Author's Notes: To everyone who's still here, thanks for staying. To everyone who stayed thinking things are gonna get better... nope.
Again, thanks to Mike Ownby for handling the in-between processes of this chapter. I write, he proofreads and gives me comments, I use those to make a much better chapter. I'd say he's my beta but it feels like it's more than that.
Rachel stayed awake the entire night thinking.
That was – she still didn't know how to accept it, if at all. The Abomination – what she was calling the machine in her mind – was something that should not exist. Especially not in place of a real, dearly-missed person. The word replacement chilled Rachel to the bone.
But – it had Quinn's blessing. Quinn had contributed to the making of the Abomination. And she couldn't dismiss something that her wife had deemed important enough to spend her precious time on. Right?
No. Elly was Quinn's legacy. Rachel rolled on her side, facing away from Quinn's side of the bed guiltily. She'd wanted Quinn to carry their daughter because she'd liked the idea of a miniature Quinn with those molten hazel eyes, but Quinn had her career (and wasn't yet emotionally ready for another pregnancy after Beth).
I'll carry the next one, Rach. We'll take turns.
Rachel's mouth twisted. Of course Elly was theirs, hers and Quinn's. It didn't matter that Elly wasn't biologically related to Quinn. She felt lucky that Elly was too young to really understand the loss. But on the other hand, she would never know her other mother. Rachel and their friends' stories would never do justice to the complex person Quinn had been.
Elly would grow up without knowing Quinn. This was a thought that Rachel still struggled to deal with; she was now six months without Quinn in her life, and still having trouble keeping it together.
She rolled back over. Rachel stared at Quinn's immaculately made-up side.
Unbidden, a thought entered her mind; Elly talking to the Abomination. It had Quinn's memories, her personality. It was nothing more than a creepily sentient Google search for Quinn's responses that would be able to tell Quinn's story to her daughter.
When she thought of it that way, well…
"Why didn't you tell me, Quinn?" Rachel murmured, reaching out a hand to rest on Quinn's pillow. "I might have understood, if it came from you. Better than finding out like this."
Before, she would have expected and received no answer. Now, she knew there was something out there that could respond.
The thought warmed her somewhat.
The sound of Elly's cries woke her up at precisely three-thirty-six AM. Rachel rose from broken dreams to fetch her daughter.
"Baby," said Rachel as she lifted the toddler into her arms, "Doctor Klein said you're too old to be waking up in the middle of the night like this." She knew it was impossible for the toddler to have sensed her emotions, but Rachel knew Elly was an unusually sensitive child. She forced a bright smile on her face as she jiggled Elly and sang You Are My Sunshine.
Elly continued to fuss. Not even a rendition of Here Comes The Sun, Quinn's go-to lullaby, could soothe her.
"Maybe you're hungry," said Rachel anxiously. "Are you hungry, baby girl? Mum-mum?" She smacked her lips together.
Elly whimpered. Rachel took it as a yes.
She walked into the kitchen to fetch a bottle from the fridge and warm it up.
Her eyes drifted to the calendar stuck to their fridge. They were due for a check-up with their child psychologist, Doctor Bergen, later that day. Santana had felt a child psychologist unnecessary, but Rachel wasn't talking any chances with Elly's development. Besides, even before Quinn's cancer diagnosis, The Plan (in capitals because it had its own posterboard and PowerPoint) for raising their family had already included Doctor Bergen's name – albeit intended for less traumatizing instances, like coping with paparazzi-induced stress.
Rachel made herself a mug of tea since the water was still hot. She tested a few drops of formula on the inside of her wrist as she waited for the tea to steep and found the temperature acceptable. "Mum-mum," said Rachel, offering the bottle to Elly. "Does Elly-Belly want her mum-mum?"
"Ahnagrabla," said Elly. She pushed the bottle away and resumed her fussing.
Rachel sighed. Quinn had been far better at both understanding their daughter's babytalk and soothing her. Her fathers had always talked about what a problematic baby she had been, and Rachel wondered if they had encountered this particular problem when raising her. Highly likely, since Elly shared her genetic material.
She shuffled around the room, rubbing Elly's back and singing every song she could think of. Elly continued to whine and fist Rachel's hair and babble angrily. She was halfway through New Directions' repertoire and nowhere near successful in soothing her daughter when an idea struck her.
