Title: Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)
Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry; side Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.
Summary: AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.
A/N: I continually thank you for the reviews. You guys are insanely awesome. :) To an anon ThatGirlyChick: You pretty much nailed this whole chapter on the head! I felt like I was reading my own notes for the chapter. It was kind of weird, haha. But very cool. Novak Fan: Nice to see you from LJ, buddy! And to the rest of the people from LJ it's nice to see you all here.
Rachel dials Quinn's number for the third time. Her stomach drops when it rings five times then goes straight to voicemail. "Quinn, please, I implore you to call me back," she says into the receiver, voice shaky. "We need to talk about this, Quinn. I know you saw the letter and I know I should have told you but I didn't want to worry you about it until I made a decision. Please don't shut me out, Quinn. Just call me back. I love you."
When she came out of her shower earlier she was beside herself when she found her bed empty. The rarely seen, cynical side of herself instantly assumed –just as she thought about the blonde before their relationship began— that Quinn had gotten what she wanted and didn't even bother to stay for breakfast. She thought they were over. But upon stepping further into the room and even over to Quinn's side of the bed as she began to rip the bed sheets from her bed, she found a crumpled up piece of paper on the floor. Rachel didn't even have to pick the paper up and smooth the wrinkles out to read to know what it was; what made Quinn leave.
She hangs up the phone, eyes squeezing tightly shut as she feels tears threatening to fall. She didn't think it would be this bad. And what hurts her most is that what she ultimately decides about that letter has the potential of hurting Quinn.
Quinn listens to Rachel's voicemail three times before turning her phone off and sliding it under her pillow, a tear slipping down her cheek.
Part of her wants to call Rachel back, but another part of her just wants to be angry because she loves Rachel and spent so much time just trying to be with her and for Rachel to throw it all away like they're relationship means nothing hurts more than she'd ever allow herself to say.
She gets out and bed and stalks across the living room to the kitchen. Santana stares at the TV with interest, reluctantly moving her eyes toward Quinn. She gives the blonde a once over and sighs. "Look…I guess we should talk or something…"
Quinn shakes her head adamantly as she makes a beeline for the freezer. "No. I don't need this shit right now. I don't need it ever."
Santana pulls herself from the couch to follow her roommate to the kitchen. Quinn whips around in a surge of blonde hair, glaring at her friend. "I'm serious, Santana. I got enough shit on my plate right now. I don't need someone that's supposed to be my best friend ragging on me too."
"What's going on with you?" She leans back against a nearby counter to put some distance between herself and the blonde, recognizing the trapped animal look she's sporting at the moment.
"Nothing."
She grits her teeth. "You listen here, Fabray. I'm trying to apologize so you stand your ornery ass right there, shut up, and give me a chance to say what I gotta say."
Her hand wraps tightly around a carton of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream before dragging it out of the freezer. She shuts the door with a little more force than necessary before turning to Santana. Her lips press tightly together to keep biting remarks at bay as she regards the other girl evenly.
"Look, I'm sorry. Or whatever," she starts lamely. Quinn roughly shoulders past her. "Okay, wait. Seriously, Q. I'm sorry."
She sighs loudly in frustration before turning around to face her. And for the first time Santana notices the blonde's puffy eyes and cloudy expression. Something else is wrong. "Anyway. I was just mad at myself because I cheated on Brittany and I took it out on you. I don't think you'll cheat on Berry. You aren't me. I mean, how could you be? Look at me. I'm fucking hot."
She cracks a small smile at her friend. "It's cool. I forgive you. Besides, you don't have to worry about me and Rachel anymore."
Santana's face morphs into something that Quinn could venture to call sympathy. "You and Berry broken up?"
"I –I think so."
"It's either a yes or no, Q. And those hickies on your neck don't say yes."
She colors slightly as she shakes her head. "I don't know."
Santana nods slowly. If anyone knows about having a relationship go through the confusing limbo phase of not quite together but not quite broken up it's her. Hell that's her now. She looks down at the ice cream in Quinn's hand with a scowl. This isn't the Quinn Fabray she knows. "So what? You're just going to sit in your room all day and eat your large weight in ice cream?"
