Weeks later, Quinn was burning out. She moved monotonously through her mornings because she tossed tirelessly through the nights. Most of the time, she put on the facade that nothing was wrong. If anyone asked, she was happy that Rachel was out of her life, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Denying it was like pretending that gravity didn't exist: she tried as mightily as she could, but she couldn't wish herself to fly away or fall off the face of the earth; it simply wasn't possible.
Santana and Brittany had taken to sleeping in Quinn's bed, at Brittany's request. The two of them would sleep on either side of her, as if to create a buffer to keep out the night terrors and protect the broken girl from what had happened. The dancer would hold the other blonde near her, stroking her arm affectionately or pressing sporadic kisses into her hair to try and put her to sleep. Still, hours later, when Quinn would find herself shaking from the silent sobs racking through her deteriorating body, it was Santana, not Brittany, that would hold her and keep her from sinking away from reality.
Quinn opened one eye at the signs of daybreak creeping in through her shut senses: she could avoid the light turned fleshy through her eyelids by burying her face in the pillow, but she couldn't avoid the sweet chirping of birds out the bedroom window. The girl rolled her eyes at the cheerful noise as she slipped soundlessly out of bed, keeping quiet so as not to wake the spooning couple taking over the other half of the bed. Tip-toeing softly into the kitchen, she rummaged quietly in the cupboards, not quite sure what she was looking for, but emitting a triumphant grunt when she succeeded in finding the largest glass she owned.
Humming softly, the blonde stifled a yawn as she dropped a few ice cubes into the oversized tumbler and filled it to the brim with water.
Quinn didn't realize what she was doing, not even when the water dribbled down her chin. Groaning, she swiped at her skin with her unoccupied sleeve. She swirled the inch of water left in the cup around mindlessly, but it was only when she began to circle the rim of the cup with the fingertips of her other hand that her thoughts turned to the last time she saw Rachel and how the brunette had explained her habit of drinking water when she was upset. The blonde felt her stomach flip, nausea washing over her in constant waves.
The tears sprung to her eyes, and she hadn't realized that she had dropped the glass until Santana's arms were around her, pulling her away from the broken shards and splinters and calling to her sleeping fiancée to come help. Quinn had had every intention of carrying on the way she had been, but when her first rational thought, even through her sobs, was that now she no longer owned a cup large enough for Rachel to drown her sorrows in, she finally had to admit it to herself.
As sick as it made Quinn to confess it, she missed Rachel.
The bell linked to the door broke the quiet of the café and Quinn looked up, breath catching in her throat. The sight of the confident man striding through the door had her heart lodging in her chest as panic washed over her.
Standing as tall as the day she had first seen him, Greg tugged on his shirt's sleeve nervously as his eyes scanned the near empty café until they fell upon her standing behind the counter. Quinn found herself frozen, her body glued to the spot as Rachel's director advanced towards her. Her mind screamed at her body to run in the opposite direction, but her legs stayed rooted to the spot as wide eyes found themselves unable to tear themselves away from one of the most terrifying sights of her life.
"Hello, there. Quinn, is it? I'm Greg, the director." He asked, smiling at the blonde disarmingly. Terror coursed through the blonde's veins, as she stood shell-shocked before the intimidating man.
Greg frowned, clearing his throat and shoving his hands in his pockets. "I- uh, I guess I should have known that you wouldn't want to see me." His eyes searched Quinn's face, his forehead crumpling in defeat as he tried once more. "Rachel talked to me. I wanted to-" Cutting off, the man straightened up and met Quinn's gaze once more, speaking more confidently. "I'm here to apologize."
The words rocked the blonde backwards and she found herself stumbling into a gentle but secure embrace as venom laced words cut through the air. "You can leave now, Greg." Kirsten hissed lowly, her grip on Quinn firm, even as the brunette moved to stand between the director and the frightened girl. "Rachel Berry isn't welcome here and neither are you."
Greg took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender as he sincerely pleaded, "I'm just here to talk. To apologize."
"Who do you think you are? Showing up here after everything you've done to her? You're no better than Berry and don't you for a second fool yourself into thinking you are. You both are the most despicable people I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." Kirsten gritted out, letting go of Quinn and moving closer to the intimidated man. "I'm going to tell you this one last time, Greg. Get the fuck out of here before I throw you out myself," the brunette threatened, her features darkening ominously as she bored holes into the director's eyes.
Licking his lips uneasily, he stepped back looking entreatingly in Quinn's direction. "I just wanted to help you understand, Quinn. I'm not here to speak on Rachel's behalf, just to explain that there's a little more under the surface and-"
"Get out!" Kirsten thundered suddenly, a closed fist coming down on the counter, the mugs resting on the end trembling from the force. The few patrons of the café jerked up at the sudden noise, one going as far as to gather his things and exit the café in a grumbling huff about proper times and places for such conversations.
Kirsten had had enough and she moved to head to the other side of the counter when a soft voice called back to her. Kirsten turned to Quinn, an eyebrow quirked up so high that the blonde would have been proud had it been under different circumstances.
