A/N: For those of you having issues with your fic alerts, AlliEquality had the same problem and it turned out that the alerts were being sent to the spam folder, so it might be worth checking yours. If that's the case, don't forget to tick "this isn't junk" so you don't miss out on future updates! The links are always available on tumblr on Sunday's and Wednesday's, though :)
Rachel was the only occupant of the room when her alarm went off at seven AM.
She was first clued into that fact when she rubbed a hand over her face and brushed over a post-it stuck on her head. It' d been a note from Quinn explaining that she'd gone for coffee and not to worry, she planned to make it back in time to catch the plane. What was left unwritten was why Quinn had really gone out but Rachel didn't need it to be spelled out for her every time. She worried for Quinn each time she left the building to use, but at the same time she appreciated that Quinn respected her home enough not to taint it like that.
Due to Rachel's slight exaggeration on the city's morning traffic, she and Quinn were the first of their group to arrive at the airport.
Rachel's driver, Andrew, dropped them off at the curb side directly outside of the terminal and pulled their cases out of the trunk. He had a quick sweep of the inside of the car in case Rachel had left anything behind, which she had done on more than one occasion and then proceeded to beg him to turn around to bring it back.
Rachel gasped when Andrew held out her cellphone in his hand. "Thank you!"
He indulged her with a smile and shake of his head, and then she promised to make arrangements for picking them back up nearer the time. Once he'd driven away from the curb and another car nearly took Andrew's bumper off in their haste to occupy the space, Quinn looked up from the tag on her case, making sure her address (really Rachel's) was eligible.
"Did you remember your ID?"
It was a joke but for a split second Rachel hesitated when answering. There had been several occasions in the past where she'd left it in a different purse. Luckily, it was safely nestled away in her travel wallet.
Quinn didn't like the smell outside of airports. The car exhausts and burned rubber always made her feel somewhat nauseous and this morning, coupled with her anxiety, it was no different. The excessive, impatient honking didn't help either. On a regular morning they were background noise, but today was no regular morning and they were harsh on her senses as they stood outside the terminal waiting for their friends.
They people watched.
Rachel, when she wasn't biting her tongue not to ask Quinn if she was sure she was all right, took in the strangers happily, watching people embrace and kiss hello or goodbye, excited for their travels or happy to be home. Quinn seemed to spot all of the miserable business men and women who travelled regularly and resented being away from their family so much. She didn't realise it at the time, but she looked equally as unapproachable as they did; treating everyone as a potential paparazzi suspect.
Fifteen minutes later and Rachel left her bags with Quinn while she went to use the restroom inside.
Quinn's stomach churned the way she imagined everybody's did when they were flying out of state or country, but it was more than that, of course. She had a feeling this trip was going to change everything and she couldn't tell if it was going to be a good or bad thing.
It didn't help that she was stood around waiting. She needed the distraction that being busy and occupied brought.
After a while, when Quinn was on the receiving end of another hard stare from a disgruntled traveller, she realised with startled urgency that Rachel had not returned.
Rachel had said that their spot outside was perfect as it was visible from all angles and they would be spotted right away when the group arrived but Quinn was unaffected with such trivialities and had a firm hold of their cases as she turned around to go inside. She had to give the bottom of Rachel's case a hard prod with her foot and pull at the same time for it to tip the extreme weight, and then she was off.
When she found the nearest restroom Quinn released the cases at the door and barged in there, narrowly missing a woman and her young son waiting in line. She spotted Rachel standing in front of a blue sink, primping her hair in the mirror with nonchalance.
Quinn apologised softly to the woman, because she would have felt awful if she'd actually hit her or the toddler.
Addressing Rachel, however, she wasn't so polite.
"Rachel," she said stiffly.
"Is everyone here?"
"No."
Rachel looked confused and she turned around to see Quinn properly. "Do you need to go?" A second later, it was followed with, "Where are our bags?"
"No, and safe," Quinn said, trying to calm down now that her mind was at ease. She didn't know if the bags were safe at all. "Let's go."
Rachel focused on the mirror again and ran her fingers back through her hair, pushing it up from the roots to give it more body. "Just a second."
"Your hair's not going to get much better, come on."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Quinn knew that tone. "I mean, it's perfect, let's go."
Thankfully their bags were still outside of the door. They made their way back outside and when they got to the doors, Rachel peered at Quinn's face as they broke in opposite directions to avoid their shins being split open by an over-enthusiastic ten-year-old boy pushing the luggage trolley around like a lunatic.
She could see the tension etched to her face and was able to reflect on what just happened.
"You don't have to be so worried."
"I'm not."
When the coast was clear, Rachel moved closer to her. "You burst in there like you were."
It was obvious by the silence that Quinn didn't want to talk about it, so Rachel linked their arms together as they waited for their friends.
Artie was the first of the group to arrive, followed by Tina, Mercedes, and Sam.
In the end, the three to hold everyone up were Finn, Kurt, and Blaine.
Rachel and Santana were checking their watches every two minutes, and Mercedes kept texting Kurt for updates. They'd been stuck in traffic for twenty minutes. Mike and Puck had been roped into helping three elderly ladies get their luggage out of the trunk and were paid with kisses to the cheek, much to the amusement of their friends. Puck shrugged it off. One of the women reminded him of his Nana and knew she'd be proud of him for what he was doing.
Quinn saw Rachel tap the face of her watch and put it up to her ear and, in doing so, caught sight of a middle-aged man standing slightly off from the group, adjusting a lens on his camera. She bristled, trying to keep in mind that she'd seen plenty of tourists with cameras around their necks in an attempt to squeeze the last few minutes out of the vacation by snapping a few shots at the airport. She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Then he lifted the camera and aimed it in their direction.
She turned her back on him with an anxious huff, sliding the sunglasses down from her head to cover her eyes.
Rachel noticed the movement and figured out the cause of the problem quickly. She discreetly passed Quinn a tissue in case it was required and was going to stay close to her but thought better of it and moved to the other side of Puck instead, so that she was closest to the camera. She heard her name being called by an unfamiliar voice almost right away.
Those who were used to the attention made an attempt to keep their disdain subtle, and those who had never once been sought after like this (besides Quinn) turned to the camera at least once.
At long last, the final members of the group pulled up.
As they did, the photographer moved closer.
Kurt and Blaine reacted neutrally to the intruder but even without sunglasses on, Quinn didn't think she would have been blind to the confused, bashful smile Finn wore as he got out of the car to his picture being snapped dozens of times.
"Who the hell called this idiot?" Santana asked loudly, indifferent if she was overheard. She could tolerate Mr. Latest Canon if he kept his distance but not when he got in their faces. Now he was asking for a little attitude. "This your fault, Anderson?"
To be fair, Blaine did look apologetic. "I'm so sorry, guys. Quinn, I swear I told my publicist to keep the time of the flight under the radar."
Quinn knew that all of her friends had tried their best to do that for her. She still appreciated their efforts, even if some of them were for nothing. She nodded to let him know she understood and watched Finn get out of the car, milking the moment for all its worth. He'd never been anyone to notice by the media before. It felt good. Of course, the paparazzo was more interested in Kurt and Blaine at that particular moment, but still.
When the guys and their luggage were finally ready to go, Puck did another sweep to conclude that everybody had their things and began to smile. "Finally. Are we done? Can we go?"
