Thank you to everyone who is still reading this - I know that it has been a long journey but we are definitely tumbling towards the end of this story, so thank you for sticking with it. Reviews and comments are always appreciated.


Chapter 28 – Bittersweet love

Present. In the cabin.

'Hey,' she whispered into the darkness, cupping the old phone close to her ear, 'I've been thinking about it… I've been thinking about it a lot.'

She listened carefully to the voice at the other end of the line, shifting her weight from one foot to the other on the cold wooden floor. Her fingers brushed against the curtains, parting them just enough to see out to the deep violet of the night sky. The expanse of it above sent tremors through her. It was hard to quantify the helplessness that had gripped her for the preceding days, or the ever expanding need to act. As much as she was not one for recklessness, she could feel the pressure of time closing in on them, she could feel herself fraying at the edges.

'I have a plan,' she stated quietly, glancing back towards the bedrooms where the others were asleep. 'It's not foolproof but… it's a plan... I think that we both know what needs to be done.'

The Latina's predictable response at the other end of the line made her roll her eyes. After so many years of knowing each other, she felt that she could predict the woman's reaction to almost anything.

'Well you are just going to have to trust me on this, Santana,' she stated firmly, catching the ghostly outline of her own reflection on the glass. She let the curtain drift back across it. 'I've made up my mind. I want you to send those photographs to the address I gave you...'

Pausing for a moment, she felt another shiver run through her.

'Yes… I'm sure,' she whispered, 'I'll see you in a couple of days…Be careful.'


Summer. 2011. Lima.

Quinn's lips tasted so sweet; sweet like vanilla.

Rachel smiled against them, pulling her girlfriend down and close. She could not get enough of this girl, every touch hot against her skin; the firmness of her taut body pressing down against her own. It electrified her; burnt her delicate skin as though Quinn's fingerprints were branding themselves onto her.

Eventually, the blonde pulled away, reaching for the homemade lemonade on the coffee table. She smirked as Rachel licked her lips; the ice clinking against the glass.

'You want it?' Quinn asked with a playful smile.

The thin layer of sweat that had sprung up against Quinn's skin in response to the heatwave outside would have been unpleasant had it not been for the heat of the girl beneath her. There was something addictive about Rachel Berry, something addictive about how her lips parted, at how her dark eyes managed to darken into endless melted pools.

'I want it,' Rachel stated lowly, happy to play the game.

Quinn's lips twitched.

It had taken her some time to realise that there was one thing better than listening to Rachel sing… for when the brunette moaned her name Quinn could feel the vibration of it in every part of her body. More than anything else, she wanted to hear it. She wanted to hear it every day; every hour; every minute. As terrifying as that realisation was, it was also somehow liberating.

'Hmmm,' Quinn murmured, her tongue darting out to touch on the condensation of the glass, 'so… what's the magic word, Berry?'

As she took a sip of the sweet, cold liquid she felt Rachel's hands move up to cup her ass in a move that both surprised and elated her with the possessiveness of it. It had always been push and pull between them; clashing and conflicting. Yet Quinn was starting to wonder whether her absolute delight in Rachel was because the girl was her perfect counterpart, equal and opposite, the girl that abounded with all the qualities that she lacked, that challenged everything and saw everything. Quinn knew that she was becoming hopelessly entangled, and as much as it terrified her, as much as she would not yet admit it, to herself and especially not to Rachel, she was addicted to this feeling. To this overwhelming infatuation.

'Stop being a bitch and give me some,' the words were as uncharacteristic as the low tone in which she spoke and Quinn couldn't help the grin that crossed her features.

'As you asked so nicely…'

Quinn lowered herself forwards to capture the singer's lips, her own tingling as her long blonde hair cascaded down over the other girl's shoulders. The cool sweetness of the lemonade was fresh on her lips. Rachel's eyes closed gently, arching up in response to her.

'Lucy.'

The cold tone was like ice water crashing over them and Rachel practically froze in place. For the last four days the two of them had been camping out in the Fabray house; as Quinn's parents were, yet again, away.

Quinn shot abruptly upright, turning with a shocked expression to the figure who stood like a statue in the doorway.

There was only one person in the world who still called the cheerleader by her given name, and that person was the one person in Quinn's life that Rachel had wished to impress. The one person whose approval Quinn still craved, more than almost everything. The blonde's face drained of all colour, as Rachel's flushed with mortification.