"I—" Quinn found the words catching on the jagged edges of her heart, still lodged successfully in her chest and she cleared her throat, trying again with a glance at the devastatingly relieved man in front of her. "I think I want to talk to him, Kirsten."
Her co-worker looked on incredulously, moving in to speak urgently under her breath, as her eyes searched Quinn's face for any uncertainty. "Q, are you a hundred percent sure about this?"
Mustering up a small, weak smile, Quinn patted her friend's arm and moved to remove her apron. "I haven't been a hundred percent sure about anything for a while, Kirst. We'll talk right outside. If anything at all looks fishy, you have my permission to come running to my rescue to do whatever your heart desires."
Grumbling, Kirsten looked up at the man and bit out one last warning, assuring him that if he so much as made one wrong move, he would be castrated in the most painful way he could imagine.
Greg swallowed, nodding jerkily at the brunette as Quinn watched from the side. This man was nothing like the one she had met before. Recalling his acting chops, the question of authenticity arose immediately. He had been so intimidating, commandeering, and demanding at the auditions. In the coffee house, Greg had been seemingly genuine and sincere. But he was an actor, Quinn reminded herself and the fact of the matter was that she knew nothing about him.
Nodding curtly at the man, the blonde led him to a small set of tables and chairs outside the door of the café.
The director moved immediately to pull a chair out for the blonde, gesturing for her to sit down with a small smile on his face. Cocking her head to one side, Quinn deliberately reached over and pulled the other chair back noisily, slipping into the seat and watching the smile fall off of Greg's face.
Clearing his throat, the man smoothly recovered from the rejection and moved to sit down in the chair he had held out for Quinn. He folded his hands on the tabletop only to unfold them immediately and rub them on the thighs of his perfectly fitting jeans.
Laughing hesitantly, he looked up at Quinn briefly. "Sorry. I—I'm actually kind of nervous."
"Why?" It was the first word the blonde had spoken to the man and she uttered so quietly that had he not been watching her so intently, he would have missed it entirely.
"Ah- she speaks." Greg attempted feebly, then dropped the smile again as Quinn continued to scrutinize him from across the table. "A—Actually-" Clearing his throat, he deepened his voice and spoke a little louder, "Coming here was an impulse decision. I spoke to Rachel a few days ago, immediately after—" he paused, his face puckering unattractively as he struggled to find the right word.
"After she fucked me over, you mean." Quinn supplied, not a drop of humor to be found in her words.
"Y-Yeah. After that." Greg stammered, scooting forward in his chair to look curiously at Quinn. "I was just sitting in my office earlier and I couldn't get you out of my head. Everything Rachel told me, it just—it really brought me down, you know?" Knowing better than to expect a response from the girl by now, he continued on. "And I was just wondering if I was in your shoes—"
"You're not in my shoes." Quinn cut in, hissing at the director who looked very taken aback at the maliciousness flaring up in the blonde's eyes. "You put me in this position. You did this to me and don't you dare forget it."
"I—I won't." Leaning up, he rubbed his cheek roughly and let out a rough chuckle. "I think I'm in a little over my head, Quinn. I came to apologize. To let you know how sorry I was for letting Rachel take it as far as she did."
Quinn sat silently in her chair, looking up when Kirsten exited the coffee house with a single mug of steaming cocoa. Setting the mug in front of the blonde, the barista leaned down and pressed a soft kiss in her hair, whispering softly in her ear that she was just a second away should she need her. Smiling genuinely, Quinn squeezed her friend's hand briefly, grateful for the support and security Kirsten's loyalty provided.
As Kirsten breezed by Greg without even a glance of acknowledgement, he lifted a hand slightly in the air and called to her. "Actually, would it be possible to get the same thing she's—"
"Fuck off, asswipe." Kirsten interrupted, not even the slightest falter in her stride as she disappeared inside the café once more.
Clearing his throat, Greg slumped in his chair, "Duly noted. Your friend there—she's quite the um—well, she's definitely something." He finished lamely and dragged a hand through his graying hairs. "You're right, you know? I'm responsible for this. Just as much as Rachel, if not more."
Quinn dug her fingernails into the palms of her hand, willing to keep the involuntary wince at the brunette's name under control. She shook her head gently, desperately willing the warm chocolate gaze out of her mind and focused on Greg's rambling apology.
The man seemed to be bouncing from one thing to another, in no particular order and Quinn found herself more lost than before. Holding up a hand, she stopped his rambling and looked on curiously, with no malice in her gaze anymore. "Why are you here, Greg? Honestly."
He seemed to be slightly confused by the question if his furrowed brow was anything to go by. "I—I don't know. I just wanted to let you know that I was sorry and I guess explain the situation if I would be allowed to do so, that is."
The blonde immediately shook her head, letting out a sigh of disappointment. "I don't want excuses, Greg. If that's all you're here to offer me, I suggest you leave now and save your breath."
