Simple Parts
Chapter Eight- Simple Parts
Time goes by so fast.
One last breath is all I have.
The people come, they fade.
I try so hard to shape these words
I cannot formulate.
QFRB
Rachel was awake before the 6 o'clock knock at Alice's door. Beside her, Alice groaned and rolled over, burying her head in her pillow. Older Quinn didn't come inside; she just called through the door, "Up and at 'em, Alice," before moving on.
"Don't wanna," the cheerleader whined into her pillow. She rolled back over onto her back, but kept the pillow on her face.
Rachel couldn't help but giggle. When Alice released her pillow and then attacked her with it, Rachel found it far less funny. "Hey!" She took the pillow and walloped the other girl with it, but Alice just lay there, unresponsive. When Rachel lifted the pillow away it was to find Alice just staring up at the ceiling, a little frown flirting around her mouth. "What's wrong?"
The cheerleader sighed. "I just hope she didn't wake up Carmen. I don't want her to go with us."
"Why?"
Alice flicked her eyes over to the young version of her mother and raised an eyebrow. "Did you seriously just ask me that?"
"I was wondering if there was any reason other than your dislike for her, is all."
"What do you mean?"
Rachel shrugged in an attempt at subtlety that failed miserably. "I happened to notice your reactions to your mothers doting over Carmen yesterday evening. Then when Beth called, you looked very…put out."
The other girl sighed and stared back at the ceiling. "Running in the mornings is just something for me and Momma. She has long hours but she always tries to do something special with us. It's easier now that Morgan and Carmen aren't around all the time."
"That didn't really answer my question."
"I just feel different, ok!" She didn't shout, but her tone was more forceful than anything she had used with Rachel before. "I'm different from Morgan and Carmen and Alex and Shay!" She sat up and tore back her covers, jumping out of bed and storming around collecting her running clothes. "I'm the only one that has Momma's genes. Except Beth, and she got rid of her. She didn't want Beth, and she didn't want me, at least not the way I am." Rachel didn't have to opportunity to offer a rebuttal, not that it was really her place, as she didn't know exactly how Quinn felt about Beth or Alice. She just couldn't imagine the blonde feeling that way about her child though. "She tried to talk you out of having me," Alice informed her, "I mean, she tried to talk Mom out of having me."
"Why?"
"Cause of her career. She was at her height. Everyone wanted her in everything. But Momma didn't want to use her genes if she had the kid, so Mom insisted that she have me. She wanted at least one of us kids to look like Momma. She was actually going to have two of us."
"Why didn't she?" Rachel asked, too caught up in the story to realize she was technically speaking in the third person.
"Complications. She's really small, and I was big. I ended up arriving early and her doctor was out of town. He couldn't get back in time, so some young guy ended up delivering me and he fucked some stuff up. Momma wouldn't let her have another one. Said it was too dangerous."
They both fell quiet and Rachel wondered what kind of complications would keep her from having another baby. Alice picked at her duvet, anger drained away a little.
"That doesn't have anything to do with you though," Rachel rationalized, "there was nothing you could have done about it. I highly doubt that Quinn doesn't want you."
Alice sighed. "It not that she doesn't want me, she just doesn't want me to be like her."
"Alice…"
"I just can't help it. It's not like it's my fault. I know I'm probably blowing this all out of proportion or whatever. Carmen just makes me so-" she trailed off with a growl. When she continued it was clear that her anger had returned with a vengeance. "Everyone loves her, she can do no wrong. You know what Momma did when she found out I got one of the solos for Sectionals and Showcase?" The question was clearly rhetorical but Rachel shook her head anyway. "She got mad at Mom, said it was nepotism. Like I couldn't fucking earn it on my own without her help. She didn't do that when it was Carmen a couple years ago." Alice turned her back and pulled off her sleep shirt roughly, growling angrily when it got caught on her glasses, and then yanked a sports bra on just as forcefully, followed by a plain grey t-shirt. "I can't help it if sometimes I want to be the favorite." She pulled on her shorts. "So, I hope Carmen isn't coming running with us." The conversation had some full circle, and Alice's tone made it clear that they were done talking.
