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Chapter 9
It had been almost three weeks since my daughter died. It was hard to talk about. Hard to think about. In three weeks, I'd changed forever. In three weeks, I'd lost the feeling of being safe. I'd spent three weeks in a fog. Afraid to go to sleep. Afraid to wake up. Afraid that I was never going to feel anything again. That everything I'd ever felt for anyone else was going to be numbed, stunted, dulled.
Until tonight…
I wasn't sure exactly when everything changed. I knew I was crying. And she was holding me. And that helped. It finally helped. But it was the sounds of her own sobs that changed it.
Quinn was reserved. She was stoic. To hear her breaking down and weeping was heart-wrenching. At first, I wanted her to stop. I wanted to scream. It was too much. But then I realized… I'd actual felt it. I felt her pain. I knew she was hurting. I couldn't believe I could feel it.
More importantly, I cared that I felt it. And that was new.
I pulled back from her and wiped my face. I'd seen Quinn cry, or more often almost-cry, dozens of times. But… I'd never seen her do this… This was new.
When she realized I was watching her, she swallowed and turned away. "Jesus Christ… I'm so sorry," she whispered, trying to control herself. She wiped furiously at her face. She was gulping for air. It was sad to watch her attempt to control her emotions when she obviously couldn't.
"It's okay," I whispered. "Really." I tried to get her to turn back around but she wouldn't look at me.
She was muffling her cries, still trying to control herself. "It's not," she finally choked out. "It's not okay for me to do this." I watched her swipe angrily at her face, as she pushed me lightly away from her in an effort to get up. "I don't get to do this. God," she moaned. "I don't get to do this." Her voice was so strained.
I wanted to hold her and just make it all go away. Was that what she'd been feeling for the last week? Helpless? What a horrible feeling.
I grabbed her arm and held her on the couch. I knew she could get out of my grasp, but I was extremely glad when she didn't. Of course, she wouldn't look at me. "Would you like to tell me? Why you're crying?"
She shook her head violently and bit her lip. God that face. I'd forgotten about that face. I had a glimpse of Eliza, furiously disagreeing the exact same way.
And I couldn't help myself as I smiled softly.
"Why are you smiling?" She sniffed.
"It's nothing," I started. "I just… when Lizzie used to get mad, she'd bite her lip like that and start shaking her head. It was her 'I'm not listening to you' face." I smiled again. "You just made the same face."
That made her cry harder. "Oh god…" She moaned.
When did I get so terrible at this? "Oh! I'm sorry, Quinn," I said, trying to put my arms around her. "I didn't mean to…"
She shook me off. "You do not get to comfort me." She sobbed. "You're not supposed to…" She couldn't catch her breath to speak. She was choking she was sobbing so hard.
"Well that is a ridiculous statement," I told her. "Of course I can."
She shook me off again. I watched her cry. It was something I'd rarely seen anyone do before. It was almost like she was melting. I wanted to hold her but she wouldn't let me. I put my hand on her arm instead.
"Breathe," I whispered.
"Holy shit!" Santana called, standing in the doorway. "Did you break her?" Her face was a mixture of fear, concern, and disgust. It was always hard to tell with her.
I jumped and shot her a look. "No. She's just sad."
Brittany was standing behind her, biting her lip. She walked passed her and sat down on the other side of Quinn, pulling her to her. "It's okay, Q. Shh," she muttered, rubbing her back. "It's okay." She kept rubbing her back. "Just breathe, okay?"
Santana showed the decency to look stricken at least. "Seriously, Rach…" She moved over to us. "What's wrong?" She glanced between Brittany and me.
When she asked, Quinn started sobbing louder. It sounded physically painful.
I realized suddenly how alike she and Santana were. For people like me… like Brittany, crying was normal. It was an expression of emotion. We cried because we were supposed to cry. Because we had to cry.
For people like Quinn and Santana… it was weakness. A sign of feebleness. A flaw. They only cried because they had no choice. There was no other option.
It hurt to think about.
I frowned at Santana and put my hand on Quinn's back. "It's okay to cry, Quinn. I've been doing it a lot lately."
She wailed then.
Santana shook her head, realized I wasn't helping probably, and motioned at me with her hand. "Come on…" She said, taking my hand.
Brittany was muttering to Quinn, trying to get her to stop crying. I let Santana lead me out.