'Mom…' Quinn's voice was tight and uncertain, 'I… thought you were in Chicago.'

The silence that followed her faltering statement was fragile and Rachel found herself holding her breath, almost afraid to release it. Quinn was still straddling her waist and Rachel wished that she would just get off her, but the blonde seemed frozen in shock.

'Stand up,' Judy Fabray's silky voice was quiet and above her Rachel could see her girlfriend stiffen at the words. She didn't move, her warm fingers closing subconsciously around Rachel's. The brunette closed her eyes, glad for the reassurance of the connection between them.

'I said stand up!'

Quinn flinched at the harsh tone and Rachel sucked in a shallow breath through her teeth. It snapped Quinn from her stupor and she pulled herself off Rachel, straightening her cheerleading uniform as she took a hesitant step away from the couch.

'I know…' she started; her honeyed tones low and pacifying, 'I know that this is a shock, mom…'

Rachel took a steadying breath before pushing herself up, turning her eyes nervously towards the glacial blonde standing in the doorway. Though she had seen pictures of her and even seen her from the distance on occasion, there was something arresting about Judy Fabray's presence that was not captured in the photographs of her.

'…but I have wanted to tell you,' Quinn was continuing hesitantly, 'I have wanted to tell you for the longest time…'

Rachel smoothed her skirt as Judy Fabray's gaze shifted slowly to her and even across the distance she could see the icy blue of her eyes and shivered. As beautiful as she was, there was something so cold about her, so detached that she seemed almost… inhuman, the shell of a person made of ice. Rachel knew, even before Quinn did, that the cheerleader's words would not penetrate beneath that pale skin.

'Get out.'

The order was quiet and direct.

Rachel felt her heart speed within her chest, uncertain whether she should get up and leave or wait.

'Mother…' Quinn objected, her hand shooting out to gesture for Rachel to stay.

'Get out of my house.'

And this time Rachel stood before she had even had time to process what the woman was saying.

'She's my girlfriend, mom…'

Until this moment, Quinn's mother had been standing frighteningly still, but now… now she turned her glare fiercely on her daughter, taking a deliberate step across the marble floor, her sharp heals clicking loudly against it.

'I don't give a shit who she is, Luce,' the woman hissed, 'I want her out of this house. And I never, ever want to set eyes on her again. Is that clear?'

Quinn looked almost as though she had been slapped, her expression a mixture of both shock and betrayal. Her lips parted but she made no attempt to speak, the words were stuck in her throat. Her mother's gaze was hard; her eyes filled with something that Quinn couldn't quite define… something that made her drop her gaze to the floor.

'Is that clear?' The woman repeated sternly when no answer was forthcoming from her daughter.

Rachel folded her arms defensively across her chest, feeling suddenly small and vulnerable… and inexplicably ashamed. She could feel herself shrinking inwards, as though beneath the blue eyes she had started to wilt and now could not recover.

'I'll go,' she murmured, wanting nothing more than to be out of the room and away from the cold house. She had taken only a couple of steps across the marble floor before Quinn found her tongue once again.

'No,' she objected, 'Rachel, stop.'

Rachel looked between the two women uncertainly. Judy Fabray's expression was glacial and Quinn's looked so heartbreakingly vulnerable that it made her want to pull the younger blonde into her arms.

'Lucy…' the low tone of warning was enough to make Rachel start to back away once more.

'Mom,' Quinn tried again, 'please… be reasonable.'

'Reasonable?' her mother echoed dangerously, 'reasonable, Lucy? I come back to my house to find my seventeen year old daughter groping another girl on my couch like some pornstar slut…'

Quinn started to tremble, her mother's eyes watching her dispassionately. Her mother didn't swear, her mother never swore and the force of the words brought tears to her eyes.

'And you have the nerve to tell me to be reasonable?' her mother's voice was low and dangerous, 'you are testing my tolerance to breaking point, Lucy. After everything that happened last year…' the older blonde narrowed her eyes, watching her closely. Quinn's pregnancy and the repercussions of it had caused deep wounds to all of the relationships within the Fabray household; wounds that were toxic and slow to heal. 'God, I swear… if she were a boy, she would be lucky to leave this house with her limbs…'

Judy Fabray turned her steely gaze back to Rachel, her deadly calm façade not wavering.

