Story: The Shell Collector
Disclaimer: Don't own anything here, just honoring the medium. All not-for-profit.
Rating: this is kind of PG but the story is M overall.
A/N: Filler. Necessary Filler, but filler nonetheless. Patience, grasshoppers, patience! They'll get their moment.
CHAPTER NEXT: The Rhodes Scholar
Quinn hummed to herself as she shelved the stacks of books on her cart. She adored the Bodleian Library; perhaps the best in the world, it was the only place she could sometimes find peace, was among the formidable and inanimate shelves of books. As she turned the corner, she smacked into a tall young man, and the books came crashing down – on her toes.
"Oh my god, you idiot! Those were my toes!"
"I'm so sorry…I'm a little daft today."
Handsome, polite, tall, red hair…it could only be Oxford's famous summer student.
And he was an idiot, in Quinn's opinion. And she was furious.
"Are you going to stand there like a moron, or are you going to help pick these up since you probably broke 9 out of 10 of my toes?"
His face turned scarlet. As he picked them up, he tried to make small talk. "That sounds like an American accent, there."
"So I've been told."
"You American, then?"
"No, I'm Chinese." She rolled her eyes.
He laughed. "Gorgeous. American, and rude. You must be the legendary Miss Quinn Fabray."
Now it was Quinn's turn to look startled. "What did you say?"
"Your name, I believe."
Quinn narrowed her eyes. He smiled and raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, blokes talk. There aren't too many pretty ladies here, and you're kind of famous as I understand. No one's ever been successful in getting you to go on a date – male or female."
Quinn rolled her eyes. "Really?"
"Look, Quinn, don't be insulted. Everyone knows you're smart – you're a Rhodes Scholar, for Jimmy's sake! Its just, you happen to be very pretty, too. And, well, sounds as though you're unattainable, from what the fellas say. Creates mystery and intrigue." He said, conspiratorially.
"I find it hard to believe you don't have something better to talk about."
"Blokes ages 18-25 years? Hmm. Nope."
Quinn chuckled.
"She laughs!"
"I sing and dance, too. Strip, too, since I used to be a pretty successful stripper – but I'm curtailing those activities these days."
She kept a straight face as she went back to organizing her books, and from the corner of her eye, she saw the young man's jaw drop.
XOXOXO
Rachel huffed as she lost her second straight game of UNO to the diminutive – but obviously gloating – young man in front of her.
"Look, Princess G, if I went easy on you, what would be the satisfaction of winning?,. if and when you ever do? That's how you learn in life."
"That sounds like something Quinn would say."
"Actually, that's Great-Grammy. She beats me, every time."
Quinn guffawed, hearing the tail end of the conversation, entering from cleaning up the kitchen. "So true. Alright, little card sharks, its time for bath and bedtime."
His head snapped to Rachel. "Are you going to do bedtime with me tonight?" The unmistakable plea in his voice, palpable.
His big baby blues focused on her.
Quinn interrupted, "Freddie, honey. Rachel and I didn't discuss that, she's very busy. Perhaps when she can plan for it another time, she-
"I'd love to." Rachel interjected. Looking at Quinn, intensely, she said, "what do we do first, Mom?"
XOXOXO
The mop of red hair could be seen in the library more and more frequently, and despite herself, Quinn found herself talking to him. He had a real knack for drawing conversation out of her, and even getting her do laugh from time to time. He in turn, found an ally, and someone who didn't expect a thing from her. She also had been through more in her young life, it would seem, than most people that ran in his circles in their fifties. The only person wiser, in his life, was his Grammy. He found himself running more and more decisions by her.
"I'm so tired of living in the shadow of …everything, Quinn. I want to make my own mark."
Quinn furrowed her brow.
"Well, that's going to be challenging. You are talking about one of the biggest institutions in your country – the monarchy – and that's a hard thing to surpass."
"I know. Tell me about it! But its not just that, Quinn…" He said, leaning forward. "Its also my big brother. HE is the darling child. Every time anyone looks at me, they act like I'm a prodigal son. If I do anything right, like get A marks, its always, 'well, that's almost as good as your brother,' and if I do anything wrong…."
