachel kissed her, a soft movement, chaste and lingering.
Quinn's hands pulsed around Rachel's arms. Rachel hummed against her lips and pulled away. When Quinn opened her eyes, Rachel's were still closed.
"Please tell me that was okay," Rachel said.
Quinn smiled all the way to her eyes and moved to cup Rachel's face. Rachel woke, and Quinn brought them nose-to-nose, pressed their lips together again, harder this time. She felt Rachel's smile against her mouth.
"More than okay," Quinn said when they pulled apart. She took both of Rachel's hands in her own and breathed warmth over the knuckles.
.
Rachel was already straddling her in a bra and lacy underwear, panting, when she said, "We don't have to do this, I mean-" she pressed a hot kiss to Quinn's collarbone. "Stop me if it's too much."
"You're kidding, right?" Quinn said, gripping Rachel's sides so firmly that her fingers settled in the ravines between Rachel's ribs.
"Mmm. Thank god," Rachel said, rutting down into Quinn's lap and kissing her so hard she felt the neat row of Quinn's front teeth solid and blunt through her lip. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting this," she whispered when she pulled away.
Quinn reached between them and cupped Rachel through lace. "I think I have some idea," she said, "Can I take these off?"
Two days later, as Quinn walked home after seeing Rachel off at the train station, she would find those lacy underwear balled up in her coat pocket, still warm. And, with Rachel-Berry-prescience, her phone would chime not a minute later:
;) *r
July 2015
"You're sure you'll be here on time?"
"Yes. I'm packing now. I might even be early."
"What if the train is delayed? What if-"
"Rachel, calm down. There's nothing that'll stop me from being there. You just focus on preparing."
"Quinn, I am a star; I was born prepared. But I need you there if I want to shine. You have to be there."
"I will be!"
"Okay!"
Quinn sighed and zipped her overnight bag. "You're not nervous at all?"
"We have been preparing for months and I'm confident that the show will be wonderful," Rachel said, adding, "As long as you're in the audience."
.
Quinn had sat in on a few rehearsals, but the theatre was transformed by the murmuring crowd, a well-stocked bar, the melodic cacophony of the house band warming up. She ordered a glass of red wine at the bar before skirting around the seating area and slipping backstage.
Rachel's dressing room had a sharpied sign on the door; someone-Rachel, Quinn guessed-had added little gold star stickers so that the name was nestled in a night sky.
She tapped on the door twice before opening it. Rachel was sat at the vanity with a stylist hovering around her head. Quinn approached and leaned to brush her lips against Rachel's cheek, presenting her with a small bouquet of gardenias.
"Oh, Quinn," Rachel said, turning to catch Quinn's lips. "Thank you. These are beautiful."
"I'll put them in water," Quinn said, mouthing a sorry to the stylist and wiping the extra red off her lips with the back of her hand.
She couldn't find a vase, but there was a carafe of water on a table near the door, so she poured a glass in case Rachel wanted any and submerged the gardenias' stems.
When she looked up, Rachel's reflection was watching her. "You look beautiful, Quinn," she said, reaching for her. "I'm so glad you're here."
Quinn sat with her until Rachel was called up, then went to her reserved table near the stage.
.
Quinn emptied her second glass of wine just after intermission; she wasn't sure if it was the alcohol coursing warm through her veins or lust or admiration or pure, unadulterated affection-maybe all those combined-but she could practically feel how blown her pupils were watching Rachel on stage. On the one hand, she was just so fucking proud of her girl; on the other, she was in total awe that she considered Rachel-that Rachel, up on stage, whose voice gave her a shiver along her spine and a swelling warmth in her chest-that that girl was hers. And at the final round of bows, as Rachel took center stage and the rest of the cast stepped back and gave her to the spotlight, Rachel caught Quinn's gaze, smiled, and blew her a kiss, right in front of everyone.
.
"Rach, you were amazing," Quinn said, "Just...stunning."
As soon as she'd gotten to Rachel's dressing room, Rachel had pressed her against the door with her whole body and kissed her, hard, refusing to let up until they were both so oxygen-deprived they were on the verge of collapse.
"You taste like wine. Good wine," Rachel noted, kissing her again, tasting her lips.
"Yeah, the girl at the bar comped all my drinks after I told her I was fucking the lead," Quinn said.
Rachel pulled back and narrowed her eyes. "You did not," she said, smiling.
Quinn just shrugged and cocked an eyebrow.
"Don't you give me that smug look," Rachel said, but her smile was wide. "I'm going to change and wash my face. Would you get the lead you're fucking a glass of something? Apparently I need to catch up."
.
"How long do we have?" Rachel asked as she hovered over Quinn later that night.
"I have to leave early Monday morning to get back in time for my classes."
Rachel nodded and pressed into her again.
4. January 2016
"I have news," Quinn said, as soon as Rachel picked up.
"Good news?"
"I think so, yes. Really good. I-I went to an open audition last week in Boston, and they've just called to tell me I got the part-I mean, it's nothing big-time, just an indie, but-it feels like something, you know?"
"Oh, Quinn!" Rachel was on the verge of squealing; Quinn heard her trying to pin down her voice. "That's wonderful news!"
"I don't really know a lot yet, but, well, the filming is in New York, starting at the end of the month, so...I mean, they'll put me up, but..."
Rachel couldn't help the grin. "Stay with me."
Quinn's chest unfurled. "I would love to."
.
"You're in a chipper mood today, miss Rachel," Joel said that night. Joel was the M.C. in Cabaret; it was intermission, and he was getting his eyeliner touched up where it had wilted with sweat.
"I got some good news this afternoon," Rachel said, grinning.
"And?"
"Quinn's going to be filming in the city," Rachel grinned. "She'll be staying with me a few nights a week for almost a month."
Joel raised a salacious eyebrow. "Well, if Kurt needs a place to stay, tell him I'm offering."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "We're not rabbits."
"Uh-huh," Joel said, lining his lower lids. One of the stage hands signaled them; Rachel acknowledged them in the mirror.
"Showtime," Joel mumbled.
.
As soon as Rachel saw Quinn at the train station on her first trip in for filming, nursing a cup of coffee, travel-weary and bogged down by her suitcase, the bindings in her chest loosened and she had to blink back tears.
Quinn spotted her, smiled, waved, all blunt teeth and sweet eyes. Rachel tucked herself into the warmth of Quinn's shoulder, taking in her animal scent, loosening at the seams.
A sniffle gave Rachel away, even as her face was concealed.
"Hey, what is it?" Quinn asked, pulling back; Rachel wouldn't let go. Her chest was swampy, flooding. She shook her head and held Quinn more tightly.
"Rachel? Are you alright?" Quinn tried to pull back to see Rachel's face, but Rachel still wouldn't let go. "Okay. Okay," Quinn said, allowing Rachel to cling.
"I'm sorry," Rachel mumbled, soupy. "I didn't mean to-I didn't think I-I'm sorry." Another sniffle, hot breath clinging in vapors to the side of Quinn's neck. Rachel tried to pull it back in, reabsorb the tears, her running nose. "I just-I miss you, that's all, and you're here now, and-I'm just happy." Rachel pulsed with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"It's alright. You're alright." Quinn sighed and softened. "I missed you, too."
.
Rachel didn't stop clinging to her all night, right up until she went on stage.
In the morning, Quinn was marked: bruises like spoiled, ruptured fruit smeared and blossomed over a hipbone, the insides of her thighs, her belly, breasts, along her collarbones; marks as stark and irreversible as spilled ink.
Rachel, unblemished, slept heavily next to her, clinging the sheet to her chest, crumpling it in two balled fists.