'This is your last warning to get out of my house…' she stated quietly, 'you will not see my daughter again.'

Silently, Rachel backed away, fumbling with the door handle to let herself out of the house as quickly as she could. The door clicked shut firmly behind her and the sound of it seemed to echo around the room in the heavy silence that followed her departure.

Quinn didn't dare to look up, her eyes trained on the floor beneath her feet; she could feel her mother's presence close to her, charged and electric. A whirlwind of emotion twisted within her, waxing and waning as she breathed, and for a split second, though it had never happened before, Quinn felt as though her mother was going to slap her across her face.

She tensed, waiting for it, but the moment passed.

'I'm so disappointed in you,' her mother's words were merely a whisper before she turned away, striding on stiletto heels back across the room. Though not physical, they struck the target surely and violently enough.

Quinn blinked against the tears in her eyes.

'This is who I am,' she whispered.

Her mother paused on the marble, stopping a couple of metres from her. Though her voice had been quiet, Quinn knew that she had heard her words.

'Excuse me?'

The girl looked up, taking a deep breath as she did so. She swallowed against the lump in her throat, her hazel eyes bright with unshed tears.

'This… is who I am,' she repeated, more firmly, as Judy tilted her head, not quite understanding the words or the quiet defiance of the tone.

'You're not upset because I was kissing…' she continued quietly, 'you are upset because I was kissing a girl… I know that as well as you do.'

The stillness of the warm air seemed to hang, waiting, as they looked at each other. There was nothing in her mother's expression that shifted, but just from the intensity of her blue gaze, Quinn knew that she was right. She could almost feel something crack within her, that painful, aching feeling that settled beneath the arch of her ribs. All her life, Quinn had sought the warmth of her mother's approval; the subtle nod of praise and the hint of a smile, for the bond between them had always been so powerful, and yet somehow, so fragile.

'I'm upset because you are being reckless and stupid, Lucy,' her mother replied with measured words. 'Reputation is everything in this world… and you have tarnished yours almost irreparably already.'

'I love her,' Quinn stated softly, the words feeling right on her tongue even though she had never uttered them before.

Her mother laughed dryly.

'Don't confuse this matter with sentimental nonsense…' she replied coolly.

The frown that deepened between Quinn's eyebrows did not fade, her hands clasping at each other desperately, the knuckles almost turning white.

'I do love her,' she repeated quietly.

'You don't know what love is, Quinn,' her mother stated more seriously, her expression closing in as she used her daughter's middle name rather than her given one, 'you are only seventeen… you know hormones, and lust… teen TV dramas and the shells of hollow words. Everything is sunshine and sweetness in your little world… and maybe that is my fault, for protecting you from the grittiness of reality.'

Quinn swallowed, folding her arms across her body. As unfair as she felt her mother's words were, she knew that no argument that she made would be heard. The woman stilled; her voice quiet.

'The world is a darker place than that…' she stated, 'and so are the emotions that you speak so freely of... Love is blacker, and bloodier, than you can understand.'

Despite the thick heat of the air Quinn felt a coolness shudder up across her skin. Her mother's eyes, which had drifted to the light of the world outside, slowly returned and settled on her daughter.

'When you have found someone that you would lie for,' she said quietly, 'someone that you would die for… Someone, for whom, you would be willing to sacrifice everything… then, and only then, can you talk to me about love, Quinn.'

The anger that had blazed in her eyes before had faded and now it was something else that burned there instead, something that Quinn couldn't read.

'Is that how you feel about Dad?' Quinn asked quietly.

The jarring relationship between her parents was something that she felt that she would never understand. They fit together and yet they did not… and somehow, as the years had gone on, the sharp edges between the two had calloused and bled. Ever increasing business trips kept them apart, and silences that had once been companionable seemed, to Quinn, always on the edge of hostility. Her mother drank, her father left. They were both strong personalities that were gouging chunks from each other beneath the perfect social facade.

'It's how I feel about you,' her mother replied softly. 'You and your sister.'

Quinn felt the tension melt from her shoulders, uncertain as to how to process the encounter.

'If you love me like that,' she said finally, taking a shuddering breath, 'then can't you accept me for who I am?' she looked up at her mother. 'Can't you accept that I may… want to be with her?'


Present. In the cabin.