"Can I borrow some clothes?" Rachel asked meekly as she watched the cheerleader put in her contacts.
Alice shot her an apologetic look though the mirror and nodded.
QFRB
Quinn wasn't sure of much, especially since she had found herself in this strange future. What she was sure of was that her feelings for Rachel, which she had been repressing for years, were just growing stronger. In fact, her feelings were becoming so overwhelming that she had dreamed of the beautiful diva the night before.
She usually didn't remember her dreams unless they were nightmares, and those came infrequently. But boy, did she remember this one, and it was the opposite of a nightmare. Even as she lay in her half-awake stupor, blurry eyes taking in an equally blurry ceiling, it was fresh and yet the details slipped away like water trickling though cupped hands.
It had been nice. More than nice. It had been, she hesitated to think it but, hot. Sexy.
Yeah, sexy.
The details were fading but she could remember Rachel hovering over her, smiling in such a seductive way that it almost made the dream feel unrealistic. She didn't even know if Rachel's face could make that expression. Their skin had touched, thighs and arms and cheeks, and Rachel had been wearing a shirt and maybe underwear, but Quinn honestly couldn't remember. She was too focused on how real everything felt. She could nearly feel Rachel's breath ghosting over her skin, first at her neck and then up over her jaw and cheek until their mouths were only separated by molecules.
She smiled sleepily. Yeah, it had been good. She allowed herself to indulge in the warm heaviness of her body as she slowly became more aware. It was through this that she realized that she couldn't really feel her hands (or her arms)
Where is my hand?
When her brain didn't immediately connect her with any sensation she panicked a little.
WHERE IS MY HAND?
Of course, that would be the exact moment that she registered the feeling of course hair against the tips of her fingers on her right hand. Her left arm was completely numb and squished up against her belly awkwardly, but her right…her right hand was in her sleep pants. And not just in her sleep pants, it was also in her underwear. And not just in her underwear, her hand and fingers were very noticeably somewhere they shouldn't be.
Oh God.
Quinn wasn't exactly a stranger to masturbating. In fact, she had known the practice existed since she was seven and one of her older cousins (she was nine) had told her all about it. She had attempted it many times, always with a feeling of shame and guilt (and intense paranoia) attached. It was no wonder then that she hadn't found it very fulfilling. Most of the time she couldn't work up the arousal to actually get somewhere with the deed, and the rare times when she could, it nearly always dissolved either out of frustration or more guilt/shame/paranoia. The frustration often stemmed from the fact that she couldn't help but to think of fucking Rachel Berry, and she used 'fucking' as an adjective (also sometimes as a verb). The guilt, shame and paranoia were all built into her by her parents and older sister, and then reinforced by the lack of a lock on her bedroom door, and an irritating habit her mother had for not knocking. There had also been times when she would be right in the middle of maybe, possibly, getting somewhere and then she would suddenly remember that her grandmother in Heaven knew exactly what she was doing.
That always killed it.
The few times she had gotten anywhere had been nice though.
The blonde rolled over, careful of her pinned left arm and not moving her right hand at all. She didn't really want to. The left over feelings her dream had inspired were still tingling up and down her spine and curling tightly in her lower belly. She began to move her hand slowly over the sensitive flesh, trying to draw back the images from her dream.
A knock at the door sounded almost immediately. "Quinn, time to get up."
She pulled her hand out of her pants so quickly and with so much force that the momentum sent her whole arm backwards toward the wall behind her and her knuckles connected with it. Pain shot up her hand and she went from arousal and embarrassment to mind-numbing pain in less than two seconds. She gasped and gripped her injured hand in the other and then cradled them both between her knees, curling up on her side in the process.