With a chorus of cheers, they were off.
"Woo!" Finn's reaction was delayed a second longer than everyone else's. He appeared embarrassed when his friends either laughed or pitied him with a look. Santana did both.
"Simmer down, grasshopper; we're not headed to Miami Beach. It's a disaster zone."
"I'm excited to help," he defended himself, and then spotted Quinn walking apart from the group. He saw Rachel notice a second after he did, and he took three long strides off to the side to be able to reach out and grab Quinn's hand, pulling her back to be with everyone else.
Despite the size of their group, it didn't take as long as some had feared to check in. Quinn was nervous at the desk when her ID was being checked by a woman wearing too much make-up, but other than a prolonged stare and several glances to and from the small photograph and her face it went as smoothly as the others did.
Quinn was handed her boarding pass and her ID.
"You're all done here, sweetie," the woman said. "I hope y'all have a safe flight and are careful out there. I got cousins in Davie; it's still rough."
Quinn hadn't seen any of the news footage over the past two months, but she still couldn't imagine seeing it with her own eyes. She couldn't imagine people who had literally lost everything and were trying every single day to rebuild their lives towards some semblance of normal.
X
One of the label executives had parents living in Ft. Lauderdale and while they had evacuated in time, their city was unrecognisable and no longer home. That's why he gave his pilot permission to fly his singers out there in style. For some of them, it was beyond their wildest dreams. It was better than first class. It was an entire little plane of first class.
Finn, Quinn, and Puck all stood in a line staring up at it.
"Dude," Puck uttered, awed. Finn nodded mutely.
Their gawping was interrupted by Artie.
"Uh, guys, could you—"
They jumped into action, each grabbing a wheel.
"Sorry, man, we were kinda taking it all in," Finn said as he and Puck lifted the wheelchair in the air and they began awkwardly ascending the steps to the plane. "Do you see it? It's…the hottest thing I've ever seen."
Artie shoved his glasses further up his nose. "Hard to miss."
Quinn was still rooted to the spot and she heard Finn's overjoyed exclamation of God once he saw the interior. She smiled at him and then Puck was carrying the empty chair back off the plane and handing it over to a worker. Puck tipped his head at her and she nodded that she was okay, then someone was touching her shoulder. It was Rachel.
"You did great in there," she praised. "You're doing great. Now come on, I want you to sit next to me."
The next thirty minutes consisted of everyone choosing a seat they liked and testing out all of the buttons, seeing how far their seats could recline. Puck certainly wasn't going to complain about the lack of a TV screen because he was sure he'd have to talk through his nervous energy anyway, but he was about to pass comment on it to Finn who was sitting next to him, when Finn gripped his arm hard enough for it to hurt.
"Dude, there's a TV the size of my living room wall over there."
Kurt had pushed a button and out popped a TV. The boys were thrilled.
Kurt was also leaning over the back of Rachel's seat as his was situated directly behind her and Quinn. He squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head because he knew she didn't like to fly. His reassurance would have to remain physical as she'd already called her Dads.
It was her pre-flight ritual.
Excluding when she was trying to execute her plan to stun them into silence, Rachel refused to leave the ground unless she'd spoken to each of her parents personally. They calmed her down and talked to her about things that usually distracted her during the flight. She could reflect on things and not dread every time the plane would hit the slightest turbulence. Or each time the plane seemed completely still (wildly untrue, but still), think about how it could drop.
She listened to her Daddy list all of the reasons her Dad was rightfully in the dog house, nodding like he could see her, and rummaged through her bag. It would appear that last week her Dad had planted Grandma Berry's new season plants in the wrong order that she'd requested and refused to fix his mistake. Grandma Berry was a sensitive old lady, something Leroy had not been oblivious to since he began dating her son, so of course now the tension was rife.
Rachel's hand moved around inside her bag for the next minute, accompanied with a small frown. She was one-handed so it was a trying task to begin with. Maybe it would help to have it on her lap.
Quinn, finally comfortable in her seat and all buckled up, gave Rachel a questioning look.
Whatever she was doing, she sure was making it look difficult.
Rachel rubbed her fingers over a soft palm. "Dry," she mouthed, whirling a finger in the air. Her skin got dry on planes. Her Daddy was still ranting —affirming his love for his husband every so often, but ranting nonetheless. "I'm sure if he apologises…" Rachel said to him as Quinn lifted the bag onto her own lap.
"He refuses to!" Hiram said. "Do you know what Mom said? My mother said to me, 'Son, just because he had the big C, that does not give him the right to be a big D.' I was… baby, I've never heard her use language like that. For her to even allude to—"
"He's going to have to bake," Rachel proclaimed. "A lot."
A travel-sized bottle of lotion was located in one of the inside zip compartments to Rachel's Mary Poppins' bag. Quinn touched her fingers to Rachel's and pushed her hand down to expose her palm, depositing a generous amount onto it. Rachel smiled her thanks and tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder to work the lotion into her skin. Quinn zipped everything back up and was leaning down to put the bag on the floor when Rachel impulsively reached her hand out to swipe the excess over Quinn's cheek.
Quinn laughed for the first time that morning, rubbing the cream over the side of her face as Mercedes and Tina exchanged suspicious looks.
Not too much later, they were all asked to switch off any electrical devices to prepare for take-off. A female flight attendant stared at Rachel as she rushed through a goodbye to her parents who had put her on speakerphone.
"Okay, I'm being forced to cut this short like I'm in a correctional facility but I love you both so much. Dad, Grandma won't let this go and you know it, you have to get in the kitchen. Daddy, don't forget, your selective hearing is your best asset when she's ranting. And both of you remember you're my guide for future relationships. I learn from you, so don't be giving me any bad habits, okay? Be mature and be nice to each other."
Kurt heard Rachel laugh softly. He turned and kneeled on his seat, gently pulling the phone away from her ear. "Say goodbye," he urged quietly.
Rachel dug blunt nails into the back of his hand as her Dad was running through his ritual of telling her that everything would be fine, keep busy, and he'd talk to her when she landed in Florida.
"I can do this," she echoed, and felt Kurt begin to take the phone away again. This time she let him. "Bye Dads, love you! Send me pictures of the cookies!"
Kurt hurriedly switched the device off and held it up for the flight attendant to see. "All right, it's off!" he declared to cheers. "Let's go."
Rachel thrust an expectant hand into the air. "Thank you." She put her phone back in her bag once Kurt handed it over. Her head was full of everything her Dads had just told her for the next couple of minutes, then the plane began to turn around. She turned sideways. "I never asked, are you okay being on here?"
Quinn thought it would be extremely difficult to come up with a reason not to be comfortable on a plane like that. "I'd feel better if we were all in coach."
"Sometimes I miss coach," Rachel stated. "The grittiness of it."
Kurt chuckled behind them. "Coach. Rach, the word you're looking for is shittiness."
"Ah, so you're both spoiled. Got it," Quinn said. There was no rebuttal from either of them, and she remembered a particular conversation taking place in her apartment. "Is this why they call you a diva?" she asked Rachel, getting a smile out of her.
"No, I'm branded as one when I'm late, rushing to a final rehearsal before opening night with the flu and a hundred-and-one degree fever and I don't stop to sign handfuls of headshots by people who sell them online."