The blonde looked deep in thought when Rachel emerged from the bedroom, her hair wet from the shower. She paused in the doorway to look at her for a moment. Every second had seemed so valuable lately, each of these moments that stirred that intense warmth beneath her breastbone. Rachel knew, more than Quinn realised, how transient these peaceful moments were and like precious jewels, she tried to gather them up, carefully hold them within herself to be treasured for the years to come.

She crossed the distance to the couch, leant over it to kiss the soft skin atop the woman's cheekbone. Quinn looked up at her through the hatch of silky blonde hair that had fallen into her eyes, a soft smile coming to her lips.

'You look so serious,' Rachel murmured, stepping around the couch to settle beside the blonde.

Quinn started to move towards her and then hesitated for a heartbeat, an uncertain look in her eyes. Rachel reached out to tangle their fingers together, and at the reassurance of the touch, Quinn seemed to melt into her, allowing herself to be held against the smaller woman's body.

Rachel nuzzled into the blonde hair, inhaling the vanilla of the woman's shampoo. The vulnerability was unusual in Quinn, or at least the silent acknowledgement of it was as she let Rachel wrap her arms around her.

'I was thinking about my family,' Quinn murmured, her throat tight around the words, 'of Russell, and Michael… of my mother...'

Rachel's grip tightened but a wry smile crossed Quinn's face.

'You realise that between us, we have four fathers?'

Rachel snorted softly.

'And two mothers,' the brunette commented lightly.

'Enough for a volleyball team.'

She could feel Quinn's muscles start to relax, their bodies melting together. The blonde exhaled gently.

'I forgot what it was like to lie in your arms,' she whispered.

She had been thinking of her mother; of love that was blacker and bloodier than her young mind could comprehend. Judy Fabray's words had stayed with her for so many years, held close and crumpled against her. But as Quinn lay in Rachel's arms she still found herself at odds with her mother's dark declaration. To her, the feeling was still as though she were lying on the grass on a summer's day; the warmth of the rays on her skin, as her body seemed to sing with the happiness that came from being with Rachel. It had always been this way.

Rachel bit down the words that came to her lips. Of corny words that did no justice to how she felt, of how she felt complete with Quinn beside her, of how everything settled and found its' place. She knew that the time was slipping away from them, the world turning beneath their feet. But it simply made her more determined to complete what, in her mind, she had already started.

'What is it like to lie in my arms?' she asked playfully instead.

Hazel eyes flicked up to hers, glittering.

'Beautiful.'


The night was quiet as Rachel pushed herself up in the bed, the slit of moonlight through the crack in the curtain falling across the blonde's face. She looked so young and relaxed in her sleep that Rachel was suddenly caught in the memory of her, of the children that they had been once, long ago; of the women that they had become; and everything, everything, in between.

She gently brushed the blonde hair from the woman's face, her touch lingering on the thin line of the scar on her forehead.

'I love you,' she whispered, before leaning down to press her lips against the woman's skin. 'Please…' she exhaled slowly, trying to still the fine tremor of her hands, 'please understand. Understand that I love you.'

Quinn would not wake. Not now. Not with the anxiolytics that Rachel had slipped her so easily. The brunette knew that she had to move before she lost her nerve to leave; for the wheels were already in motion, and there was no way to stop them now.

Slipping from the bed, the beam of moonlight caught her as she reached for the clothes that she had neatly folded on the chair. She paused in the light, biting down hard on her lip and tasting the coppery blood on her tongue. Looking out at the pale disc, she sent a silent prayer up to the sky, for herself, for Quinn… for all of them.


'I'm coming with you.'

His voice was soft in the darkness and Rachel squeaked as she jumped in surprise, her hand going to her mouth as she swore softly.

'Jasper!' she hissed, trying to calm the racing of her heart that she felt was trying to crack her ribs. The pounding of blood through her arteries was loud in her ears, the adrenaline thick.

He was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, his outline visible in the shadows.

'I'm coming with you, Rachel,' he repeated quietly.

'That's not part of the plan…' she objected, stepping carefully towards him.

'I know,' he acknowledged, pausing for a moment as he watched her. Rachel squared her shoulders, trying to strengthen against the uncertainty that she had felt only moments before. 'But I'm coming with you.'