"God is punishing me," she whined into her pillow, nursing her injury with pressure. Her heart was beating so fast that she was nearly worried it would just give out.
It's not wrong though, right. Well, ok, so the Bible says it's wrong. But it's not like she's not going to be married to me or something. That makes it a little better right.
When her breathing and heartbeat finally reached a normal pace, she slid out of the covers and slipped into her running clothes, only just realizing how tired she still was. She groaned in quiet unhappiness when she remembered that Rachel was just downstairs. She was going to have to hide her inappropriate thoughts deep inside just to make it through the day.
QFRB
Carmen didn't run with them.
They ran silently, with only the sounds of their feet on the pavement and the occasional passing car invading the quiet.
Rachel could understand how running in silence could be soothing, but she just couldn't feel it. Her thoughts were roaring and smashing around inside her skull. Since hearing Alice's insecure rant earlier that morning, she had given serious thought to what her future relationship with Quinn would be like. She confessed to initially having a rather immature assumption about what their married life would be like. She had only seen love and joy and happiness and support, but Alice's tale had clued her in to the darker side of the family. No family was perfect after all. And despite the fact that Quinn would go through therapy, there was bound to be residual effects of her upbringing present.
In order to keep herself from fixating on the fact that not everything would be sunshine and daisies in her future, she looked at Older Quinn's shoulders. The older blonde and Alice had taken the lead in the run, and Rachel had ended up behind her future wife. Despite the chilly weather, Older Quinn was only wearing a tank top and track pants. This left her shoulders in view, and consequently, the tattoos that crept up from lower on her back.
Her right shoulder had several small silhouettes of birds that looked like they were flying up from her lower back, the closer they got to her shoulder the larger they were, and then, the last bird that actually went with the curve and ended on the front of her shoulder, was defined and more owl like than the others. It was like looking at an optical allusion.
The design on her left shoulder was mostly hidden, only a sliver of something yellow could be seen, the rest of the visible skin had been shaded a light lilac that faded out back into the natural color of the blonde's skin.
Her curiosity was gnawing at the back of her brain again, and she resolved to find out what was on the older blonde's back before she was dragged back to the past.
Young Quinn's thoughts were centered on something completely different. Trying to keep her eyes facing forward. She didn't know if she was annoyed or pleased that Rachel wasn't running in front of her. ON one hand, it made her want to look to her right every few steps, but on the other, at least she wasn't able to outright leer at the diva's ass and legs. Good Christian girls didn't do that sort of thing, but Rachel made it nearly impossible for Quinn to be a Good Christian Girl.
Good Christian girls didn't marry women either though.
"What did Mom think? About you marrying a woman?" She nearly slapped herself for even asking. It was a valid question, but she didn't really want to ask it around Rachel. It was easy to say that Quinn Fabray wasn't a very open individual. She didn't like to share her vulnerabilities. Her family was one of the main areas of contention for her.
Her mother, after kicking out Russell, had definitely proved that she was a much nicer and more open-minded person than Quinn had previously suspected. She was still a drunk, she was still a bad excuse for a parent, but at least she wasn't cruel and harsh and mocking like Russell Fabray was. Life at home was better.
Older Quinn sighed. "Well she didn't disown me. She didn't support it at all though, at first. In fact, she didn't support me at all while I was on the drugs. It was made clear that I wasn't welcome at home. At the time that really hurt me, but looking back on it, it was a good thing. I would have used her. She would have been so much easier to manipulate than Rachel was. She's an alcoholic too, so she could have been very easily persuaded to enable me.
She didn't come to our wedding. Neither did Fran, but I think that was more because she didn't want to upset Mom than because she didn't approve."
"What changed her mind? I mean, she coming over for Thanksgiving…"
"Morgan did. Or, his birth. She didn't want to miss out on her grandchildren's lives."
"It good that she came around though," Rachel supplied.
"Yeah, it's great. It was one of the things I really worried about. Losing my family again. Just more fodder for my therapist though."