"Bitch," came Kurt's derisive voice behind.
The plane had straightened up and they began a slow crawl that soon gained speed, steadily forcing people's backs against their seats and, for others, testing the stability of their seatbelts.
Quinn stuck out her hand. "Just, um, don't break it."
Rachel took Quinn's hand gratefully, keeping the fact that she loved take off and landing, it was the middle part that she couldn't stand to herself. Her stomach lurched wonderfully as the wheels left the runway and she was tipped backwards in her seat. To keep up the show, she thought it was best to squeeze Quinn's hand.
Mercedes and Tina were holding on to their armrests like it would prevent them from tumbling forward and falling on their friends if their seatbelts were to malfunction. It was the same level of paranoia that had Rachel thinking the plane would drop out of the sky at any given moment when they'd be stationary in the sky fifteen minutes later.
Tina laughed nervously with a thought. She glanced to the three people around her. "It would be pretty awkward if I fell right now."
Mercedes chuckled. "Rachel would be getting one heck of a hug from me."
"I wouldn't mind, Mercedes," Rachel asserted happily. "I could use a hug, actually."
"Now? I thought you loved take off."
Through the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Quinn look at her. "What? No, I'm terrified."
"Right," Tina drawled dubiously.
Quinn didn't comment on it.
Quinn didn't say anything until the plane had been upright in the air for several minutes and Rachel released her hand. "Okay?" she queried.
"Yes, I'm— I think I'm through the worst of it."
Quinn considered challenging her on that because Rachel didn't sound too sure, but she was interrupted by the flight attendant walking up to them to ask if any of them wanted something to drink. Mercedes and Tina both ordered sodas, and Kurt was placing Rachel's order before the attendant had even looked at her.
"She'll have two vodkas, no ice."
The attendant lifted her eyebrows at Rachel, as if for confirmation, and filed it away once she got it. She looked to Quinn. "What can I get you?"
"The same," Kurt said.
"No way," Quinn smiled. "Um, what kind of juice do you have?"
"Juice?" came a mocking echo from somewhere behind them. Santana. "Have a drink, Q. If you start to feel nauseated, I bet Tina's got the contents of her medicine cabinet in her purse."
It was more or less accurate.
The flight attendant began to list so many different types of juice that Quinn had to cut her off. "Orange," she decided randomly. "Pulp's fine."
When the four drinks were served a minute later, Rachel had downed hers like water in the time it took Quinn to take a sip of hers.
"A wonderful choice," Rachel declared in regards to Quinn's drink.
Quinn licked her lips to prevent them from curving upwards. "Is it?"
"Yeah."
"Did yours even touch the sides?"
Rachel had the sense to look sheepish. "I don't really like liquor neat, so I have to down it in one."
As the others were being served, Tina took to wondering if they had any candy on board. She was waiting until everybody had a drink before asking, but that didn't stop her from stating her overwhelming urge for something sweet. She was picturing a bag of Haribo's: her favourite. It wasn't likely to be stocked on the plane though, so her heart wasn't set.
"What's your favourite candy in the world?" she asked Quinn, hoping to get other ideas if Haribo was a no-go.
"Jelly beans."
Rachel's head whipped round. "Really?"
Quinn wasn't exactly about to deceive her friends in the name of candy. "Yep."
Ten minutes later and everybody had ordered a snack, too. The only candy on board was large bags of M&M's. Tina, Mercedes, Sam, Puck, and Finn were out of their seats now, squeezed up on the couch on the other side of the divider as they watched whatever movie they'd chosen as a group, passing the bag back and forth. At Tina's insistence, Finn got the bag the least often; citing the unfairness that his gorilla hands were twice the size of hers.
Rachel began to fidget in her seat and ordered a large glass of white wine.
She took a lengthy sip once it arrived but she didn't gulp it like she wanted.
Quinn looked up from her book that she'd started reading. "Maybe you should pace yourself." She found it ironic that she was there telling Rachel to show some restraint, but she was only saying it because she didn't want to see her suffer with a hangover after what Rachel had said last night.
"I am."
The glass was drained by the time Quinn had read another chapter.
Rachel had her seat reclined and was listening to music on her iPod, staring out of the window at the scene below her. She never used to be afraid of flying, but when she was relocating to New York permanently her flight had hit the worst turbulence she had ever experienced. Many people in her section panicked and it spread quickly. Her fathers were with her at the time, so now she was heavily reliant on their words of comfort. She was trying to recall those words now, and the details of the petty non-verbal fight her Dad was in with his Mother-in-law. Regardless of how funny she found her eighty-six-year-old Grandma calling her Dad a dick in not so many words, the tears begun their descent down her cheeks.
She closed her eyes to the view below and tried to picture the plane touching down in Florida.
When that, too, proved to be ineffective and her stomach knotted uncomfortably and she felt the sickening breathlessness that usually came with panic, Rachel sensed that it wouldn't be long before her friends were teasing her over the waterworks.
Her earphones were plucked out from each ear by somebody else. The music was playing so loud that she could still hear the words blaring out from each earpiece, now resting on her lap and down the side of her seat.
"Rach, you're fine," Quinn said quietly, even though their friends were all too occupied to be eavesdropping.
When Rachel opened her eyes again there was concern swimming in the hazel ones gazing at her. She nodded, also keeping her voice hushed not to be the centre of attention. "I know, but I can't stop. I keep thinking—"
Quinn pushed her fingers through Rachel's so she was holding her hand. "You can Hulk out, if you want. Crush it."
Besides a grateful squeeze, Rachel made no attempt of the sort. Once she'd wiped her face, she turned her body towards Quinn's. "I do this every time. I'll be fine as soon as we land."
There was no doubt in Quinn's mind that that was the truth but she also knew that there was another two and half hours to get through with Rachel being so anxious that she couldn't even control the way she reacted. Quinn couldn't tell which was worse: having Rachel's stubbornly refusing to look at her when she was distressed, or being the sole recipient of an overly worried stare.
For now, she would simply be grateful that Rachel was not crying over her.
Quinn pulled the inside of her bottom lip between her teeth and watched Rachel's face streak with additional tears. Others followed over the next minute and she thought it was impressive how subtle Rachel was being about the whole thing.
"I don't know if this will work, but I'm going to try distracting you," Quinn said, leaning towards her in a way that had Rachel unsure about what was going to happen. But Quinn merely wanted it to be the two of them in a little bubble. She didn't want any of their friends involved. "Ask me anything."
"Anything?" Rachel's voice had a hopeful undertone to it, and she received an actual nod of confirmation. "What's your favourite kind of cuisine? You still haven't told me."
"Probably Chinese. Growing up, my Dad was… not so adventurous with food, it always had to be American. When he was away working a lot, trying to get a promotion, my Mom would always either drive me and my sister to a really great Chinese restaurant outside of town, or she'd order in. A couple of times after my sister left and got married, even though my Mom wasn't exactly a fan of the food herself, she tried to make it from scratch for me."
"Was it a disaster?"
"No," Quinn smiled. "My Mother excelled being a wife. In her eyes, that also meant being a wonderful cook, and she was. Probably still is."
Rachel's tears had stopped. "Does she know about the addiction?"
