Until the End of Time

by iappreciateenjolras

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." A Faberry story following the "Moulin Rouge!" plot.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely related to Glee and either Moulin Rouge.

This is a Faberry AU set in the movie Moulin Rouge, in which Rachel will be Christian, the writer and singer who falls in love with the beautiful Quinn (Satine), courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. Also, Finn will be the Duke, so if you like Finn as a character, I have to warn you that he will impersonate the bad guy.

Also, I had to make a few cuts and changes to the original story, because obviously this isn't a movie, and some things wouldn't make sense offscreen.

This will follow the events of the movie, so the end will be… kind of sad.

Disclaimer, part two – main character death.

-ooo-

UNTIL THE END OF TIME

In her small flat in Paris, sitting at her little desk covered by a mess of papers and quills, fountain pens and inkwells, there is a girl with hair as dark as ebony and eyes that shine brighter than all the stars in the sky. The girls ducks her quill in the ink bottle, and she begins to write down a story. The typewriter lays untouched on a side of the small desk, it's probably going to fall down at some point, but the girl doesn't care.

She has a story to write.

The Moulin Rouge.

A nightclub, a dance hall and a bordello ruled over by Will Schuester. A kingdom of night-time pleasure, where the riches and the powerful played with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld.

The most beautiful of all these was the woman who I loved. Quinn. A courtesan, she sold her love to men. They called her "The Sparkling Diamond." And she was the star of the Moulin Rouge.

The woman I loved.

I first came to Paris one year ago. It was 1899, the Summer of Love. I knew nothing of the Moulin Rouge, William Schuester or Quinn. It was probably for the best, considering what happened then. The world had been swept up in a Bohemian revolution, and I had travelled from New York to be a part of it. On the hill near Paris was the village of Montmartre. It was not – as my father LeRoy said – a village of sin. But the center of the Bohemian world, just as beautiful as my other father, Hiram had described it. Musicians, painters, writers. They were known as the Children of the Revolution.

Yes. I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about truth, beauty, and freedom. After spending the first twenty-two years of my life in the big New York, surrounded by the first cars, noise and plenty of people. I was raised by my dads to be a Broadway star, and I grew up on stage, playing small parts. In the latest years, I begun to play main roles, until I just couldn't do it anymore.

I was an actress and a singer, yes, but I was also a writer. And I couldn't write about beautiful theatres, fancy houses, rich people. It was boring, and I needed to change my horizons.

I needed to live a little.

And so I arrived to Paris, to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believed in above all things: love.

Love above all things fascinated me the most.

Always this ridiculous obsession with love!

There was only one problem.

I'd never been in love.

Luckily, right at that moment, an unconscious Asian fell through my roof.

[oOoOoOo]

The brunette girl, called Rachel Berry, almost faints when the tall and slim Asian boy falls through her roof, completely unconscious and without screams. The girl really loves drama, so she considers to faint, but she doesn't have the time to do so, since someone is slamming the apartment door – her apartment door – and storming in.

Rachel turns to the door, and she sees a guy in a wheelchair, wheeling-storming into the apartment, and gazing in disappointment at the Asian boy on the floor.

"What—"

"Bonjour, how do you do?" the boy in the wheelchair interrupts her. "My name is Arthur Marie Raymond Toulouse-Lautrec Abrams, but you can call me Artie."

"What?"

"Sorry for… this," Artie gestures at the still unconscious guy on the floor. Rachel is beyond confused now, mostly by the casual voice tone that Artie is using. The door slams open once again, and a black girl dressed as a nun storms in.

"What happened? I told you we shouldn't have scripted that jump, it's too dangerous," the woman snorts, and she rips away from her head the black veil.

"I'm sorry, my friend is being a little rude," Artie scoffs, and Rachel makes a week noise, as too assure him that it's fine. "This is Mercedes. And those three up there," Artie raises an arm and points at the big hole in the ceiling, from where three other people are leaning down to look at them. "Those are Tina, Kurt and Blaine."

Rachel makes another weak squirm when she realizes how big the hole in her ceiling actually is. The faces staring at her are more annoyed that worried for the guy that literally just fell from a three meters high ceiling, as it had happened before. The girl is Asian, and the boys – Rachel can't tell who of them is Kurt and who is Blaine – are chatting and snorting quietly, pointing at the unconscious boy.

"We are rehearsing for a play," Mercedes says.

Artie chirps in, excitedly. "Precisely! It's a very modern play, set in Switzerland. It's called Spectacular Spectacular, and we are all very proud of it, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we already know. But how's Mike?" the girl called Tina asks from her spot on the ceiling hole.

Mercedes walks to take a closer look to the guy passed out on the floor, and she kicks him lightly in the ribs. Mike wakes up with a gasp. Rachel is really relieved that she doesn't have a dead body to get rid of laying on her floor.

"We are so screwed, I'll say," Artie snorts. "You see," he turns to Rachel. "He suffers of an uncommon disease called narcolepsy. I still have to finish the script, and…"

"…and I'm far from finishing the music," one of the two boys upstairs says – whether Kurt or Blaine, Rachel couldn't tell.

Rachel is sure that Artie is starting to panic a little. "The due date with the financier is tomorrow," he starts to hyperventilate. Rachel is worried that she will have to remove his dead body if he doesn't calm down. "And we don't have anyone to read the part of the young, sensible young poet."

And before Rachel can say anything, she is standing in their living room, reading the script hurriedly rearranged with girl pronouns. She doesn't even know what's happening, the craziness going on in the flat is beyond enormous, and the big hole in the floor keeps distracting her.

After three crazy hours of singing, dancing and acting around the flat, Rachel sits exhausted on the floor, trying to catch her breath. Meanwhile, Tina is trying to wake up Mike, who fell asleep on his feet, Mercedes, Kurt and Blaine are adjusting some songs, and Artie is explaining her what they are going to do.

"Tomorrow we are meeting monsieur Schuester, and we are going to present him our show, and he is going to help us produce it," Artie says. "But in order to do so… we need someone to present our play to one of his courtesans."

Rachel nods, understandingly. If the courtesan likes it, they will be sure that Schuester will produce the play.

"Now, Mike was supposed to do so," Artie gives Mike a rancorous look, and the boy just shrugs helplessly. It's not like he does it on purpose, fainting around in the most random moments. "Anyways, we'll need someone else, and that someone else will be you."

Artie is looking straight into Rachel's eyes. It takes her a few moments, but then she gets the hint.

"What?" she snaps, "Why me? Do I look like someone who knows how to seduces whores?"

Everyone in the room gasps loudly. Rachel frowns, and she thinks that there must be something she isn't aware of if everyone is so scandalized.

"You don't have to seduce her," Artie gasps, almost indignant. "You have to talk with the Sparkling Diamond, so she will get us to Schuester."

"The Sparkling Diamond?" Rachel repeats, sounding really skeptical. "Is that her nom de plume? Really? And besides, in case you haven't noticed, there are a few substantial differences between me and Mike, because I am a girl and he is a boy," she points out, stating the obvious.

"The Diamond doesn't care about these silly things," Artie shrugs, "She goes with everyone, that's what they do. But once again, you-are-not-going-to-sleep-with-her."

"Thank God for that," Rachel growls, crossing her arms, but sighing and nodding. It's not like she has something better to do. "But just because I like you guys."

Kurt and Blaine – Rachel learned who is who now – clap enthusiastically, Tina and Mercedes cheer. Mike gives her a dirty look, causing Rachel to think that this Diamond girl must be truly beautiful if Mike is so disappointed.

Artie gives her a knowing smile, grinning like an idiot; "Trust me, you are going to be sorry to not get to laid by Quinn Fabray."

oOoOoOo

God, Rachel hates Artie Abrams so much. How could he forget to mention how beautiful Quinn Fabray is?

Rachel stares at her dancing on a swing settled three meters up in the air, singing with an angelic voice and never looking anyone in the eyes. In her presence, Rachel feels quite useless, and deeply unpretty.

Because really, the most beautiful person in the whole world would feel unpretty in front of the beautiful girl swinging in the air. Her delicate figure, alabastrine skin, shining golden blonde hair, and elegant face features are hypnotizing Rachel, who can't stop staring at her.

"The French are glad to die for love," Quinn sings, swinging elegantly, wrapped in her light blue dress. Rachel thought her own voice was pretty awesome, but every thought gets washed away once she hears Quinn's angelic voice. It doesn't even remotely own Rachel's range, and she couldn't handle her Broadway songs, but there is something in the way she is singing… something that catches Rachel out of guard.

"But I prefer a man who lives," Quinn's voice sings heavenly. Rachel doesn't know it yet, but Quinn wasn't expecting her that night. She was expecting someone else, called the Duke, Schuester financier.

"She is a jewel, isn't she?" Artie pocks Rachel in her sides, with a knowing smile.

Rachel can't do nothing but nod confusedly.

"But diamonds are a girl's best friends," Quinn's voice fills the air, and Rachel is deeply disappointed when a choir of whore—courtesans leaded by two beautiful girls, a Latina and a freckled blonde, join her in the song. The Latina's voice is much more powerful than Quinn's and Rachel just wants her to shut the fuck up and let her listen to Quinn and Quinn only.

Kurt gives her a knowing look. "Someone changed her mind?" he hints.

Rachel glares at him.

"There is only one girl I would go straight for, and that's Quinn Fabray," Kurt hums under his breath, receiving a very upset look from Blaine.

"After her number, I organized an encounter with her for you," Artie says. Rachel swallows and nods. She is whipped.

"'cause we're living in a material world, and I'm a material girl."

oOoOoOo

In every show she does, there is a dead moment when Quinn disappears in the restroom, and the girls leaded by Brittany and Santana take the lead.

And that's exactly what's happening now, when Quinn slides offstage, and she takes refuge in the restroom. She bumps right against William Schuester, the creepy man who runs the place. Quinn never liked him, and probably never will. He is weird. And creepy.

"Is he here?" she pants, walking away from Schuester and fixing her golden blonde hair in the mirror.

"Don't worry Liebchen, would I ever let you down?" Shuester asks, with a flirtatious look that makes Quinn feel like throwing up. He calls her Liebchen all the time, a pet name that means 'sweetheart' in German.

The Duke is an American guy named Finn Hudson, who offered to bring her to America with him and make her a real actress, one of those movie stars who dress in fancy clothes. For a charge, she just needs to please every night and be a good courtesan.

Quinn doesn't like that part, mostly because the few times she saw Finn Hudson she hated him with every inch of her soul. But also because he is a boy. Alright, it is her job to please boys all night and be a good girl doing exactly what they like. But she doesn't like it. She had a few girls clients in her life, and she enjoyed that much more than she could ever like it with any boy.

But she has to do that, it's just a small payment to live her dream.

And her dream is to be on Broadway.

So she finishes fixing her make up and she goes back in the main room, where Santana and Brittany help her back on the swing again. She climbs on it uneasily.

Quinn sighs.

Every night, the same story.

Up on the swing, sing some girly song, seduce all the clients and then choose one. Since she is the most beautiful girl in the Moulin Rouge, she gets to choose her clients. And tonight, she is going to choose the Duke.

Just before the swing is lifted again, Schuester puts a hand on her shoulder, and she turns around. "Up in the tribunes, that's who you are looking for. See, where Artie Abrams is pulling out his tissue? Next to him."

And with that, he's gone.

"Ready, Q?" Santana asks.

Quinn nods, and the Latina makes a gesture. Someone starts gripping on the ropes, and the swing is being lifted again. Once she is high in the air, she sees where Artie Abrams is, sat on his wheelchair and handing a tissue to a girl to his left.

And that's when the mistake happens.

Hudson isn't there anymore, but instead of him Quinn sees a small brunette girl, with big eyes that sparkle in the soft lights. She is confused for a second, but then she sees that the girl is talking with Artie in English.

And she thinks she must be there in Finn Hudson's name.

She doesn't stop wondering why Finn would send someone else in this place, maybe he just doesn't want to see her if someone doesn't tell him how she is. She doesn't care.

Because the brunette is gorgeous, and Quinn can't be happier of having to spend the night with her instead of him.

She must be the Duchess, Quinn thinks.

As she stares at the brunette, she almost misses the start of the song. She arches her back sensually against the ropes of the swing, and starts singing.

She does that awesomely. She knows that she is good, she knows that she is beautiful, and she doesn't waste time pretending she isn't. Quinn hates when people look at her with desire in her eyes, hates that they judge her in base of how sexy she can look moving wildly on that damn swing. Which is a bit ironic, because that's basically her whole job.

She leans froward, so that the swing reaches the balcony where Artie and the beautiful Duchess are sitting with a bunch of other people. She attaches herself to the corner of the balcony, fixing her hazel eyes in the Duchess's ones.

The lightest smile curls her lips when she sees the small gasp escaping the shorter girl's lips. Quinn turns to the crowd around, above, under them. "It's the girl who choses," she shrugs, giving them her best sexy wink. "Sorry boys."

She gently kicks the balcony and goes back swinging.

"Diamonds! Square cut or pear-shape," something is wrong. Something is wrong in her throat. She feels nauseous, like she has to throw up. God damn, not now. She has a show to finish.

Quinn swallows her sickness.

"These rocks won't lose their shape," she forces the voice out of her throat, and God that hurts. That hurts like a bitch. She feels like chocking. Just two more verses, just two more verses.

