No copyright infringement intended. I don't own Glee or its characters.
gllover22: Actually I wanted to be in bed and sleep already and update tomorrow. However, since I am still awake and just read your review, there you go... Enjoy!
Chapter 9
At the end of the conversation with her dad, Hiram had asked Rachel if and when she would come home for Hanukkah. Not that it was still eight weeks to go until then, but her dads always liked to plan ahead. She had not committed to a date yet. Rachel was not even sure she wanted to go home.
For now, she decided that she had done enough thinking and analyzing for one day. Even though she was still a bit elated about her meeting with Quinn and the small exchange via text they had shared, for now, she just wanted to occupy her mind with something simple and easy. She was tired from the emotional ups and downs of the day, but strangely this time she did not want to go to bed straight away and find her solace in sleep. Rachel decided to watch TV and snuggled up on her couch. That was something she had not done in a long time.
So instead of going to bed, she inserted a DVD into her player with "Friends" episodes. Since she already knew that particular season from having watched it at least three times before, reading the subtitles did not distract her as much anymore. In the beginning, she had found it difficult reading the text and pay attention to the characters at the same time. However, with some practice she had gotten quite good at following both.
After the second episode had finished she got up to fetch something to drink from the kitchen. When she passed her laptop, she threw a quick glance at it and noticed that a new e-mail had reached her inbox. Rachel debated whether to read it now or save it for later. Then she decided that "Friends" could wait a little longer and dropped on her chair in front of the desk. She drew up her left knee and placed her chin on it while clicking on the message.
It was from Quinn. Maybe she just sent her a description how to get to her apartment. Again Rachel noticed her heart beating a bit faster, as it had done every time when receiving a text from her earlier that evening.
After having read the message, Rachel could not tear her gaze away from the screen in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye she then noticed her phone light up, but she ignored it.
She scanned the page again and again. It was hard to see through the tears that filled her eyes.
What on earth had possessed Quinn to send her these song lyrics? To send her song lyrics at all? Just when she had started to believe that her former high school Nemesis was truly making an effort. Well, how would she know? After four years, she had only met Quinn today again.
Was it really just today when everything had happened? It felt so much longer.
Rachel closed her eyes and tried to breathe evenly. She fought back the tears. But try as she might, she could not stop the melody of that song entering her thoughts.
Automatically the lyrics connected with the notes in her head and Heather Nova was giving a live performance in her mind.
Only that the singer did not look quite like herself. Somehow the features of the tall blonde she had met earlier that day appeared before her inner eye. When Rachel realized that however hard she tried she could not stop that image coming back, she surrendered.
She let it happen.
Rachel let Quinn Fabray sing that song to her in her mind. And then, somehow the pain she had been feeling all over again some minutes ago eased a little.
Rachel opened her eyes and her gaze fell on her mobile phone. She remembered the message she had received earlier. Opening it she slowly read it, her eyebrows furrowed.
Quinn apparently had not planned to send her this e-mail. Why had she written it at all, then? She probably came to the conclusion that sending a song text to a deaf person might not be the cleverest idea.
Right.
But somehow Rachel could not evoke her anger about this anymore. She had the strange feeling to reassure Quinn that it was ok. That she was not mad at her.
Then, slowly and steadily, the little voice inside her head started picking at her again, infusing her mind with dark shadows once more. Could she really forgive Quinn what she had done?
Rachel pressed the heels of her palms hard against her temples. She wanted the voice to stop, she was so tired of it. Tired of how it made her feel, how it drained all the energy from her. She felt like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde inside. One side truly wanting to forgive and the other side wanting to hold on to the anger, the pain and the injustice of it all.
Rachel got up and started pacing her living room, silently praying that this battle inside her head would come to an end. So that she could go on and make a decision. She felt like a ship in the rough sea being tossed from one side to the other without control of its own. Maybe she should have just stayed moored to the docks, safe and motionless. But it had been her own decision this morning to venture forth and get involved with Quinn.
Then it dawned on her that if she had taken the decision, then she herself was also creating these two voices inside. She herself caused this battle to rage. And if she caused it, she could also end it.
If she wanted to.
Then it would be a deliberate choice and not something she felt was decided by some hidden inner forces that she helplessly had to tolerate.
... ... ...
Quinn jumped again when she heard a little beep that pulled her from her state of haze back into reality. She noticed a small envelope appearing on the screen indicating she had received another message. She had no idea how long she had been sitting in front of her laptop staring into nothingness. Quinn was not really up to reading any e-mails now. Except from one person. Though it was unlikely that she would ever answer, Quinn mused. Nevertheless, a small spark of hope pushed her to check the message.
Against all odds, it was from Rachel.
Probably the well-deserved reprimand for sending her these lyrics. And a note that she doubtlessly never wanted to see her again.
With a shaking hand Quinn opened the text and soaked up the words that sprang at her.
Dear Quinn!
Dear? Was Rachel not mad as hell at her?
I remember that song.
It is beautiful. The words are beautiful. I'm touched by their meaning. And not just those of the song.
Rachel remembered. That must have hurt. It was exactly the reason why Quinn had not wanted to send the message in the first place. Though she was surprised by Rachel's concession and her heart jumped a bit at reading that her friend was actually moved by her words. Quinn read on.
Why did you not want to send this e-mail? Why did you want me to delete it? Because you sent me the lyrics of a SONG?
I have to admit, I was angry and hurt at first, but then I tried to look behind my selfishness and tried to understand what you wanted to tell me with the song.
I'm inclined to think that you didn't send it to hurt me.
Besides, I still have all the songs I liked and that I have ever sung in my head. And sometimes they pop up before I can stop them. It's not like you evoked a demon.
I'm pretty good at doing this myself. Anyway, I digress.
Quinn wondered how it must feel for Rachel having all these beautiful songs locked up in her head without the capability of ever releasing them again. She focused back on the message.
Thank you for those kind words, Quinn.
I'm looking forward to our dinner on Friday.
Good luck with your show.
Rachel
Quinn let out her breath she had not noticed she had held while reading.
She was truly and deeply impressed by this grand gesture from Rachel. It rendered Quinn speechless.
Not only did Rachel make an effort to look behind her own hurt in order to understand Quinn. She also came so far as acknowledging her show and wishing her luck!
The relief that flooded through the blonde was so strong that she could not suppress the sobs that lurched upwards through her throat. She was so glad that Rachel was not mad at her, that their dinner was still going to happen as planned. Quinn felt the whole tension of that day wash out of her body with all the tears that came with it. Tears of joy, tears of remorse, tears of hope.
God, one day with Rachel and this woman had turned her all mushy inside. She had not cried so much in a very long time. It seemed all the tears that she had bottled up inside for the past years had chosen this day to come out. But it felt so good, felt so liberating.
Her make-up artist would sigh at her red and puffy eyes the next day when getting her ready for her performance.
Just for now, Quinn did not give a damn.