Quinn took a little longer to surrender that information, but reluctantly admitted, "No. I haven't… I haven't talked to my Mom since I left. But even before then, it's not like we were close, especially when I joined the Skanks. God, I think she nearly had an aneurysm when she saw them on the other side of our front door for the first time."
"Do you miss her?" That question was not answered, and Rachel knew how difficult it would be but she needed to know that she and Quinn were at that place now and how much Quinn would do for her if she just asked. Rachel didn't press her or try to rush it, but she also didn't change the subject.
"Yeah," Quinn ultimately confessed in a way that suggested she carried a large amount of regret over the way she handled that situation.
"Maybe—maybe when this is all over you can go see her."
Quinn nodded but she didn't think she'd ever be able to look her mother in the eyes again. She was saved from getting stuck in her own head when Rachel moved on to something a little lighter, asking what the last great album she heard was.
As earlier stated, Rachel was back to her usual self as soon as they touched down on the runway.
X
While the group was standing up to stretch or peer out of the windows, their luggage was loaded off the plane. Puck pointed out the palm trees like he had never seen one outside of movies and television before, and after a moment everyone realised that he probably never had.
They followed the staleness of airport regulations and were then collecting their cases, pulling them towards the arrivals exit. As soon as the automatic doors separated to allow them exit, most of their expressions switched rapidly from excitement to discomfort.
Shrouded in relentless heat, Finn appeared to have trouble breathing. "Who took all the air?"
Quinn stood to the side of him, squinting up at the cloudless sky. She slid her sunglasses down over her eyes to shield them, not giving off the impression that she was fairing any better. Summers in New York could be murder on everyone, but this was different. It felt a different kind of extreme, a different kind of stifling heat.
"It's hot as balls," Sam commented disdainfully, transferring the cap from his head to Mercedes'.
Blaine took in the scenery with a squint and a smile, unaffected by the level of humidity. "I like it."
"Your boyfriend's a freak," Finn said to his brother, and witnessed Kurt willingly touch another human body in spite of the scorching sun.
"I know," he replied, his arm slung around Blaine's shoulders.
It had only been a couple of months since the hurricane had happened but the local press still had better things to do than stalk their arrival. Everyone felt the relief, especially Quinn. They felt it again when their transportation to their hotel pulled up in front of them and the air-conditioning was already on in full force.
They were staying outside of Ft. Lauderdale in an area that had since recovered from the back-end winds that the hurricane brought with it. Even the least severe winds had damaged retail and property and uprooted trees but compared to the way Lauderdale had been ravaged, the residents could only view their damage as mercy from Him.
Quinn had been lucky enough to have stayed in luxury accommodation before but it had been years since she'd stepped foot inside a four or five-star hotel and memory was always little consolation to the real deal. There were few exceptions to this rule. She was so accustomed to living in her old run-down building that walking through the doors to their hotel was like experiencing it for the first time.
The soft lighting was a welcome relief for her eyes and she removed her glasses to see the lobby properly. It was empty of guests and the three large front desks were manned with approachable staff that looked as if they enjoyed their work, or at least didn't hate it the way she hated hers. Those of the group who'd only ever dreamed of staying in a place like that stumbled forward with the rest of their friends once they began their journey over to the desks, in a state of muted awe. Mike bumped into a ficus while he was staring at the floor that had been polished and buffed to its highest standard. Finn knocked his knuckles against a marble pillar and turned his mouth down to Puck who'd watched the action and nodded, silently appraising the place.
Quinn watched Rachel approach the desk with a friendly smile like this kind of living was her way of life, and judging from the kind of apartment she lived in and how well her general audience album had been received, both on home turf and abroad, it was safe to say that Rachel didn't ever have to settle for anything but the best again. It was nice. It made Quinn think that there was still one thing right in the world. If Rachel had stayed broke and undiscovered then Quinn would know the world really was fucked.
It probably still was, but she was sure that nobody could compare to Rachel when she was singing; certainly nobody Quinn had ever met in person and she was standing with her nauseatingly talented friends all around her. Rachel's voice could enrich people's lives. Quinn could imagine every kind of person singing along to Rachel's music on a hot summer's night with the windows down, during road-trips or those times where a person wanted to wallow after a break-up when nothing is ever going to be the same again, and after, celebrating the same set of circumstances. She could imagine the people who would be off-put at first but having Rachel's latest single in their heads anyway and despising it, only to catch themselves turning it up when it was on the radio a week later and belting it out.
Quinn could imagine all of the young girls who wanted to be just like Rachel Berry.
The world could use them.
X
The only two people to get a room next to each other were Artie and Mike. The rest were scattered down the hall or on different floors completely. Rachel found it fortunate that her room was only four from Quinn's. She didn't want to crowd her but at the same time she wanted to be close to her and let her know that she wasn't far away should she need anything.
Once everyone had chance to begin settling into their rooms, Rachel invited her over.
There was a quick tour that Quinn found endearingly amusing because her room was like a mirror image of Rachel's. She pretended to be interested anyway, and by the time Rachel was shutting the blinds and stripping off a thin cardigan that she'd stubbornly kept on despite the heat outside, Quinn lost some of the humour she'd previously felt. She couldn't help but feel a tangible energy as Rachel got on the bed and told her to sit down.
Quinn perched on the end of it and waited to see what Rachel told her to do next. She'd stayed in cheap motels over the past six years but not a hotel like this. The last nice one she'd stayed in was in New York when they were all kids who thought they were adults.
But Rachel's next words weren't a command but a question. "Do you want to lie down with me?"
"What about the director? Aren't we supposed to be leaving in an hour?"
"Yeah," she smiled. "But we're going to be shooting for the rest of the day and the better part of the night, trust me when I tell you that you'll wish you'd taken a nap."
"Here?"
"No, in the hall," Rachel mocked. "Yes, here. How much space do you think I'm going to take up?" For some reason Quinn seemed nervous; something Rachel didn't see from her often. "You don't have to stay; it's just that I know you won't sleep if you're alone. Other than… being uncomfortable, you won't be able to shut off and you'll be too nervous about today if you go back to your room. I get it. It's like stage fright. On the few times I've been unfortunate to experience it, it's always helped to be around someone."
"Yeah, okay," Quinn agreed softly. She pulled her shoes off and placed them neatly by the bed before she reclined. There was barely chance for her to decide if she needed to adjust the position of her pillows when Rachel was moving up to her so they were side by side. Quinn could feel how warm her skin was.
"You'll be amazing," Rachel asserted, breaking the quiet a minute later. "I know you're nervous but try to remember that the worst part of doing something that terrifies you is the moment before it happens. The rest is easy. And in three days, we'll all be back in New York."
"Thanks, Rachel."
She didn't want to bother Quinn with tired questions of the state of her well-being over the next few days, but she also needed to be kept in the loop. She wouldn't be able to stand it if Quinn was in pain and she wasn't aware of it. Rachel knew Quinn would be in a lot of pain and they'd talked about that before they left, how she would try to deal with it, but when it came to be too much and Quinn couldn't continue with work and needed a break to gather herself, Rachel and the group would cover for her and promised to check on her often.
Rachel turned her head to look at Quinn. "Will you tell me if it feels like too much, if you feel like you can't do it?" she asked. "I know you already said you want privacy when you're sick, and I won't push, but you know everyone would gladly have you in their rooms the next couple of nights, myself included. I still think that's the safest option."