"Diamonds..." Quinn coughs. She is starting to sweat. Her palms are humid and slippery against the ropes she is holding tight onto. "…are…" she chokes out, hoping to still sing along with the music and not slower. "… a girl's b-best…" what was that?

What was that fucking babbling? She couldn't stammer, not now, this was her time to shine, to impress the short brunette staring at her, this was… god, her throat fucking hurts.

"B-best f-f-fr…" she tries again, but the words just don't come out.

Her slippery hands lose their hold on the ropes, and Quinn feels her lungs and brain failing her. The last thing she sees before it all goes dark is the deep brown eyes of the girl sitting next to Artie Abrams looking at her with worry in her eyes.

She wonders if she is going crazy and she just imagined that.

And then everything goes black.

Quinn falls.

oOoOoOo

"Sweet fucking Hell, Fabray! You gave me a fucking heart attack, don't you dare falling from three meters in the air again. You were lucky that Trouty Mouth was down there to catch you, because you risked that pretty ass of yours. You scared ten years out of me," are the first words that Quinn hears when she wakes up.

The sweet, delicate rant belongs to Santana Lopez, one of the closest people she has at the Moulin Rouge. Her, Brittany and Sam are her only three friends in the whole world.

Quinn coughs something, and she tries to get up from the couch she is been laid on. A blanket falls off her knees. She didn't even realize it was there.

"Oh, thank God you are awake. I really don't know what to do with people who faint," Sue, their doctor, announces.

"Aren't you supposed to be a doctor?" Santana frowns.

"Quinn, the Duke was so happy to have you tonight," Brittany chirps in, sitting next to her and helping her sit up as well. Brittany has always been a sweetheart, even if a little naïve. The freckled blonde carefully puts a dump cloth on Quinn's forehead.

Quinn prefers not to tell Brittany that the Duke must have send his Duchess. Even if Brittany and Santana are lovers, and that's a well-known fact, she doesn't feel comfortable admitting that she much prefers female clients over males.

"If you keep the Duke close you will be travelling in all America before you know," Brittany excitedly says, her blue eyes gazing at Quinn. "You could be as famous as Sarah Bernhardt!"

Quinn widens her eyes. "Oh, Britt," she whispers. "Do you really think I could be as good as Sarah?"

"Even better!"

The door slams open and a worried sick Will Schuester storms inside. "Duckling, is everything alright?" he asks, throwing herself to her side.

"All good," Quinn answers him with a reassuring smile. "Just these silly costumes. They are so tight, I must have fainted because of that."

"Oh, I see…" Schuester mumbles. "Anyways, all better now. Let's go outside again, you are going to do great things for the both of us tonight! You are going to be a star, Duckling, a star…"

Quinn sighs as she gets up – grasping tight Brittany's arm, because the room spins a little around her when she gets on her feet again. Santana pats her shoulder sympathetically.

oOoOoOo

Rachel chews nervously her lip as she waits for Quinn to make her entrance in the room. She revises mentally the poetry she has to tell her, reminding herself that this is going to be professional, Quinn is aware of it. It's just a poem. Just a poem.

When the doors of Quinn's personal dress room slam open, Rachel almost dies on her feet. The blonde is… gorgeous. Just gorgeous. She—god, she is wearing some really, really succinct black dress and she walks slowly, purposely so.

"Hi," Rachel whispers, unable to contain herself.

What the hell?

What kind of beginning is that?

Start again.

"I'm Rachel Berry," she introduces herself, sticking out a hand for Quinn to take it. The blonde looks at her amusedly, with a hint of skepticism in her hazel eyes. God, her eyes. Rachel wonders if she can fall for someone just by looking into their eyes.

"Enchanté," Quinn says, with the huskiest voice she is able to produce. "I bet you already know my name."

Rachel thinks that the thing she is wearing is very much too succinct to be right for a work encounter. Quinn takes her hand, and she brings it to her lips, so delicately that Rachel almost doesn't feel it. She shivers. Oh, God.

"I'm—uh… I have a poem to read," Rachel stammers. Her mind mentally blacks out when she sees Quinn perfectly shaped lips curl up in a smile. God.

"Oh, I love poems," Quinn mumbles, turning around to walk to the bed, as sexily as she can.

Rachel swallows.

"Would you like some, I don't know, supper? Champagne? I have champagne," Quinn says, sitting on the bed, making sure she arches her back sexily enough.

"I'd rather—I'd rather just get it over and done with," Rachel babbles. She wonders once again if Quinn is aware of the fact that this is a work meeting, that they are not going to seduce each other, that's not—

"I understand. Come here then," Quinn smirks with an audacity. Rachel thinks that it's like she doesn't know the power she has. She doesn't know how much she can control people with just that little smirk.

God, this is going to be insane.

"I prefer to do it- to do it standing," Rachel clears her voice, searching in her mind the lyrics of the poem. Quinn moves as for standing up, but Rachel quickly stops her. "No, I mean, you can stay there, if you like. It's—it's quite long, and—a little modern. But—but I think you may like it."

Quinn smirks again. "I'm sure I will."

Rachel takes a deep breath, and she fixes her eyes on a spot on the ceiling. "Th-the sky... the sky is…"

She hears a moan. Rachel widens her eyes and looks back at the bed, where Quinn is now rolling around, moaning hungrily. What is happening? God, no this shouldn't be happening. This shouldn't be like this. She is—god, she was sure that Quinn knew!

And instead the blonde is… moaning and groaning and touching herself through the small black thing she is wearing.

The words die in her throat when Quinn gets up from the bed and captures her in her arms. Rachel is surprised by how strongly the girl pushes them both on the bed, how tender are the kisses she is leaving down her neck, how—

Good Lord.

Quinn is kissing her neck.

Quinn Fabray is actually kissing and sucking on her neck, producing the most delicious little moans.

And Rachel is—she is excited and frightened at the same time. The blonde kisses her neck thoroughly, and when she hits a particular spot under Rachel's ear, the brunette squirms in surprise.

The sound she made surprises her the most – Quinn barely notices it.

"Let's make love," Quinn hoarsely whispers against Rachel's soft skin, bringing her fingers to the buttons of Rachel's dress.

"Make love?" Rachel replies with a little squirm.

The brunette quickly pushes Quinn away, untangling herself from her tight hug. She stumbles out of the bed and walks backwards, until she hits the piano in a corner of the room. The blonde must think that it's some game that Rachel likes, because she continues rolling herself on the bed, producing the most exciting sounds Rachel has ever heard.

The small singer realizes that under her finger there are smooth keys, and she can only think about one thing to do to make Quinn stop her crazy attempt to seduce her. She places herself in front of the keys, trying not to look at Quinn's moaning figure, and she presses down her fingers on the white keys.

"My gift is my song, and this one's for you." Rachel sings, shutting her eyes close and letting her fingers fly on the keys as smoothly as she can. In the bed, Quinn has stopped her rolling and moaning, and now she simply sits, staring at Rachel in confusion."And you can tell everybody that this is your song. It may be quite simple, but now that it's done. I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words, how wonderful life is, now you're in the world."

Now Quinn is looking at her curiously, her hazel eyes are almost green in the soft light. Her golden blonde hair are messy, and she is still panting softly by all the rolling on the bed, but she isn't going to do that anymore. There is something, something in Rachel's voice that amazes her, that captures her.

And now, Quinn Fabray is perfectly still on the messy bundle of sheets and blankets on the bed, looking intently at Rachel Berry, her eyes moving to follow each movement that the brunette does, just like a cat would follow every small movement of a little light.

Rachel realizes that Quinn is actually interested in what she's doing, and she makes a small smile. "Sat on the roof and I kicked off the moss. Well some of these verses, well, they, they got me quite cross, but the sun's been kind while I wrote this song. It's for people like you that keep it turned on, so excuse me forgetting, but these things I do," Rachel sings sweetly now, with no more stress in her voice. Seeing Quinn all focused on her song does strange things to her. Like she… like she needs to prove her that she is actually good at something, like she needs to demonstrate it.

She wants to be good, she wants to sound amazing.

"You see I've forgotten if they're green or if they're blue. Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen..." Rachel really means that. When she looks at Quinn she doesn't see a whore, she doesn't see a courtesan. She sees a girl with sweet, sweet hazel eyes and big dreams that she doesn't know yet. But she will, because she has this weird of obsession that makes her want to keep discovering new things about the blonde.

Suddenly, she doesn't even realize it, Quinn is next to her, taking her gently in her arms and leading her in a dance across the room. Rachel doesn't protest, because the arms holding her close are so caring and tender and she doesn't want to let go. Ever. The blonde's body is warm and soft against her, her hold on Rachel's hand gentle. She is leading their dance, and Rachel finds it extremely beautiful.

After the first few moments of shock and confusion, Rachel raises her head to meet Quinn's eyes, she gives her a soft smile and goes on with her song. "... And you can tell everybody that this is your song. It may be quite simple, but now that it's done. I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words how wonderful life is, now you're in the world."

Quinn twirls her at the end of the song, a hand laced with Rachel and the other arm securely wrapped around her tiny waist, holding her up. They stay in that position, staring in each other's eyes for a little too long.

Rachel is quietly panting for singing and dancing at the same time, but she can't help herself and she just stares into those hazel eyes that look like they hide their whole world in it.

Eventually, Quinn leads Rachel back on a standing position, a soft smile forming on her lips. She never stops looking into Rachel's eyes. From her part, Rachel is just breathless, not for the effort of the song and dance, but because being this close to the most beautiful girl she has ever met is making her shiver a little.

"I can't believe I'm in love with a young, talented, beautiful Duchess," Quinn mutters. Rachel feels goosebumps all over her body. She doesn't know why, but all she want to do is throw herself forward and kiss the girl she literally met a few hours ago.

But something is off.

"Duchess?" she says in confusion.

"Not that the title matters, of course," Quinn immediately says, with a soft laugh.

Even if it is the most beautiful sound Rachel has ever heard in her whole world, she has to reply. "I'm not a Duchess."

"You are not a Duchess? But what about Finn Hudson?"

"I have no idea of who he is," Rachel replies, taking a small step back. "I'm a writer and a singer."

"A writer," Quinn repeats. "And a singer?"

Rachel nods. "A writer and a singer. I've performed on Broadway."

"Broadway!" Quinn whispers, with sparkles in her eyes. That's her dream. No, not Broadway, but something similar. She is tempted to ask her about everything, about what is like to have an audience, about every single thing. But she can't. "But… a writer and a singer?"

Rachel shyly nods.

"No," Quinn whispers, taking a few steps back.

"But Artie…"

"Oh God. You are one of the young, talent and fascinatingly poor bohemian writers that Artie likes so much, aren't you?" Quinn groans.

God, this can't be true.

Rachel nods again.

Fuck.

"I'm gonna kill him, I swear."

"Quinn…"

"No, I'm gonna."

But before Quinn can plan any crazy plan about how to murder Artie Abrahams, they hear voices outside the door. It takes Quinn less than two seconds to recognize Schuester's voice.

"Well, here we are, Duke," he says from the other side of the door.

"Fuck!" Quinn hisses. "That's the Duke! Come on, you have to hide."

Before Rachel can even think of protest, Quinn grabs her arm and drags Rachel behind a curtain hanging in the middle of the room, making sure that she is safe. "Don't make any noise," she warns her.

Quinn smooths down her hair and rushes to the door, finding in front of her the well-known face of Schuester and the not-so-welcomed face of Finn Hudson. Tall as a closet, idiotic smile on his lips, stupid expression. Fuck.

She prints a fake smile on her lips.

"Oh, there she is!" Schuester exclaims, patting Finn on the shoulder. "Duke Hudson, let me introduce you our wonderful mademoiselle Quinn. She is lovely, isn't she?"

Quinn deepens her fake smile and blushes a little. Blushing whenever she wants, that's a skill of hers.

"Enchanté," Finn says, with a horrible French pronunciation. He goofily leans in and takes Quinn's hand, leaving on it a rough kiss. That's not delicate at all, and Quinn shivers a little in disgust, but she is quick in acting like that's a shiver of pleasure and excitement.

Schuester looks in approval, then he excuses himself and disappears down the corridor.

Quinn leads Finn inside, holding back a deep sigh.

The little act that follows is crazy. Quinn makes a complete fools of herself, at the risk of seeming completely crazy, trying to keep Finn's eyes away from the spots where Rachel is hiding, and the brunette keeps moving. The Duke must think that the girl is as beautiful as she is crazy.

Eventually, Quinn manages to convince Finn that she will sleep with him for the first time the night before the opening night. Finn agrees – Quinn convinces him by talking about good luck, and since the young Duke is quite an idiot, he believes her.

Quinn finally pushes him out and shuts the door close behind them, leaning on the smooth surface with a relieved sigh.

God, that was stressing.

She turns around just to see Rachel timidly stepping in front of the small table she was hiding behind. "Quinn?"

Suddenly, Quinn is feeling giggly, playful. It may be fault of the adrenaline still in her veins, but she feels like laughing and playing. She cracks up a little and she throws herself at Rachel, hugging her with a big laugh and lifted her from the floor.

"Wasn't that just crazy?" she asks, giggling. "Wasn't that just—just…" she suddenly feels weak, and her lungs fail her for a second. Quinn coughs and gasps for hair, her knees giving up, and she basically falls against Rachel.