Quinn ignores the jab at her weight. "I don't feel like doing anything today."
"Well I do." She snatches the container of ice cream from her friends grip to place it back in the freezer. "Come on. We're going shopping for the party tomorrow night that you're going to whether you feel like it or not. Before you eat too much ice cream until you're too big to even fit into anything but plus size Sears clothes. And I'm sure as hell not going through the embarrassment of helping you shop for those."
Rachel's soft footfalls echo down the hallway as she walks to Mr. Schuester's office. She knocks softly before entering the room and shutting the door behind her.
She takes a second to look around, her eyes landing on numerous trophies that the man had won from days when he was in glee club in high school. She smiles fondly, realizing for the first time that she and he are very much alike. Both wanting stardom, or having wanted it in Mr. Schuester's case. She's proud of the teacher he's become but she can't help but hope that she has whatever he lacked to make it to stardom one day.
She clears her throat before walking further into the room. "Mr. Schuester, may I have a word?"
He looks up from the stack of papers at his desk, having just now noticed her presence. "Of course, Rachel. Have a seat." He leans back in his chair and runs a tired hand through his curly hair. "What can I do for you?"
"I want to apologize." His face lights up with confusion and she crosses her legs before continuing. "I –when the play was canceled and I no longer had anything going for me in the theater department; my first thought was that you were trying to ruin my career."
His eyes widen in shock and disbelief. "Rachel, I would never–"
She nods, ashamed. "Yes, I know that now. Thanks to a certain someone I realize how wrong I was. And I've come here today to say that I'm sorry. Mr. Schuester, I just want this so badly. More than I've ever wanted anything in my life and I'm just so passionate about the stage that anyone that tries to take it from me is seen as an automatic threat." Her eyes find the floor as she fidgets with the hem of her beige skirt. "I was foolish and immature and for that I'm sorry."
He stands from his chair and walks around his desk to kneel before her. "Rachel, the stage will be yours someday," he says confidently. "And even if I ever attempted to sabotage your chances of making it to Broadway no amount of sabotage will keep your talent from shining through. That's where you belong. That's where you'll be."
Her eyes mist over and she leans down to wrap him in a bone crushing hug. "Thank you, Mr. Schuester. I will strive for nothing but success and I'll accomplish what you couldn't do. I'll do it for the both of us."
He nods against her shoulder, laughing at the insult that he knows she wholeheartedly meant with nothing but good intent.
"I know you will, Rachel."
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong yet?" Santana fishes through a rack of clothes, looking for a top to go with a skirt she just bought. "Shopping usually makes you feel better but you're still shuffling around like your dog contracted cancer and died or some shit."
Quinn searches through the other rack, not really looking for anything but knowing that if she sits idly by that Santana will have something to say about it. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, and I'm Satan."
She hesitates, biting the inside of her lip to keep from commenting. Santana growls at the unspoken implication. "Whatever. I'm just misunderstood."
Quinn laughs a little and Santana mentally pats herself on the back. What? That was a perfectly acceptable action even for someone as badass as herself. "Well, you are capable of expressing positive emotions today. Great job, Quinn," she says, voice dripping with sarcasm.
She sobers up, plucking a shirt from the rack and handing it to Santana. "That's ugly and I'm judging you for your poor fashion choice. That's something your girlfriend would choose."
At the mention of Rachel Quinn's split second good mood takes a nose dive. She sighs heavily, chest heaving at the sudden heaviness on her heart. "She's moving."
Santana frowns at yet another ugly shirt before fishing her phone out of her purse to call Brittany. Surely she'd have better fashion taste than Quinn. She just hopes the girl isn't too mad at her still. "Where? To a different dorm? Her midget legs couldn't handle the walkup to her apartment?" she snickers at her own comment while dialing her girlfriend's— she frowns –ex-girlfriend's number.
"To California," Quinn chokes out.