"No!" Greg instantly protested, shaking his head vehemently. "It's not an excuse. I'm not trying to shirk responsibility, here. That's the point I'm trying to get across here, though I can see that I'm not doing a very good job. I'm here to own up to my faults, Quinn. I'm here to explain what was going on in my head, in Rachel's, what it was we were trying to accomplish and how things spiraled out of everyone's control."
Panic surged through Quinn's body, realization dawning upon her that the answers to all of her questions were sitting right in front of her. Sensing the dread, Greg leaned in with another one of his disarmingly charming smiles. "You don't have to do any of this, Quinn. It's all just my way of letting you know you—"
"Start from the beginning." The blonde interrupted, eyes closed as she took slow deep breaths. Letting her eyes flutter open, she nodded once more, speaking more assuredly. "I want to know everything. All the details."
And so it began.
Greg was most certainly a storyteller and Quinn could see why he worked so well in the field he had chosen. He began by introducing himself properly as an old friend of Rachel's. The two had been friends for years now, a project from art school long ago resulting in the blossoming of a beautiful friendship. The blonde listened intently as Greg explained the actress's past.
She had been head over heels when she arrived in New York. Young, dumb, and in love, the director explained sadly, remembering the mouse of a man who had followed in her wake.
Finn Hudson had been her high school sweetheart and when she arrived in the big city at the tender age of 18, she was already engaged to the man whom she believed to be the love of her life. The mug lay forgotten as Greg weaved a tale so thorough and detailed that Quinn found herself reliving Rachel's past as though it were her own.
Finn had abandoned what he had considered his future when he left their small town to follow the aspiring actress to New York. Their relationship seemed steady, strong, and solid even, leaving Quinn to wonder what had happened to leave Rachel not only single but in the market for the fairer sex. Greg had laughed when she voiced this aloud, advising the blonde to be patient if she wanted to know everything. He explained how as the wedding date drew closer, the couple seemed to do the same.
Rachel was not the merely aspiring actress she had pretended to be. Greg was quick to point out that she was by no means famous, but that Rachel Berry had more than a little credibility to her name, all of which she earned legitimately. As her success grew, she had begun spending more and more time away from home and Finn was unable to cope with his friends taking jabs at him about what his girlfriend was doing out late at such hours of the night.
Here, Greg paused, tapping his fingers on the table. "I'm sorry, Quinn. All I can say is that when the wedding was about two months away, the two of them started having problems. Rachel had always been trusting, almost to the point of naivety at times but her fiancé had been quite the opposite. The more time Rachel spent away, the more suspicious Finn became. The details surrounding this are ones that are sworn to secrecy and though I owe you, I can't deny Rachel this confidence. She's broken enough as it is, and to take this away from her…I can't do that. I hope you'll understand."
Quinn nodded curtly, gesturing with her hand for the director to continue, which he did. "Obviously, they cancelled the wedding, and the two went their separate ways, but—but what happened between the two of them; it changed Rachel forever. She had only gone out exclusively with men prior to Finn, but sexuality was never an issue for her. She considered herself to be very flexible. In the past year or two, I've most certainly noticed a preference for women though. Regardless of whom she was dating, Rachel became irrationally insecure, sneaking looks at text messages, etc. on the phone of whomever she was dating,.."
"She also always felt that people suspected her and she let that get to her. Finally, it got to the point where she felt the need to weed people out. Initially, she had resorted to more subtlety than you saw. Slipping a well-placed sentence to a friend of her significant other was sufficient enough for her. The rumor would get back to whomever it was she was dating at the time and she would gauge their response."
Sighing sadly, Greg corrected himself, "At least in the beginning, it was. She'd come to me after a day or two following the 'test'," he explained, coupling the word with air quotes. "She would show up at my office in tears or donning an enormous grin, recounting how her beloved had failed or passed the test. It seemed harmless at first but as time went on, the rumors she planted began to become more and more intricate. Still, I took little concern over it and I let her do her thing.
"I remember the time she first asked me to help her," he added, eyes glossing over as he recalled the memory. "She had been dating a redhead and though the girl seemed susceptible to bouts of minor jealousy, she showed promise. Rachel had come bursting into my office one afternoon begging me to play the role of a shady director, one that I assure you, I am not. I refused but that girl doesn't quit." He let out a soft chuckle, laced with subtle hints of remorse. "I never should have said yes, but I did. And there began her new game."
"The affair with you?" Quinn waited for the pause to interject softly, genuinely feeling sorry for the man sitting in front of her. The thought of the entire thing possibly being another act was still at the back of her mind but the amount of sincerity she found in Greg seemed too much to dispute.
"The pretend affair with me, Quinn." The director gently corrected, resituating himself in the chair as he leaned back. "She would refuse to let whoever she was dating come to an audition for a duration of time, introduce me as the smarmy director, and wait to see where their minds went." Clicking his tongue, he shrugged helplessly. "More often than not, her boyfriends or girlfriends failed the test. Each failure just managed to strengthen her belief that she was doing the right thing in weeding out those she could trust and those she couldn't. I tried to convince her that she wasn't going about this the right way but she had some logical points that you couldn't really argue with."