"I'll tell you," Quinn said.
"Promise?"
Quinn's mouth began to curve when she saw Rachel's pinky finger stuck up between them. She grabbed it, pushing Rachel's hand back to the bed where she curled her fingers around the smallest digit instead, holding it. Rachel's little hands were cute to her.
"Yeah, I promise."
It was a couple of minutes before Rachel saw fit to speak again. "You know… I cried when I heard your solo for the first time. It was the day after that fight with everyone at the studio and I had to listen to it alone. I couldn't listen to it with the rest of the guys, so I took the demo home with me and I curled up on my favourite armchair with a blanket and a glass of red wine, and I cried. I knew your voice would blow me away. It's matured so much, gets better every time you're with Carter. A lot of people are going to fall in love with it."
Quinn turned her head to find Rachel's eyes closed. Hers danced over the smooth panes of Rachel's face and the fullness of her lips. "Is that all I make you do? Cry?"
"No."
"Do you promise?"
"Yeah," she opened her eyes to say, finding Quinn looking at her. "I promise."
"I worry—"
"Hey," Rachel cut in, breaking contact between their hands to touch the back of her fingers against Quinn's head. "Be quiet in there. We're good, okay? Close your eyes."
The request was obliged but even those times when Rachel couldn't be seen with her eyes open, Quinn found her hiding underneath her eyelids like a tattoo she never intended to get. The stillness of the room was only broken by the sounds of their breath and the rustle of the sheets when they sought out a more comfortable position.
She opened her eyes the moment she knew Rachel had fallen into slumber, and turned on her side to look at her. Rachel was right; six years was a long time not to see her in the flesh and Quinn wondered how people adapted to change like that. It was a defence mechanism, separate from conscious action despite will, but why wasn't the progress undone with each vivid dream or watching video footage where loved ones were so achingly alive or present? She wondered how well-adjusted people could keep their thoughts from ballooning and exploding inside their heads like fireworks, painting their cheeks with the agony of it all. She wanted to learn that trick, too. She wanted to learn how to distance herself without separating herself.
X
An hour later and everyone but Finn, Puck, Sam, and Mike were ready to go.
They were at the pool acting like a bunch of teenagers, screaming as they ran and bombed into the water, or shoved each other around or into the pool. Finn hadn't noticed his audience of the rest of the group and prepared for a long run to beat Mike's record of the furthest jump when his foot skidded, making his friends' stomachs lurch until he righted himself like nothing had happened and obliterated Mike's record to unequal cheers and jeers from his three friends in the pool.
"Finn!" Rachel's boisterous voice shrieked.
Finn spun around in the water quickly, brows high and his mouth tight. Shit, she looked pissed. He went for the innocent tone and squinted against the sun. "Yeah?"
"What do you think you're doing? You could have fallen!"
Mercedes caught Sam failing to hide an amused quirk of his mouth. "And I don't know what you're smiling about. Out, now. We're going to be late."
Sam pulled himself out of the water without wasting time. He didn't know how it got so late. He walked quickly but carefully, stopping to place a kiss to her cheek. If there was one thing Sam Evans knew how to do, it was to creep.
Finn got out of the pool right after Mike and used him as a shield. Mike never seemed to do anything to upset the women; maybe he could save himself by association.
"Ten minutes, tops," Santana announced.
"I'll be five," Sam said to Mercedes.
Puck was disappointed in the way his friend had folded. "Hey, man?"
"Yeah?"
"I think you left your balls in the pool."
"You could learn a thing or two from him, Noah," Rachel said unapologetically, staring at his soaking wet torso as he approached. "Not to mention that you've probably all burned yourselves out for the rest of the day and how stupid it is to even chance sunburn or a slip and fall on a day like today."
Puck rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Mom."
Quinn was beside Rachel, catching Finn's eye as he tried to sneak past them without a lecture. "Rachel's right, you could have gotten hurt."
Oh, screw it. His friends were nearby; he was covered if there was an attack. To be on the safe side, though, Finn took an extra precaution by taking longer strides as he called back, "Sorry, Dad!"
Puck laughed at his friend's show of bravery —or stupidity, and then saw that Rachel's hands were planted firmly on her hips. He didn't understand body language and all of the confusing signals women gave him and his friends, but he knew that one. It wasn't good. He sighed and darted forward, locking his arms around her body and lifting her up off the ground. Her outraged screech of protest nearly ruptured his ear drum but it was worth it.
"Noah! Put me down."
"I'm sorry!" he said loudly, to be heard over her. Heswayed her in his arms. "All better?"
"You're getting me all—"
"Say it," he begged. "Please, it'll do so much for my ego."
Rachel scoffed, feeling her clothes soak right through, and sunk her teeth into his neck. She was dropped back to her feet almost instantly as Puck's hand shot to his jugular. Now Rachel could laugh.
"Shit, Selene!" Puck exclaimed.
"She told you to put her down," Quinn pointed out.
He hurried away before he did anything more to get himself maimed.
X
There were three cars in total.
Finn, Rachel, Quinn, and Mercedes were in one car; the last to arrive on location. The other two cars were pulled up outside, all waiting until the group was complete before they went inside. Mercedes was on a video call with Kurt because there were two photographers outside of the warehouse they needed to enter.
"Don't worry," Finn said to Quinn. "We'll get rid of them."
"Where is Santana?" Mercedes asked on the phone. "Is she there? You tell her to get her butt out of that car and make them leave."
"I'm not," Quinn dismissed, beginning to look irritable. While she wanted the press there about as much as she wanted a hole in the head, the humidity and the dwindling level of heroin in her system was making her cranky. She wanted to get inside there and get it over with.
"Santana shouldn't have to deal with this. Where's security?" Rachel demanded.
"Maybe they're grabbing a sub, or somethin'," Finn supplied. "We could wait…see if they come back?"
"Let's just go," Quinn sighed. The idiots with cameras could hang around outside as much as they wanted but they wouldn't be getting through the doors and that was a fact.
Mercedes turned serious as she peered at Kurt and Blaine's faces on her phone. "Okay guys, this is how it's gonna go down. Sam, Mike, and Artie will go first. Santana, Brittany, you next, then Puck, like the gentleman you are, you'll follow behind with Tina. Kurt, Blaine, you'll pave the way for me and Rach. That way there is a ton to focus on and Finn and Quinn can sneak up the back."
It was orchestrated beautifully. Everyone had their picture taken and some of them found the attention to be, despite a little invasive, exhilarating. Mercedes and Rachel's combined status was the icing on the cake to what had already been worth sweating outside in the sun for an hour for to the paparazzi. It was almost enough to distract them from the final two members of the group.
Almost.
One of the two men with cameras attached to their faces was aware of how many members of the group there were and knew a diversion tactic when he saw one. He'd got clear shots of everyone so far and glanced up to see who he would dub "the tall one" until he could recall his name, and a woman next to him; her body mainly blocked from view.
He broke away from the main stars and snapped some shots of Finn.
As decent as some of those shots were, any time he made an attempt to aim his camera at whichever stuck-up blonde was glued to the tall one's side, it would be blocked. He hadn't waited out in the blistering heat to get twelve out of a possible thirteen. No, he wanted a full set and he was going to get it.