She turns to her. Quinn meets her with weary eyes and a miserable expression on her face.
"Well, shit," Santana mutters.
She doesn't even cry when she gets Quinn's voicemail for the sixth time, having used all of her tears on every other call. Her hands run through her hair out of aggravation because she's sick of having conversations with her girlfriend's voicemail. Voice low and hoarse, she clears her throat before speaking into the receiver. "Quinn, please call. This is the third voicemail I've left you. I –I love you and I just want to talk. Please call me back."
About an hour ago she found herself at the blonde's apartment. She knocked a total of ten times before stopping and opting to just wait outside the door when neighboring doors opened to glare at her for the insistent knocking. Twenty minutes later she had tear stained cheeks as she accepted defeat and walked back to her place with her head hung.
She ends the call and licks her lips nervously before dialing Mercedes number. "Hi, Mercedes," she says shakily. "Can you please come over? And invite Kurt. Thank you."
"B should be here in ten minutes," Santana says as she slides a hotdog in Quinn's direction. "Eat. Your fat ass hasn't had anything all day so I'm sure you're starving."
She frowns at the 'fat ass' comment but accepts the hotdog, having not realized that she's gone the whole day without eating. If Rachel had known she would have instantly scolded Quinn on the physical and mental dangers of anorexia and the devastating effects it can have on her body.
They sit in companionable silence, Quinn because she doesn't feel like opening up and Santana because, although she wants to help, she knows not to push the issue until Quinn is ready.
A sense of betrayal starts to build up inside of her as she continues to think about Rachel and the letter she read in her apartment. The only emotion surpassing how betrayed she feels is how hurt she feels.
"I feel like I don't mean anything to her," she whispers candidly. Santana's eyes wash over Quinn's face and the rare moment of weakness she's allowed to bear witness to causes her chest to constrict. She doesn't say anything and she doesn't have to because in a flash of golden hair Brittany is by Quinn's side and has her wrapped into a warm hug.
"Santana told me everything over the phone," she whispers as she rubs Quinn's back soothingly. "I'm so sorry, Quinn."
A tear slides down Quinn's cheek and Santana quickly gathers the blonde's things before pulling her and Brittany towards the exit. "Not here, Q. Have some dignity." Her voice is warm despite her verbal jab and Quinn just nods as Brittany wipes a tear off her cheek.
Rachel furiously paces her room, her hands tightly clasped together behind her back as Mercedes and Kurt weigh in on her situation with Quinn.
"Really honey, what were you thinking?"
"Seriously, why wouldn't you tell her? Rachel, the girl is in love with you. She had a right to know."
Her brow furrows as she continues to listen to them.
"What are you going to do?"
"Are you going to move to California to jump start your career? Or are you going to stay here with Quinn?"
Rachel sighs heavily as she comes to stop in front of the two of them. That's undoubtedly the question Quinn's wondering herself. The question she's wondering.
About a week ago Rachel received a letter in the mail from her biological mother, Shelby. In the letter Shelby gushed about how grown up Rachel must be and how proud she is that Rachel's so close to Broadway stardom already. She went on to talk about how she was given the green light to produce a TV show about a young woman in college. Sort of a-day-in-the-life comedy was how she pitched it to Rachel. Once she received the good news that she could start filming her show she thought of none other than her own daughter to star as the lead. Or so the letter said. Rachel's been tossing the idea around in her head for days. Whether to drop everything and fly to Cali or stay where she is, be with Quinn who loves her, and keep striving for Broadway.
"I don't know…" She wails piteously. "I don't know anything. I can stay here and be with Quinn. And I'm in love with Quinn, I truly am. And I can have Broadway. Well, I can strive for Broadway. But I'm not a child anymore. I'm not this naïve high schooler that thinks that I'll make it to Broadway simply because I have a phenomenal voice and acting chops." She looks at them both with wide, terrified eyes. "There's a real chance that I won't make it. And if I don't then what will I do? Work at some company? The only reason I take that business class is because my fathers told me to get a degree in something I can fall back on in case Broadway doesn't work out. Even they know there's a chance I won't make it."