In the stillness of the cabin, Rachel considered him for a moment, her grip tightening on the bag over her shoulder. They had never been friends and yet, over the last few weeks, Jasper had exceeded everything that Rachel had ever expected of him. It was love for the woman that lay asleep in the bedroom behind her that had kept them on opposite sides of the game; it was love, and jealousy, and possessiveness. In the darkness of the night Rachel could admit that and, against the counter, it seemed that so could Jasper.

'I have made up my mind,' he continued gently, 'this is not a negotiation…'

Rachel pursed her lips, irritation mixing with the storm of other emotions that she had been experiencing.

'I need you to stay here…'

'To babysit Quinn?' He interrupted, the volume of his voice rising slightly.

'To stop her doing something stupid,' Rachel responded quietly. She sighed again, shaking her head although she knew that he could barely see her. 'I know her, Jasper… I know her...'

'So do I,' he murmured darkly.

'Then you know how close she is to making a choice that will…' Rachel cut herself off from the words that sprung, unwelcome, to her lips… that will kill her. That is what she had wanted to say, the horrible words that felt like a curse; a prophecy. From the moment that they had left New York, Rachel had watched Quinn like a hawk. The blonde brooding as she turned over the options in her mind, calculated and re-calculated… Rachel wasn't sure if it was because of all that she had lost in her life that made Quinn hold on so much tighter to those that she loved, or whether it was the burden of guilt that made the responsibility for all their lives weigh so heavily on her, but to Rachel she was as transparent as the glass in the window. Each day was taking them hurtling towards the day that Quinn would leave. To the day that Quinn would make the decision that Rachel knew would take her out of her life forever… and that was something that she could not allow. Not again.

'…that will kill her.'

Jasper spoke the hollow words that she could not.

Rachel inhaled sharply through her nose, her body tensing.

If she had ever needed proof then he had proved it to her in that statement. That, yes, he knew Quinn well; that he could read the stoic blonde as closely as she could. He could see it too. How her silences where growing longer, her thoughts ever more distant from them. The incident on the ice had only served to accelerate things, for nothing is as potent as almost loosing someone that you love.

'I'm not going to let her martyr herself,' Rachel stated lowly. The protectiveness that had burnt so fiercely beneath her breastbone in the preceding days was only gathering fuel as time passed. 'Not when I can do something about it…'

He contemplated her in the low lighting, wondering at the years that they had known and despised each other, at how much time and effort he had wasted in hating her.

'You realise,' he murmured, 'that you are doing to her what she did to you, Rachel?'

Rachel narrowed her eyes, her grip tensing as her belly tightened. She did not respond and he continued softly.

'Deceiving her to protect her?' he probed, 'keeping her in the dark? Leaving?'

Rachel swallowed.

Certainly the argument, on the other side of the coin, was fierce. She had no doubt that Quinn would be as furious when she awoke as Rachel had been when she realised what the blonde had done to protect her in those earlier years. She knew that it would damage them; that it would damage the relationship between them… and yet, somehow, although she could tell her and involve her in the decision, and the choices she was making, Rachel's desire to protect the blonde was too great to risk. Strangely, now, in the darkness, she felt the forgiveness that she had struggled to find before flutter through her… for she suddenly understood. She understood how Quinn could have taken it all upon herself, how she could have lied, how she could have cut herself off and crossed the globe to keep them safe… for in a heartbeat, Rachel knew that she would do the same.

'I'm not saying you are wrong…' Jasper pushed himself off the counter, stepping towards her until he could make out the dark pools of her eyes.

She stared at him, unblinking.

'I'm not wrong,' she whispered certainly.

They looked at each other for a long moment, the quiet of the night about them. He leant down to pick up his bag, carefully hoisting it over his shoulder. The lines of his face were as serious as she had ever seen them and Rachel felt as though she were looking at him for the first time, that the façade had melted away and she could finally see through to the man beneath.

'I know,' he stated quietly.

It was with a dark and foreboding feeling that Rachel lifted her chin, nodding slowly. Her heart had tripped into a steady rhythm, the type that is stirred by military bands and minor tones, awaiting the cadence at the end of the phrase. Through the simplest of actions, Rachel realised that she was making a decision that had the power to spin either way, that as she nodded to him, and they walked towards to door, she was in turn, walking away from the woman that she had always loved. And deep down, close to her soul, she knew that there was the very real possibility that she may never see her again.


Carlos crept into the room, his barefeet quiet on the floor. He was careful not to make a sound, stopping uncertainly beside the bed. His Momma's hand rested gently on his shoulder. While she had been reluctant to let him enter the room, after much protesting, she had finally relented.