He advanced forward and thrust his arm between the tall one and the blonde, pointing the camera towards her face before he'd even got the chance to squeeze his body between them. Once he succeeded, if only momentarily, he said, "Hey, who have we got here? Smile for me real quick?"
There was no hint of one, but he didn't mind. She was gorgeous. He put it continuous shooting mode. "So, are you guys here to shoot the—"
A large hand covered his lens, obstructing his subject entirely. It was the tall one, looking like he was about to break somebody's nose. Finn pulled the camera down harshly and put himself back between Quinn and the idiot who didn't know the meaning of the word boundaries.
"That's not cool, man," Finn frowned.
Quinn was thankful for the arm Finn had around her shoulders and the way he'd handled the situation. She'd been a second away from flinging the camera to the ground. She let him lead her towards the entrance where their friends were waiting.
Santana glared over at the idiot with the Nikon, unable to keep it up for as long as she wanted in case she was snapped with a sour expression. Again. She focused her attention on Finn instead. "We good?"
Finn looked down for the answer and Quinn nodded. "We're good," he said.
Rachel, unconcerned if her publicist was happy with her or not, stared daggers at the photographer walking away. When he glanced up at her, however, she disciplined her expression to one of false warmth. "You can expect a call from my lawyer."
X
The video concept was comprised of two parts; live action and animation. The animation was to tie in with Mike's poster and they were meeting with the animator when they were back in New York to see the progress.
The warehouse turned out to be one of two locations prepared for the shoot over the next couple of days, and though there were fans located all over, the relentless heat outside made it feel like a greenhouse in there and they had to stop for regular hair and make-up touch-ups.
They'd been there for a little over three hours and all they'd done was change into different outfits, decided on hair and make-up after several tests, and film a twelve-second group shot that was going to be placed a minute into the video.
But it might as well have been a holiday by everyone's spirits.
Almost everybody was watching Rachel standing in front of a green screen talking to the director about how he wanted the scene to go and what would be happening on screen once the effects were added. There was nothing to see there but they were excited to see the process for the first time. As for those who had shot videos before, they were merely excited to be sharing it with the people who had been there when they could only dream of days like this.
Mercedes walked away from the group and sat on a chair situated directly in front of a fan. She pulled her hair up from her neck and leaned towards it, closing her eyes. It was instant relief.
An assistant nearly fell over his own feet in his haste to fetch her a bottle of chilled water. Mercedes Jones was gorgeous and he was finally going to get to speak to her alone. Regrettably, his elation was well and truly annihilated when he was intercepted by a blonde who thanked him and took the bottle from his hands.
Quinn smoothed down her dress that the costume people had put her in and perched on a crate. She sat with her back a safe distance from the fan and observed Mercedes warmly, tapping the bottle against her leg several moments later. "I don't know how everyone isn't hogging one of these."
Mercedes took it gratefully. "I'm going to go down a dress size by the time we get back to New York. I'm sweating like a pig."
Quinn couldn't see any more than a light sheen to her forehead that would dry rapidly if she stayed where she was. "You still look good, don't worry."
"We're friends, you have to say that."
"Not true." When Mercedes lifted her eyebrows, Quinn smiled and went on to clarify, "I don't have to say anything. You look beautiful, that's the truth. I think the assistant over there wants to worship at your altar, actually." They shared a laugh when they spotted the young assistant indeed looking over at her, but after a beat she began to turn serious. "Sometimes I think about what I said to you…to everyone, and I just want to say— I want you to know how sorry I am. I shouldn't have gone there. I knew you had body image issues in the past and—"
"Hey," Mercedes cut in. "That's in the past, remember? It wasn't just you who said awful things."
"I know, but I feel like I crossed a line."
"We all did, and we all apologised and meant it, and now we've moved on. Right?"
Quinn nodded. "Okay."
If she didn't know any better, Mercedes would have assumed the wetness to Quinn's eyes was born from emotion. She'd noticed Quinn oscillating her neck several times during the past hour or so and the way her eyes weren't as bright as they should have been with the make-up. She'd been waiting for them to run. Mercedes glanced up to see the young assistant still hovering close-by.
"Excuse me," she called, watching his face light up as he practically ran over. "Could I get some tissues?"
"Sure, yeah. I'll be right back."
When they were alone again, Quinn thanked her.
"You're doing really great. Nobody is looking at you suspiciously or anything. Maybe acting is in your future?"
"Yeah, right." Quinn swiped her fingers over her cheek, stopping a tear in its track. "I've been here a few hours," she said humorously. "Tell me that later when I've probably puked all over this pretty dress."
"You're doing really great," Mercedes reiterated, reaching out to hold Quinn's hand. She knew effort when she saw it, and Quinn was doing her best to keep in good spirits. The assistant rushed back shortly after with a small box of tissues and Quinn made an attempt to salvage her eye make-up before it was too late. They sat there for a few minutes, idly talking about the rest of the trip while Mercedes cooled down.
At one point, Quinn looked off to the side where Rachel had begun filming a segment and a soft, thoughtful expression fragmented across her face where it remained until Mercedes spoke up.
"She looks good, doesn't she?"
Quinn averted her eyes. "Yeah," she agreed. "She does."
"I know how much you care about her," Mercedes said carefully. "And what you're doing, you know, cutting back, it's the best thing. It's the best thing for you, don't get me wrong; that's the ultimate goal and the most important thing for you, but it's making Rachel happy. It's all she's wanted since any of us got to town. You should have seen her that day when she found out that you hadn't stopped—"
"I never wanted to hurt her," Quinn interrupted anxiously, remembering the look on Rachel's face in that alleyway perfectly well. "And I know I've done it since then, and I'm sure I'll do it again in the future because it seems to be a pattern, but I don't get any joy from it. There's no sick pleasure to be gained for making her feel powerless. It makes me want to bash my head against a wall." Mercedes was covering her hand then and Quinn took a breath to lift some of the weight off her chest.
"I know, Quinn. The important thing is that you're trying now. I mean, this is the first step, right? You're on the right path. It doesn't matter if you make a few mistakes along the way as long as you don't stop trying because of them, okay? I think Rach will forgive you anything as long as you can keep that promise."
Quinn didn't say anything to that because the truth was she'd been trying harder than ever for the past few days. She was making an effort right there, that second.
X
They were preparing to do individual shots and then the camera was panning out to have the group in the same wide frame. Some of them were having their make-up fixed; Finn was begging one of the make-up artist not to put too much on because he didn't want to look like he was wearing any, and Rachel was stood beside him, her mouth open as her lipstick was touched up.
Some of them were downing water or eating their way through the free food.
Quinn was trying to use the spare few minutes to get a handle on a splitting headache and had retreated to one of the lesser-populated areas of the warehouse to get some space from having to look like she was as healthy as her friends. She stared up at the largest collection of screens she'd ever seen, each of them playing news footage of the hurricane damage. Quinn hadn't seen any of it before. She'd had no interest to turn on the news because she didn't care to know about anybody else's troubles. She didn't care, period. Except it was one thing to say she didn't care and another entirely to mean it. The accounts and scenes were harrowing and her eyes refused to look away from them.