"Momma?" Alice asked, drawing the older blonde's attention. "What would you do if I told you I was pregnant?"
The woman's step faltered a little. "Tell you I was disappointed and then call my OBGYN to get you an appointment," she replied, keeping her eyes on the road ahead and not on Alice's. "Why? Do I need to do that?"
Alice smiled a little. "No, not yet. But I'll keep you posted."
The older woman scoffed and took her daughter into a headlock. "You're a rat sometimes, kiddo."
Rachel smiled at the scene. It made her feel better. Alice might be insecure about her place in the family, but Rachel had known Quinn for years and she could tell when the blonde was being honest or fake. There was nothing fake or forced about Quinn's affection for her daughter. Their daughter.
QFRB
Once again Quinn had taken the second shower, but she didn't make the mistake of wandering into the kitchen again. Instead she just took what was becoming 'her' spot at the bottom of the stairs. Rachel was keeping their unspoken meeting time too. She had showered as quickly as she could, eager to spend some time alone with the blonde.
The brunette took a few seconds to observe her fellow time travel, taking in her posture and the cute contemplative pout she was sporting.
"Hey," Quinn looked backwards at the sound of Rachel's voice and tried to grin at her upside down, "is something wrong?"
"No," the blonde answered, righting herself as the brunette approached. "Why would anything be wrong?"
"You looked like you were brooding."
"I don't brood."
Rachel smiled indulgently. "Of course not." When the blonde just scowled at her she suppressed a giggle. "Really though, what were you thinking about?"
Quinn hesitated, running her fingernails under the lip of the bottom stair and digging into the grain a little. "I'm kind of nervous."
"About what?"
"Seeing my mom."
"Oh, I'm nervous about seeing my dad."
"How old would they be now? Like eighty?"
"Well I don't know about your mother, but my father would be in his eighties, yes."
Quinn scoffed. "My mom is probably still trying to pretend she's thirty or something."
Rachel gasped suddenly, sitting up straight and slapping the blonde's thigh. She ignored the girl's exclamation of pain. "Oh my God!"
"What?" Quinn demanded, rubbing at the stinging spot on her leg.
Rachel turned terrified eyes to her. "I'm going to meet your mother!"
Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Yeah so?"
"So what if she doesn't like me?" Rachel's frantic question came out shrill and her eyes were so wide and full of worry that Quinn almost felt a little sorry for her, even if she was acting like a complete loon.
"You're a complete loon."
Rachel huffed, her worry turning briefly into affront. She reached up and whacked Quinn about the head a few times.
"Ow!" The blonde rubbed the back of her head with a wince. "God, you're really abusive. I'm seriously rethinking my attraction to you."
"So you admit you're attracted to me?" the brunette questioned with a grin.
Quinn, only just recognizing her mistake, flushed and looked away, her hand dropping back into her lap. "Stop fishing for compliments."
"I would never," Rachel insisted, tossing her hair dramatically. "Regardless, I don't think you're putting enough weight on the fact that I will have to meet your mother today."
"Well I don't see why it's a big deal."
"That's the problem!"
"So enlighten me."
Rachel groaned in frustration. She reached over and put one hand on each side of the blonde's face, forcing their eyes to meet. "I'm meeting your mother," she enunciated slowly, looking directly into the wide hazel eyes in front of her. "It's kind of a big deal. What if she doesn't like me? What if I humiliate myself somehow? What if I drop the antique crystal serving dish that had been passed down in your family for generations and she forbids that you marry me?"
When Rachel stopped speaking, the blonde looked up from the still lips she'd been staring at. "Yeah, sorry, I didn't hear any of that."
"You're so exasperating."
Quinn smiled charmingly. "I don't think we have any antique crystal serving dishes in my family. There is the good china though."
"I knew you were listening."
Quinn's smile morphed into a smirk. She really hadn't been paying full attention, but her brain had caught up after a few seconds. "I hang on your every word."