The brunette is terrified by the sudden change, and her tiny body can't handle Quinn's weight on her own now that the blonde is like a dead weight in her arms, gasping and coughing.

They fall back onto the bad, with Rachel straddling Quinn's lap. The blonde faints for a few seconds, with Rachel squealing in worry on top of her. "Quinn! Oh, my God, Quinn! What- what's—"

Before she can panic even more, the blonde opens her eyes, confusedly.

And the door slams open.

And Rachel is still on top of Quinn.

"Sorry for the intrusion, if forgot my hat—what is happening?" Finn almost roars. "I knew that! An affair!"

"Affair, what affair?" Quinn asks, immediately back on her feet, risking to drop Rachel in the floor. But she places a steady hand behind her back, and the brunette doesn't fall. "We were just—just rehearsing. For the play. We are at a short of male actors, and Rachel was playing the male lead role."

Rachel is surprised by how fast Quinn can make up a lie. Finn is already growling that he doesn't believe it, when five people, Tina, Mercedes, Kurt, Blaine and Artie pop into the chamber. They were obviously spying on Rachel's work from the balconies all around them.

Rachel sighs.

Just when she thought the evening couldn't get crazier.

Quickly, Artie with the help of his friends makes up a story about a beautiful courtesan forced to decide if she wants to marry a rich and powerful maharajah or a poor but kind poet. They even burst into a song, and somehow Rachel can follow the lead and mouth to Quinn the words.

They sing and dance crazily, and at some point even Schuester arrives and joins them. Rachel thinks that she probably drank some absinthe without knowing it, because the situation is getting crazier and there's no way this is the reality.

But it is.

When the song ends, they are all panting, and Finn looks very, very confused. But then he speaks.

"Generally," he says, still so confused, "I like it."

[oOoOoOo]

And after that crazy performance, Schuester had is financier and we had our play.

It was so crazy that me and the guys had to quickly run away to our apartment before Schuester could kill us. I still think that the biggest part of that encounter is the product of a big group hallucination, because there is no way we actually made up a whole song with the routine in three seconds and even Schuester joined us.

Anyway, back in our apartment, all I could think of, was Quinn.

Quinn and her alabastrine skin, golden hair and equally golden – but also green – eyes. Her soft voice kept playing all over again in my head, and even if I should have been listening to Artie's rant about the new script he had to write, I could only think that I couldn't wait for the next time I'd get to see her.

I was so happy, so, so happy that Mike fell through my ceiling and I got to know Artie and his bohemian gang, because they were the reason why I met Quinn. My beautiful Quinn. She was ethereal, she was out of this world.

I got so scared twice that night. First when she fainted on the swing and fell from three meters high in the air, I was sure my heart stopped for a second. Luckily, Sam, the adorable trouty-mouthed boy caught her in his arms just in time.

And then she fainted once again, in my arms. I didn't notice the blood that stained her teeth when she coughed, because before I could get a closer look, Finn stormed in, and she wiped it away so quickly that I didn't even notice.

But that night I was too in love to think of that.

That was my first time. The first time I ever fell in love. I'd never been kissed before, I'd never dated anyone, and I craved for Quinn to be my first kiss. On our first encounter she was so focused on her job, and she had put her lips only on my neck and jawline.

Secretly, I craved to kiss her. I craved for her to be my first.

I couldn't stand being with Artie and the others all night long, I had to come back.

So I excused myself and walked out.

[oOoOoOo]

Quinn can't sleep. She sits nervously on her bed, bouncing her legs up and down, exhausting herself with all the thinking. She can't get Rachel out of her mouth.

She still feels the small body wrapped in her arms as they swing together around her chamber. She remembers Rachel's voice, she remembers the goosebumps on her arm when she heard the brunette sing.

Quinn thought she could sing, but her soft, delicate voice was nothing, nothing compared to what had come out of Rachel's lips.

Rachel's lips.

Quinn can't get that thought out of her head either. She recalls the sweet taste of Rachel's neck against her lips, and it drives her insane.

That's absurd, she needs to do something to distract herself.

The blonde tries to convince herself that when she said that she had fall in love, it was all part of the play. It was when she still believed that Rachel was a duchess, it was part of the play, it was part of the play, it was…

It was not part of the play.

Lucy Quinn Fabray – she changed her name after she got into Paris for the first time – is actually in love.

Exhausted and so done with her own thoughts, she gets up nervously, snapping her fingers and jumping a little. Her knees bounce. She walks around the room without any purpose, and she ends up sitting on the little bench in front of the piano.

Without her even realizing it, she has her delicate and alabastrine fingers gently rested against the smooth and shiny keys. She tries to convince herself that she can't fall in love with Rachel. She can't, she has to pretend to be in love with Finn, and he will take her away, to America.

She needs Finn to make her dream come true.

She will fly away one day.

"I follow the night, can't stand the light." She sings, her voice sweeter and softer than usual. Her fingers fly gently on the piano keys, producing delicate music. "When will I begin to live again? One day I'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday. What more could your love do for me?"

Quinn is so focused on her singing that she doesn't notice the small, tiny figure standing in a corner of the balcony, next to the open window.

Rachel stares at her quietly, her lips slightly parted at the beautiful sight in front of her. The song about the diamonds earlier was beautiful, but this… this is a whole new level of adoration. Rachel wishes that they could invent a machine to record sounds and keep them in your pocket. So, when she wants to listen to Quinn voice, she can do it whenever she wants.

Or she could stand by her side forever.

That's an option too.

"When will love be through with me? Why live life from dream to dream, and dread the day when dreaming ends?" Rachel is astonished.

Mostly by the way Quinn's alabastrine skin shines against the reflex of the moon coming from outside, like it's made of pearl.

But also by her fragile beauty, by the way she smiles lightly every time she touches the piano keys, by her everything and by her nothing.

It's just Quinn.

" One day I'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday. Why live life from dream to dream, and dread the day when dreaming ends. One day I'll fly away, fly, fly, away."

Rachel is in tears. Literally. Tears roll down her cheeks slowly, and she manages to keep it down until Quinn stops to play the piano. The blonde just stays there, with her hands in her lap and hazel eyes fixed on the piano, exhaling slowly.

Then, Rachel must have sighed a little too loudly, because the blonde snaps her head up and she widens her eyes when she sees the brunette standing in the window way.

Quinn snaps on her feet, with a gasp.

"Oh, I'm sorry I interrupted you," Rachel squirms. "I just—I saw the light was on and I came here because—because… well, anyways, you have a beautiful voice."

Quinn blushes – a real blush this time, that makes even her ears go red – but she smiles anyway. "Thank you."

"Well, I wanted… I wanted to thank you actually," Rachel chuckles and oh, God, that sound is blissful for Quinn's ears. "For helping me get the job." Her cute smiles completely fools Quinn.

This is dangerous.

No, no, no.

"Don't mention it," Quinn gives her the best smile she can force out. "But tomorrow we are both going to have a long day, so if you could…"

"Oh! Yeah, sure… I just… I wanted…" Rachel stammers and frowns a couple of times, trying to pull it together. Quinn just wants to grab her by the waist and kiss her. "You—earlier you said that you loved me. And I wanted to- to know if-if-if…"

"If I meant that?" Quinn merrily finishes for her. Dangerous, dangerous question.

Lie, lie, lie.

"I didn't mean that, of course," she fakes a giggle "That was just—just because I believed that you were the duchess, and I need the Duke for my dreams to come true."

"Oh, yeah, sorry… it just—it looked real."

Quinn physically cannot stand the broken expression on the brunette's face. She spins around, doing whatever she can not to look at her.

She fakes another giggle. "I'm a courtesan, I cannot fall in love."

The gasp that comes from Rachel is just too cute, and it takes her all that she have to not go straight to her and kiss her senseless.

"What? For real? But love is one of the greatest things in the world!" Rachel exclaims.

"You know that for certain?" Quinn snaps, suddenly mad at the world because she can't be honest with Rachel. "Have you ever been in love?"

Rachel keeps quiet for a second. "I've never even been kissed," she shyly admits. "But above of all things I believe in love. Love is like oxygen. The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."

Quinn is about to cry. "Well, I just can't."

Alright, good job. Your voice isn't cracking, good job Fabray. Real good. Keep it that way.

"But a life without love is… terrible!"

"Living in the street is worse."

Quinn feels a soft hand resting on her forearm, and she realizes just now how tightly her arms are clenched around her own waist. But when Rachel touches her she immediately spins around, to look at her.

The brunette is… she is just gorgeous. With her little smile, curious look and enormous eyes that seem to contain Quinn's whole world.

"Love brings us above heaven, all we need is love," Rachel says, with a soft smile.

Quinn has watery eyes, and this time her voice does crack. "Please, don't s-start again."

The next thing that comes out of Rachel's mouth is not a sentence. The brunette takes her hand and leads her to the balcony. Quinn is surprised by how easily her own body is convinced to follow Rachel.

Ant then, Rachel sings, her beautiful voice around, above, under and inside Quinn.

"All you need is love," she sweetly sings.

"A girl has got to eat," Quinn merely protests.

"All you need is love!" Rachel sings, enthusiastically, and without them realizing it, music fills their little bubble.

"She'll end up on the street!"

"All you need is love."

"Love is just a game!" Quinn flips her hair back, and she tries to walk away.

And with that, Rachel is grabbing her hand again and dragging her on the edge of the balcony, climbing up and up to the roof, right on top of the Elephant Room. "I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for lovin' me!"

Quinn winks at her, slowly deciding to play a long for a little while with Rachel. "The only way of lovin' me, baby, it's to pay a lovely fee."

"Just one night, give me just one night!"

Quinn shakes her finger, teasingly. "There's no way, 'cause you can't pay."

"In the name of love, on night in the name of love!" Rachel sings, giving her puppy eyes and Quinn dies a little bit right then.

"You're crazy fool, I won't give into you." Quinn replies, starting to walk away.

But Rachel doesn't let her. She runs after her and grabs her hand, bringing her back on the balcony. It's beautiful, Quinn thinks. She is beautiful.

"Don't… leave me this way, I can't survive without your sweet love," Rachel pleads. "Oh baby, don't leave me this way."

Quinn scoffs. She looks into the distance, hugging her own waist. "You think that people would have had enough of silly love songs…"

"I look around me and I see it isn't so, oh no," Rachel's turn to shake her tanned finger.

She can see the hesitance, the fear in Quinn's face. Rachel takes a few timid steps forward, filling her eyes with the beauty that is Quinn standing next to the railway, her slim figure against the sight of Paris.

"Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs," Quinn sings, rolling her eyes teasingly.

Rachel scowls. "Well, what's wrong with that? I'd like to know, 'cause here I go again," she giggles. "Love lifts us up where we belong!"

Rachel climbs on the top of the Elephant Room roof, right on the elephant's head and she pirouettes with her arms open, her hair and dress waving around her. It's beautiful, and it feels like freedom. She is above everything, above Paris. Above the city, and the clouds.

"Get down, get down!" Quinn squeals, terrified that Rachel could fall.

"Where eagles fly, on a mountain high!" Rachel sings in the wind, opening her arms like two wings. Quinn jumps on the head as well, grabs her in time before she falls over the edge and brings them both steadily on the balcony again.

"Love makes us act like we are fools, throw our lives away for one happy day."

Rachel sees the uncertainness in Quinn's eyes. She is scared, she is scared that this won't last.

"We can be heroes!" Rachel sings, excitedly, dancing around the balcony on the back of the elephant room. "Just for one day…"

Quinn bites her lips hesitantly. She looks like she is having an inner fight as big as a war. "You, you will be mean…"

Rachel gasps, pretending to be offended. "No, I won't!"

"And I… I'll drink all the time!" Quinn actually never got drunk.

From where did that come from?

"We should be lovers!" Rachel insists.

Quinn hesitates. "We can't do that…"

"We should be lovers! And that's a fact," Rachel sing-states and God how much Quinn is enjoying this crazy randomly singing on a roof, dancing around like two idiots.

"Though nothing would keep us together," she points out.

Rachel takes both of her hands, swinging them sweetly. "We could steal time," she sing-suggests timidly.

And then, just with that, Quinn is done. She gives in. She doesn't give a single fuck about what's going to happen. She wants Rachel and Rachel only.

They both sing at the same time now. "Just for one day, we can be heroes, forever and ever," Quinn leans down and she rests her forehead against Rachel's with a content sigh. "We can be heroes forever and ever. We can be heroes…"

Rachel takes the lead again. "Just because I… will always love you."

"I…" Quinn hesitantly says, and Rachel joins her for the next verse. "Can't help loving…"

"You..." Rachel's voice is strong and powerful. She tilts her head gently, brushing tentatively her nose against Quinn's. The blonde can't help but give her a soft smile.

"How wonderful life is…" Quinn has to tighten her jaw and bite down on her tongue to swallow her tears. Rachel is actually there. She wants this, she is trying to reassure her that everything will be alright.

Quinn smiles, her nose brushing against tanned cheeks and nose. Rachel sings along with her. "… now you're in the world."

They stare into each other's eyes for the longest time, panting and trying to catch their breathes – Quinn has a little more difficulty in doing so.

Quinn slides her arms around Rachel's waist, bringing her close. Her other hand is still holding tight Rachel's after their dance, and now they are swinging gently at their sides.

Quinn finally gives in. "You're gonna be bad for business, I can tell," she whispers.