He laughed incredulously then and at Quinn's insistence, confessed breathlessly. "I don't even remember her argument anymore. I just remember it making sense in a way only Rachel Berry could manage."
"So you continued in her little game." Quinn clarified, the tip of her finger circling the rim of the cocoa mug in front of her.
"So I continued in her little game," Greg agreed, scratching roughly at his neck with a deep frown embedded on his face. "But still, until you came along—She never came close to what we pulled on you."
Skeptical, Quinn shook her head as she reached for her phone, sending Kirsten a text asking for food for both Greg and herself. "Forgive me, but I have a hard time believing she just flipped a switch with me."
"Oh, believe me. I understand." The man responded, smiling. "When she met you, she was instantly smitten. Rachel almost floated into my office the first time she stepped foot into this café. I swear, I must have heard hundreds of times how luscious your hair was and how the sunlight 'sparkles in the flecks of gold in those eyes' before you two became an actual couple." Greg teased Quinn, sending a wink her way and snickering at the blush coloring her cheeks.
Kirsten noisily disrupted them, dropping Greg's plate down carelessly before placing the other one in front of Quinn. "Enjoy, Quinn," She added sweetly, before turning and acknowledging the director with a curt nod, "Asshole."
When he reached for the Panini sitting in front of him cautiously, Quinn let out a genuine chuckle before assuring him that though Kirsten was capable of physical violence, she wouldn't resort to such things like poison or spit. "She likes to see fear. She just wouldn't be gratified with either of those things," the blonde added with a small smirk, finding Greg to be just as great a listener as he was a storyteller.
At Quinn's request, the director continued with his story, explaining how Rachel had completely fallen head over heels for Quinn in no time. "In fact, though I'm not sure, she didn't bring up anything at all about testing you until your high school friends came to visit."
The blonde swallowed the bite she was working on and looked up in confusion. "She didn't let me come to any auditions before that, though. She must have known she was going to test me if she had done that."
Laughing, Greg reached over to pat the girl's hand. "She was auditioning for the starring role in a Broadway play. It was a long shot and she knew she would be rejected. I remember this because, Quinn dear, she sat in my office when she didn't get the callback telling me she was glad she hadn't let you see her mess up an audition that important."
He popped the last bit of his Panini in his mouth, leaning back and patting his stomach with a satisfied grin. "Say what you want about your friend's attitude, but she makes a mean Panini."
Quinn laughed, gingerly, delicately taking another bite from her sandwich before tucking her legs under herself. "So what happened with Santana and Brittany that caused Rachel to go all—you know."
"Well, something about one of them trying to convince you to keep an eye on her," Greg guessed with a shrug. "She came in crying one day and said that she was certain you didn't trust her.
He waved a hand in the air passively, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth down, as he continued. "The next thing I know, you're sitting front row at a production we put on to convince you that she and I were having an affair. It was only meant to raise suspicion, invoke rumors and such among you and your friends. Until, of course, Rachel marched in and demanded we take it a step farther." Pausing, he clicked his tongue, seemingly deep in thought. "I suppose, in a way, she was just trying to push you away. With everything that happened with Finn, she began to expect that from everyone around her."
"But what she did was crossing the line, Greg! You should have stopped her!"
"I tried, Quinn. Believe me. I'm not too fond of playing this role. Like I said, in the beginning, it wasn't much at all. With you, though—with you, she just had it set in her head that you were going to leave and when you didn't, she pushed harder and harder until—well, you know." He finished lamely, looking down at his empty plate guiltily.
Taking a deep breath, he leaned back and slumped in his chair, scratching the back of his neck as he apologized once more. "Listen, I'm—I'm really sorry. I know that I should have tried harder—I tried to reason with her. More than once, I tried—it just, it never really got through her head until now that she was doing something wrong."
He paused again, rubbing his hands over his face harshly as he let out a groan. "Rachel has this—she's—she's got this tendency to decide what she wants to do and then really fight for it. She doesn't understand why others won't just agree and she kept pestering me and pestering me, until I just said yes. That's part of the reason I'm here today, to really apologize for the fact that I gave in. We may not have had sex, but what Rachel and I did do to you wasn't any better and I'm sorry for that."
Quinn leaned back into her chair, her head beginning to hurt with the overwhelming amount of information being shoved in front of her.
"I know Rachel's sorry, too. She's devastated without you, Quinn." Greg murmured softly, reaching over and covering the blonde's hand with one of his own. "By no means am I telling you to go over there and make up, but—I just thought you'd like to know that you meant more to her than the others to her. She's completely at a loss of what to do. I wouldn't shy away from betting that though she has most certainly fucked you over as you said, her feelings for you were nothing less than the absolute truth."