"I wish I could tie you up in my shoes," sang Rachel softly, "make you feel unpretty too."
Elly quieted. Encouraged, Rachel continued.
"I was told I was beautiful, but what does that mean to you?" She made a circuit of the house as she sang. "Look into the mirror who's inside there, the one with the long hair. Same old me again today."
She remembered high school Quinn sitting across from her as she sang her part of the duet, pitching her voice higher per the arrangement. Rachel had interpreted Quinn's expression as understanding back then, the start of a real friendship, without imagining how they'd come to mean so much more to each other.
By the time Rachel had finished the chorus, Elly was dozing. She carefully laid her daughter back in her crib and tiptoed out of the room.
Rachel went to the bathroom to wash her face before going back to bed. She looked at her tear-stained, red-eyed reflection and sighed.
That was the one and only time she got a solo she didn't want. It felt terrible.
She woke again at a decent hour, when the sun was out. Immediately, Rachel went for her phone.
"Hello?"
"Britt? It's Rachel."
A pause. "Oh. Hi, Rachel."
"I've thought about it," she said. "May I visit your workshop soon? Whenever's convenient for you, of course. I wouldn't want to interrupt your schedule for the day."
If Brittany was surprised, she did an excellent job of hiding it, as she replied in her usual jaunty tone: "I'll be working today, actually, but I think it might be a little short notice for you…"
"No, today is fine." Rachel hesitated. "I'll get a sitter for Elly, then I'll call again to update you on the arrangements."
"Rach…"
"I'll call you," repeated Rachel firmly. "Bye, Britt." And she terminated the call, setting the phone back on her nightstand. Her heart pounded in her chest.
"Rachel."
"Hi, Britt," she said. Rachel stood, hands clasped before her, eyes fixed on the door.
Brittany stepped aside to let her in. "Rachel, are you sure you're okay?" she asked, falling in step behind the smaller woman. "Because this is kinda a big thing, and I'm getting really scary vibes from you right now, and I'm a little worried. A lot worried, actually."
"I'm fine." She paused outside the locked door, and looked back at Brittany expectantly.
Slowly, very slowly, Brittany opened the door. Rachel took measured steps towards the Abomination, sat down, and began.
Hello, Quinn.
Hi, Rach.
She was forced to blink back tears when the reply popped up almost instantaneously. She heard Quinn's voice in her head. Rachel was about to type when a thought struck her.
"Does… it know that it's an… it?"
"Yes," said Brittany after a pause. "It knows what I designed it to be." She didn't elaborate on what that design was, and Rachel decided not to ask.
How are you feeling?
I can't feel, technically speaking; but if you meant that metaphorically, I feel normal.
Rachel smiled. That was a very Quinn answer; the pointed sarcasm something she often received whenever she inadvertently tested Quinn's patience (which happened more often than not because of their personalities; it was strange how they managed to fall in love in the first place). It was reassuring, in its own bizarre way.
Is that a good or bad normal?
Good.
I'm glad to hear that.
How is Elly?
She's fine. She's growing bigger and more cantankerous every day.
Just like her mama.
Rachel had reached her limit. She reached out and flicked the switch off, plunging the screen into darkness. "I think… I've had enough for one day," she said, still staring at the now-blank screen.
They'd bickered frequently when Rachel was pregnant with Elly. They fought over what they'd name her (Rachel had wanted to name her after one of her musical theatre heroines, Quinn had preferred something more 'normal'), over who would be called what. Rachel had claimed the right to be called Mama because "I'm the one who'll have carried her for nine months, Quinn, I get to pick".
And Quinn had acquiesced, joking that she wouldn't argue with a pregnant woman but she would demand carte blanche the next time when it was her turn.
The memory, made sharper and more vivid by her conversation with the Abomination, stung. Rachel's eyes watered.
"Rachel…"
"I'll call you tomorrow," said Rachel preemptively, blinking away tears, "to arrange when I can come again. Is that okay?"
"Yes, of course, but don't you think – "
" – you don't," snapped Rachel, "and that's why this exists."
In the taut silence that followed, Rachel stared, unblinking, at the machine. Brittany stared at Rachel.