When we got upstairs, she turned to me, frowning. "What the fuck?" She whispered. She looked ashen.
I shrugged. We talked…" I started. I gave her an edited version of our conversation.
She nodded when I'd finished. "Are you okay?" She asked me. I was glad she didn't comment on anything else.
I frowned. "I drank a lot."
She rolled her eyes. "Motherfucker. Hiram is like a reject Easter Bunny. He couldn't hide a damn needle in a haystack."
Leave it to Santana to add a bit of perspective to the situation. "You were the one who wanted to drink," I countered. "And then you didn't come back down. Were you and Brittany, you know..." I figured a change of subject was warranted.
She studied me. "Not exactly."
"That's a non-answer," I told her.
She sighed. "We didn't want to make anything strong. So we decided to knock a few back. You know how she used to get when she drank… well, multiply that. Nothing happened though," she added. I noticed the coy look on her face.
I nodded at her. I just wanted her to be happy. "It's okay if it did. I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret. But I love Brittany and I know that you…"
She shook her head, holding her hand up. "No way. Don't start. Tell me more about this treehouse thing," she settled on. So we were both good at evading the heavy stuff.
I shook my head back. "I'd rather not." I put my arms around her and pulled her into a hug. She held me for a few minutes before I spoke. "I'm so confused about a whole lot of stuff. But I love you," I whispered against her.
She squeezed me. "I know you do. I love you too. And those two downstairs confuse the utter fuck out of me too, if that helps."
I shook my head against her chest. "No. It doesn't. You're supposed to have all the answers. That's why I keep you around."
She laughed and pulled back. "Fuck that. You keep me around cause I'm hot. Don't play." She winked at me. "Let's go back downstairs. I've only seen Q break down once and it didn't last long. She's probably freaking the fuck out right now. That girl's armor is usually airtight. She doesn't like chinks."
I grabbed her hand. "Don't be too hard on her," I warned.
She cut her eyes at me. "Give me some credit."
I swatted her arm. "I am. That's why I'm warning you."
She smirked, pulling me back down the stairs.
We tiptoed down the staircase like we were spies in a movie. I expected Santana to put her finger to her lips and direct me with her eyebrows.
I wasn't disappointed.
I rolled my eyes and stepped around her.
Quinn and Brittany were still sitting on the couch. Brittany had her arm around Quinn, whose head was leaning on Brittany's shoulder. She'd stopped sobbing, which was good because I wasn't sure I could listen to it again and not touch her at least.
Brittany caught our eyes before Quinn saw us. "Q's fine now. Sometimes she needs to cry. It embarrasses her. Especially cause she thinks you aren't supposed to see it."
Quinn groaned beside her. "Not helping," she muttered. She wouldn't look at me.
I didn't want to go back to the way we were before. "I'm sorry," I finally said.
Santana huffed next to me but I shot her a look to shut her up.
Quinn shook her head. "No. You absolutely didn't do anything." She still wouldn't look at me though. "I had too much to drink," she muttered.
Santana scoffed again. My gaze wasn't enough to shut her up. "Oh that's a fucking copout, isn't it? You drank too much? Please."
Quinn narrowed her eyes, a silent fury replacing the sadness.
"Be honest, at least." Santana added.
Brittany frowned. "She's not being dishonest, San. It's hard for her to say things like that. You know that."
"Bullshit," Santana said. "That's bullshit. She doesn't get to hide behind stoicism. She's fucking sad. She can be sad. No one here thinks she can't be sad." She looked at me. "In fact," she started, making eye contact with Quinn. "Tears make you fucking normal, Quinn. Jesus Christ. We're all sad. We've got a goddamn good excuse."
Oh no. If she started crying too, I would. I put my hand on her shoulder. "Would you like us to talk about her?" I asked the two sitting on the couch. I glanced at Santana.
She nodded back. "We can do that."
Quinn shook her head. "You don't have to do that. Either of you… we don't…"
Brittany nodded. "We're really sorry we didn't know her. But if you want to talk about her, we don't mind."
Quinn was shaking her head. "No," she whispered.
She squeezed Quinn's knee when she started tearing up again. "It hurts Q a lot. Do you know she used to…"
"No!" Quinn yelled. "Stop." She grabbed Brittany's arm. "Stop!"