"Naturally." She glanced shyly at the blonde. "So, do you really think I'm attractive?" Rachel realized she was being a little cruel. Both Older Quinn and her older self had confirmed that Quinn had always liked her. She knew Quinn found her attractive, and it was especially apparent when she thought back to their interactions over the time they had known each other.
Quinn knew it was silly to be afraid of rejection as she was currently immersed in proof that Rachel was very much in to her. You didn't have five children with someone you weren't in love with. She was nervous though, anxious and worried that as soon as she confirmed that she liked the brunette that she would be laughed at and mocked.
She bit her lip and faced Rachel, her face blank and her mind shaking apart. She was amazed that her hand stayed steady when she reached for Rachel's face, expression shifting to contemplative as she palmed the brunette's cheek and ran the pad of her thumb down the bridge of her nose. Rachel closed her eyes and wrinkled her nose at the feeling, giggling quietly. When the blonde took her by the jaw and turned her head, like she was examining a dog on show, she huffed through a grin.
"Are you going to check to see if I have all of my teeth next?" Rachel taunted.
"That's actually very important, thank you for reminding me. Open up."
Rachel opened her mouth comically wide and allowed the blonde to tilt her head in every direction in order to see that she actually had all her teeth. She was amused when Quinn pulled away and pretended she was taking notes. "So what's the verdict?" she asked with false concern.
"Hold on, I have to find my pen light and check you for ear mites."
"Seriously?" Rachel demanded. She rolled her eyes.
Quinn shrugged. "I guess you'll do."
"You're mean," Rachel informed her like it was news and paired it with a devastating pout. Quinn felt her heart stutter at the sight.
Quinn gasped mockingly and opened her eyes as wide as she could. "Spoiler alert!"
Rachel's loud laugh made Quinn smile every time she heard it, but being the cause of that laughter set her heart on fire. She was so happy that she couldn't feel nervous when the brunette laid her head on her shoulder, still laughing and just as happy.
"I suppose you'll do too."
Quinn scoffed. "Oh whatever, you think I'm hot."
"God, not again," Alice's voice washed over them from farther up the stairs. They both pulled away and turned to look up at her. "Will you two find somewhere else to congregate? We already have to see our parents acting love sick every day; you don't have to add to it."
Rachel smiled wickedly. It was a look Alice knew well. She was about to be teased, and if the smaller brunette's gaze was anything to go on, Quinn would be getting an equal share.
"Oh Quinn!" The blonde had no time to react before the diva had thrown her arms around her neck and pulled her close theatrically.
Surprised, Quinn just laughed and tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. When she had control of her arms she mimicked Rachel's actions, pulling the smaller girl more fully to her. "Oh Rachel!"
Alice rolled her eyes and shoved past them. "Oh gag."
QFRB
After breakfast, which had been mostly the same as yesterday, Older Quinn had kicked nearly everyone out of the kitchen, keeping only Alice and her older self and claiming that she didn't want to see any Rachels until lunch time. Shannon and Alex had snuck back upstairs to sleep longer. Carmen and Older Rachel had disappeared into the back yard with cups of coffee. Morgan had disappeared like a ghost, for someone that had a personality similar to hers, Rachel couldn't figure out why he would keep himself hidden away so much.
She had nothing to do, her own schedule had been destroyed after the first day and now she was living on someone else's. She did what Older Quinn had suggested the first evening, she explored. She found the laundry room, the washer chugging along. She found the dining room next, the long dark table held ten place settings already, and Rachel wondered if the delicate white china was the same that Quinn had mentioned earlier.
Wandering further back into the house, she found an office. It was minimally decorated, containing a simple dark wood desk and chair and a love seat that matched the one in the living room. There were no ornaments on the wall, and the desk held a tablet computer like the one that Alice had used the other day, and a digital picture frame that was shuffling through pictures. It was apparent that the lack of decoration was purposeful when she walked by a darkened glass case and it lit up. The lights inside were motion sensitive, she guessed, and this case was the main draw of the room.