Then she kisses Rachel.

Fireworks exploding everywhere, there must be fireworks. Quinn feels them as her lips touch for the first time Rachel's soft ones. The whimper that escapes from the brunette's lips informs her that she must have felt them too.

Quinn doesn't know what is this feeling a little bit funny inside of her, she just knows that her whole life she was just trying to not drown, and now, with Rachel kissing her tenderly, gently, everything is settling the right way. She is saved, she isn't going to drown.

She knows that it's Rachel's first kiss, she knows that she shouldn't push it too far, but the sweetness of it is doing something to her head, she feels dizzy.

Rachel steps into her space even more, standing on her tiptoes and hugging Quinn's shoulders, placing her hands on that glorious pale neck and definite jawline. Her small hands trace slowly the contours of her jawline, the slope of her neckline, her fingertips just barely touching the soft skin.

Her teeth scrape Quinn's bottom lip, and fireworks explode again in her head.

Actually, they explode in the sky. They are actual fireworks, not just in their heads.

Quinn slowly pulls back with a breathless sigh. Rachel's eyes flutter open, and there is so little space between them that Quinn can feel dark eyelashes tickling her cheeks. A chuckle escapes from her lips, and Rachel looks up at her curiously, her long eyelashes brushing again on alabastrine skin.

"What's funny?" Rachel whispers.

Quinn shakes her head, kissing gently Rachel's skin right under her eye. "Nothing," she assures her. "Stay here tonight?"

Rachel looks delighted, but then she stills a little. Quinn saddens at the thought that she went a little too hard on Rachel earlier. "I promise I'll be good," she assures her, with a tentative smile. "I won't do anything. I just want to spend a little while with you."

The small singer gives her the softest smile and the smallest nod. Quinn thinks that is lovely how confident was Rachel when she was singing and how shy she is now, with a light blush on her cheeks and timid smiles.

"Let's get inside, you are freezing," Quinn murmurs, stroking Rachel's bare arms that have goosebumps all over them. She is amazed by how easily the girl leans into her embrace as she leads her back inside the Elephant Room, and she is even more amazed when Rachel snuggles against her in the bed.

"Do you believe in love now?" Rachel whispers, half-asleep, nuzzling her nose against Quinn's neck.

The young courtesan wraps her arms around Rachel's waist, bringing her as close as she can, lulling her to sleep. She can feel the exhaustion in Rachel's voice. "You know," the small singer (and writer), says sleepily. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return," she informs her.

Quinn smiles lazily. "I know. You already told me that."

"You have to remember it," Rachel yawns against her neck and snuggles further into her. "Do you believe in love now?"

Quinn sighs, staring at the ceiling. This, this is what life is supposed to be like, she thinks. This is what lovers are supposed to be like. Not rough people that just want her body for a bunch of money, that treat her roughly all night, that leave as soon as they are satisfied.

This is much more. Rachel's tiny body curled against hers, her steady breath against her neck, her soft voice barely a whisper over the sleepiness. Just this, tender cuddles and gentle running of hands in silky dark hair.

Quinn is sure that Rachel is asleep now, because her breath is growing steady, and she is heavier on her chest. She just holds her closer. "Yes," she whispers. "I'm starting to."

[oOoOoOo]

I really couldn't believe how wonderful life was now that Quinn was in my world. Quinn with her angelic voice, Quinn with her graceful figure, Quinn with her love and trust in me, that was just so pure, so delicate.

What we had was delicate.

She was delicate.

One day, I saw the flower of a gardenia growing in the balcony of the Elephant Room, which was our special place. She didn't have any more clients, since she was promised to the Duke, that wanted to own her and the Moulin Rouge if we wanted him to finance our play. Quinn promised him that she would have gave herself to the Duke only the day before opening night, so we were free to live our love story without interferences.

The day I saw the flower it was a couple of days after our first kiss. I was walking around the balcony, and Quinn was sitting on a chair in the sun, reading. She had a burning passion for her books. I loved being with her in that way, just enjoying each other's silence.

I was humming and swinging around the balcony, gazing at the sunset on Paris's roofs. I remember that I stopped for a second to kiss Quinn on her sun kissed forehead, and then I saw the flower in one of the multiple vases on the balcony. She loved her flowers, and the gardenias were her personal favorites.

It was small and white, perfect in its beauty. Without even thinking about it, I picked it and came back to Quinn, placing the delicate gardenia in her golden blonde locks. She looked up at me with a confused smile. "It's pretty," I explained. "Just like you."

She giggled and grabbed my shoulders, bringing me down for a kiss.

The flower died later that night, and I didn't thought earlier that it was going to happen. The flower was beautiful, white like snow, shining like the stars in the Paris's sky. But its fragile life was destinated to be short the moment I put my hands on it.

And so was Quinn's.

[oOoOoOo]

One week after their first kiss, the rehearsals of Spectacular Spectacular! are going on without too many struggles.

The day when the Duke Hudson starts to suspect that something is off with his relationship with Quinn starts just like any other rehearsal day.

Rachel sits on the edge of the stage, her legs swinging lazily in the air. She has the script rested on her thighs, scribbling vehemently on it and making her corrections. The ink-bottle next to her on the stage is in a kind of dangerous placement next to the edge of it.

Behind her, in the middle of the stage, Artie wheels around, screaming his suggestions – or assertive orders – at everyone. Kurt and Blaine are adjusting the costumes, Tina and Mike revise their lines, fighting Artie on everything. On the back, Santana, Brittany and Sam are adjusting the chorus line choreography.

Rachel gazes at Quinn with the corner of her eye, delighted every time she spies a little smile on those pink lips, amusement for the complete craziness going on.

"Alright, listen here!" Rachel squeals, clapping her hands to gather up the attention on her again. "I wrote the rest. After this scene, mad with jealousy, the evil maharaja forces the courtesan to make the sitar player believe she doesn't love him."

Sam quietly gasps. He is the one casted to play the sitar player.

"Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love, says the sitar player, throwing money at her feet…" Rachel pauses, purposely making them shiver with anticipation. "… and then he leaves the kingdom forever!" Rachel mocks an overexcited voice, and she pretends to fall off the edge of the stage.

"No, no, no!" Quinn gasps in horror, running to her to keep her steady. Rachel giggles, squeezing subtly Quinn's finger.

Artie covers his mouth with a hand, with a dramatic gasp.

"But a life without love, that's terrible," Quinn says, mocking her lover's voice and looking straight into Rachel's eyes. That sends a shiver down Rachel's back. The brunette bites the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from smiling.

"Yes, but the sitar player…"

Sam jumps in. "Wait, that's my part! That's my part, Rachel! Don't you dare— the sitar player who can only speak the truth says—he says—"

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return," Rachel says in a soft voice, avoiding carefully to meet Quinn's eyes to not make it too obvious.

She knows that the blonde is about to say something, but they are interrupted by the Duke Hudson storming on the stage, with his dopey smile. He goes straight to Quinn, without greeting anyone, kisses her hands roughly – even Artie can tell that that's not how you are supposed to kiss a lady's hand.

"A picnic, sweet lady?" he says. Rachel wonders if it is legal to strangle someone because they are so unnerving.

"Oh- oh, b-but we have so much to do," Quinn stammers, gasping to find an excuse. "So much work…"

"And then the sitar player falls from the roof, and…" Rachel interrupts.

"I know, I know," Sam snorts.

"So many lines to learn, I have to practice…" Quinn mumbles.

"And he says: the greatest thing you'll—"

"I know Rachel!" Sam snaps.

Rachel quickly stands up, seeing that Quinn is having troubles dealing with the insistence of Finn Hudson, who keeps grasping on her hand and scowling at her shy refusing. Rachel reaches for her wrist and hands her the script.

"Mademoiselle Quinn," Rachel forces a polite voice, as she and Quinn are just colleagues. "I haven't quite finished writing that new scene. The 'will the lovers be meeting at the sitar player's humble abode?' scene. And I wondered if I could work on it with you later tonight?"

The sparkle that goes through Quinn's hazel eyes doesn't go unseen, and Rachel mentally high-fives herself.

"But my dear, I arranged a wonderful supper in the gothic attic for us—" the Duke tries to protest.

Rachel knows how to play her cards though. She fakes a casual look and waves her hand. "Oh, it doesn't matter. We can do it tomorrow…"

"How dare you!" Quinn squeals. "We cannot wait until tomorrow, that's the most important scene. We'll work on it tonight."

Finn scowls. "But my dear…"

"Oh, I'm sorry Duke, but I'm sure you understand how important this is…" Quinn says, patting him on the shoulders.

[oOoOoOo]

What we didn't know was that the Duke, furious because he never got to see Quinn, who was promised to him. She was always busy with me. They all thought we were writing and rehearsing, while all we actually did was laying on her or my bed, cuddling and kissing, talking about everything. About our future, about my past on Broadway, about her dreams. She loved listening to me talk about Broadway and my shows. That was kind of her dream too.

[oOoOoOo]

"You'll get us caught!" Quinn giggles against Rachel's jaw, while the brunette presses heated kisses against her neck, sucking and nibbing her soft flesh.

"I'm not," Rachel husks, inhaling deeply Quinn's intoxicating scent. She has the beautiful blonde pressed against a wall in an empty hallway into the Moulin Rouge. The rehearsal ended a few minutes earlier, and after being for so much time apart, and with Finn's appearance and everything, Rachel couldn't wait to make very, very clear to who Quinn's heart belonged.

"Oh, right there," Quinn moans when Rachel gently caresses her side and moves her hands up, cupping the side of her breast through the dress. "I cannot wait until tonight."

Rachel hums, dragging her lips to Quinn's mouth and kissing her heatedly and thoroughly. She slows down the kiss, realizing that they still are in the Moulin Rouge, and her big eyes open again, meeting Quinn's.

"Quinn?"

"Here."

"I think I'm ready. For you. In… every kind of way."

Quinn's smile couldn't get any bigger. She wraps her arms around Rachel's waist and pulls their foreheads together. "I love you," she whispers. "And I promise I will be gentle. You deserve the best."

Rachel blushes. "I love you, too."

"Thank you," Quinn whispers. "For trusting me."

Rachel is about to reply something, but a noise tells them that someone is coming into the hallway. They can't be seen like this. Rachel is ready to run away, she presses a kiss to Quinn's cheek and smooths down her golden hair.

"Come at my place tonight at eight. When the sun is gone down," she whispers, kissing her earlobe and running away.

Quinn stays there, with a foolish smile on her lips. She can still feel the warmness and softness of Rachel's tiny body pressing her against the wall. She already misses it.

She already misses her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Schuester hisses, slamming a door open and storming into the corridor. Quinn jumps so bad that she hits her elbow against the wall, with a loud thump. Her whole body shakes for the weird sensation caused by the hit, but she can only focus on Schuester's angry face.

"W-what?"

"I fucking saw you!" he angrily yells. "I was talking with the Duke who – by the way – you are supposed to entertain, not me. And I saw you from the window, with that Berry girl all over you! Kissing you!"

Quinn freezes. She has no idea of what she is going to do now.

Schuester grabs her by her arm so tightly that Quinn is afraid it's gonna leave a mark. Her alabastrine and frail skin bruises easily.

"It's not—I don't—I…" she stammers, unable to produce coherent thoughts.

"Shut it," he hisses. "You'll end it. tonight. And then you'll go and please the Duke, I already arranged everything."

Quinn shakes her head. No, no, no.

"It's n-nothing," she tries to say, faking a smile. But for some reason, it doesn't work anymore. Her smile just doesn't show. "It's just an- just an infatuation, it's nothing…"

"I don't care if she is the love of your life or just a hook up," Schuester yells. Quinn shivers in horror. Rachel? Just a hook up? Never. "You'll end this. Tonight."

And with that, he releases her arm and leaves, slamming doors behind him. He release her arm so forcefully that she falls back against the walls. She slides against it until she is sitting on the ground, hugging her knees and sobbing. She can't, she can't do this.

She gasps for air, and once again her lungs fail her. She can't breathe, and her cough is quickly increasing. So hard, she can't breathe. She can't… it's like something is stuck in her throat.

The cough brings blood, and before she knows it, Quinn has her alabastrine hands covered in red fluid coming out of her mouth. No, no, no. Stop. Breathe.

Cough.

Stop, stop, stop.

Cough. More blood.

Stop, stop, stop.

Eventually, the cough slowly starts to calm down. Crying quietly, she buries her head in her knees, sobbing softly. Quinn rocks back and forth, humming verses of songs that Rachel taught her.

She concedes herself a little pause before she has to get up. She loves Rachel with all her heart. But loving her won't be enough to protect her, and if tonight she doesn't show up with the Duke, the person who carries her heart will be in enormous danger.

Quinn is about to stand up and walk away, but when she tries to, she realizes that she isn't strong enough. Everything spins around her. Quinn falls back against the wall and everything goes black.

[oOoOoOo]

She never came at my place that night. And neither she did with the Duke. It were Brittany and Sam the ones to find her that night, unconscious on a floor in an empty hallway, in the Moulin Rouge. I don't know how, but Schuester managed to calm the Duke's fury, telling him that Quinn was waiting for the day before opening night to sleep with him.

Meanwhile, I knew nothing about how she was, and I spent the whole night by my window, waiting for a girl who never arrived.