Brittany frowned at her. "I'm not…" She turned to us instead. "You can't keep being like this… if you keep being proud, you're going to…" She was still talking to Quinn.
Quinn jumped up. "This isn't the time, Britt!" She was yelling. "I don't need you…" I watched her clinch her fists. Her face was getting red.
Brittany looked heartbroken. "Let her talk," I whispered.
She spun around. "No, Rachel. I don't want to talk." Her voice was clipped. "I don't want her to talk..."
"You don't always get to make the decisions, Q," Brittany frowned at her.
She turned back around. "I do when they're about me!"
Santana stepped up. "Simmer down, Fabray." Oh crap. That was definitely a challenge.
Quinn growled at her. "Stay the fuck out of this, Lopez." She moved closer.
Okay… I needed to intervene. Thankfully, Brittany beat me to it. "Go upstairs, Q. You're mad. And when you're mad you say stuff you shouldn't. So take a deep breath and go upstairs. Go outside and get some air or something."
Quinn huffed but for very strange reason, she listened to her. She stalked up the stairs without looking at any of us.
Brittany frowned at us. "Quinn's different in some ways. But she's the same in others. You've got to give her time." She patted the seat next to her. I sat down. Santana chose the chair across from us. "Q's spent all this time wondering what if… you know?"
We both nodded.
"Every time we'd see another news story… every time… she'd get all depressed and sad. Then she'd go through those phases where she cried a lot. Like that," she gestured with her hand. "She kept telling herself that she had time, you know? She just wanted to be the right person for you but she didn't know how to contact you. Or what to say. When you had Eliza, I was so worried about her cause I thought that she would freak out. And I guess she did, but she was also happy for you. She saw pictures of her," she frowned. "It would make her so mad that people would take pictures of you guys, but… she like got to see her and stuff and when you did that photo shoot, she cried. Like a lot."
"Brittany, I…" I swallowed. I didn't know what to say. "What do you think would help her?" I finally asked.
She shrugged back. "For you to talk about Eliza, maybe. I know that that can help you. Cause I read about it and stuff. And I know that she just wants to help you. She doesn't understand she can't make your pain go away. And she's afraid to talk to you about Eliza. To bring her up. But I think it would help everyone. Even you," she smiled at Santana. "Cause we don't really know much about her. And I know you were proud of her. I bet she was awesome."
That she was.
"More than awesome," Santana answered. She was looking away. "I miss her everyday," she choked. "I hate that you moved to California. I cried for a fucking week straight." She wouldn't look at either of us. "I kinda realized I wouldn't have kids," she finally looked at us both. "But I was okay with that. I deal with so much at work… it's painful and shit but you learn how to become detached… you have to if you wanna survive it. But then…" She closed her eyes. "I just loved her." She had tears in her eyes, but she wiped them away. "I loved her more than anything in the world."
"I know you did," I whispered. I held my arms out and she got up to sit down beside me. I pulled her to me. "I know it's been hard for you. And I'm so sorry." I whispered into her hair.
I felt her sniffing against my shoulder. "I don't mean to do this… I shouldn't be…"
"Stop," I told her softly. I looked at Brittany. "Can you go see if Quinn is okay? If she'll come back down here?"
She nodded and left.
Santana never cried around me. She wouldn't let me comfort her. She said it wasn't fair. I knew her job was hard. I knew she saw so much and had to deal with so much, and then after Lizzie… it was terrible. And it was so utterly unfair.
"Do you know how much I love you?" I asked her. "I mean, really love you? I'm glad they're here now, because maybe we need them. But you do know that you're my best friend in the whole world, don't you? I've never had someone like you. I can't imagine not having you in my life. You've kept me alive." I kissed the side of her head. "Literally…"
She cried softly. "Thank you," she finally whispered.
When Brittany brought Quinn back down the stairs, Santana had stopped crying. She was sitting next to me, her head on my shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Quinn said, shuffling her feet. She wouldn't look at us.
Santana and I nodded.
"Can you guys sit down?" I finally asked, standing up.
I caught their attention at least and they did what I said, sitting on the couch next to Santana.
"Rach…" Santana started, when she realized what I was about to do.
I shook my head. "No. I want to talk. You get to listen." I smiled at her. "I know I can get a little verbose, but I guess you just have to deal with it. Okay?"