Glass shelves were laden with awards and plaques and picture frames. There were Tonys and Grammys and awards she didn't even know the names of. There were playbills and movie posters and scripts in stacks. She lost count of how many pictures she was in with other celebrities. She almost squealed when she saw the picture of herself with Taylor Lautner and Oprah and David Letterman. She did squeal when she saw the picture of her and Quinn with Lady Gaga between them.
She devoured everything with her eyes, soaking up every detail and trying to imprint the exact feelings deep against her heart. She never wanted to forget this feeling of pride and accomplishment. So trapped in her self-admiration she was, that she failed to notice she was being watched until her observer made himself known.
"Good morning."
Rachel jumped in surprise and turned to the door, eyes comically wide. Morgan was standing in the door way wearing proper clothes, jeans and a soft gray sweater, instead of his pajamas from earlier. His hair was slicked back and shiny. He really was a very handsome young man, and she could see a little bit of her father in him. He wasn't large like Alex was. He was almost scrawny in comparison. Now that she was aware of the donor of the other half of his genes, she could see Sam's influence in him. "Good morning."
"I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's alright."
"Admiring your awards?"
Rachel smiled proudly and nodded. "It seems that I'm quite accomplished."
Morgan bowed his head in recognition. "Uncommonly so. You kept quite busy."
"Did I ever have trouble finding work?"
"Not after you kicked off. Everyone wanted you. You're very talented, as you're aware."
The validation fortified her even further than seeing the tangible rewards displayed before her. "It's such a wonderful feeling. I feel so full. Everything here is just so amazing and it just makes it all seem worth it."
"All of what?"
"Everything I've gone through. Every insult that's ever been given to me. Every Slushie thrown at me. Every article of clothing ruined. It's all worth it. The fact that I have a wonderful, loving family is just icing. I'm a little jealous. My fathers are very good to me, and I know they love me, but they can be distant."
To Rachel's surprise Morgan laughed loudly and for several minutes. It wasn't mocking laughter, he seemed genuinely amused. "I'm sorry," he said eventually. "It's just, you're so sincere." He trailed off with an amused shake of his head. "You aren't seeing the whole story. You just get a glimpse. It was just luck that brought you to this period of time instead of, oh four or five years ago. You want your life to be sunshine all the time, but that's not the way the world is."
"What do you mean?" Rachel could tell he wasn't being cruel. He was an honest person, and he knew her. Knew she could handle it.
"I mean, that we weren't always so…well, I don't want to say happy, because that would imply that I grew up unhappy and that isn't true. I had a very happy childhood. As have all of my siblings. My mothers work a lot. In fact, Carmen, Alice, and I were almost always cared for by nannies. When Mom was on Broadway, there were sometimes days where I wouldn't see her at all. I will admit that those days were rare. She almost always had a little time for us. Momma was only slightly better. She worked from ten to five and then from eight to eleven, six days a week." He paused and swept over the glass case she had observed earlier. The awards had excited her. They were marks of her excellence. "It was more apparent that we hardly saw them before we started school. Our nanny would keep us occupied during the day when we were young. We were in bed before either of them came home until we were twelve."
She moved to stand beside him under the pretense of taking a closer look at the four Tony Awards displayed in the case, among others. "What changed?"
Morgan laughed. "The rule is that we have a bed time, which was ten, until we're twelve. If our grades slip or we have trouble staying alert they would reinstate a bed time. But we were trusted to know our limits. So once I was twelve I would just stay up really late, usually I got to see Momma, but Mom didn't turn up until the early hours of the morning, and I wasn't willing to stay up that late."
"Is it better now?"