How could I know, in those last, fatal days that a force darker than jealousy and stronger than love, had begun to take hold of Quinn.

[oOoOoOo]

Brittany is keeping Santana close, hugging her with silent sobs, as them, Sam and Sue stand in the back of Quinn's room, listening to Doctor Figgins making his diagnosis.

Quinn is laying on her bed, still unconscious. She looks frail, broken laying there with almost no movements. She is absolutely still, her breathing slow.

"Tuberculosis," Doctor Figgins affirms.

Brittany chokes a sigh.

Schuester gasps. "My little sparrow is—"

"Dying," Figgins says for him, "She is dying."

Schuester nods. Santana breaks into a small sob, and she buries her hand in Brittany's neck. Sam squeezes them both.

"She mustn't know." Schuester says, turning around to look into the eyes the four people standing in the back of the room.

"That's not fair," Santana tries to protest, but a look from Schuester is enough to shush her.

"She mustn't know, Santana." Schuester says. Everyone else nods sadly. "The show must go on."

oOoOoOo

"Where were you last night?"

Rachel asks that question for the third time that day. She's been uncharacteristically quiet since Quinn arrived that morning, full of excuses and sorrow. Rachel is a little bit mad. It was supposed to be their night, their first time, her first time ever.

And Quinn didn't show up.

Rachel is curled up in her chair next to her small desk, wrapped on herself like a cat, writing some corrections on the script. But she isn't focusing, probably the words on the paper don't even make sense. Quinn sits on the bed, sometimes coughs, wearing a warm robe that Rachel burrowed her on her clothes.

"I told you," she quietly says, looking out of the window. She is too ashamed for her lack of presence last night to look Rachel in the eyes. She woke up from her faint just in the morning, and a few minutes after waking up she was running to meet Rachel. "I was sick."

Rachel sighs, and she puts the pen down. She can't do this right now. She untangles herself and walks slowly to the bed, sitting next to Quinn. Her beautiful, beautiful Quinn. She looks at her with a sad smile, wanting to reach out and caress the soft and pale flesh on her face.

She doesn't.

"You don't have to lie to me."

Quinn can't look at her. She has something to say, she needs to protect Rachel from the Duke and from Schuester. That tiny singer is her whole life, she carries her heart. She can't allow herself to lose her.

Her throat aches in pain along with her heart when she finally speaks. "We have to end it."

Quinn can't bring herself to look at Rachel. The soft gasp she hears is more than enough to break her heart. Way more than enough. Still, the brunette doesn't move. She is still there. Quinn can feel the heat radiating from her small body and she wants nothing more than just turn around, hug her as tight as she can and spend like that the rest of her life.

"Everyone knows," Quinn whispers. "Schuester knows. Sooner or later, the Duke will find out too. And I can't let that happen." Tears tickle her eyes. "I need you to be save."

When she can't stand being this close to Rachel anymore, Quinn gets up and walks to the open window, needing some fresh air. Rachel immediately follows her, with confused and incoherent words.

She jumps on the step that brings to the balcony, so that she can be at the same height as Quinn. "Wait," she whispers, gently cupping her face and pressing soft kisses to her cheeks and forehead.

"Rachel…" Quinn tries to move, but she doesn't have the mental strength to push Rachel away. "On the opening night I'll have to sleep with the Duke, and the jealousy will drive you mad."

Rachel shakes her head firmly, pressing her soft lips to Quinn's alabastrine forehead. "Then I'll write a song."

"What?" Quinn tiredly protests, moving her head to try to avoid Rachel's kisses. But it's hopeless, and she ends up giving in into her touch.

"We'll put it in the show," Rachel affirms. "And no matter how bad things get or whatever happens… whenever you hear it or sing it or hum it or whistle it… then you'll know it'll mean we love one another. I won't be jealous," she promises, never stopping kissing Quinn's forehead.

Quinn shakes her head, and she finally founds the strength, deep inside her, to push Rachel away and walk back into the room. This is for Rachel's sake, she remembers herself, trying to calm her thumping heart.

"Things don't work that way, Rachel," she says. She's an actress, for God's sake, why can't she just put it together and do the confident voice? "We have to end it."

Rachel sighs sadly. But then she moves back into her small apartment with the hole in the ceiling, and she sits on the small bench behind it. she plays a few tunes, just to check that she remembers the melody.

And then she sings. She sings, never taking her eyes of Quinn, never breaking their fragile contact. She sings in the small room with the hole in the ceiling.

"Never knew I could feel like this. Like I've never seen the sky before, want to vanish inside your kiss..." her voice is soft, as she stares at Quinn. Her voice is even softer when she notices that the blonde is now looking at her too, with that sparkle in her eyes that betrays her true feelings.

"Seasons may change, winter to spring," she sings sitting on her usual spot on the edge of the stage, keeping her eyes on Quinn. She pretends to do it to teach Sam how to sing the song, but she actually does it so she can sing with Quinn. "But I love you, until the end of time. Come what may, come what may. I will love you until my dying day."

Rachel almost bursts into tears when Quinn sits next to her, in the intimacy of her room with the hole in the ceiling, so close that she almost doesn't have enough space to move her arms and play the piano.

"Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place," they sing together. When Quinn's voice joins Rachel's the brunette could cry.

The world stops around them when Quinn takes her hand and leads her in the balcony, from where they can watch the sun rising on Paris. She wraps an arm around her waist, and with her free hand interlaces fingers with Rachel. The music is all around them.

"Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace..." Quinn sings, dancing with her in the balcony, with the breeze in their hair.

"Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste. It all revolves around you," they both sing, naked in Rachel's bed, after their first night together. Rachel's tiny figure tangled with Quinn's pale and sensual one, so beautiful and delicate.

"And there's no mountain too high, no river too wide, sing out this song and I'll be there by your side. Storm clouds may gather, and stars may collide…" they sing together, watching the sun exploding in all its light and its rays lighting Paris's roof. Quinn leads their dances as they sing, swinging Rachel around on the cornices.

"But I love you," Rachel's voice is strong, powerful as she looks up at her with her hair waving in the wind.

"I love you," Quinn's delicate, soft voice follows her, twirling her a little, her arms securely supporting Rachel's back.

"Until the end…"

"Until the end," Quinn is breathless but how much beauty she can see in Rachel, outside and inside.

"of time," they both complete the sentence, falling into each other's arms, their bodies so close, their minds so connected, their heart so synchronized that they could be one single person.

"Come what may, I will love you," they both sing, music all around them. The wind moves Rachel's dress and Quinn's robe.

Rachel slides an arm around Quinn, bringing her close. Quinn lets her. She can't stop this growing feeling inside of her. This feeling like she needs Rachel, she can't fight it.

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn," Quinn whispers, barely realizing that she is saying it out loud. "Is just to love and be loved in return."

The smile Rachel gives her, is more than enough for her to risk everything. The kiss that follows makes her dizzy. But she doesn't care. As long as she has Rachel she knows that everything will be alright.

This kiss is different. The way Rachel claims her lips, her jawline, her pale neck as her owns causes Quinn to shiver, to tremble in pleasure, to let out a little, delighted moan. "I'm ready," Rachel whispers, kissing her neck.

That's all that Quinn needs to know. She takes Rachel's hand, and gently guides her back inside, until they are in front of the bed. "I'll be gentle," Quinn assures her, as she undoes the buttons of her dress. Her eyes land on tanned, glorious skin and she just has to lean in and leave a sweet column of kisses on Rachel's sternum, rising up to kiss her throat, then her chin, then her lips.

"I trust you," Rachel murmurs, taking off Quinn's robe. She widens her eyes when she sees Quinn's glorious body for the first time, with her white underwear, pale, pale skin. She is so thin – Rachel thinks – looking at the ribs clearly visible under her flesh. She wonders if she eats enough.

But then Quinn starts undoing Rachel's underwear, tracing patterns on her sides with her fingertips, caressing her chest and breasts with her lips, and the brunette stops thinking. She grabs the sides of Quinn's head, tangling her hands in her blonde locks and brings her up for another kiss.

The blonde pushes her back on the bed, as tenderly as she can. "The first time hurts a little," she warns her, nibbling her earlobe. "Tell me if you want to stop." Quinn leans her down, making sure she doesn't squash the brunette underneath her, her arms tightly wrapped around her back.

Rachel murmurs something incoherent, and a moan escapes from her lips when Quinn cups her breasts and massages them gently, their mouths still dancing together. "Just love me," Rachel whispers; "and I'll never want to stop."

oOoOoOo

Rachel sighs happily, ducking her head right under Quinn's chin, her hand lazily drawing patterns on pale skin.

"So, what it is like to perform on a Broadway show?" Quinn asks, with sparkles in her eyes, running her hands through soft, silky dark locks, ruffled by her own hands.

They just had their first time. They just made love. And it was beautiful.

It wasn't just sex, it wasn't something purely carnal.

It was sweet, and gentle, and tender.

Now, Quinn is laying on her back, with Rachel sprawled on her chest. The brunette has her head ducked under Quinn's chin, against her throat. It fits perfectly. Their naked bodies warm one the other. Rachel thinks that it could easily be the happiest moment of her life.

"Magic," Rachel whispers, staring adoringly at Quinn. The blonde holds her tighter.

Quinn hums something, and Rachel doesn't recognize what the song is until Quinn arrives to the verses she dedicated to the blonde a few days ago. "And you can tell everybody," Quinn hums, cuddling her closer. Rachel shivers when the blonde slides a leg around Rachel's to keep her close.

"Clingy," Rachel giggles.

Quinn scoffs. "Shut up, I'm trying to be romantic," Rachel beams and rests her head back on Quinn's naked chest, listening to her beating heart. It's comforting. "That this is your song," she sings under her breath, lulling Rachel along with the rhythm, "It may be quite simple, but now that it's done, I hope you don't mind," she tucks a lock of dark hair behind a small, tanned ear. "I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words, how wonderful life is, now you're in the world."

"It's true, you know?" Rachel purrs against her neck. "Life is wonderful now that you're in the world."

Quinn's smile is the brightest thing Rachel has ever saw. The blonde can't help but beam delightedly, and she rolls the over on the bed, so that she is on top of her beautiful lover. "You know, we still have some time," she hoarsely husks, her lips only inches from Rachel's. "I can be really quick."

The brunette is left breathless by the beauty on top of her, and all she can do is lift her head and nibble gently her bottom lip. "Don't be," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "They can wait."

oOoOoOo

"This ending is silly! I don't like it," the Duke snaps. Later that day, Rachel is sitting in her usual spot on the edge of the stage, and Quinn and Sam just finished performing the play, with the happy ending where the courtesan falls in love with the sitar player.

"Why would the courtesan choose a penniless sitar player over the maharajah?" Duke Hudson hisses. Rachel wonders – once again – for how many time they would keep her in jail for killing a duke. "He offers a lifetime of security. That's real love. Once the sitar player has satisfied his lust he will leave the courtesan with nothing. I suggest that in the end, the courtesan choose the maharajah."

Artie looks affronted. He rolls on the stage, holding tightly onto his wheels and looking deeply disappointed. Rachel feels rage starting building inside her. "But, but... Sorry. Sorry, but that ending does not uphold the Bohemian ideals of- of truth, beauty, freedom—"

"I don't give a fuck about your ridiculous reasons!" Finn shouts. When he starts yelling, Rachel sees Quinn jumping a little and squeezing tight Sam's arm. She is scared. Rachel hates seeing her so scared.

Without even realizing it, she is standing up. "That's fucking absurd," Finn hisses, gesturing vigorously towards the stage. "Why can't the courtesan choose the maharajah? Why can't she just—"

"Because she doesn't love you!" Rachel shouts.

Everything falls quiet.

Everyone turns to face the tiny, short brunette standing fiercely on the stage, with her small fists clutched at her sides, her jaw tightened and her entire body vibrating with rage. She meets hazel eyes, loving hazel eyes. "Him," Rachel stammers. "She doesn't- love him. She doesn't love him."

Finn stares at her, incredulous. "Now I see," he mutters to himself. "Monsieur Schuester!" he calls. The Duke is slowly becoming dangerously red. Schuester quickly runs on stage.

"Yes, Duke?"

"I demand this finale to be rewritten," Finn orders. "In the end, the courtesan will choose the maharajah, and you will cut the secret lovers' song."

"But Duke, tomorrow is opening night!" Schuester gasps. "We don't have time, it's impossible to…"

Finn clenches his fists. Rachel tenses, and she is about to say something, but Quinn's voice comes out, loud and clear. Only Rachel can hear the small breaking in her voice. A shiver of fear. "Will!" she exclaims, "You are treating so poorly the dear Duke. The finale will be rewritten, and we will perform what the Duke likes best."

No body replies.

Quinn has spoken.

[oOoOoOo]

I understand that Quinn did what she did because she was much braver, much stronger than all of us. She loved us, and she did what she did to protect us.

She loved me.

And I loved her.

But I was jealous. Later, when we were left alone to clean the stage from the glitters fallen from the costumes, I basically burst into tears, and told her that I didn't want her to sleep with the Duke. It was the day before opening night. It was the night when she was supposed to go and meet Finn.

I didn't want her too, I couldn't stand it.

She was all I had.

When I told her, I already regretted it, because I promised, I had promised that I wouldn't have been jealous. But she was always sweet, too sweet with me. I remember she cupped my cheeks, she rested our foreheads together and whispered to me. She whispered love words, reassortments. She whispered that it didn't mean anything, that she had to do it for the Moulin Rouge's sake. She was always too much.

