Chapter Thirty Five

Talking

"Can I ask you something?" Quinn asked as Rachel, as she lay her head on the brunette's lap. Her girl's long fingers scraped themselves across her scalp as she pulled and tugged at her hair, feeling like she was weaving cloth with her golden locks. They were sat on her bed, listening to the downpour of the April showers hitting the window panes outside. A lazy, hazy heat surrounded them. It was cold outside and warm with the heating on. Both girl's eyes were closing with the pulling force and need to drift into an early nap before dinner, before Rachel's fathers returned home from work. With their homework finished, they thought it would be the perfect opportunity to relax and feel comfortable with each other once again.

Through her sessions with Miss Pilsbury, one thought was constantly rotating in her mind; how was Rachel feeling? What did she think when Quinn was hurting her, violating her in the worst way a person could hurt their lover? She didn't want to think of it, but it had to be addressed. The way Rachel had acted afterwards, understandably with such hostility and a course hatred, showed her that she obviously was not sure of what to make of what happened. But it also made Quinn unsure too. Of course she knew what she had done was terrible thing, but the way Rachel acted was giving the impression that she hadn't done anything. Or at least, nothing that serious. Flinching, of course, gave away that she was scared of Quinn, and that broke the blonde girl's heart. Being scared of the person you truly love was horrible, but there was more that Quinn needed to know.

Like all the times Miss Pilsbury had gotten inside her head – with the help of a professional and more experienced therapist the guidance counsellor had brought in – she wanted to get inside Rachel's head. Her girl loved to delve deep inside the minds of the people she loved. She had wanted to, but wanted to keep the girl's inner thoughts personal until it was a better time. Rachel had wanted to talk to her about her behaviour, leading up the harrowing even, but then after what had happened she didn't want to even look at her. Again, understandably.

Now though, now they were back with each other and were willing to go back to how things were before Rachel's first attack, Quinn thought this was the perfect opportunity to finally discuss what they should have done before all of this. It was important. She had talked with the therapist and with Miss Pilsbury, but really, she needed to talk to the girl she loved. And the girl she loved needed to talk to her.

Above her, Rachel hummed, still threading her fingers through Quinn's strands and feeling sleepy; her eyes becoming as heavy as lead, but determined to stay awake to answer her newly appointed girlfriend's question. Biting her lip and then mashing her lips together, Quinn stared at Rachel's pink laptop that was directly ahead of her. Focusing on the sliding clasp of the machine she asked her question; "Will you tell me what you thought after I hurt you?" She rushed her question and clamped her teeth down on her folded lips.

Wishing she hadn't have rushed her question and maybe asked it in a different way. She wanted to know not just how she felt, but what she felt. All these Why she didn't scream at Quinn and order her out of the house? Why did she sleep next to her, in her arms that night? Did she feel dirty or sore or repulsed when she woke and washed? That morning she had snapped at Quinn and gave her a death threatening glare, but afterwards she didn't say anything. How could she have agreed to get in the car with her? What did she think and feel when she was in the car? Granted, there was space between them – with Rachel sat in the back and Quinn driving – but still, how could she even stand with Quinn in Glee Club that day? The only piece of the aftermath of her reaction, all the information she understood about how Rachel reacted, was that they broke up. She understood completely that they broke up. They needed to have broken up. Quinn needed to see just what she could loose if she didn't face up to some of her issues and come face to face with the hurt she had caused. As much as it pained her to know the truth, their break up was for the best thing for them both. The space was well needed; space apart from each other, space to think, to reflect, to figure out what they both truly wanted and how they were going to set about getting it in a positive way.

But what she didn't understand, was why Rachel agreed to get back together with her after what she did and why she had only had that one outbreak of anger. Why she hadn't called the police. Why she hadn't told her fathers – or only assumed she hadn't told her fathers, otherwise she wouldn't be alive at that point – and why she had appeared to sweep it under the carpet, locked it away in the back of her mind and acted as if she had forgotten it or the incident never happened. Why did she still love her after what she had done?