Morgan shrugged. "I don't live here. I know Alex and Shannon will probably have a closer relationship with our mothers than Carmen and I. Alice got caught right in the middle. It would probably be best to ask her." He sighed and leaned closer to her, looking her straight in the eye. "I didn't tell you all of that because I wanted to upset you or anything. I just know how the women in this family work; I've seen the stars in your eyes since I got here. I just wanted you to be well informed. "
QFRB
"What did I say about Rachels in my kitchen?" Older Quinn asked the younger diva when she walked in.
"Um…Rachel told me to come help." That wasn't exactly true. Older Rachel and Carmen had interrupted any further conversation between her and Morgan when they entered the older diva's office; talking over each other with such speed that she wondered if they even heard each other. It had just sounded like a lot of noise. Morgan had apparently understood what was being said as he had joined the conversation after only a few seconds. After a few minutes of watching the mess and hearing the noise she snuck out unnoticed, but really had nothing else to do.
The kitchen had seemed like a logical choice at the time.
The older blonde rolled her eyes and looked around for something to keep the girl busy. She 'ah ha!'d quietly when she saw the colander full of green beans sitting by the sink. She pointed it out to Rachel and then turned her attention back to the stuffing she was in the process of preparing. Young Rachel took the colander and approached the younger blonde, hoping to get a little sympathy from her.
Alice and Young Quinn were peeling yams and russet potatoes, respectively, at the center bar. Quinn with a knife instead of a potato peeler (Alice was using it), and she was going so fast that Rachel worried for the safety of her fingers. Even as she watched, the blonde finished with one potato, adding it to the pile of six already finished roots before she started on another one.
"Um, Quinn?"
"Hmm?"
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
To Rachel's mild horror, Quinn looked away from her work but didn't slow down in the action of the knife. "Wash them, then snap them, and make sure you take off the stems. Then wash them again."
The job was boring and repetitive. It was also time consuming. She guessed that there were at least two pounds of green beans to snap. It was going to be a long morning.
"Did it hurt? Getting all of those tattoos?"
"Yes, a lot. Some more than others. The ones that are directly over bone hurt the worst."
"So why do you keep doing it, if it hurts."
"If you want something bad enough and it means the world to you and you want to get it tattooed on you and show it on your body for the rest of your life, then I don't think it matters how much it hurts. If you want it that bad, you're going to sacrifice for it. You'll endure the pain. I've always been a bit of a glutton for punishment. And there are other things that hurt worse. Death, sadness, anger. Tattoos allow me a level of control over the pain. It's a better addiction than the coke in any case. And my wife can't just cut me off like she did with having kids." She winked at the young diva and then chuckled when the girl blushed.
Younger Quinn saw the flush and couldn't help but grin. "And what does Rachel think of all the tattoos?" she asked in honest curiosity.
"She's ironically turned on by my bad girl image. Aren't you Rach?"
Rachel flushed deeper and fixed her eyes firmly on the vegetables in front of her, refusing to comment.
Everyone laughed at her expression. "See, told ya," Older Quinn said with a nudge to the younger blonde. "She did threaten to break up with me when I thought about gaging my ears."
"Oh, God no!" Young Rachel exclaimed vehemently, rounding on the blondes. "That's disgusting."
"Right, so I didn't do it," the older told the younger. "I got my tongue pierced instead. She had no complaints."
"Gross, no way!" Alice shouted in disgust, dropping the yam she was peeling into a pile of skins. "That cannot be true."
"It's true," her mother informed her calmly. "I stopped wearing it when I was thirty. I felt like a poser or something. The hole's closed up now."
Rachel desperately wanted to steer the conversation in a different direction. Thoughts about Quinn with a tongue ring were seriously threatening her ability to remain standing and control her speech centers. "Are there places you wouldn't tattoo someone?"
"When I first started out I was very shy about seeing other people's bodies. Now I don't really have any reservations. I have seen parts of people I never wanted to see, but that comes with the territory. I actually gave a woman tattoos on her breasts a few months ago. She came from Pennsylvania just to see me. She wanted spider webs with her nipples in the center. That hurt me a little, gave me phantom pains. They only place I don't give tattoos is in the eye, because I'm not qualified for that."