And I believed her.

Come what may, I promised. I promised to love her, never let her go, come what may.

She had gone to the Duke's tower to save us all. And from our part, we could do nothing but wait.

Quinn promised to talk to the Duke about the finale and convince him to keep it down. That night I was with Artie and his gang. Blaine must have noticed my sad expression, because he looked at me and sighed that no one should fall in love with a girl who sells herself, because it always ends bad.

I mean, I read Les Misérables, I know it does.

Yet, I couldn't help but hope.

I went to the Moulin Rouge, unable to stay still in our too happy apartment. On the stage, the group of choir dancers where rehearsing the choreography for "El Tango de Roxanne" and the strong music was messing with my ability to think straight.

I walked out, I didn't even know where I was going.

[oOoOoOo]

Quinn stands in the balcony of the tower where the Duke lives. She can see the Moulin Rouge from there, she can see the lights and the people. Her black dress is tight around her hips and ribs. It's uncomfortable.

But what is more uncomfortable is the feeling of having the Duke staring at her expectantly.

Her troth aches when she finally speaks again. It hurts because she is telling lies. She is an actress, she should be used to telling lies. Yet, she feels bad. She feels heart-ache. "That girl has a weird obsession with me," she says, using a casual voice. "I mean, I indulge her fantasy because she is talented, and we need her for the play. But after tomorrow night, she won't mean anything."

Finn chuckles behind her.

"But," she hesitantly says. "I have a request."

The Duke stares at her.

Quinn is about to speak, but then she sees her. She sees Rachel standing in the middle of the street, looking up at her with her big eyes. She chokes a sigh. "About the finale," she says, turning her head to face the Duke. Her fingers tighten around the railway. "I want to keep the finale how it was."

The Duke hesitates. "But you said…"

"I know what I said," Quinn snaps, turning her head again and meeting Rachel's eyes again. She knows that the brunette knows exactly where she is and what she is about to do. She also knows that on the balcony there's enough light for Rachel to see her lips. Come what may, she mouths.

Rachel gives her a sad smile. Come what may, the brunette mouths. I will love you.

Until my dying day, Quinn ends, and then the Duke's arms roughly grab her by the waist, spin her in his arms and he kisses her roughly, without any gentleness at all. He kisses her neck, her jaw, her throat, nibbing, biting, sucking. It hurts. Quinn wants to cry.

She can't though. She just stiffens and tries to find all her strength to not push him away.

Finn spins her around, dragging her inside. The last thing that Quinn sees before stepping into the room is Rachel's broken look. The brunette stares at her from the street, tears in her eyes, shattered.

And then, Finn is pushing her against the wall, all over her, his teeth and nails scratching her skin, his tall body pressing her to the wall with no grace at all.

Quinn can't do this.

She can't, she can't, she can't.

This is wrong, Finn is wrong.

She doesn't love Finn, she doesn't even like him.

She loves Rachel.

She is in love with Rachel.

Small, sweet, tender Rachel with her big eyes, big hopes, rambling rants.

"No!" she screams, pushing Finn away with all her force. The boy stumbles back, looking at her in disbelief. Quinn has tears in her eyes, she trembles furiously.

"I beg your pardon?" he hisses.

"I don't want it," she whispers. "Just… don't, please."

"You made me believe you loved me," Finn says, catching a glimpse in Quinn's hazel eyes. "But all this time… you lied."

Quinn seems to grow smaller as she presses her back against the wall, hoping to become invisible every minute now. "Please," she whispers.

"Shut up," Finn growls. "You are a slut, and now you are going to do your fucking job."

[oOoOoOo]

Quinn stormed running in my apartment a few minutes later, barefoot, wearing only her underwear and a succinct see-through nightie. Her makeup was running down her cheeks along with tears, her hair was a mess, and her bare, alabastrine arms and legs were covered with scratches and bruises.

She fell in my arms.

[oOoOoOo]

"I couldn't," Quinn cries, tightly curled in Rachel's embrace. When she hit her with the force of her run, they both fell on the floor. Quinn, unable to pull herself together, she just cuddled in Rachel's soothing arms, tears falling down her face.

"Quinn…" Rachel says, worried sick.

"I couldn't go through with it," she cries, burying her head in Rachel's chest, tears streaming down her face and sobs shacking her back. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry- I- I saw you there and I—I couldn't…"

Rachel is speechless. She cups Quinn's face with her hands too look in her eyes, but the blonde pulls her away and goes back to snuggling her face in the crook of Rachel's neck, mumbling quietly. "I don't want to lie anymore," she sobs. "I love you, and I don't – I don't want to lie anymore. I'm sorry, I'm—s-so s-sorry, I…"

Rachel hugs her tight, so tight. "No, Sweetheart, you don't have to apologize for anything. Please, please don't. I'm here, I'm right here," she whispers, running her hands on Quinn's bare arms, rubbing them to warm her freezing body. "Oh, my God, Quinn. What did he do to you? What did he—oh, God. Quinn, did he—did he…" she didn't dare using the word 'assaulted', yet alone 'abused'.

Quinn shakes her head. "He-he wanted to," she cries. "He r-ripped my clothes, he k-kicked away m-my sh-shoes and he was so-so harsh, so-so…" she breaks into sobs. "But he didn't- he just kissed me, then I- I- kicked him in the n-nuts and ran away. Ran- ran to you."

Rachel wants to cry. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispers. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm here, Quinn, I'm not letting you go. You are safe here. I will protect you from that crazy man, from this absurd place."

"I never wanted to- to sleep with him," Quinn cries. "I swear, Rachel, I swear, I never…"

"Shh, it's okay, I know you didn't," Rachel rubs her back, horrified that Quinn even thought that she could be mad. "That horrible man is right on top of my list of people I need to murder."

That forces a quiet giggle out of Quinn. "I love you," Quinn whispers. "I don't want- I don't want to pretend anymore, I don't- I just want you, I…"

Rachel makes a decision.

"We'll go away," she states, as firmly as she can. "We'll go away, I will take you to New York. I will go back on Broadway, and maybe write a novel. And you will be a star, a real actress honey. Can you imagine?"

Quinn lifts her head, her watery eyes filled with hope and tears. A little smile shows on her trembling lips. "Tell me," she pleads. "Tell me what it will be like."

"I will be on Broadway again," Rachel smiles, stroking Quinn's hair soothingly. "And I'll work on my book. And you will be an actress. The most wonderful actress in the whole wide world. We will have a wonderful house, and a wonderful life. Come what may."

Quinn sniffles and brushes her hand against her nose. "I love you."

"Me too, Sweetheart," Rachel whispers. "Me too."

"What about the show?" Quinn hesitantly asks.

"I don't care about the show, I care about you," Rachel whispers. "We'll go tonight. Go pack your things, I'll pack mine. Come back in an hour. Alright?"

Quinn nods. Rachel helps her on her feet, and wraps a coat around her shoulders. Then they stop, and the brunette lifts a hand to cup Quinn's left cheek. Her thumb brushes against soft skin, tracing the outline of a scratch left there by Finn Hudson's nails. "My brave, brave Quinn," Rachel whispers.

The blonde leans into her touch instinctively. Rachel reaches up and kisses her lips. "I love you, don't ever forget," she whispers against her mouth. "Come on, Kurt will go with you and I'll wait right here. When you'll be back, we'll leave."

"To New York," Quinn whispers dreamily.

"To New York," Rachel replies with a smile.

While they wait for Kurt to come downstairs, Rachel gives Quinn some new clothes and a whole new amount of reassuring hugs, whispers and kisses. She holds her as gently as she can, soothing her sore back, kissing her bruises and her cuts. "He is so dead," she growls – literally growls – as her hands travel down Quinn's bruised forearms. "God, what did he do to you," she whispers, with tears now.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, you kissed it better," Quinn replies, matter-of-factly. "Please don't kill him. You would go to jail and I really need you by my side."

"I could never leave you," Rachel replies, with a sappy smile. "I promise I won't kill him. But purely because I want to be with you, the fact that he is two times taller and four times heavier than me doesn't have nothing to do with my decision."

"Of course," Quinn giggles. "You are too god for this world."

"Says who."

Quinn nuzzles her nose under the shell of Rachel's ear. "This is the day we fly away."

"Very far away," Rachel whispers back. "Come what may, right?"

"Come what may."

Kurt arrives downstairs, and Rachel watches them from her window as they walk to the Moulin Rouge.

oOoOoOo

When Kurt leaves her, Quinn is alone in her Elephant Room, quickly throwing her clothes in a bag. She doesn't like any of those dresses, whore dresses. But she thinks that once they are in New York, they will buy new clothes.

She almost faints when someone slams the door open.

"Forgive the intrusion, cherub," Will Schuester says, walking into the room. Quinn flies herself in front of the bag, trying to hide it. But nothing gets unnoticed under Schuester's stare, and she knows that he knows exactly what's going on. "Oh, Quinnie…"

"You wasting your time, William," Quinn proclaims, her voice barely audible.

"You don't understand, Quinnie," Schuester sadly shakes his head. "The Duke is going to kill Rachel if you don't show up tonight."

"What?" Quinn breathes out. Her heart drops. She doesn't even notice Brittany and Santana storming in the room, yelling at Schuester that he is – and here I quote – an ungrateful, heartless bastard.

The room spins around Quinn. "No…" she whispers, "No, you—he can't…"

"The Duke is insanely jealous. Unless you do his ending and sleep with him tomorrow night, the Duke will have Christian killed," Schuester says.

"For fuck's sake, shut the hell up," Santana snorts, "We don't give a fuck of that horrible man. Quinn doesn't have to do the show if she doesn't want to."

Quinn feels like chocking, but she doesn't flinch. She is an actress, she needs this to be her last act during real life.

"He can't scare us," she says, rising her head. She is actually frightened.

"He is a powerful man, you know he can do it," Schuester says. Quinn doesn't want to listen to him, she turns around and pretends he doesn't exist. "What are you doing?"

"I don't need you anymore, William!" Quinn screams, on the edge of breaking down. There is just too much, she can't handle it. "All my life you made me believe I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Rachel loves me." A small smile crosses her lips when she says it. The only thought of the brunette makes her feel happy, dizzy. "She loves me, William. She loves me. And that is worth everything. We're going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge! Goodbye, William."

Quinn picks up her bag and walks straight to the door, stopping for a second to meet Brittany and Santana's eyes. "I'll write you," she whispers. "I love you both. Tell Sam I love you as well."

"We will, Q," Santana promises.

Quinn smiles sadly and she is already opening the door, when Schuester's voice calls her back.

And he ruins everything.

"You are dying, Quinnie."

Quinn freezes. Her body is completely still for a few seconds, before she dares turning around. "What?"

"You are dying."

"Another—another trick, William?" she asks, stammering. Something in Santana's look settles the truth in Quinn's mind.

"No, my love. The doctor told us." Schuester says, deadly serious.

Quinn slowly turns back to Santana. "Tana?" she asks, her voice breaking. The Latina can't handle to answer, and she breaks down in sobs, hiding in Brittany's arms. "B-Brittany?"

The taller blonde looks sad. She holds Santana tightly, and her face clenches in pain. "I'm sorry, Quinn. But he made us promise, he—he forced us…"

"I'm dying," Quinn breathes out. It all makes sense now. The hard cough, the faints, the blood in her tissues. It all makes sense. She slowly nods, still too shocked. "What is it?"

Brittany furrows her light brows. "Erg… something like halitosis?"

"What?"

"Tuberculosis," Santana cries. "That's tuberculosis, white plague, call it whatever you want."

Quinn nods. A soft chuckle escapes her lips. "I was a fool," she realizes, with another giggle. Tears stream down her face, but she doesn't bother washing them away. She is a mess anyway, so it doesn't matter. Not anymore. "I was a fool to believe." Another little chuckle. "It all ends today," she says.

Quinn slowly comes to term with the reality. "Yeah," she breathes out. "It all ends today."

"Send Rachel away," Schuester suggests her. "Only you can save her."

"She'll fight for me."

"Yes, unless she believes you don't love her."

Quinn's eyes snap on him. "What?"

"You are a great actress, Quinnie. Make her believe you don't love her."

"No."

"Use your talent to save her," Schuester sounds like he is begging. "Hurt her. Hurt her to save her. There is no other way, Quinnie. The show must go on. We are creatures of the underworld, we cannot afford love."

[oOoOoOo]

I still remember the words of the last song they performed at rehearsal. I remember it all. Even if I was in my apartment, getting ready to run away with Quinn, I could still hear the music coming from the Moulin Rouge. I giggled internally, because I was still convinced we would end up together in a flat in New York. A fool is what I was.

A fool to believe.

I still remember the words.

Another hero. Another mindless crime behind the curtain, in the pantomime. On and on... does anybody know what we are living for? What ever happened? We leave it all to chance, another heartache. Another failed romance. On and on... does anybody know what we are living for? The show must go on! The show must go on! Outside the dawn is breaking on the stage that holds our final destiny. The show must go on! The show must go on!

Yeah. The lucky ones where the ones who actually got to go on. Us others, we had to settle with what life had given us. And that wasn't pleasant at all.

I still remember the words of the song.

Of every song.