The sky was cloudless beyond the glass, the sunshine streaming through the crack in the curtains and glowing behind them. His dark eyes settled on the blonde woman lying on the bed before him; Auntie Q's breathing was slow and steady, the soft rise and fall of her chest gentle beneath the sheets.

He watched her for a moment, tilting his head to the side.

'See,' his momma leant down to whisper in his ear, her hands reassuring on his small shoulders, 'she's fine, baby.'

It had been a shock to awake in the morning and find Auntie Rach and Jasper gone… such a shock that part of him felt upset and angry at being forgotten, at being left behind. But even stranger was that his Auntie Q slept peacefully on, as though the hours that passed did not touch her.

Carlos frowned, studying his aunt carefully. Her skin still glowed, her hair messy about her face on the pillow. She didn't stir.

'Auntie Q never sleeps this long,' he whispered back, not quite ready to accept what his mother had been telling him about her wellbeing. His dark eyes shifted up to her, eyes that reminded her, as they always did, of Santana. Brittany stroked a gentle hand along his spine, in the way that she had done to comfort him since he was a baby.

'She's tired, sweetheart,' she responded softly.

He looked to the blonde woman asleep on the bed, to the rise and fall that reassured him that she was, indeed, alive.

'She's very tired,' his mother responded hesitantly, something added to her tone that he could not place. If anything, it made him even more uncertain. 'She's very tired, baby, and will sleep for a long time.'

Carlos looked up at her for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. Before she could stop him he had crept across the distance to the bed, hovering above his sleeping aunt before quickly pressing a quick kiss against her skin. He looked down expectantly, waiting for a moment for something to happen.

It did not.

Quinn slept on, and Carlos waited impatiently until, with a heavy exhalation of air, he scowled.

'Doesn't work,' he grumbled before turning abruptly and stalking from the room, his mother's confused gaze following him.


As sharp as a lance that ran down her spine, Quinn woke suddenly from her sleep, the echoes of Santana's screams ringing loudly in her ears. The context of the dream disappeared like smoke vanishing up into the sky, and yet the thumping of her heart within her chest was fast enough and strong enough to remind her of the horror of it. The terror that gripped her was both powerful and purposeless, and she reached out blindly for Rachel's body, for the reassurance that she always found there.

But the bed beside her was empty, the sheets cold.

She knew, instantly, that there was something wrong; a feeling that only intensified when she blinked open her eyes to the bright rays of the sunshine against the wall. Her head felt thick and groggy, as though she had been wading through water and it was slowing her down; the heaviness of her eyelids almost overwhelming as she sank back down into the soft pillows.

'Rach?'

It felt wrong. The strange heaviness of her head and of her limbs, like lead…

'Rachel?'

It was the creeping sense of foreboding that kept her fighting against the exhaustion that threatened to tumble her back into sleep; that sixth sense that was screaming at her.

She rolled over, pushing herself up until she was sitting, groggily, on the edge of the bed. Rubbing at her eyes, she looked up at the window, at the sunshine outside… and with the finality of knowing, she realised that she had slept the whole day through… and as strangely, and certainly, she knew that Rachel was gone.

Just as the dream had made her heart race so did the fear that cascaded over her. The sharpness of it snapped her from her drowsy state. It didn't take her long to see the note, penned in the brunette's gentle sloping handwriting on a page torn from her notebook… Quinn recognised it instantly and as she reached for it, her hand seemed to tremble before her.

'You didn't,' she whispered, almost afraid to touch the paper… hoping that it were just a scrap piece that the singer had not thrown away. 'Please… please tell me you didn't…'

But as she scanned the words she could feel the tightening of emotion in her chest, the fear and anger that boiled up within her. She crumpled the paper in her palm, crushing it within her fist until the knuckles blanched white.

Quinn felt choked with emotion. It was as though the noose was tightening around her neck, the noose that had been slipped onto her so many years ago.

She threw the paper across the room with all the force that she could muster, trying to resist the desire to smash something, if only just her fist. She stood abruptly, slapping the palms of her hands against the plaster of the wall, once, twice… a third time, and she closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut as she tried to control her breathing.

She pressed her forehead against the cold plaster.