They sat for a few moments more in silence before Greg stood and excused himself, regretfully pointing out that he had an actual audition to run. Moving to Quinn's side of the table, he pulled out a card scribbling something on the back and setting it down before squeezing Quinn's shoulder gently. "That's got my cell number on there and on the back is where Rachel has been hiding out these past few days. You should talk to her."
He left then, leaving the girl alone at the table. Quinn played with the card for the better part of five minutes, for some irrational reason afraid to turn it over. When she finally managed to muster up enough courage, her heart swelled and her eyes glazed over.
"Fuck."
An hour later found Quinn engraving a permanent groove into the worn down wooden floors of her apartment. She paced from one side of her room to the other as Kirsten, Brittany, and Santana all watched on.
Kirsten, actively participating, spouted off a hundred reasons as to why Quinn should do anything but go to see Rachel again. Brittany sat nearby, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she watched Quinn, her tears a key reason as to why Santana half-heartedly refuted each of the brunette's objections with a logical answer.
At one point, Santana had turned to Brittany and gently asserted that she may want to side with Kirsten on this issue. The blonde dancer's face took on such an anguished look that her girlfriend immediately retracted her statement and continued to try to convince Quinn to go see the actress.
Quinn was agonizingly torn. The thought of seeing Rachel calmed her erratic heart but settled deep in her gut, succeeding in making her feel at peace and sick to her stomach at the same time.
She had yet to set the card Greg had given her down anywhere, looking down once more to trace the curves of his rushed note. The address took her back to Valentine's Day, the private lake that Rachel had brought her to.
The blonde knew that seeing Rachel would be difficult. Hell, it would be one of the worst things she'd have to go through but as Brittany squeezed her hand gently, she knew that she had no other choice.
She had to go see Rachel.
The wind whipped at her skin, stinging sharply and forcing Quinn to tighten her coat around herself as she stepped out of her old truck. Scanning the empty parking lot, hazel eyes fell upon the car that they had been seeking out. She turned her head to the walkway on her side, her gaze following it to the secluded lake
It was no surprise that she found herself at the small lake but it had taken an massive amount of courage for Quinn to get in her car and even more to step out into the parking lot when she reached her destination.
Santana certainly had a hand in helping Quinn get inside her truck, the blonde cringing at the memory of the threat she'd received when she attempted to head back inside.
Taking a deep breath as she moved towards the sandy shore, her breath hitched at the sight of a small body huddled near the water.
Cursing her body for the reflexive reaction, Quinn forced herself to head towards Rachel. She moved silently, not intending to surprise the brunette but rather in fear of scaring the girl away.
A few yards away, Rachel turned her head slightly, calling out to Quinn over her shoulder. "You shouldn't be here."
The slight tremor in the girl's voice did nothing to deter Quinn, who made her way to Rachel's side before taking a seat next to her. "Neither should you, but from what I've heard you've been coming here quite often."
Chuckling humorlessly, Rachel turned to look Quinn in the eyes for the first time. "You should be the first to know not to believe everything you hear…or see, for that matter." She finished bitterly, turning away again and running her fingers through the sand beside her.
Quinn let out a soft exhale, bracing herself. Though she maintained a calm and collected exterior, her heart was tossing restlessly in her chest.
"I'm sorry, Quinn. That was—that was exceptionally rude of me." Rachel amended quietly, breathing in deeply before continuing. "I just, I don't quite understand why you're here, though I'm guessing Greg told you I was here?"
The blonde scrunched up her face for a brief moment, considering covering for the director before admitting that he had indeed visited earlier. "He told me you weren't doing so well. I thought—well, maybe talking about it would help you—a-and me, too."
Rachel stiffened beside her, "What else did Greg share with you, hmm?"
Quinn looked over curiously, surprise clear on her face at the tone of the brunette's voice, both angry and strangely calm all at once. However, surprise was a fleeting emotion as the blonde found herself becoming increasingly upset with the diva's behavior. "He told me everything you wouldn't. Everything you should have told me when I came over."
Quinn laughed then, a single harsh bark, as she glared at the brunette next to her. "Can you believe that? The director in your whole little plot, the bad guy; he was the one who came and talked me through everything. Fuck, Rachel—just…fuck you."
The pregnant pause that followed threatened to swallow Quinn whole, startling her when it was broken by a soft sniffle and a stifled sob.
"I'm sorry." Rachel apologized once more, wiping harshly at her face with a sweater sleeve. "For everything—I'm so so sorry."
"I—I don't know what to do with that, Rach." The tired blonde replied resentfully, anguish clearly present in her voice. Her forehead crumpled, white teeth worrying her bottom lip as Quinn turned towards Rachel once more. "Who's Finn?"
The fear passing through the brunette's eyes sent a chill down Quinn's spine, but she found herself unrelenting as she pressed on. "I need to know, Rachel. I need to know who he was and what he did that made you like this; that made you think that it was okay to do this to people."