[oOoOoOo]

"Inside my heart is breaking, my make-up may be faking," Quinn quietly sings, brushing her golden locks and staring at her reflection into the mirror. She was stupid not to realize it sooner. She was losing weight, she was paler every day, and when she coughed, blood escaped her mouth. She was stupid not to notice it sooner.

She fakes a smile at her reflection. "But my smile still stays on."

Such a great actress, she congratulates herself. Just another touch and her red lipstick is perfect on her lips, her eyes are perfectly circled with eyeliner, her hair softer than ever. "I'll top the bill, I'll earn the kill, I have to find a way to carry on…"

A sobs escapes her lips. She can't cry, or she'll have to start again with her makeup.

The door slams open behind her.

God, what now?

"What happened?" a worried sick Rachel storms in. "You were supposed to be back in an hour! What—I was worried!"

Quinn swallows. She can't bring herself to look back at Rachel and meet her eyes. If she wants her act to work, she can't look into those eyes, or she'll break down.

She takes a deep breath, mentally revising the speech she learned, "I'm staying with the Duke. After I left you, the Duke came to see me and he offered me everything. Everything that I've ever dreamed of. He has one condition. I must never see you again." Tears start flowing down her cheeks once again, and she hears Rachel's broken sob behind her. "I'm sorry."

"Quinn, what- what are you talking about?" Rachel whispers.

"You knew who I was," Quinn stammers. "You knew that I couldn't fall in love, you knew that."

"B-but what about earlier?" Rachel isn't going to give up. "What about all the promises, what about the plans? He treated you like shit, Quinn! You can't seriously want to be with him."

Quinn shakes her head. This isn't what she wanted, this isn't what she wanted at all. But here she is, and the last thing she wants is Rachel getting killed by Finn Hudson. Images of Rachel laying on her back, with a bullet in her chest and blood everywhere are tormenting her since Schuester told her that the Duke planned to kill Rachel.

Quinn can't handle that.

She can handle her sickness, it's what she's been doing for months now. She knows how to handle the cough, the blood, the weakness until her very last breath because it's what she is supposed to do. But she doesn't have the slightest idea of how to handle this situation.

She can lose her life.

She can't lose Rachel's.

"I don't expect you to understand," she whispers, feeling a scratching tingle in her throat. God, please, not now. "But I can't go away. This is where I belong. The Moulin Rouge is my house, and the Duke is who I belong to."

"You don't belong to anyone, Quinn!" Rachel screeches. "You are not- not some doll that can be owned! That crap Schuester gave you for all these years is pure bullshit."

Woah, Rachel swearing.

That's a first.

She hears the brunette stepping closer, but she doesn't turn around. She can't face her.

"You are worth so much more than a bunch of francs, Quinn," she whispers. "Schuester made you believe that you are worth only what people can pay you for. That's not true, Quinn. You deserve so much more, you are worth so much more."

Don't listen, don't listen, don't listen.

"Please, don't," Quinn quietly says. She knows she won't be able to push her away is she keeps talking that way.

A soft, tiny hand rest on her bare arm. Quinn stills and she jerks away, away from Rachel's touch, away from her comforting embrace, away from everything she wants, and she'll ever want. "Quinn."

"Stop," she barks, trying her best not to let the tears fall. "Stop, alright? We were never meant to happen. This isn't how things work, Rachel. You can't—you pretend to live in this gigantic fairytale where everything is perfect and love always wins. That's not how the story ends."

Quinn walks to the door, resting her fingers on the handle, ready to leave. She pushes the door open, but before she walks away, the blonde slowly turns around to face Rachel. God, that was a huge mistake.

For a moment, she only wants to step forward, run to Rachel, envelope her in her arms, lift her from the floor and hold on tight onto her until the end of time.

But she can't.

The brunette stands in the middle of the room, looking smaller than ever. Her shoulders are trembling, her soft sniffling is barely audible and quiet tears fall from her eyes.

"I know you l-lie," Rachel sniffles. "I c-can tell. What's the truth? Tell me t-the truth. So how does the story end, Quinn?"

The young courtesan swallows uncomfortably. Maybe, if she bites the inside of her cheeks hard enough, she'll manage not to cry until she is away from the dressing room. "The truth is," she says, taking a deep breath. "That I am the Hindi courtesan, and I choose the maharaja. That's how the story ends."

And with that, Quinn walks away.

[oOoOoOo]

That broke my heart in much many ways than I thought were possible.

Seeing her walk away.

I perfectly remember the way her dress moved behind her, the way her golden hair was shining in the soft light. Her pale skin looked paler, sick. But I didn't notice, I was too heartbroken to notice. The only thing I knew was that Quinn, my Quinn was walking away from me.

And I didn't even know why.

I just knew that she was lying.

I ran back home, closed myself in my room and cried. I cried for an hour, maybe two. I cried so hard that at some point Kurt knocked at my door, worried that a relative of mine may die. I crawled in his arms and cried. He was quiet, but he knew what he was thinking. That I had been warned. Blaine had told me not to fall in love with a woman who sells herself because it always ends badly.

I wouldn't listen to them.

And now I was dealing with the consequences.

But I loved Quinn too much to just let her go.

So, when Kurt said that he was sure that Quinn loved me as well, as much as I tried to push it all away, that filled me with doubt.

I had to know.

So I returned to the Moulin Rouge one last time.

[oOoOoOo]

The first part of the play already caught the public eye. The costumes, the choreography, the songs… everything was perfect. Everything was just wonderful.

Quinn had risked to pass out a few times, weaker every minute. The sickness was destroying her, she knew it was. But she kept strong, she kept singing and dancing, pushing away the rising pain in her throat and lungs. God, her lungs hurt so much.

So when she walks behind the curtain after the first act, she nearly collapses in Brittany's strong arms. The blonde dancer leads Quinn to her dressing room and helps her lay down on a couch. Brittany sits with her, smoothing her hair and kissing gently her forehead until Santana arrives with a little ampoule filled with a weird light blue moisture.

"Drink it all, Q," Santana says, handing her the ampoule. "It will make the pain go away."

Quinn can't do anything but drink the blue moisture. God, that burns. She has tears in her eyes as she swallows it, but it doesn't matter. The only things that matter is that she will be able to go on with the show.

"I'm sorry," Brittany cries, hugging Quinn tight. "I'm sorry, we should have told you, we could have done something—we…"

"It's okay, Britt," Quinn croaks out, feeling dizzy. Her head is spinning, but she can't stop the show now. "It's okay, I'll be fine. I promise."

"Brittany? Santana? On stage!" Schuester calls them. The two girls can't do nothing but sigh and run on stage. "Quinn, you're up next. Five minutes."

As Schuester disappears, Quinn tries to get back on her feet. It hurts, and everything spins around her. She coughs a couple of times too tired to hold it back. She knows that whatever it was that Santana gave her isn't working too well, she knows that soon her lungs are going to fail her forever.

In that moment, the door slams open and a brunette girl storms in, with eyes red by so much crying, and a slightly insane expression in her face. Quinn curses internally. "Rachel…" she croaks out. She catches a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror. She doesn't look good. She has deep bags under her eyes, and her golden locks are sweaty and loosen.

They don't know it, but the Duke saw Rachel sneaking into the Moulin Rouge and he send a guy who works for him to kill her. Only Sam, currently seating on a little bench lifted up in the air saw him, and there is nothing he can do to prevent the murder but scream for help. But no one hears him.

Especially Quinn and Rachel, who are busy staring each other in the quiet dressing room. The silence that always was their comfort thing, is now heavy.

"I've come to pay my bill," Rachel quietly says, pulling a wad of cash out of her pocket.

"You shouldn't be here, Rachel," Quinn tiredly says. "Just leave."

"You made me believe I loved you, why shouldn't I pay you?" Rachel hisses.

"Quinnie! On stage in two min—what is she doing here?" Santana gasps, stepping into the dressing room.

"Leave! I'm coming," Quinn growls. Santana scowls, but she obeys. "Just leave, Rachel."

She starts walking through the door, pushing Rachel away. Her legs feel wobbly, she is stumbling, and she isn't steady on her feet at all. God, that thing that Santana gave her isn't working.

"She is trying to protect her! That's why she pushes her away!" Sam yells from his spot on the bench lifted in the air, but no one hears him. When he sees the gun that the Duke's boy is holding, he screams at the top of his lungs, but the music is just too high.

"Please, just let me pay!" Rachel screams, running after Quinn in the hallway that brings behind the curtain.

"Go away," Quinn whispers, unable to rise her voice.

"Why can't I pay you like everyone else does?"

"Don't Rachel, there's no point."

"If you don't love me and it wasn't real," Rachel grabs her arm. The young courtesan is too weak to jerk away, and she is forced to look into those brown eyes she loves so much. "If it wasn't real, why can't I pay you? It's your job, right? Isn't that what whores do?"

Whore.

That hurts Quinn worse than everything else Rachel could possibly say.

"Leave," she begs, tears falling from her eyes. Her head is spinning so hard, and Rachel is too busy yelling to notice the man with the gun behind the curtain.

"Let me pay, let me pay!" Rachel begs.

Quinn reaches the spot she has to be in, and the curtain starts trembling. They are opening it. a few seconds and they will be on stage. But Rachel is next to her again, and the curtain is going up. "Please, leave."

"Tell me it wasn't real," Rachel looks straight into her eyes. The crowd is roaring with applauses, Schuester is telling them the part of the play he is supposed to, the music is loud, Sam screams and the gunman is right behind her. Yet, Rachel doesn't notice any of it. "Tell me you don't love me."

Quinn opens her mouth to say something.

And then the curtain goes up.

oOoOoOo

Everything goes completely quiet for a whole minute the second the two girls appear on stage. The pale blonde with sweaty forehead and dark circles under her eye who looks honestly like a phantom and the tiny brunette holding her by the wrist.

"Erg…" Schuester stumbles, from his position on stage. "I—uhm, I… this is obviously a trick planned by the sitar player!" he exclaims, trying to stay in character. "I am not fooled by this trick, I.. well, I…"

Rachel doesn't care what the hell he is trying to say. She stands up straight and walks to the center of the stage. Quinn tries to follow her, but she stumbles in her wobbly legs and falls on her knees.

The small singer looks at her and then at the waiting crowd. Everything in her dark eyes express nothing but disgust. When she lays her eyes on the blonde for the second time, she refuses to notice her fragility, how vulnerable she is right now, breathing hard and with the sickness destroying her inside.

"Rach…" Quinn whispers, but she is at a short of air, and the word is so low that anyone catches it. Anyone but Rachel.

"This woman is yours now," Rachel announces, and even Schuester shuts up. The brunette throws the money at Quin, and they land all around her. "I've paid my whore. Thank you," she sniffles, a lump in her throat is making difficult for her to say the whole sentence. "Th-thank you for curing me from m-my rid-ridiculous obsession with love."

Whore.

That hurts Quinn worse than anything else.

With one last look she turns her back to Quinn, to the stage and to the Moulin Rouge. She swallows back her tears and chokes her sobs as she starts walking off stage.

Tears flow down her face when she reaches the path between the public chairs, headed to the door. She forces herself to not care. She forces herself to think that this is exactly what she should have expected. She was warned. She wasn't supposed for a woman who sells her body, because it's too dangerous.

Yet, she did.

And now she is broken.

Just when she is a few steps away from the door, she hears it.

It's just a whisper, really, but Rachel's ears are well trained by her Broadway career, and she can recognizes the first line of a song when she hears one. Besides, the voice singing that is her favorite one in the whole world.

Rachel turns around.

"Never knew," Quinn croaks out, her voice broken by the cough. She is slowly getting up. She stumbles a couple of times, but she never stops singing. "I could feel like this. It's like I've never seen the sky before."

Rachel drops her jaw. She is half-turned around, and she has eyes only for the girl trying to stand up on the stage. The young courtesan somehow finds a way to make her wobbly legs do their job – she'll have to thank Santana later – and finally stands up.

"Want to vanish inside your kiss. Every day I'm loving you more and more. Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?" her voice grows stronger as she straightens her back and rises her head. Even with the eyebags, even if she is too thin, too pale to be healthy, she still looks beautiful. Much more than beautiful. Gorgeous. Ethereal."Come back to me, and forgive everything," her voice is much stronger now, but when she finishes the sentence she gasps a little for air, but she pushes it back and forces a small smile.

Rachel wants to cry.

The orchestra slowly starts to play tentatively, and Rachel catches a glimpse of Schuester trying to stop them. But they don't listen, and the music grows stronger.

"Seasons may change winter to spring," Quinn sings. The music surrounds them completely, and all that Rachel can see is the girl standing there in the middle of the stage, with her white dress that reaches her ankles, hair loosen around her back and the small, golden crown on her head. "… I love you," Quinn whispers, looking straight into Rachel's eyes and stopping her singing for a second.

It sends shivers down Rachel's back.

"Til the end of time," Quinn sings. She stops then, panting slightly and searching for air. This is taking much more effort than she expected. She can practically feel her lungs fighting against her.

Rachel is speechless.

She wants to run, she wants to cry, she wants to go away. Away from that cursed place, away from that horrible theater, away from those awful people, away from the ethereal beauty standing on the stage who she loves so, so much.

God, she can't.

She realizes that she can't go away. She can't stand to live without Quinn, she really can't.