She takes a much needed breath before slumping back onto the bed. She curls up against Mercedes and rests her head against her thigh. "I like acting. I love acting and even if I don't make it to Broadway then at least I'll have a job if I move to California. And it's not all about the job. That's my mother out there. I can finally get the chance to have her in my life permanently."
"You gotta make a decision, Rachel," Mercedes says gently as she soothingly strokes her hair. "None of these things are going to wait forever. "Not Quinn, not Broadway, not that acting gig, and I hate to say it but, not even your own mother. And you know that."
Rachel nods, her vision becoming blurry with unshed tears. "Which one do I choose?" she asks around a sob.
"We can't be the ones to tell you that, honey," Kurt says from somewhere above her. "But my guess would be to find out which scenario you find yourself wanting just a little more than the other."
"I want them both equally," she sniffles.
"Then which one can't you live without?"
She inhales a shuddery breath, her head shaking back and forth as if to dispel that thought from her mind. She doesn't want to have to choose and wishes that she can just have both.
"Life's pretty unfair, huh?" she asks with a watery laugh.
Kurt kisses her on the forehead as Mercedes continues to stoke her hair. "Understatement of the century."
She smoothes out her dress in the hallway mirror as her eyes glare daggers at the purple dots all over her neck. She steps closer, fingers ghosting gently over her bruised flesh as she reluctantly recalls how amazing it felt to make love to Rachel. How fast her heart was beating, how her sweat mingled with Rachel's, the tears she saw in the corner of Rachel's eyes as she came. She inhales deeply.
"You okay there, captain?"
Whenever Santana calls her captain it's usually laced with sarcasm because of how they both competed for the position over summer. However, she's comforted by the lack of mockery in her best friend's voice in this moment. "I'm fine." Her shoulders roll back as her neck elongates until her nose touches the sky. "If there's anything I know how to do it's keep up appearances." Santana nods, feeling assured at having the old Quinn back.
She turns toward Santana. "You look pretty."
"I look hot."
Rolling her eyes playfully, she walks back into the living room towards her bedroom. "Do you still have my purple scarf?"
"I'll tell B to bring it."
Quinn emerges from her room with a smile. "Let's party then."
Santana's eyes pinch in worry at the blonde's fake, well-practiced smile but she ignores it. Quinn needs a good party and so does she.
She follows the blonde out of the apartment and down the stairs. "We're so getting laid tonight."
Rachel sighs as she snuggles further into the bed, Kurt and Mercedes on either side of her. They're curled up on Rachel's queen sized bed watching a movie. This is the most content she's felt in the past two days since waking up and finding her bed empty and a crumpled up letter on the floor by Quinn's side of the bed. Her sense of comfort is shattered as her thoughts stray to the blonde once again. She hasn't talked to her in over a day and she's more than a little worried.
"I wonder what she's doing," she mumbles.
"She who?" Kurt asks around a mouthful of popcorn. He hands it to Rachel and she frowns before passing it to Mercedes.
"Quinn. The girl I've been talking about all day."
Mercedes chases her popcorn down with a swig of soda before shushing Rachel. "This is the good part. Besides, she's probably at that party tonight."
"Party?" Her eyes widen at the mere thought. Quinn at a party living it up while she's in her bed sulking like a girlfriend is supposed to do when they fight with their significant other. "How could she possibly be at a party at this very sensitive –and inappropriate time to fraternize— time in our relationship while I'm here curled up on my bed watching the socially appropriate sad movie and missing her?"
Kurt sighs. "Well you aren't really watching as much as talking," Kurt mumbles as Mercedes pries her eyes from the screen.
She offers Rachel a sympathetic smile. "Well, she kind of has to go. It's a party in celebration of the Cheerios making nationals. I'm sure if she wasn't expected to make an appearance then she'd be at home crying her eyes out just like you are."
"I'm not crying my eyes out."
"Yeah, sure. That's why your voice is so nasally. From not crying your eyes out."
"Was I talking to you?"