'Rachel…' she groaned the word through gritted teeth, for as surely as she knew that the brunette had made up her mind to confront the situation, Quinn also knew that the only way to truly resolve it would end, ultimately, with death. Each and every way that she had approached it had ended up the same; no matter what she did, no matter how she did it, she could not imagine a way of protecting her family without approaching Joe Waters and somehow having him killed.

She smacked her hands hard against the plaster again, the stinging of it tingling down her arms.

But instead of the anger that had flashed and burnt brightly through her, it was as though a soothing hand rested gently upon her shoulder. She blinked back the tears of frustration that had stung at her eyes, and took a ragged breath. Strangely and powerfully, she could feel her mother's presence at her back, the cool fingertips against the nape of her neck; that gentle caress that had always soothed her as a child.

You are alone now. It seemed to say. You are alone, in this world.

Anger seeped from her body; it dissipated in a way that Quinn had never been able to achieve before and with a strange singularity of purpose she felt a strength that was not her own start to soak into her.

I'm right behind you, sweetheart.

Russell's last words had turned over in her mind so many times after the fire; and deep down she knew that he had never intended to follow her. He had died so many years ago now… so many years had passed, and still she was trying to piece it together.

As she closed her eyes, she could see the view from the window of the house as she had stepped out onto the ledge; the cool of the night beyond, the heat of the flames behind her as it burnt. As it burnt to the ground. The beginning of this nightmare.

I couldn't see it then; how everything comes to an end…

Her breathing steadied.

How everything burns and crumbles…

She wrapped her arms about herself, twisting to the side, against the wall...

No matter how high, nor how strong…

Until finally her back was against the plaster, the sunlight through the glass catching her in its beam. The warmth of it soothed her and Quinn rested her head back, not wanting to open her eyes to the world.

When you have found someone that you would lie for…

Her mother's presence was close. As enigmatic and strong as she had always been. For so many years Quinn had wished that she could speak with her mother one last time. That she could be, just once more, be a child, her child. That she could ask and understand the choices that Judy had made, the aftershocks of which still rippled through Quinn's life.

Someone that you would die for…

She clasped her hands together, the small golden cross squeezed tightly between thumb and forefinger.

For whom, you would be willing to sacrifice everything…

When she opened her eyes, the glare of the light felt as though it were blinding her, stark and white and disorientating.

She knew what it was that she needed to do. The cold certainty of it ran through her. She knew it as surely as she knew her own skin.

Then, and only then, Quinn.

Then, and only then...


Present. On the road back to New York.

Jasper leant against the side of the payphone, watching Rachel as she spoke animatedly to the woman on the other end. Her movements seemed to be gathering energy the more that she talked and he had to stop himself from smirking at her.

'Yes… yes, I saw the magazines…' she rolled her eyes at him, clearly irritated by her publicist, 'yes. I know. Fiona. Fiona – I know… just tell them that I have no comment at this time…'

He folded his arms across his chest, squinting his eyes up to the sky. In a few hours they would be back in New York. Only a few hours.

'Fiona – I know!' Rachel's frustration was not well-hidden as she snapped again, 'just ignore it – okay?'

He had to admit that being Rachel's publicist must be something of an experience; the woman was a headstrong personality that did not take direction very well when it came to her life.

'I want you to confirm the awards ceremony…'

It was understandable that Fiona was upset; Rachel had disappeared into thin air for almost two weeks, leaving her to deal with rumours, tabloids and failed performance commitments. The singer was more than aware that she had been far from professional, and yet her career had been the furthest thing from her mind.

'…but you can confirm with them now,' she stated, 'I will be attending, and I will be performing… Stewart and I have already rehearsed. We blocked it months ago… it won't be a problem…'

She listened wearily as the other woman ranted.

'Yes… yes, I know… I know!'

She huffed irritably.

'Well, just be happy that I am back on your radar… stop being so dramatic.'

Jasper raised his eyebrows at that comment. Pot, meet kettle. He turned, kicking the toe of his shoe against the mud of the curb. Yes. In a few hours they would be back in New York. And in a few days, maybe, all of this would be over… but somehow the stretch of time between the two points seemed infinite and fragile. Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed, and even as time tumbled on, he felt the world becoming thick with uncertainty.


Present. In the cabin.

'You're awake,' he stated needlessly.