There was too much heartache on their faces, too many tears, and too much destruction. So much of the area had been levelled; stores, churches, homes, public buildings. People and pets were dead. Some people were still missing, which was always a kinder way of saying that someone's most adored and cherished person in the world was dead and their remains were undiscovered.
The most uncomfortable sensation had been gripping her throat for the past few minutes and she finally admitted, if only to herself, that the wetness to her face was not a side-effect of halving her dose, but because she couldn't stand to take in that much devastation without feeling like it happened to people she knew and cared about.
Quinn couldn't stand to feel pain like that at all. She wanted it to stop. She hadn't dealt with it very well for years now.
A smaller hand slipped into hers and she didn't need to look up to conclude that it was Rachel.
"Do you understand why I pushed this project on to you now?"
Quinn nodded.
"This album is going to help every one of these people," Rachel said. "And you're going to be a part of that. That's something all of us can take a little comfort in."
Quinn would have to try for the time being, at least until the upcoming scene had been shot. It was either dwell on the tragedy or the fact that she wanted to take a hit so badly that she'd started to push a fingernail into the side of her thumb on her free hand. The only good thing about how long it had been since this morning when she left a note on Rachel's face and went out to use was now she could feel the slight pain to it and imagine it as sharper.
She didn't want to get stuck on that, it wasn't healthy either. She decided to focus on Rachel instead. Finally, she found herself saying, "You look nice."
The back of Rachel's fingers helped to wipe Quinn's face dry and then she held her chin between her thumb and forefinger, determining that Quinn was good to go. It was a white lie; someone would have to do her make-up again, but only a quick touch-up. Rachel lifted a shoulder carelessly. "When don't I?"
The heaviness lifted almost instantly. "I don't know." Quinn's smile was small but present. "First thing in the morning?"
"And you think you're a sight for sore eyes when you've just woken up, do you?"
"No."
"Well, you are, and so am I, so let's go show America how lovely you are," Rachel said, leading them back towards the director who had just clapped his hands to gain her attention and was beckoning them back to their spots.
X
They got back to the hotel in the early hours of the morning, exhausted.
Finn, Puck, and Sam fell asleep against each other in the back of one of the cars but everyone else was so tired that they didn't even try to manipulate their bodies into humorous positions and take pictures once they gathered around the car to look. Oh well, there was always next time.
Their earlier plans (made when their adrenaline had been through the roof) of hitting up the clubs were squashed by the time midnight had rolled around. By one AM, Puck and Tina were screaming in each other's faces just to stay awake. It helped, but it was a temporary solution.
Everyone walked through the lobby quietly, half asleep except for Quinn.
Quinn's eyes were wide and overly alert. Her hands were shaking and she patted her front and back pockets when she couldn't feel her phone squeezed into any of them. "I need the keys. I forgot something." As soon as Mike threw them to her and she had them firmly in her hand, she turned abruptly, headed outside.
Several of her friends asked if she needed help or to wait for her but it was all declined.
As it turned out, her phone was not in the car.
She looked twice and slammed the door shut. It was only when she was travelling back towards the entrance that she spotted it on the ground by the moonlight reflecting off the screen.
Quinn was surprised to see Santana waiting inside for her.
"Had to get this," she explained, showing the phone as proof.
Santana didn't look interested in why she'd gone back outside to the sticky mugginess that Florida offered but she did look interested in finding out if Quinn was okay because her friend hadn't looked good for hours. Her skin was sallow and dark around the eyes. Santana could see that Quinn was sweating and her body had turned into a softly trembling mess; even if she was blind she would have felt it when she grabbed her hand to pull her away from the stairs and towards the elevator instead. There was no way in hell she was using what little energy she had left to climb stairs.
Santana didn't voice her concerns in so many words right away. She kept it light and waited until they were inside the elevator on the way to their floors until she said, "You all right?"
Quinn nodded affirmatively. "Sure."
"Been sick today?"
"No."
"That's good," Santana said, sort of surprised. "So, that was your first day on set. How was it? Great, right? All those people falling over themselves to get you whatever you want and make you look the best that you can look."
"Surreal," Quinn answered. "A lot to take in."
"Well, you did great. We're all super proud of you. Even Finn did good, and we all thought he'd be Mr. Clumsy or Mr. I-Forgot-The-Words. Not really in a bad way, just… you know Finn."
"He really cares about this."
"Yeah. You ready to do it all again tomorrow?"
"Can't wait."
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors pinged open. "I'm so tired I can't even tell if you're being sarcastic," she said, stepping forward and holding her hand over the door. "Glad you found your phone, though. Means I can call you and yell if you're the one who makes us late tomorrow."
Quinn's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I won't be late."
Santana gave her a slight nod. "Hey, uh, if you need anything, you know where we are, right? Whatever the time."
"I know. Thank you."
When Santana left, Quinn reclined against the hand rest and waited as the lift took her up another floor. Either it was moving at a snail's pace or she needed to lie down and sleep, but she wouldn't be doing the latter for a long time. The elevation sent her head dizzy and she tightened her fingers around the railing until it passed, which it did. A ding preceded the doors opening and Quinn looked at the black sign on the wall in front, indicating which room numbers were to the left of the elevator and which were to the right.
Quinn's room was to the right but she took a left.
She walked past three doors and stopped, peering to the side. What she saw made her shake her head.
Rachel's door, wide open, revealed her sitting Indian style on the bed as she removed her make-up.
"Your door is open," Quinn stated.
"I know." Rachel's face was contorted as she squinted one eye shut and ran a folded corner of a face wipe over some smudged eye-liner on the other, her mouth half open. "C'min," she invited.
"Do you also know how stupid that is?" Quinn said as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "Anyone could have walked in."
"It's just you."
"Just a junkie. Right. No big deal."
That comment went in one ear and out of the other. Rachel was deft in that area. "What did you think of today?"
"Long."
She smiled and used a clean side to rub the wipe over the side of her face. "Besides that."
"Hot."
"Don't be a brat."
"I wasn't… It's not that I don't appreciate this or that I didn't have a good time, I did. It was amazing. But if I'm honest, I wasn't completely comfortable there," Quinn admitted. "I guess because of how little I did for all of this; it was hard to believe that all of those people were working so hard for me. Us."
"My first day on set —a music video, anyway, I was nervous the entire first day. I kept expecting to wake up, or at least see the real star walk on set and tell me to fetch her some ridiculous coffee order, or something. I wouldn't say you get used to the attention everybody gives you on set but it definitely gets easier to appreciate. Sometimes you work with the same director on a different video, or some of the staff is the same. It's nice to leave them a present; cupcakes or flowers, just a little something, but it always goes a long way. And tomorrow will be easier, less of a shock to the system. You'll be more relaxed."
"You're not…normal, Rachel Berry."
Well, no. That was established years ago.
"I'm aware," Rachel said lightly, patting the bed. "Come over here. Let me take your make-up off."
"Oh, no, I can—"
"I am not tired enough that I wouldn't resort to chasing you around this room. Come on, we're pretty/unpretty right now. Indulge this one request?" Rachel managed to make Quinn think of a pleading puppy with those eyes and she was getting her own way soon after.
Quinn sat on the edge of the bed with one foot to the floor and Rachel had to crawl forward several inches to be able to reach her. She kept her eyes fixed on Rachel's face and thought how lovely it was to see her stripped down like that. After a long day of being dolled up, it looked like Rachel's skin could finally breathe again.