On top of her head, she felt Rachel's fingers still. Quinn braced herself for the anger. The hatred, the revisiting of pain, the flashbacks, the crying and screaming...she prepared herself for anything and everything Rachel was going to throw at her. What she was thrown, though, surprised Quinn and made her frown with confusion. "I'm surprised you opened up so easily to Miss Pilsbury." Rachel told her, almost with a proud tone. Her fingers started up again. Again. She was pretending nothing had happened. She hadn't even looked in the iron chest that kept all of her dark secrets and terrifying past experiences. Simply, she was ignoring Quinn's question and ultimately, ignoring the chance to open up and release all of the emotions, thoughts and feelings she had to be harbouring in that brilliant mind of hers.

Sitting up Quinn looked at Rachel with a light confused expression. She sat with her legs crossed and reached out to tuck a strand of Rachel's brown hair behind her ear. It was held back in a head band, but a strand had come lose from lying down and resting against her pillows. Quinn rested her hand on Rachel's cheek, staring into her deep brown eyes, softly telling her in a light voice; "Rachel that's not answering my question." Her girl really was the best actress in the world, because at that point she didn't show any flicker of sadness, fright, anticipation...nothing Quinn was expecting. Although she was sure she was feeling it. All she did was smile lightly and tucked two strands of hair behind Quinn's ears and pressed her palms again Quinn's cheeks. Still smiling her small smile, the only give away to her true feelings of not wanting to talk about it, and softly said to Quinn's eyes; "I want you to talk to me first." Her eyes never blinked and that was another indication to the blonde that Rachel really didn't want to talk about it, for whatever reason.

Lightly sighing through her throat, Quinn rolled her eyes and closed them for a moment; wishing again that her girl would just grant her this one request. She wanted to help Rachel just as much as she had helped her. Why couldn't she see that? It was hard and awful topic to discuss and, clearly, Quinn was disgusted by her actions, but she felt it was important for them to talk about it. There had to be communication in their relationship. If there wasn't, then neither would know truly how the other was feelings. And that was how they had gotten into this situation in the first place. True, it was Quinn's own fault, but she felt that she had to talk to Rachel and Rachel had to talk to her, otherwise their relationship would always feel rocky and different than what it should be.

As Quinn had learned, sometimes they both needed a little push to get that help. Opening her eyes, Quinn found herself staring just as deeply into Rachel's chocolate dark eyes. Those eyes she had found herself dreaming about. Gently, she took her hand off Rachel's cheek and pressed both hands to Rachel's little ones on her own cheeks. Whispering with desperation; "Rachel-"

"So why did you?" Rachel interrupted, squeezing her own eyes shut, as if drowning out her responses and making a physical stance of just how much she didn't want to talk about it and just how uncomfortable and hurt she was was. Wanting to change the topic more forcefully. If Quinn couldn't see her eyes, then she couldn't be distracted and would tell her what she wanted to know. What she was frustrated at. Why could Quinn talk to a woman she barely knew, and not the girl she loved, adored and treasured?

Even as she glared through the foggy darkness of her closed eyes, Rachel could still see the images she was haunted by. As she waited in the raindrop splattering silences that surrounded her, she saw before her attacks. Both performed by members of the same family. One who she bizarrely enough loved more than any other human or object in the world. She wanted to forget so badly, that is was this same person who she was previously resting with and enjoying her peaceful company who had hurt her in the worst way physically and emotionally possibly.

So why was she still so in love with her? Why was this four letter emotion so powerful that it blocked out logic?

Sighing lightly once again, Quinn began swirling her finger around Rachel's bare knee; drawing light circles and other shapes – love hearts and stars mostly – as she thought of how to answer. Really, she didn't want to talk about herself; she had been for weeks with a therapist and Miss Pilsbury. Now she just wanted Rachel to talk. The girl was known for her rambling so, why couldn't she just talk? A tough subject, absolutely, but Quinn just wanted to let her in. Let her into how she was feelings, what she was thinking during and before it happened and what she felt afterwards. Realising the best way to get Rachel talking, was to talk herself. Ease her into the conversation.