They nodded at the same time.
"Okay, so I have a few things I need to say. First of all, I want to thank you for being here. I know that it's hard and I know that it's a really difficult situation," I took a deep breath. Quinn and Santana both looked like they wanted to speak, but neither did. "So it means so much more that you're all here. Because you don't have to be. I know why you're doing it. And I'm grateful. So I just wanted to say thank you."
It was easy to thank them. I wasn't worried about that. What I was worried about what was what I needed to say next.
"So here's the other thing. The second thing… I need you guys to stop."
They all looked surprised.
"Rachel..." Quinn started.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Santana asked.
I rolled my eyes. "Can you listen?" They crossed their arms and Santana motioned for me to continue. "I need you to stop treating me like I'm going to break," I pointedly caught the gaze of Quinn and Santana. "Mostly you two actually because Brittany hasn't really been doing that… But I need you to stop apologizing for how you feel or what you're thinking or why you're thinking it." I sat down across from them. Eliza was my daughter. But that doesn't mean her dying didn't hurt others." It was the first time I'd ever talked about this without sobbing. "It's hard for you," I frowned at Quinn. "Because you don't want to say that it hurts you, but… if you love me like you said you did you are allowed to hurt."
I saw Santana cut her eyes at Quinn. "Okayyyy…." She drawled out. "Back up a second…"
Brittany reached around Quinn and smacked Santana's arm. "No," she demanded. "Let Rachel finish before you say something."
I winked at her. "Thanks, Brittany."
"No problem, Rach. Continue."
"She was really a perfect little girl," I smiled softly. "I would like to tell you about her. I want to show you pictures of her. I am very proud of her. She made me prouder of her in two years than I'd ever been of anything in my whole life. That's the kind of thing I want to share. Okay?"
Quinn nodded. "I told you I would listen to you…"
"I know. I just don't want you to feel guilty about things you can't change. It was an accident. Accidents happen. I know that. You can't live in the past. You're supposed to learn from it." I took a deep breath. "But… I don't want to do that tonight. Because I'm tired and I kinda just want to go to bed."
I knew that their parents were coming tomorrow. I knew that they were sleepy as well.
Brittany smiled at that. "I think that's a great idea." She stood up.
Santana nodded. "So here's the thing… H put our bags in Rach's room. I can shack with her and you two can have the other bedrooms if you want."
Quinn shook her head. "That's silly. Britts and I can sleep together. It's no big deal." They'd been sleeping in the same room at my house for the past week.
Brittany laughed. "We're all kind of silly. I think I'm sleeping with San," she smiled, leaning around Quinn. "That's what we said earlier."
I figured my eyebrow was mirroring Quinn's.
Santana coughed. "I don't wanna leave Rachel…"
"No," I cut in quickly. "It's absolutely fine."
Quinn nodded. "Yep, fine."
When I got out of the shower, Quinn was in my room. "I'm sorry," she began. "I needed to call my mom. I texted her earlier, but I hadn't spoken to her so…" She looked around the room. "They've gone to bed. S said to tell you she loved you and she hoped you wouldn't miss her hot body pressed up against yours in your sleep." She rolled her eyes at the last part. "She thought I wouldn't tell you. So I had to prove her wrong. It's childish, I realize, but…" she sighed. "I needed to get my bag." I guessed she was explaining why she was in my room now.
I nodded. "It's fine." I pulled my hair back into a bun. "I'm surprised there were no expletives thrown in."
She smiled. "Oh there were… I just left them out. No need for that visual twice." She was looking away shyly.
I didn't want to go back to how we were. Awkward and stuttering. I realized that's always how we'd been. It was tiring. "Are you… are you okay now? You seemed upset earlier…"
She frowned. "I don't want to say the wrong thing."
"Then be honest, maybe?" I tried.
There was a picture of Eliza and me on the bedside table. She walked over and picked it up. "When was this?" She asked softly.
I moved beside her. "My birthday." I was standing next to Kurt and holding her on my hip. She loved to smile for the camera. She was so much like me sometimes.