"Why?" Rachel breathed out, turning her head slightly towards Quinn. "Why do you have to know about Finn? I apologized to you. I told you that I didn't cheat on you with Greg—why can't we just leave it at that?"
"Because," Quinn stressed, turning towards the brunette fully and gripping her shoulder, "He's the reason you broke my heart; I deserve to know what he did because of what you did to me."
"Will you forgive me if I tell you?" The shorter girl asked, her voice lilting upwards near the end in slight hope.
Pausing, the blonde took a moment to seriously consider the request before shaking her head in the negative. "I—Rachel, I don't want to make any promises I can't keep. But I do need to know and I promise to hear you out completely."
Rachel began rocking back and forth, her gaze trained on the clear night sky. "I can't. I'll answer anything else, but that is something I need to keep to myself, Quinn. I—I need you to respect my privacy."
"Rachel…either you tell me or I leave, and if I leave, you can be sure that I will never ever come back."
When the brunette didn't reply, Quinn moved to get up, only to fall back down when Rachel hurried to her feet and rushed towards the parking lot.
Shocked, the blonde followed her with her eyes until the petite girl vanished from sight. The reality of the situation set in and Quinn found herself just a little more broken, though she hadn't really thought it possible.
The tears pricked behind her eyes and the blonde dropped her head in her hands, more than a little upset at the way the meeting had gone. Pulling at her phone, Quinn sent a simple text to Santana letting her know that Rachel hadn't been interested in talking and to not wait up.
After receiving a confirmation text, the blonde slid her phone back in her pocket and lay out in the sand. The tears never fell, but the knot in her stomach was tight and heavy, making her feel sick. She stayed like that for longer than she planned, pulling herself to her feet only when the cold became unbearable.
Making her way over to the parking lot, Quinn faltered in her stride when she saw someone perched on the hood of her truck. Her gaze shot over to where Rachel's car had been parked, her heart slowing in relief at the sight.
"Quinn?"
At the sound of the brunette's voice, Quinn stepped towards the girl, meeting her in the middle of the parking lot.
Rachel was wringing her hands, her body trembling slightly because of the cold. "I— I was going to leave but I—I just couldn't and I decided to wait for you. You—you were taking so long but I was scared to leave; I…I thought that you would—You deserve to know."
Nodding a little eagerly, the taller girl moved to sit down only to look confused when Rachel smiled sheepishly. "C-could we sit inside the car? I-I'm really cold, now."
Nodding once more, Quinn unlocked her truck, gesturing for Rachel to come around to the passenger's side.
It took a moment for the girls to settle inside the old truck and another one for the heater to start pumping warm air into the cab.
The silence didn't last long as Rachel soon cleared her throat, situating herself in the seat so she faced Quinn. "So…Finn."
She let out a nervous chuckle, "I guess the best way to start is to start from the beginning right? I-um, what did Greg tell you?"
"Oh, he—he didn't tell me anything." Quinn explained hurriedly, before closing her eyes tightly in hopes of relaying everything she knew. "Uh—you two were together forever, got engaged, jealousy flared, you guys broke up and then…"
Rachel sighed, "Then I became the psychotic girlfriend who irrationally couldn't trust anyone any more than I could throw them." Dragging a hand through her chocolate curls, the brunette dove into an explanation. "Finn and I got together sophomore year of high school…
"When I met Finn, he had actually been seeing someone else. He was the quarterback of the football team at the time with the head cheerleader perched rightfully on his arm. There had been something about him, something that made him different than all the other jocks and cheerleaders at the school." Turning her head away, an embarrassed blush creeping up her neck, Rachel admitted. "I was never very popular in high school and it was nice to have the attention of such a popular boy."
Going on, Rachel explained how all American and clichéd their relationship had been, how romantic their relationship was as Finn all but abandoned his popularity to pursue her and how swept up in love they had been. "We got engaged and were set to marry near the end of our senior year. We had even gone as far as to pick out the chairs for the ceremony but when I got into NYADA, things came to somewhat of an abrupt stop. We ended up having to put a hold on the wedding and our entire future was up in the air for a while." Pausing here, Rachel shrugged as she explained the slight falling out they had had. "He wanted to pursue his own dreams and felt that I was ignoring his aspirations while chasing mine. Nevertheless, after countless arguments, Finn ultimately decided that following me to New York was his immediate dream."
Quinn watched the shorter girl weave this tale with careful eyes, her heart tensing up at each mention of how much Rachel truly was in love with Finn.
The summer was perfect, blissful, in Rachel's words, and Quinn's stomach turned, making her slightly nauseous. She busied herself with the heating controls on the car as Rachel reminisced about the new friends they had made, how they had explored the new city together, and how she and her fiancé had simply enjoyed each other's company.