As soon as Rachel was armed with a fresh wipe and she caught Quinn looking at her, they both started to smile. "Close your eyes."
"I'm trusting you."
"I'm a very trustworthy person," she replied, starting with Quinn's eyes once they were closed. It was easier to see her shaking when she was close like that and Rachel's humour sobered drastically. She was gentle and thorough, taking her time to clear Quinn's skin of cosmetics. There wasn't much blush left to begin with anyway. Quinn had been pale for hours as she waited for others to finish their scenes, which was why Rachel left her door open; she couldn't go to bed without making sure she was okay and without stating her concern of leaving Quinn alone while also not pushing her too far.
"Thanks," Quinn murmured once Rachel was done.
"You look—"
"Like hell, I know."
"I was going to say tired. I brought some Nyquil with me. Do you want them?"
Quinn didn't want to take them because she had a theory that even a tranquilizer gun wouldn't work on her tonight but she couldn't say no when Rachel was so eager to help. When the pills had been retrieved from the bathroom and handed over with a small bottle of water, she swallowed them and was rewarded with a fleeting expression of relief on Rachel's face, like they would be a magic cure.
"Thank you for today, for the effort. I know it's taking a lot for you, but you're doing so amazing," Rachel said. "I just wish I could do something more to help you."
"You do enough."
Maybe Rachel did, but it didn't feel like it when she could see Quinn in obvious discomfort though she was trying her best to conceal it. It made Rachel feel powerless. "You can sleep in here with me if you want. I'd actually prefer it. For safety reasons."
"That's all right," Quinn declined delicately. "I kind of need the privacy. And it's not like you'll want me heating up the cool side of the bed when you wake up with a damp shirt in this heat."
"It's a huge bed, as proven earlier. It'll be like we're sleeping alone, anyway. We probably wouldn't even see each other till morning."
"Think we might. You, um, move around a lot and…flail sometimes."
"No, I don't."
"You do when you're asleep. I had to dodge more than one attack from those little green fists earlier."
Rachel's face scrunched up, embarrassed. "Sorry. Wait, did you not sleep?"
"Guess I'm one of the kids, too," Quinn surmised jokingly. "But I'm sure, with the pills, I'll be out like a light. I should probably go before I pass out." She moved off the bed and made her way through the room until she reached the door, Rachel close behind. "Enjoy the peace and quiet while you can. I'll see you later."
"Are you really going to leave without giving me a hug?"
"Do you want one?"
"Obviously."
"You did save me a job with the make-up…" Quinn trailed off, somewhat hesitantly putting her arms around Rachel who always threw herself into an embrace no matter who it was with.
"I'm keeping the sound on my phone tonight. Please call me or just come over if you need anything, okay? Anything at all, even just someone to talk to if you can't sleep."
"I will."
Quinn knew a pair of brown eyes were on her all the way to her own room and refrained from rushing. The elevator felt like a magnet when she passed by it and it was all she could do to keep herself from going into it. It called to her like an emergency door in a fire. When she made it to her room she closed the door and her hand shook as she locked the door chain and pushed the heavy desk chair in front of it, as well as the plush chair by the side of the bed. To be certain, she also stood her half-full case in front of the chairs as well, barricading herself in.
She hadn't been sick all day.
It usually made her feel better, if only for a few minutes. It was those few minutes of relief that she clung t
o each day as one of the ways to make it through them. She brushed her teeth longer than necessary, hoping the way her stomach revolted against her during the violent gags would amount to something but they didn't.
She told herself over and over again that she didn't need to go back out that door. It would hurt her friends and it would kill Rachel. She couldn't do that to them. She wouldn't.
Quinn stripped off her clothes and didn't bother to replace them with anything else as she turned the lights off and climbed into bed. She could wait it out. The first day was already over. They would be back in New York before she knew it.
The sleeping pills didn't work. They didn't work last night either but Quinn wanted Rachel to think she could help, so she let her.
Quinn tried to sleep, anyway. She tried to shut off and stop her head from racing with disjointed thoughts but it refused to give her a break.
An hour passed where she'd tried so desperately to visualise the room with no door. The attempt was futile at best because her mind wouldn't slow or stop or do anything but race in a way that eventually sent the rest of her body into overdrive as well. Her heart pumped furiously inside her chest and her body was so hot that she wanted to sleep in a bath of cold water. Quinn didn't cry until there was a blinding pain in her skull and she had her hands either side of it, willing it to stop.
Another hour and her body had been taut for the majority of it.
Pain had settled into her bones and joints and she gasped and whimpered through them as they seemed to ache that much deeper, radiating a flaring agony throughout her body until the gasps and whimpers were choking wetly at the back of her throat.
It was all she could do to detangle her legs from the covers and rush to the bathroom, dropping to her knees in time to violently empty the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl.
She came to on the marbled floor, alone and disoriented before the memories filtered in.
Quinn pulled herself up, if only to flush the toilet and scan the room to find where she'd put the mouthwash to rid her mouth and throat of the acrid taste. She moved slowly when she walked across the spacious bathroom and rinsed her mouth, carefully testing her ability to have any kind of liquid touch the back of her throat without vomiting again.
She didn't want to catch sight of herself in the mirror but a flash of pink argyle demanded her attention and she flinched, startled as Lucy walked past the door.
Quinn exhaled harshly and made her way back to the bed like it was the only object in the room. She curled up in bed and pulled the covers over her face to block out any ridiculous figment of her imagination.
But a comforter was hardly the strongest weapon and Lucy paced the room, unafraid to voice each foul insecurity that Quinn had somehow boxed up and stored in the back of her mind.
Lucy's voice, higher than Quinn's, faded into the background after a while as Quinn's body began to riot again.
Quinn thanked God for the small mercy of silence.
That was until she heard whimpers unlike her own; innocent and afraid, coming from over by the window.
Lucy had gone, but Quinn was not alone.
The whimpers grew steadily, morphing into agonised wails that sliced through Quinn like blades. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the palms of her hands against her ears hard enough for the cartilage to protest at the pressure.
"Mom," Beth sobbed, "stop it."
It sounded like Beth was older, around seven, but Quinn didn't open her eyes to check.
Quinn shook her head and a panicked groan slipped past her lips. Beth wasn't there, it was her imagination. There was no pain but hers. It didn't exist.
"MOM!"
For a while, Beth continued to scream loud enough for the hair to rise on the back of her mother's neck.
When the screams quieted to give way to the choked sounds of vomit, Quinn felt the coldness she'd been so desperate for earlier and held her breath, battling an almost overpowering urge to help her. Beth gasped for air when she was finished.
"Mommy, please, I'm sorry! I love you!"
The desperate plea destroyed Quinn starting from the deepest part of her chest, spreading like venom until it had poisoned every inch of her. Her eyes fluttered open to see Beth curled up on the floor, her body convulsing, rioting the way Quinn felt hers doing; only more severe. Horrors were always worse on the innocent.
This was Quinn's worst nightmare.
Something so dark and foul could only be a figment of imagination, couldn't it? But it was the horror in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind that had taken shape. Quinn did what would most people would do when their monsters were coming to life right in front of their eyes: she dressed and then escaped the only way she knew how.