Settling with talking about the truth that wasn't quite so apparent at the time in Miss Pilsbury's office. She closed her eyes and took lifted her and Rachel's hands off her face and holding both of Rachel's little hands in her own. The brunette's hands were damp with a nervous sweat, but Quinn chose to ignore it, choosing instead to stroke her fingertips to calm her down. Even though she wasn't showing any signs of anxiety, Quinn still wanted to keep her calm and relaxed, for when they did eventually bring the conversation onto her and how she felt.

"I didn't." Quinn told her dryly, shrugging. "Not really." Still with her eyes closed Rachel nodded her head. Her eyes were still tightly closed as she spoke back, her voice trying to sound in her usual cheery self, but not succeeding that well. "But she said it didn't take much to get you to talk?" Quinn looked down to Rachel's lips, seeing the way they were snapped shut and held close together in a tight line. Moving back up to her eyes. Focusing on the soft, smooth skin of her eyelids. "To her maybe, but perhaps she wasn't counting the pauses." Quinn spoke softly and in a normal volume, listening to the tapping rain and shrugging, mashing her lips together slightly and watching Rachel's face. "Pauses?" The brunette asked, relaxing her eyes but frowning her eyebrows at the possibility of just how long Quinn kept silence for. Wondering just how long it really took for Quinn to open up. Yes, she wanted to get better and clear her chest and conscience, but she still couldn't understand why she couldn't talk to her.

Mashing her lips tighter between her teeth, Quinn nodded her head slowly, fully aware that Rachel couldn't see her. She opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes shifted away from Rachel's closed eyes to her lips and resting finally on their hands. Focusing mostly on her fingers. She loved that girl's fingers. So slender and smooth. "Yeah." Voice croaking a little as she spoke, feeling worse than terrible. The feeling of betrayal to Rachel was what made her feel the most guilty, she thought. "With me contemplating everything I was going to say without feeling so bad."

"I'm sorry." Rachel whispered, opening her eyes painfully slowly, and Quinn could see them gloss and shine; tears sparkling through at her. Her mouth opened in shock and surprise and she let go of Rachel's hand with one of her own and cupped her girl's cheek; awaiting to catch the first falling tear.

Scrambling to her knees, Quinn held her hand against Rachel's cheek and whispered into her eyes, whilst staring as deeply as she could into them; "Why?" The brunette inches away from her could feel herself welling up with in unnecessary guilt. "For not talking with you." Sniffling, she told her. Quinn's face tightened slightly. She couldn't believe that her girl was blaming herself. She shouldn't be blaming herself, and Quinn had to make it none. She took Rachel's sweating hand and brought it to her chest, placing it over her beating heart as she tried to calm her breathing to the same steadying rhythm. Licking her lips quickly, Quinn then told her in the most calm, but at the same time forceful way she could so that her girl; her beyond amazing, out of the Galaxy brilliant, girl to understand. "Rachel, when will you understand, none of this was your fault. You have to forget that. What happened to you, what I did to you, was not your fault okay?" Her voice was barely a whisper by the time she had finished speaking, ending up with her fighting the urge to cry.

For a little while, feeling like millennia, the two girls looked into each other. Not just at each other, not just into each others eyes but really into one another. Not just their souls but their hearts and what they really felt. Slowly, Rachel's tears stopped forming and only a few slipped out from her eyes. She licked her lips and pressed her free hand on Quinn's cheek, once again mirroring her position. "Okay." She whispered, even quieter than before. Just as Quinn was about to break down in tears, Rachel spoke up again. "Quinn?" Sniffling and willing herself not to cry, Quinn snapped her attention to Rachel's eyes, even though she had never left those brown pools of beauty. "Yeah?" Too many tears had been shed and she couldn't wait for the moment where they could have a serious conversation and not need to fight back tears, like a raging war. Swallowing her own batch of tears Rachel leaned into the girl's palm on her cheek. "Can we please put it behind us?" Her eyes looked as if she was begging and pleading. And Quinn swore to herself that she would never make Rachel give her that look again, unless it was for something good. Only good things should happen to the remarkable girl in front of her. "Are you sure?" She asked, shakily, knowing that she wanted to talk about how her girl was really feeling and not just sweeping everything under the carpet they had woven whist being together and falling in love with each other. A light, small smile graced her girlfriend's lips. "Yeah." She said, defiantly but with a light tone. "We need to move on, and although this conversation was good and a healthy one for us to have, I think we should focus on our new task."