Finally, Rachel sighed. "I'm sorry, Britt. That was cruel and untrue, and I didn't mean it. I shouldn't have said that."
"It's okay," replied Brittany automatically. "But, Rachel… hear me out? Please?"
"Yes?"
Brittany gestured at the machine. "I did some thinking, and – you were right. It's not worth it. It's an insult to Quinn, and I should never have done it." She took a step towards it. "I'll dispose of it, and – "
"No!" She was out of her chair and on her feet in a heartbeat.
Brittany paused.
"No," repeated Rachel. Her heart pounded in her chest. "You can't destroy it."
"But…"
"I can't lose her again, Britt." Her voice cracked. "I don't think I can bear to watch her leave me again. I know that's not her – it can never be her, but – that's all I have left of her. That's all Elly will ever have instead of her mommy."
"Oh, Rachel."
"So please. I know you think you shouldn't have but… don't take her away again." She dabbed at her eyes.
Brittany visibly crumbled; she had never been one to stand her ground. "O-okay," she said quietly. "I… is tomorrow afternoon at four good for you?"
"Yes. Four would be good." Rachel gathered herself and forced a reassuring smile on her face. "You know… I don't want to waste your time today, and I'm feeling a lot better now." She sat back down, swiveling her chair to face the machine. She could see Brittany's face reflected in the black screen, expression torn. But Brittany's protest never came, and Rachel switched the machine back on.
You're back so soon?
Yes, I was just taking a break.
Vocal warmups?
Haha. I'll be the bigger person here and let you have that joke, since it amuses you so. Notwithstanding the fact that you've made it almost daily ever since college.
On a side note, it's hard to express laughter in a text format. I refuse to use textspeak, but typing haha just looks strange.
Only Rachel Berry would devote so much text to a simple 'lol'. I promise that your fans will never know about your inadequacy with modern slang.
Bigger person huh?
Don't push your luck. That threat was made in jest, by the way! Laughing out loud.
You're still so ridiculous.
The phrasing made Rachel pause. It was already unnerving, the entire situation; but that simple sentence sent shivers down her spine. Her hands rested on her lap, fingers twitching sporadically as she thought of a response.
Brittany had said it was an it. It wasn't Quinn, it wasn't an electronic repository that preserved part of Quinn, it wasn't –
But while she was struggling to make sense of it, the Abomination had no such qualms.
Rachel?
She jolted. "I – sorry," she said, then blushed in embarrassment when she remembered it couldn't hear her.
Sorry. I was thinking.
I see. I'm sorry to interrupt.
Don't. It's alright. I was thinking about the past.
Even as she hit the Enter key, she was regretting it. If Rachel had no idea what the Abomination was supposed to be, it was asking too much to expect that it would know that.
No apology needed. I know you loved me very much. I love you too, and I miss you.
Rachel spent a few minutes reading, re-reading, and dissecting the reply.
Brittany had driven to her workshop that day, and offered to give Rachel a ride home. She had accepted the offer, much to Brittany's surprise.
"Britt?"
"Yeah?"
"Earlier, you said it knows what you designed it to be."
Brittany pulled up at a red light. She chewed on her lower lip, a sure sign she was nervous – Rachel had known her too long. "Yeah."
"What does that mean, exactly? And in a way a musical theatre major can understand, please," she added with a smile.
Some of the tension visibly went out of Brittany's shoulders. "Well, think of it as a really, really smart chatbot that's programmed to be as Quinn as it can," she said. "It knows almost as much as Quinn does; whatever it doesn't, it learns through conversation. But – "
" – but it's not her," interrupted Rachel. The more she repeated it, the more she believed it. "I see. But why?"
Brittany exhaled. "Because it wasn't fair. She'd gone through so much. I thought she'd finally gotten through everything that was supposed to bring her down, but cancer?" She shook her head. "I kinda wish I had specialized in medicine instead of physics. Or at least worked more on my time machine. But future me didn't come back to help, so I guess I never got it to work right."
Despite the heavy mood, Rachel smiled.
"I just wanted to help," said Brittany, in a small and vulnerable voice.
"I know," replied Rachel. She reached out to rest her hand on Brittany's. "Thank you."