She hadn't expected Carlos to be in the sitting room when she stepped out of the bedroom, and he had clearly not expected to see her. The little boy froze; his dark eyes wide with surprise. Quinn froze too, staring at him. It were as though time were standing still, or maybe, that for one moment, she had stepped out of time all together, lost in the possibilities of the life she could have had. But the choices were already made; the future set. If she had ever had a son, she hoped that he would have been something like the little boy in front of her; simultaneously the thought saddened her and strengthened her resolve.

'Where's your momma?' she asked softly.

He tilted his head, playing with the cuffs of his coat.

'Outside,' he replied hesitantly, intuitively catching on to her uncertainty, 'we... we were building a snowman.'

She smiled, biting her lip at the emotion that threatened to choke her again. Maybe things would have been different… in another life. In another life, where Michael had never existed, where her mother had been faithful to the man that she had married. Where mafia and murder and money were concepts far away…

'…I can get her…' he offered.

'No,' Quinn cut him off gently, 'no, sweetheart.'

For she knew that Brittany would only try to make her stay. That gentle, perceptive Brittany would be able to read her like a book… just as she had always done.

Carlos was looking up at her with those wide, dark eyes, eyes that were so trusting... She remembered the day that he was born, remembered holding him for the first time, taking him gently from Brittany as Santana slept. So small and delicate in her arms. Innocent and perfect.

She let the bag slip from her shoulder, placing it gently on the floor.

'You're leaving?' he asked.

Quinn crossed the distance between them, sitting down on the arm of the couch before him.

'I have to go,' she replied, the burning in her chest only intensifying as she studied his young face. She reached out, intending to ruffle his curls as she had always done, but the gesture wilted with the heaviness of her limbs and she found herself resting her hand on his shoulder instead. 'I have to go and get your Mami back…'

He looked at her uncertainly.

'Don't cry, Auntie Q,' he murmured, reaching out to softly touch her cheek in a gesture much older than his young years.

'I'm not crying,' she denied softly, though she could feel the tears seeping from the corners of her eyes. She tried to pull herself together, knowing that it would just frighten him to see her fall apart. She swallowed thickly against the lump in her throat. 'It may be a while until we see each other again, tiger… it may be a long while…'

'I don't want you to go…' he protested softly.

'I know…' she took a ragged breath, 'I know… but I need you to be good, sweetheart. I need you to look after your Momma, and your Mami… and your Auntie Rachel. And Jasper.'

'Even Jasper?' he repeated quietly.

'Even Jasper,' she nodded. 'And even when we don't see each other, I want you to remember that I will always be thinking about you… that I love you very much, Carlos. You are a wonderful boy, and I know that you are going to be a wonderful man one-day...'

He looked at her seriously, his lower lip starting to wobble. She tried to smile, but it was more painful than she could have imagined. She didn't realise what she was doing until she had already removed the cross from around her neck.

'I want you to have this,' she whispered, her fingers trembling as she flicked the clasp, 'to look after it for me… My father gave it to me when I was a baby, and it has kept me safe, for many years… It has protected me. And now it will protect you, and keep you safe… until we see each other again.'

His smaller fingers touched the small golden cross with careful reverence and Quinn pulled him into her arms, holding his smaller body close to hers as she tried to stem the tears that were threatening. He held her tightly, burying his face into her neck.

'Tell your Momma that I love her very much,' she murmured into his hair, 'very, very much. Okay?'

He nodded wordlessly, unwilling to let her go. And for a moment, Quinn thought that she wouldn't be able to let go either, that the bonds that tied her to him were stronger than the forces she knew had to take her away.


Present. In the cabin.

Carlos watched from the window as his Aunt climbed into Jasper's car.

His fingers played absently with the golden cross about his neck, the metal smooth and warm beneath his fingertips.

'Quinn! Quinn - stop!'

He could see his mother running across the snow, her long legs covering the distance quickly down the hill.

'Quinn!'

The engine had started; the car carefully reversing into the three-point turn on the snow.

'Quinn – stop!'

For a moment he thought that his mother may succeed in stopping her from leaving. Anxiety tightened in his chest, hoping that she would be fast enough. She slapped her hands against the trunk of the car as it started to accelerate along the path back up to the road, pulling away from her.

'Quinn!'

He had never heard his mother sound so desperate, running after the car as fast as she could, even as it disappeared into the distance. It was an image that would stay with him forever, through all the years to come. The cloudless sky above and the sunlight on the snow.


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