Quinn was puzzled. As far as she was aware, they hadn't really had a conversation. Unless she had blanked out the part where her girlfriend confessed to her how she was really feeling during their time apart and with what happened to her. Still, she thought it best to leave it. The conversation was out in the air now, and it was up to Rachel to decide when it was to land and be talked about.

"What's that?" She asked, wondering what their 'new task' could possibly entail. Subtly, Rachel removed her hand off Quinn's chest and laced their fingers together once more, before replying with; "Finding and punishing your dad."

After a rather enjoyable dinner with Rachel's fathers chatting away about their days and making jokes about their colleagues and workloads, Quinn's hand lightly on Rachel's leg the entire time and squeezing it occasionally, just because it felt right. Keeping it firmly their and tracing little patterns on her soft skin, they headed upstairs for the night.

Every smile and glance they gave each other, made them remember their promise to each other they had made upstairs just an hour or so before. Even though Rachel was eating with her left hand, she sacrificed the ability to eat with her cutlery normally to place her hand on top of Quinn's, only for her girlfriend to entwine their fingers together. Whilst the men were talking to each other and laughing, Quinn's eyes looked over to Rachel and Rachel's to Quinn's. They smiled shyly at each other with sleepy eyes, but before they could excuse themselves or at least have a light dessert, Quinn brought their conjoined hands up from under the table and brought the back of Rachel's hands to her lips, kissing it lightly. Closing her eyes and drowning in the scent of her moisturiser and her very own Rachel Berry aroma.

Dressing ion a pair of Rachel's pyjamas, Quinn waited for her girl to return from the bathroom. She had taken a shower whilst Rachel said goodnight to her parents and was now sat reading a book. She was looking for a poem she could put music to for Rachel. Her grandmother had given her the anthology of romantic poems for a birthday present. It had been sitting in the bottom of her bag ever since she confessed her feelings for Rachel, just waiting to be opened and for the perfect sonnet to be picked out and read to her. Or sung.

Staring at herself in her bathroom mirror, Rachel saw the attack before her eyes all over again. Russell's attack. Throughout her time apart from Quinn, she had been thinking about that night and how scared she was. Every night since she would dream of it, being shown in a different way. Before Quinn's turn of events, she always saw the blonde come to her rescue, closely followed by her fathers on black stallions, Quinn leading them on a snow white on with a flaming red mane. However, as she watched the images play out before her like a high definition movie, the fluttering feeling she felt in her chest and the churning sensation in her stomach, were not feelings of panic. But more of determination. After her attack from Quinn, she had been thinking about it long and hard, almost to the point of where she was sick of thinking about it. Like a song that just keeps getting played inside your head and never leaves until a better one comes.

All the questions were there: why did she do it, what made her do it, how could she possibly think it was okay to do that...and every other question in connection. However, the main question inside her brain was; why and how do you still love her? And then it hit her. Influence and paranoia. That's what had made her do it. Although she had been witness to the horrible things her father had done and knew how wrong it was, something inside her DNA must have told her that that was the only way anger could be conquered and Rachel knew she had to talk to her. She was so proud of Quinn that she was getting help by herself – albeit with a small push from her and Mr Schue – and she knew that she had to complete some unfinished business: she had to tell Quinn everything.