"Hey, hey," Mercedes cuts in. "Am I going to have to get between you two?"
Rachel flings the covers from her body with finality as she crawls off the bed. If Quinn thinks she's going to party at this time while she's Rachel Berry's girlfriend then she has another thing coming.
"…What's going on?" Kurt asks, a little afraid by the determined glint in her eye.
She breezes toward her closet in search of something to wear. "What does one wear to these college frat type parties?"
Kurt claps his hands giddily as he lifts from the bed. "You sit. I'll pick out your outfit. Let's see, we're going for slightly badass, pissed off lipstick lesbian girlfriend…"
Quinn stands awkwardly beside a potted plant, watching Santana down her fifth shot as she hands one to Brittany. She knows her best friend's game plan for the night is to get Brittany drunk, have sex with her, and wake up with the girl in her arms thus making Brittany realize how much she loves her. It doesn't sound like a good plan but Santana was three shots in when she slurred it into Quinn's ear.
"I wanna make a toast. Gather 'round, bitches!" Santana yells to the sea of bodies in the room. "To Quinn! My best friend." Her eyes start welling up and Quinn bites her lip to keep from laughing. She accepts the entire bottle of vodka Santana hands to her. "You're the best friend I've ever had. And you're a damn good captain! And I'm sorry for being a bitch all the time."
She starts to blubber uncontrollably and Quinn wraps an arm around her, shushing her quietly. "I know, I know."
"I just love you, okay?"
"I love you, too."
Santana continues to cry into Quinn's side as the blonde looks to Brittany with a withering gaze. Nodding in understanding, Brittany walks over to gently pry Santana away. "It's okay, San."
"Brit-Brit, I love you."
She smiles softly. "I love you, too. Now, come on. Let's go so Quinn can have some alone time."
"I love you so much." She looks into Brittany's eyes with sincerity. "And I'm so sorry, Britt. I hate that I cheat on you. I don't want to but I'm just so scared."
Brittany rubs her eyes tiredly. "I know you're scared, San. But it still hurts."
Santana nods against her shoulder as her arms wrap around Brittany. "Can we have that threesome?"
"Not tonight, honey."
Quinn watches them walk away, trying to fight off the sense of jealousy she feels building. No matter how many times Santana cheats Brittany will always be there. And she hasn't cheated on Rachel once yet she'll still lose her in the end. She walks off in search of the kitchen, feeling the need to open the bottle of vodka and down as much as it takes to get a certain someone off her mind. She's spent the past couple of days crying her eyes out and as she walks through the crowd of her peers that look up to her, envy her, and even want to be her, she can't help but feel numb.
A large hand grabs her wrist and she jumps at the contact. "Whoa, what's up, baby mama? Why so tense?"
Her shoulders pull tight in frustration as she turns around to face Puck with a stony expression. "I am not, nor will I ever be interested in you. I've told you countless times since last year and you need to get it through your head and back off."
A wounded look flashes across his face and she instantly regrets snapping at him. "I was just gonna ask if you wanted to dance," he mumbles.
"No," she says a little less forcefully. "And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get all in your face. I just have a lot going on right now."
His grip on her slackens and she uses it as an attempt to slip away from him towards the kitchen. She rummages through a drawer of utensils diligently as a figure slips through the doorway.
"Quinn, I've been looking all over for you."
She tips her head back as she takes her first large sip. It slides smoothly down her throat with a quiet swallow and a bitter after taste that's less alcohol and more her. She turns around to face her guest before taking another sip. "Ashley. I didn't know you'd be coming."
She smiles slyly at the blonde as she stalks toward her. "I hope to be coming all night long."
It isn't until an hour later that Rachel enters the party. Kurt had to run back to his place to change his attire and Mercedes had to grab a pair of 'fuck me' heels, hoping she'd get lucky. She enters the room with uncertainty and immediately has to sidestep a cloud of smoke that smells questionable at best. "Where's Quinn?" she asks Mercedes, voice loudly competing against the music.