She ran her fingertip over the picture, frowning intently, before she finally sat it back down. She sat down on my bed. "I'm really trying to be honest, but…" she looked at her hands. "I don't want to make it worse. For you, I mean." She looked up and glanced back at the photograph. "The day I realized how much I'd fucked up…" she blinked and I watched the tears she would not let fall. "I felt like this hollowness had settled in my chest. It physically hurt. When people say your heart's broken, I understand what they mean. It's actually painful."
I nodded. "I know." I'd felt it for three weeks. I felt it the day I left for New York as well.
"I feel that when I look at her picture. I feel so much wasted promise. I have no conceivable right to feel that way and yet it's still fucking there." She looked up at me finally. "And I feel guilty that I feel it." She shook her head. "It's so fucked up."
I sat down beside her. "It's really not."
She frowned. "When I gave Beth to Shelby I felt that way… I don't know her. I've never spoken to her. Never seen her…"
She hadn't mentioned Beth. Not at all. She'd only mentioned Shelby in passing. I didn't speak because I wanted her to finish. I needed her to.
"But, I know she's alive. I know that she's loved. It hurts me that she's not mine." She looked back at the photograph again. "That's how I feel about her. It hurts me I didn't know Eliza. It hurts me that I didn't get to love her. It's ridiculous. I mean she wasn't my daughter and I…" she shook her head, like she was trying to clear her mind. "…I just thought… God, you have no idea how much I regret it." She turned to face me. "Your dad showed us a photo album. One night last week while you and S were sleeping. He couldn't sleep and Britt and I were up…" It hurt me how much she wanted to cry. Her eyes were so expressive. "I would have loved her. Everything about her. Do you know how much I would've loved her? God, she was yours…"
I nodded at her. I wasn't sure what I could say to make that better. Truthfully, there was nothing. There was nothing that anyone could say to make me better so I couldn't expect any different for her.
Instead I touched her hand. "Let's go to bed," I finally said.
She frowned and stood up. "Okay." She bent over to kiss my forehead. "I'll see you in the…"
"No," I whispered. "I want you to sleep in here."
She looked shocked. "Rachel, you don't have to..."
"No," I cut her off again. "You make me feel safe. I need that. If that's too much for you, I understand. But if it's not…"
She walked over to her bag and I assumed it was too much. I couldn't expect her to be everything for me. I knew that she was hurting and it wasn't fair…
She rose up after she'd grabbed her pajamas. "Let me get changed and get ready. I'll be back in a second," she whispered.
I smiled at her. "Okay."
I was already in bed when she came back in the room about ten minutes later. She'd taken a shower and her hair was still wet. She had on a pair of shorts and a tank top. She was towel-drying her hair.
"I had no idea how much I needed a shower," she said. "And I look like I've been drinking. And doing drugs. There are actual bags under my eyes," she frowned.
I shook my head. "You look fine."
She smirked. "Just fine? Wow… I'm losing my touch."
I rolled my eyes and patted the bed. "You are always going to be the prettiest girl I know. A less confident woman than myself would be jealous."
She walked around to the other side of the bed and pulled back the covers before crawling in. "To be so confident, you're also pretty delusional. Since you sort of carry that title and all."
I tried not to smile. "Thank you for sleeping in here. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
She lay back on the pillow and watched me. I was still sitting up. "Rachel, seriously. Lying in bed with someone that I… care about… it's not uncomfortable." She rubbed her hand up and down my back.
I felt goose bumps rise on my skin. "I'm cold." I was cold. It wasn't the only reason my skin was prickled, but…
She wrapped her arm around my waist. "I can hold you, okay?" She pulled me down against her. "Can you sleep like this?"
I nodded and laid my head on her chest. Her heart was racing. "Can you?"
She laughed lightly and wrapped her other arm around me. "I doubt it. I'll probably have to get up and go in there with S and B when you fall asleep."
I swatted her arm. "You're a comedienne."
I felt her shrug. She kissed the top of my head. "Good night, superstar."
I closed my eyes. I was so tired. And I felt warm and protected and less afraid to close my eyes than I'd felt in days. "Good night, badass," I whispered.
Her breathing evened before my mine. Sleep was easy. Being afraid of the nightmares wasn't. Something about her holding me made it a little better.
I was slipping in and out when I heard. "I love you, Berry."
I wasn't sure if I imagined it or not.
Short Chapter but I hope you like it. I'll get around to answering reviews for chapter 8 tomorrow. Thank you so much for following the story. It means a lot.