Emerging from the bathroom, Rachel stood by the door and watched as her blonde girlfriend read over a book she had taken out of her school bag. With her back turned, Rachel could still tell that Quinn had her black rimmed reading glasses on. She only wore them in dim light; with only the bedside light on, she had to put them on. Rachel was one of the few people who knew about Quinn's reading glasses, and she felt honoured to see her wearing them, when no one else could. Understanding how Quinn must have felt when she took Rachel's virginity. She remembered the memory and she smiled lightly. However, she then remembered what she wanted to do before they went to sleep that night.

Looking at her peaceful Quinn, Rachel called out to her in her normal volume, "Quinn?", but because of the silence of the room it sounded like she was shouting. Biting her lip, her hair loose and straying around her shoulders, she watched as Quinn turned around and smile at her. Discreetly, she bookmarked her page and set it down on the bedside table. She waited for Rachel to talk to her. The look she was giving her, was all the evidence and proof she needed to know that they were going to talk. No. Rachel was going to talk and she was going to listen. It was her turn to listen. She was sick of the sound of her own voice. Carefully, as if there were glass shards on the floor, Rachel crept over to the bed and stood over the right side; the side Quinn wasn't currently occupying, as she stared at her.

Fingers fumbling, Rachel took four deep breaths before she looked up into Quinn's hazel eyes and began to speak. "Before I asked if we could put all this behind us but..but before we sleep, I feel that there are somethings I have to get off my chest. That way we can fully move on and put the past completely behind us." Quinn nodded her head and indicated to Rachel that she should continue. Swallowing hard, Rachel straightened up and relaxed her hands. "The first time I was attacked, by your father, I was scared. I thought, what is this man doing and can't someone tell him what he's doing is wrong? When he attacked me the second time, I was fearing for my life."

She swallowed again and fought the urge to look away from Quinn's dazzling eyes. "That night I seriously thought I was I going to die. But you saved me, Quinn." She told her in a soft, appreciated voice. "You saved me and I would be eternally grateful for that. But," she bit her lip and this time she did look away for a quick moment before returning her eyes to Quinn's. "I then saw just how my attack had affected you. I ignored it because it felt, admittedly, good to have someone as wonderful as you defend me. But Quinn, when you yourself attacked me, do you want to know how I felt?" Squinting through her tired, but strong eyes, she watched Quinn nod her head. "I was fearing for my life again, Quinn. For a moment, I seriously thought it your father who was hurting me and I..I felt like I was dying."

Once more, Quinn mashed her lips together and listened, ignoring her feelings and just listened to everything Rachel had kept to herself. "When I lay next to you that night, I lay awake wondering who was going to save me. I wanted you to save me Quinn, but how could you when you were the one hurting me. I have to admit Quinn, I wasn't angry with you, but scared of you. Terrified of you. I had been for a while. Wondering when it was my turn that you were going to turn your anger on me like you had done with people at school and your mom and Santana. But I never thought you would go that far, as to do that. Slap me, shout at me anything but what did. And I was hurt, Quinn. I was scared of you and I..I honestly never thought I could trust you again." Quinn nodded her head once again and felt the tears spill and race down her cheeks. Again, she ignored it.

"But Quinn," Rachel placed on knee on the bed and crawled over to her girl, "I saw the way you were. Afterwards and after we broke up. You were hurting, I believe on some level, more than me. I have never seen anyone show that kind of sorrow before and that was when I knew you were going back to the old you. The you that I fell deeply in love with." She brushed her thumbs over the tear drops and wet snail trail streaks. "Although you hurt me, terrified me and almost made me no longer believe in the power of love...I still love you." She lowered her voice and whispered in the silence of the room; "Quinn, I forgive you." Crying with tears of forgiveness and overwhelmed happiness and admiration for her girlfriend, Quinn thanked Rachel repeatedly; never being so thankful for anything in her entire life. Rachel took charge and wrapped the blonde, crying girl up in her arms, rocking her slightly and then laying them both down.

Snuggling together that night, both girls felt like several thousand tonnes of weight had been lifted from them. Finally they were starting a new, a fresh and were completely focused on their new mission – hopefully not – impossible.