"It's the classic, 'I told you so.' I know. I had a perfect big sister, too."
"So what'd you do?"
"Well, first I acted out. I had a baby out of wedlock, I dyed my hair pink, I smoked."
His eyes got big. "What? YOU?"
"Yep." Quinn said, nodding. "It doesn't take too long to figure out that immature behavior doesn't get you where you need to go."
"I got busted for drugs."
"I know. So does the whole world."
He turned red.
"So…what you have to figure out, is this: what is a bigger institution, and what is something Frannie…whoops, I mean, your brother….has never done, or excelled in? That way, it's a fresh look at you."
"Wow, that's hard." He said, glumly, taking a sip of his coffee.
They sat quietly, thinking.
Quinn snapped her fingers. "I've got it!"
"What?"
"The military! Its perfect. War is just as old as your family! Your brother is, frankly, kind of a pussy. You're a great athlete, people like you; and you are pretty tactically oriented. Though, I recommend retaking Geography if you really did get a D in it like you said. Anyway, that's your answer."
"Quinn, you…why, you're a genius!"
"Thank you."
He sat there quietly. "Quinn, I'm going to head back to Eton soon."
"I'm aware." Quinn, despite herself, was not eager to see her one friend go.
"You don't suppose you'd like to take these little library sessions outdoors, do you?"
"To where?"
"Dinner, dancing?"
"Dancing?"
"Ballroom dancing. None of that American crap." He said, waggling his eyebrows.
Quinn laughed. "Okay, but this is not a date, got it?"
"Got it. Not a date."
"Because I'm warning you: I'm damaged goods. I'm only going to break your heart- I'm in love with someone else."
"Got it. Damaged. Broken. Unavailable. I think that covers it."
She sighed. "I hope you do. Many people thought they could change that – and their wrong. Don't think you're different."
"Well, I actually am different. But I get it."
XOXOXO
The kid was even more regimented than Sue Sylvester. Bath-teeth-prayers-story-kiss-lights out. No deviation.
"And now comes the part where you make up a story and tell it to me."
Rachel rolled her eyes, incredulously. "What about reading a story to you?"
"Reading? I've been doing that since I was three. Most children's books have no imagination whatsoever! Their all just regurgitations of the same thing. I'll read to myself if I want to read."
Quinn looked at the scene amused.
"Now that does sound like your mother."
"Yep."
"Well, listen, Freddy…I certainly don't have the literary mind of your mother…she was a Rhodes scholar at Oxford, after all…"
"What's that, Mama?"
Rachel's head snapped to Quinn. "He doesn't know you're a Rhodes Scholar?"
Quinn shrugged. "Its not as interesting as Yo Gabba Gabba."
"What is that?"
"Freddie, all of the American universities – and there are 200 times as many as in your country – nominate the best and brightest students they have to do 2-4 post bacchloriate years at Oxford University. Only 30 or so get picked. All go on to do great things."
"Wow."
"yes, wow. It's the most prestigious scholarship in the world, Freddie. And your mom, well, she went to one of the best schools in our country, so she already had the hardest competition there was around – and not a lot of females have gotten picked."
"Okay, Rachel, that's enough. How do you know so much about this?"
"You weren't the only nominee, Lucy Quinn Fabray."
"What? I didn't know that!"
"There's a lot you don't know, Quinn. I turned it down."
"Oh, that's right! You were up for your first Broadway show!"
"No that wasn't it. There's a lot that went into my decision." She said, darkly.
"Okay, enough talky talk. Story?"
Sighing, Rachel said, "As I believe I mentioned, my literary mind is no match for your mother's. So how about we do something I'm actually okay at?"
"Oh…kay." He said skeptically.
Rachel turned out the light. Rubbing his back, she started singing.
"Hush little baby, don't you cry….Mama's going buy you a lullaby…."
Hearing that angelic voice again, Quinn turned away. Quinn walked out of the room, just in time for her first tear to fall.
TBC.