"People get tattoos on their eyes?"
She hummed. "Yep, I've seen all sorts of things. Little stars, hearts, zebra stripes, glow in the dark spots."
The younger blonde shivered in disgust before continuing with her potato peeling. "Are there things we don't do?"
"I'm sure if you thought about it long enough you could think of some things without my help," Older Quinn teased, poking her younger self with a celery stalk. "I'm not the morals police. I've written and drawn some foul things on people before. There are things I don't do, but not many."
"Like what?"
"I tend to steer clear of anything having to do with Nazis. There was a boy once that wanted me to write 'Better to be in a Nazi prison than in a Communist Party camp' on his shoulder. I did that, reluctantly. He was a radicle, convinced that America was turning into a Communist country. I can be a little paranoid about the government sometimes, but he was taking things a little far."
"Do you just tattoo people?"
"My shop offers piercings and we sell body jewelry. I am also required by law to offer chipping," she grumbled the last part and chopped rather viciously at an onion. Alice giggled at the confused looks on the time travelers' faces.
"People have to have identification chips," she explained. "Most people get them when they're born, but some older people that don't have then sometimes decided to get them. They're very useful. They hold all personal data on them, like birth certificate information, driver's license, and social security numbers. When I graduate from high school I'll get a virtual diploma along with my hard copy. Momma just gets paranoid about all of it." Older Quinn snorted derisively.
"Why?"
Older Quinn interrupted her daughter's attempt to further explain. "Because of the GPS. The chips are a lot like the ones in dogs and cats. They, and by 'they' I mean anyone that has our social security numbers, can track us anywhere on Earth or the moon."
"The moon?"
"This is the future, Little Me," Older Quinn teased.
"She's afraid the government is going to take over our brains or something," Alice told them with an exaggerated eye roll.
"No I'm not!" Older Quinn insisted.
Alice nodded behind her back and mouthed "she is."
"I just don't like the thought of so much personal information being so easily accessed. Not to mention all the hackers that have stolen a lot more than identities because of them."
"Yeah but the FBI has been able to catch them all and the rate of kidnappings has gone down by 75 percent," Alice reasoned.
Hours of cooking seemed to fly by. Older Quinn and Alice kept them entertained with stories about weird tattoos. Morgan had passed through around noon to announce that he was leaving to pick up Big Dad, whom both Rachel and Quinn assumed to be Rachel's father. The turkey was in the oven, the tofurky just had to be heated, the stuffing was finished, the yams were baking and the potatoes were in the process of being mashed. The green beans were steaming; the rolls were on deck, pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce, deviled eggs (for the non-vegans in the family), and corn on the cob were ready and were kept hot.
It was going to be a magnificent feast and all that was missing were their guests.
"Quinnie!"
Or they were missing their guests.
QFRB
It's harder enough to breathe,
Harder enough to fall.
And I'll be sitting on your back porch
Trying to figure out who you are,
Made in the factory of simple parts.
I know better, you know better.
I'm no better…
A/N: Ok, I decided to move the dinner to chapter nine because it wasn't coming to me and I wanted this chapter up today. I start school again on Monday and I've got a lot to do in preparation. Chapter nine is one I've been looking forward to since the start of this story, so it shouldn't take too long to finish.
About Alice and Morgan in this chapter: I would like to point out that I am writing characters that have opinions and pasts and personalities. They aren't all knowing beings. They have points of view that are different from the other characters in this story. So Alice and Morgan's opinions on their family aren't necessarily truths. They only know part of the story, not every detail.
Ok. Now go review.
Chapter Song: Simple Parts by Sick of Sarah
Next chapter: dinner, Brittana, Finn, Kurt, Tike, Puck, fighting, sadness, and someone has to stand up for Rachel. Wonder who it'll be…