Mercedes shrugs unhelpfully. "Once your eyes get used to the smoke and darkness you should be able to see a little better. Hey, Kurt–"
She trails off as she sees him walking toward a dark haired shorter guy in the corner of the room. "We're one man down."
Rachel scowls at their predicament before deciding to take matters into her own hands. "Just stay by the door and keep an eye on Kurt. I'll find Quinn." She manages to power walk through the crowd with determination that only belongs to Rachel Berry.
She catches sight of Santana and Brittany dancing in what she can only call an obscene manner. She figures they must be drunk, because last she heard from Quinn; they weren't on the best of terms. "Have you seen Quinn?" Neither girl pays Rachel any attention, too focused on each other to even notice she's there. Rachel clears her throat loudly before huffing silently as Santana's hands trail down to Brittany's ass and gives it a gentle squeeze.
"Excuse me," Rachel interrupts around Brittany's giggle. "Have either of you seen Quinn?"
Santana's lazy smile turns into a scowl as she finally registers Rachel's presence. "What'd I tell you about breaking my friend's heart, Berry?" She untangles herself from Brittany's long limbs to loom over Rachel threateningly.
Rachel sighs quietly, not having anticipated this. "Santana, it's a little more complicated than that. Though I did give you my word and failed to comply," she concedes. "I'm sorry. And I –I want to apologize to Quinn so can you please tell me where she is?"
"I don't know where she is. But good luck when you find her because trust me when I say Quinn is an angry drunk." She shrugs flippantly before turning back to Brittany and Rachel nods her head, eyes welling with tears as she continues on her search for Quinn.
"B, what are you doing?" Santana cries out as Brittany pries herself away from her and folds her arms. "That was mean, San."
"I honestly don't know where she is, Britt. But even if I did I still wouldn't tell Berry."
Brittany continues to frown and Santana tries to change her tactics quickly before she ends up talking herself out of sex after the party. "I'm sorry?" she offers weakly.
She smiles down at the girl before wrapping her long arms around Santana's neck. "If Quinn and Rachel don't work this out by tomorrow, Santana, you won't be getting any."
A petulant groan leaves her throat and Santana's now quietly hoping that Rachel actually does find Quinn.
Rachel finds her way to the kitchen, having stumbled over and been shouldered past by just about everyone in the party to get there. Her shirt is wet and clinging to her from one of the football players accidently spilling his drink all over her. He instantly offered to clean it up and made a beeline for her breasts but she shooed him away and vehemently declined.
She wipes her eyes of residual tears from her incident with Santana to find the blonde standing in the kitchen with a half empty vodka bottle in her hand. Her heart drops to her stomach as she watches some girl hanging all over her. Her hand curled around Quinn's slender waist possessively as she nurses her own bottle.
Rachel's lips press into a firm line as she watches the girl tip her head back and laugh every few seconds while Quinn just looks at her with a smirk. That same sultry smirk that Rachel's come to know and love. When the girl beside Quinn gets a little too handsy for Rachel's taste she walks further into the kitchen. Quinn's eyes find hers and they look so cloudy that Rachel can barely recognize them. "Hello, Quinn," she says evenly, trying to gauge the situation. She bites her lip to keep from chastising the blonde about her underage drinking, something she can do when she's sober and the situation has been handled and decides to address the brunette wrapped around her. "I don't believe we've met. However, that is my girlfriend you're currently throwing yourself at."
"She was mine before she was yours. Isn't that right, baby?" she coos as she grabs Quinn's jaw and turns the blonde to face her.
Rachel's shoulders slump at the sight, her heart aching and her chest constricting as she forces deep breaths through her nose. She watches there distance lessen and she chokes out a sob at the sight. "Quinn, if you kiss her I'm walking out of this party and we're through." Her voice is rough and shaky and she curses herself for how weak she sounds.
Quinn's eyes slide away from Ashley's before she looks back at Rachel. It's a little dark but there's no way she can miss the telltale signs of Rachel's tears. "Are you leaving me?" she asks flatly.