"It was all I could have imagined at the time." Rachel mused with a soft smile on her face. "I was attending my dream school with my dream guy at my side every step of the way. Finn was perfect, too, supportive, caring, encouraging. He got a job at a small car repair shop soon after we moved and though we didn't have much, what we had was ours and that was enough for us. Things didn't start to fall apart until junior year of school. I had begun procuring roles instead of just auditioning for them. A lot of the time, I left early in the morning and didn't return home until late at night. Finn was just concerned at first, I think. Things were a little strained but still good. We had set a date for the wedding, even, and things were still looking great for us. But as time went on and I was forced to stay out rehearsing and preparing, things took a turn for the worse."
Sighing, Rachel ran a hand through her hair and looked up at Quinn with tears shining in her eyes. The blonde hesitated for a split second before reaching over and grabbing Rachel's hands, which only made the other girl let out a choked laugh. "I'm sorry. God, I'm such a mess, Quinn."
Squeezing gently, Quinn offered up a small smile. She could see how difficult it was for Rachel to struggle through this and the blonde was grateful to her. "Don't worry about it. What happened next?"
"He started accusing me, first of lying about where I had been then of having affairs with my costars, directors, teachers, and friends. He began to follow me to places, checking my phone—he never trusted anything I said. Even if what he saw proved it, he'd come up with some off the wall rationalization for his belief I was cheating on him." The brunette hesitated, looking up at Quinn desperately. "I wasn't always like this. I used to be—naïve, for lack of a better word. I trusted Finn completely and expected him to do the same. After what happened, I just—I couldn't accept that someone could trust me, completely. It was a little while longer, when I just stopped trusting them back."
Grimacing, Quinn let out a deep breath, waiting for Rachel to continue. "It got worse and worse, ultimately culminating in our break up. I went into depression soon after, failed all my classes that semester and dropped out of a role. I let myself fall so deep into this hole that I never really came out of it..
"I got scared, paranoid. I always thought that whomever I was dating was suspicious of me. So I began to test them. Little things here and there, just to see if they would end up like Finn later on in the relationship. Greg tried to stop me but I was nothing if not persistent and soon enough, he gave in." Cutting out, Rachel looked up at the blonde, shame coloring her features. "He's not a bad guy, Quinn. He's one of the most amazing people I know and I'm really sorry for making you think anything less than that of him."
"But the whole trust thing? I still don't get it, Rachel." Throwing her hands up in frustration, Quinn exclaimed. "I thought we were okay. I—I trusted you, Rachel."
"I trusted you, too! Believe it or not, I did." Rachel tried to explain. "I want you to understand that I really did. In the beginning, I thought you were my new beginning. My fresh start. Quinn, everything that I couldn't see in myself, I saw in you."
Swallowing thickly, the blonde blinked back tears, feeling the sharp sting in her eyes. "Why then, Rachel? Why do this to me?"
"I couldn't help it, I think. To some degree, once I got the slightest feeling that your friends doubted my intentions—I let it consume me. I stayed up late thinking about it. Thinking about how stupid I had been to let myself think you were different. And so it began. It wasn't long before I let the first rumor slip out." Hesitating, Rachel let out a humorless chuckle. "But you just kept on trusting, Quinn. You kept on giving me the benefit of the doubt and I just had to keep testing you. It was all I could think about. I kept rationalizing with myself that the next test would be the last one, that you wouldn't pass for sure, or if you did pass, I'd stop testing you. But that last test was just too far. Seeing you with Kirsten—it broke my heart—but my mind…my mind kept reeling. It just kept repeating in my head that I should have known better. I convinced myself to try to hate you. To pin you as the bad guy and make myself the victim. I—I'm just really fucked up, Quinn." Rachel finished, her voice breaking.
Slightly stunned, Quinn sat back in her seat, releasing her hold on Rachel's hands as her mind tried to catch up to speed. Forehead crumpling in confusion, the blonde turned to look at the other girl, puzzlement clear in her tone. "I don't understand how you knew everything. When to act, when I was coming…it's all just a little too perfect."
"Cameras. They were set up in the parking lot, in the auditorium, the stage. I would just watch for you and at the right time, put the plan into action." Rachel clarified. "Greg has monitors set up in his office. It was just a matter of watching and waiting."
"And the guy in the coffee shop? Was he acting too?" Quinn asked, recalling the fight Rachel had previously had. "Jesus, Rachel! How many people did you fucking convince to participate in this little charade?"
Scrunching her forehead in confusion, Rachel hesitated until realization dawned upon her. Shaking her head vehemently, she was quick to deny Quinn's accusation. "No, no. He was the father of one of the girls who actually did use….alternative methods in hopes of getting ahead. I lost a huge role to her because she was willing to spread her legs and I wasn't. "
Quinn hummed her understanding, her mind reeling to absorb all the new information. The car was silent, tension sitting heavy in the air. The brunette watched the singer carefully, waiting on the edge of her seat for a reaction to everything.
"I—" Quinn began, only to pause and close her mouth in confusion.
"Please say something, Quinn." Rachel pleaded, leaning forward in her seat.
"I think you need help, Rachel." The blonde finished quietly, eyes rooted the floor. It sounded much more condescending in the open air, but Quinn found herself unable to take it back.