Rachel turns around fully, facing the beautiful blonde in front of her. Quinn smiles the smallest smile ever. When the music hits again, Rachel sings.

"Come what may, come what may," she sing-whispers, so lowly. Her voice croaks a little with the emotion. "Come what may," she tries again, much louder this time. "Come what may!" she sings, and everyone finally turns to her.

Her voice is something else.

"I will love you," Rachel goes on, realizing that she is now a few steps away from the stage. She doesn't know when she did that, but now she is climbing up the few steps, headed to Quinn.

"I will love you," Quinn sings, wiping away her tears.

She takes the last few steps, and she collapses in Rachel's arms. The brunette catches her and helps back on her feet, never letting go of her hands. And God how good it feels to be close to Quinn again. "Until my dying day," Rachel sings, resting her forehead on Quinn's.

"… dying day," Quinn joins her.

"Come what may," they both sing at the same time, tears flowing down their cheeks. Quinn nuzzles her nose against Rachel's, with a soft sob. The brunette squeezes her hands lovingly.

"Come what may," Quinn clutches her hand in Rachel's.

"Come what may," the brunette brushes her lips against Quinn's cheeks and nose as she sings. Her voice has everyone caught up. It's so strong and beautiful than no one dares intruding.

They both take a deep breath, exchanging smiles, as they prepare to burst out with the next line. "I will love you, until my dying—"

"He's got a gun!" Sam screams, falling from his bench in the air and flying on stage, gripped tightly to a rope, Tarzan style. "Rachel, he's got a gun! They want to kill you!"

Quinn instinctively wraps her arms tightly around Rachel's waist. The public thinks that it's part of the play, and they all gasp and giggle. The brunette is too dazed to realize what's happening.

They effectively do hear the sound of a gunshot, but it hits the floor. It frightens Quinn so much that she tightens her arms around Rachel, and the brunette does the same, both trying to protect the other.

"No matter what you say," Blaine runs on stage, bursting out with the next song. Behind him there is the whole chorus, leaded by Brittany and Santana, and the orchestra goes crazy, playing so loud that they can't hear the gunshots anymore.

As Rachel wonders what the hell is happening, she realizes that they want they show to go on.

Blaine runs in front of them, "The show is ending our own way."

"The show must go on!" Schuester echoes, running in the chorus with the others.

Rachel turns to Quinn, panicking fully. But they see the gunshot flying away from the shooter's hand, and landing somewhere in the crowd.

Even though Rachel has no idea of what's going on, she lets Quinn grab her hand and lead her in the chorus, as all of them burst into the next line. "Come and stand your ground, for freedom, beauty, truth and love!"

"I'll fly away," Quinn's angelic voice sings next to Rachel. The brunette has a firm grip on her frail hand, her arm surrounding her waist and holding her close.

"You can't fool the children of the revolution." The choir sings.

"I'll fly away," Quinn rolls back her head, a free smile appearing on her lips.

"No, you can't fool the children of the revolution."

Rachel is so absurdly happy that she decides to burst in as well. "My gift is my song!" she sings, her astounding voice loud and clear.

"No, you can't fool the children of the revolution."

"I'll fly away," Rachel can't believe how lucky she is, as she listen to Quinn's voice emerging from the choir, capturing the public's eye without even make an effort.

"My gift is my song," Rachel sings, turning lightly to nuzzle her nose against Quinn's neck.

They choir parts, and Sam takes Quinn's hand as Blaine takes Rachel's, they spin them around on the stage, as the choir continues the song.

None of them notices Finn Hudson standing in the middle of the public seats, holding the gunshot to Rachel's head. He is far, yet he has a good eye for these things.

His finger lowers on the trigger.

Rachel doesn't see him, and she runs to Quinn. They take each other's hands, and they sing, "I will love you!"

"Come what may," the choir dances and spins around them.

"Yes, I will love you!" both girls sing at the same time, their foreheads touching, their noses and lips barely brushing against each other.

"Come what may…" the choir echoes.

"I will love you…" Rachel cups Quinn's cheek with her hand, wiping away a few tears from the alabastrine cheeks. They sing perfectly together even if they hadn't rehearsed that part.

God, she is so in love. Like, so insanely in love with this gorgeous, vulnerable, brave girl. She wants to kiss her so badly.

"… until my…"

Finn Hudson is about to pull the trigger, running towards the stage and screaming; "My way! My way! My way!"

Until William Schuester punches him in the face and throws the gun literally out of a window.

"…dying day!"

Rachel doesn't even care if the curtain is still up, she stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips to Quinn's. God, she missed this. It's been just a few hours, a few hours that she spent thinking that she was never going to kiss Quinn again, and now she can.

Now they can run away.

Now they have their whole lives in front of them.

Quinn tilts her head to kiss Rachel from a better angle, clutching her hands in the back of her dress. Unlike Rachel, she knows that this is their last kiss, and she wants to make it mesmerizing for Rachel to remember it forever.

She gently nibbles her bottom lip, causing Rachel to whimper delightedly.

The curtain starts to go down, and flower petals start falling all around them. They are red, and white, and pink, and yellow. They land everywhere, in their hair and dresses. Rachel giggles, and she presses herself closer to Quinn. "I love you," she says, kissing her once more.

"I love you," Quinn breathily replies, attacking her lips again, but sweetly, so sweetly. "I love you so much, Rachel. Don't you ever forget."

"I couldn't," Rachel whispers, her teeth gently scraping Quinn's bottom lip. "You are my forever now."

No, she is not.

Everyone claps, and cheers, even Schuester is roaring with happiness.

"Stand by for curtain call!" Schuester exclaims, clapping his hands to gather them up. Just when Rachel is kissing gently the soft skin under Quinn's ear, heading for her soft earlobe.

But she leans back, with a beaming smile and she grabs Quinn's hand. She wants so much to continue their kiss right now, but she know that they have the rest of their lives to be happy together. They are going to run away, tonight. To New York. And they will be finally free.

Right?

Or not.

As Rachel leads her on stage again, Quinn feels it. She feels it.

Her lungs suddenly stop working and start collapsing.

Quinn is forced to stop her walking, and she gasps for air. Her lips open and close multiple times, but no sound escapes from them. Air. God, she needs air.

She can't breathe.

"Quinn?" Rachel turns back to her, the golden star smile still on her lips. When she sees Quinn though, she stops smiling and she furrows her brows.

Quinn coughs, holding her throat with one hand and her waist with the other.

"Quinn, what's the matter? What's the matter?" she squeals, immediately running back to her and wrapping the young courtesan in her arms. "What is it?"

Feeling Rachel's secure embrace, Quinn finally allows herself to give in. Her knees fail her, and she collapses in Rachel's arms, coughing and with tears streaming down her cheeks. She can't speak, she can't even breathe. "Tell me," Rachel pleads, using all her strength to support Quinn's unstable body. "What's the matter? Tell me, Quinn. What's the matter?"

Quinn just coughs and coughs, rolling her neck to hide her face in the crook of Rachel's neck. "Oh, my God," Rachel whispers, tightening her grip around Quinn's waist, trying to hold her up. But her body and muscles aren't doing anything to help her. "Somebody get help!" she cries.

"Hold the curtain, fetch the doctor," Schuester snaps. He doesn't do anything, speechless and confused. He knows what is coming.

"Get help!" Rachel screams, tears streaming down her cheeks. Quinn is convulsing. "Please! Somebody get help! Please, I need—I need a doctor, please—"

Quinn tries to say something, but the cough is too hard. Rachel stops screaming and she looks at her through watery eyes. "I'm here, Quinn, I'm here," she whispers, holding her tight so that Quinn's lips are now brushing the shell of her ear.

"I'm—I'm d-dying, Rach," Quinn admits, looking shameful. Her hazel eyes are wide and terrified. Rachel can't help the little yelp that escapes from her lips. She feels her heart tighten and drop. God, she isn't ready for this. No, this is a dream.

A nightmare.

It must be.

"I-I'm sorry," Quinn quietly cries, lulling her head back to look into Rachel's eyes. But she isn't strong enough, and her head falls down. Rachel squirms in horror, and she quickly cups the back of Quinn's head, supporting it gently, tangling her fingers in golden locks.

"Shh, shh, it's alright," Rachel tries to stay calm, fighting her tears. She needs to be strong, she can't let go Quinn down. Not now. "I'm here, baby, I promise."

Quinn smirks weakly when she hears the 'baby' part, but cough shakes her whole body once more. "I'm so sorry," she mumbles, "So, so sorry."

Around them, everyone is quiet. They don't dare intruding. Almost everyone knows about Quinn's sickness, and they don't want to ruin Rachel's last minutes with her soulmate.

"D-don't you dare apologizing, Quinn Fabray," Rachel whispers, trying to force a smile. "D-don't you dare. You'll be just fine, we'll find a way to cure you. I promise. P-please, stay with me."

"I'm cold," Quinn stammers, but she isn't crying anymore. "I'm c-cold. H-hold me. P-please."

Rachel whimpers in pain, but she does, she holds her as close as she can, hugging her tight. She hopes, god how she hopes that if she holds hard enough she will be able to keep Quinn with her forever. Though nothing would keep them together.

"Hold on," Rachel whispers, running the hand that's supporting Quinn's head through her golden locks. "Please baby, hold on."

"You-you've got to go on, R-Rach," Quinn mumbles against her neck.

"I can't, I can't without you," Rachel replies, biting her lips. "Please…"

"You've g-got to go o-on," Quinn says again. "You have s-so much to give."

"Quinn…"

"T-talk to me, R-Rach," Quinn dreamily whispers. "Tell me what it w-will be like when y-you are in New Y-York. P-please."

Rachel sobs, holding her tight. She feels her knees trembling, but she stays still. "I love you," she cries, hiding her face in Quinn's long hair. "I love you so much. Please, please don't…"

"N-New York, R-Rachel," Quinn insists.

Rachel chuckles through the tears. "M-My stubborn baby," she whispers. "It will be beautiful Quinn. Think of it, try to hold on until the doctor comes. The lights, Quinn. The Broadway lights are so- so beautiful. And the s-streets, we'll walk- we'll- we…"

Quinn bursts out in coughing again, rolling her head back. Blood escapes from her lips, staining the spot in which she was resting her head, right under Rachel's ear. She coughs, and she lulls her head back, but Rachel slides a hand behind her scalp just in time, so she doesn't snap her neck. A drop of blood runs down the corner of Quinn's mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," Rachel whispers, almost blinded by the tears. "Please, please hold on just a little bit."

"T-tell our story, Rachel. Tell our st-story," Quinn coughs again, but this time she doesn't convulse. This time she doesn't gasp for air. This time she knows it's useless. A small smile ghosts on her lips.

She is in peace.

"P-promise me, Rachel," she says, her voice barely less than a whisper. She is mouthing the words, and just the tinies sound reaches Rachel's ears. "P-promise."

"I promise," Rachel cries. She doesn't want to give up, she doesn't want to let her go, she doesn't want to lose her. But even though her grip just tightens around Quinn's shoulders, the young courtesan slips through her hands.

Her life slips away.

"That w-way," Quinn mumbles. "I'm c-cold." She is losing her mind, she doesn't make any sense now. "Rach?"

"Here, baby, I'm here," Rachel sniffles, pressing her lips under Quinn's almost closed eye.

"'m sleepy," she whispers in a childish voice.

Rachel wants to break down.

"I know, Sweetheart," Rachel understands that she can't keep Quinn with her forever. She knows that Quinn never belonged to her in the first place.

She was ethereal.

She was too much for this world.

A world that didn't deserve her.

"P-promise me, R-Rach."

"I already promised you, Sweetheart," Rachel reminds her softly, brushing away a few strains of golden hair from the alabastrine forehead.

"Good," Quinn nods to herself, her eyes barely open. Rachel can see only a stripe of golden through her eyelashes. "Th-that way…" she coughs. Her body is shaken by a violent convulsion and coughs explodes again. When she calms down, a smile is dancing on her lips. "… I'll always be with you."

And with that, she is gone.

Just like that.

One moment she was there, and one moment later she is not.

Her warm and soft body becomes much heavier in Rachel's arms, and the brunette is suddenly unable to support the weight by herself. Quinn fought to make her struggle the less until the end. Rachel collapses on her knees, careful to not hurt Quinn's body. She lowers her head and buries it in Quinn's neck, crying quietly.

She doesn't want to sob.

She doesn't want to put on a scene.

She just wants Quinn back.

Quinn who was her everything. Her shy smile, her crystalline laugh, her alabastrine skin touching tentatively Rachel's. Her golden eyes, her soft touch. Golden hair that used to feel in her eyes, pale freckles just on the top of her nose.

It was everything.

In Quinn… there was everything.

And now there is nothing at all.

[oOoOoOo]

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. And then, I sat down and I wrote our story. A storyabout a time.

A storyabout a place.

A storyabout the people.

But above all things, a storyabout love.

A love that will live forever.

The End.

[oOoOoOo]

The greatest thing you'll ever learn,

is just to love,

and be loved in return.

-Moulin Rouge!, 2001

[oOoOoOo]

A/N: so sorry about this ending, it destroyed me as well, but I wanted to follow the movie's plot. I hope you liked the story though, it was so good to write.

Anyways, I really can't stand the thought of a sad ending for Rachel and Quinn, and I really like them in this Universe, so if you liked it, I could write sort of an alternative (happy) ending for them.

Let me know! :)