The tone of Quinn's voice takes her by surprise because in the time she's known the blonde she's gotten to see many different sides of her. From arrogant and annoying, to humble and tolerable, to kind and loving, to goofy and playful. But Rachel's never seen the blonde be so aloof and shut off like she is. She doesn't know how to handle it and she's suddenly unsure if their relationship will last through the rest of the night.
"If you kiss her, then yes. Yes, I will."
"You know what I mean," Quinn snaps. She disentangles herself from the girl to take a step towards Rachel. "I thought you loved me."
"I do love you," Rachel assures her as the blonde continues to walk toward her.
"Then why would you –Why would leaving even be a question? Why wouldn't you even tell me?" They ignore Ashley as she shoulders past them both and out of the kitchen.
Rachel grabs the blonde's hand and gives it a gentle tug, coaxing her reluctant girlfriend into a hug. "Can we please just go home? I promise I'll talk to you. I'll tell you everything. Let's just leave, Quinn, please."
Quinn pulls back suddenly, wrenching her body away from Rachel's. "You're not really going to California, are you?'
"I –I don't know, Quinn," she says quietly.
Quinn's face hardens as she stares at Rachel, her eyes narrowing slightly as she walks past her. "Then find me when you do know. Otherwise, leave me the hell alone."
Her vision gets bleary from unshed tears as she watches the blonde walk away from her. She walks back into the living room to find Mercedes at the doorway. Mercedes doesn't say anything, just wraps her arms around Rachel. "I'm just going to go home," she whispers brokenly.
Rachel shuffles quietly into her apartment, haphazardly tossing her keys into the general direction of her kitchen table.
She peels off her now dry shirt, the stench of alcohol permeating the air and reminding her of Quinn's clouded eyes and how expressionless the blonde was. She flips the shirt over and dabs her eyes of unshed tears, new ones falling in their place.
Deciding to call it a night, she changes into her pajamas quickly and slides under her sheets, burrowing under them and curling into a ball to find comfort. Her phone rings and she quickly gropes along her nightstand to find it, hoping it's Quinn and that the blonde will at least tell her she's safe. She sighs quietly upon realizing it's her father, Leroy, before answering her phone.
"Hi, daddy," she whispers tiredly into the phone. She laughs softly at his uncanny ability to pick up on her distress within the first two words of her speaking. "I'm fine, daddy, honestly. I'm simply exhausted because of my late night exercise before bed and–"
He doesn't even allow her to finish her story before calling her bluff. "Quinn and I are fighting," she tells him. She tries to fight back the same tears that she's tried to be too strong to cry all night but her father has always had a way of allowing her to be comfortable enough to break down. "And I –she's at this party with some girl and she was about to kiss her. And I told her not to and to just come home with me but she told me no," she continues to cry.
She sobs uncontrollably into the phone as her father gently shushes her with kind words. It's times like this that Rachel can see that all of his years with dealing with hysterical patients at the hospital he works at has taught him how to easily coax Rachel back down to earth. Just like Quinn has been able to do since the very beginning. Her breathing slows down into hiccupping breaths as the worst of her crying is over. Her thoughts keep flying to Quinn and wondering what she's doing and if she's safe and she mentally berates herself for even leaving in the first place. Who would be there for Quinn? Santana and Brittany are drunk and Rachel's sure that Kurt and Mercedes are drunk by now as well.
Her father continues to talk to her, having already guessed the cause of her fight with Quinn. The day Rachel received the letter she had called her fathers to get advice from them. Hiram had been on the fence about her not only flying out to a completely different coast but also about her meeting her mother for the first time. A woman, whom in his opinion, selfishly gave Rachel up for her own chance at stardom. Leroy thought that the situation had the potential to end very well or very badly but that it was all Rachel's decision and that he would respect it and be there for her one hundred percent. Hiram eventually agreed with reluctance, giving Rachel his blessing. But one thing that they both agreed on from the very beginning was that Quinn should be informed about the letter and Rachel's dilemma as soon as possible.