The shorter girl next to her slumped back in her seat, her breaths becoming shallow and erratic as she held back tears. Quinn watched as emotions flashed across her face: anger, disbelief, horror, sadness, all that and more as understanding dawned upon the stricken brunette. "He—help? I don't—what do you mean, Quinn? Why can't you help me?"
"Professional help, Rachel. Psychological help. You need to go see someone who can help you because I can't deal with this and you can't either. Whatever you're doing? It's not normal or right and it's certainly not fair to the people in your life who trust you," Quinn continued, her grip tightening on the wheel as she barreled through her response.
"What about us?" Rachel asked, her voice small and frightened. The blonde was tempted to turn just to see if the other girl looked as small as she sounded but she knew better. If Quinn didn't do this now, she might never be able to. Rachel, undeterred, reached out for the girl beside her. "I just want to be with you again, Quinn. I'll be better, I promise."
Inhaling deeply, the blonde turned slightly to look at the broken girl nearby. Her heart broke but her mind was made up. Quinn's gaze lingered on the brunette's outreached hand, her own palm itching furiously to take it. She clenched her hands into fists, even going as far as to tuck them underneath her as she spoke softly but firmly. "I'm sorry, Rachel. But you were so worried about me not trusting you that you didn't even realize you were the one stripping that trust away. I don't think I can be with you. Not without—not without being suspicious and paranoid and worrying about whether you're lying or telling the truth or—or testing me again."
The tears were running freely down Rachel's face by now and Quinn was well aware of the dull heartache in her own chest. She knew the pain was just the beginning; that it would grow into a sharp pain akin to the twisting of a knife. Bile rose in her throat at the mere thought. Swallowing hard, Quinn turned the key in her ignition, avoiding Rachel's gaze as she gestured toward the door. "Go home, Rachel. Go home and tomorrow, get help. You're never going to be able to be in a healthy relationship if you don't."
Rachel's eyes were frantic and she grappled from her seat to grip Quinn's hand in desperation. Her face was contorted in pain and the blonde turned her head away from the sight. "Can we at least be friends?" The brunette requested, her voice breaking mid-sentence. "I can't bear to lose you, Quinn. I just—it'll kill me."
Pausing, Quinn swallowed thickly, her own tears threatening to fall. Shaking her head vehemently, the blonde strengthened her resolve and rejected Rachel's request. "No. Being with you, or even just around you, it's not healthy for me. We've both fucked up and—Rach, nothing good's going to come out of it for either of us and—and maybe you can't see that now, but you'll see it later."
Rachel let out a shaky breath, moving to get out of Quinn's truck without another word. She paused when she was standing outside the door before clambering back in and pressing a lingering kiss to the side of Quinn's temple. The blonde's skin burned on the soft impact and her heart lurched up into her throat at Rachel's words. "I love you. I just—I want you to know that before I leave. I love you, Quinn Fabray and I am so so sorry." Stepping out of the truck once more, Rachel smiled sadly at the blonde, "I guess this is goodbye, Quinn."
The door closed gently, but for Quinn it resonated in her mind, echoing in the deep recesses of her head and she knew it was a moment that would keep her awake for nights to come. She didn't even realize the tears until she felt them drip off her chin, bringing a hand up to touch her cheek and bring it away slightly damp. The sobs came soon after, as she watched the brake lights of Rachel's car fade into the distance. Her crying became loud and desperate, her body shaking as the cries racked her frame.
The weeping wouldn't stop, only becoming more amplified when Santana pulled open her driver door and tugged Quinn into a tight embrace. "I'm here now, Q. Let me take you home."
"It's over, San. It's over." The blonde sobbed into the brunette's shoulder, her heart aching at the loss but ultimately knowing that there was no other option left. She clutched at Santana's back, her tears staining the other girl's jacket but Quinn couldn't bring herself to pull away.
Brittany came over almost immediately after Santana, wrapping an arm around Quinn's shoulder and stroking the blonde's hair. She shushed the girl, softly whispering gentle reassurances but Quinn could only cry louder. Her knees gave out from under her and she nearly fell to the pavement, before Santana circled a strong arm around her waist and the trio gently sank to the ground. Quinn buried her face in Brittany's neck, repeating something through her sobs.
The feisty brunette showed a gentle tenderness as she pulled Quinn's hair back and brushed it away from her face. "Sweetheart, I can't understand you. What're you saying?"
Quinn looked up at Santana, her eyes red-rimmed and her nose stuffed. Pain was etched so clearly on the blonde's striking features that Santana felt the familiar prick of tears behind her eyes just by looking at her dearest friend. Quinn took a deep breath, hitching in the middle as she whispered out brokenly.
"She said she loved me-and I told her it was over."
A/N: And that, ladies and gentlemen, is chapter 8. We're about two (MAYBE three) chapters away from the end and I hope you're all still hanging in with me. Special thanks to mjacton for being an amazing beta.
Please leave your thoughts. I'm really eager to see what you guys think.