"I know, daddy," Rachel sniffles into the receiver, cradling the phone with both hands as if it were a lifeline. "I know I should have told her, but I didn't want her to worry. I didn't want to fight with her like we're doing now. I just want her to come home."
She's silent for a moment, licking salty tears from her lips as she listens intently to her father. "Yes, daddy, she knows I love her. I'm sure she does. Why wouldn't she?"
Her shoulders slump as she's gently reprimanded for how she handled the entire situation. "I understand," she grumbles. "I'm still young and immature no matter how much I try to tell myself otherwise. I made a mistake and I understand that now. I just wish she would have left the party with me."
More tears streak down her face as she imagines what Quinn could possibly doing right now. Wondering whether the blonde has drank herself into a stupor, passed out on some bed in the presence of a questionable individual, or if she's currently hooking up with another woman.
"Do you think she's okay?"
A loud knock startles her and she turns toward her door with wide eyes. "Someone's here, daddy," she whispers. "I have to go."
He tells her to stay on the line with him to make sure she's safe and she places her phone on her desk as she walks to the door. Standing on the tips of her toes she peers through the peephole and sighs in relief before quickly unlocking her door and swinging it open.
Her body goes on auto-pilot and before she thinks twice of it she flings herself into Quinn's arms. She inhales deeply, the scent of alcohol and strawberry shampoo swirling together into one. Neither of them say a word and Rachel's arms tighten around Quinn's neck when the blonde loosely returns her hug.
She quickly ushers Quinn into the room before closing the door and running back to her phone. "Daddy? It was Quinn at the door. Yes. Yes, that's right. I'll call you tomorrow and thank you for everything. I love you and tell dad I love him too."
The conversation ends and she turns towards Quinn to see the blonde perched on the foot of her bed, staring back at her. "You've been crying," she says quietly.
Rachel nods as she tries to wipe away the remainder of her tears. "I was really worried about you," she says softly. "Did you walk all the way here by yourself?"
"Yeah."
"Quinn, something could have happened to you," Rachel gently admonishes as she walks over to the bed to sit beside her. Quinn shrugs carelessly and Rachel can sense that there's no way she can reach the blonde in her current mood or state of mind.
She pulls her in for another hug, trying and failing not to feel hurt when Quinn doesn't respond. Hopping off the bed, she walks over to her armoire and retrieves a spare set of pajamas for her.
Quinn grabs them from Rachel's outstretched hand and walks into the bathroom to change. Rachel's heart hurts even more at the fact that something as simple as changing clothes has to be done behind closed doors as if Quinn doesn't trust her anymore.
She fights back more tears, refusing to cry anymore for the night before crawling into bed. Quinn walks back in a moment later, sparing Rachel a quick glance before placing her neatly folded dress on Rachel's chair.
Rachel watches her movements, seemingly mechanic and robotic for Quinn, even more so considering the amount of alcohol in her system. She licks her lips nervously, gathering the courage to voice the question that's been on her mind since she left the party. "Quinn, did you and that girl–"
Quinn spins around and gives Rachel a cold look, instantly shutting her up. Her lips press firmly together as she walks over to the bed and slides under the sheets. She situates herself before turning on her side away from Rachel.
"Quinn, we really need to talk about this. All of it. My letter, tonight, the status of our relationship. Everything," Rachel pleads. She reaches out to lightly touch her shoulder and Quinn curls further into herself before inhaling a shuddering breath. "We can talk about it tomorrow."
"Will you be here?"
"Will you?"
Rachel takes the jab in stride, taking a deep breath and swallowing the lump of tension from the air. "I'll be here," she says softly.
"Then so will I."
She nods jerkily before cautiously wrapping her arm around Quinn's waist. "I love you, Quinn."
Quinn doesn't respond but Rachel doesn't miss the way her body relaxes into her. She tightens her hold further and scoots closer to the blonde, attempting to either reassure herself or Quinn, she isn't sure. That night can easily constitute as Rachel's most restless night of sleep, but she's comforted by the fact that no matter what happens tomorrow for now, she can at least say she has Quinn.
