Chapter Three
"Quinn Fabray."
For a moment, Quinn doesn't react at all, but the massive cheer following the announcement is deafening and instantaneous. Someone pinches her hand, and she jolts right out of her seat. It's obvious to anyone watching that the shock isn't faked. She hasn't managed to slip the mask into place in time.
Flushing in embarrassment, Quinn makes her way to the stage, once more. With every step she takes, the smile spreads across her face.
She's won.
This could, very well, be the start of her political career. Oh, won't her father be proud?
Mr Schuester is waiting for her, arm outstretched, and she immediately accepts his congratulatory handshake.
"Well done, Miss Fabray," he says, a warm smile on his usually expressionless face. "I'm looking forward to a very productive year working with you."
It's the first time Quinn's smile falters. It's one thing to win, but now she has to do the work. Quite instantly, the burden of responsibility settles on her shoulders like a heavy weight, and she can practically feel her spine protest.
Mr Schuester doesn't seem to notice as he releases her hand, steps back and retrieves the badge from Jamie. He's still wearing his smile as he pins the badge to Quinn's lapel, absently telling her to wear it proudly.
She's going to try.
As happy as Rachel is convinced she is for Quinn, there's a part of her that can't help feeling disappointed. Mr Schuester might have thought he was doing them a favour by alluding to how close the election was, but he really wasn't. Rachel finds it hurts that bit more knowing she came so close, and still lost.
Despite it all, she's glad for Quinn.
It's just that this is the first time she's actually put herself out there since -
Just, since.
And, as a result, it's a bitter pill to swallow.
Sensing her conflict, Brittany closes her hand around Rachel's fingers, drawing her attention. "Sorry, Superstar," she says lightly. "You know I voted for you, right?"
Rachel manages a weak smile as they begin to shuffle out of the Hall. "I know, B," she says. "It just sucks, is all."
Brittany shrugs. "Maybe she'll be the worst Head Student ever, and they'll be forced to give the job to you," she offers, but they both know it's a near impossibility.
Quinn Fabray?
Bad at anything?
There's just no way.
"I'll be fine," Rachel says with a shrug of her own. It's the truth, anyway. Losing this election definitely isn't the worst thing ever to happen to her, and she somehow managed to survive that.
In contrast, this is nothing.
"Oh, there's Santana," Brittany says brightly, bouncing slightly.
Rachel can't help smiling at the way Brittany's face literally lights up at the sight of the Latina. As far as Rachel is concerned, she doesn't know if the pair's relationship has progressed further than friendship.
Santana likes her, which is actually rather obvious to see now that Rachel knows what to look for, but that's all she knows. She doesn't even know if Brittany swings that way, though Rachel also doesn't see anything about her roommate that would suggest she wouldn't.
The moment Brittany releases her hand, Rachel remembers that said hand was occupied by her diary when she first entered the Great Hall. Dammit.
"I forgot my diary in the Hall," she says; "I'm just going to run and grab it. You go on."
"I'll wait," she counters.
"No, go talk to Santana," Rachel says. "I'll meet you up at the room, all right? You are not allowed to leave without saying goodbye to me, okay?"
"Loud and clear," she says, playfully saluting her with a grin. "See you in a minute."
Rachel returns her smile, spins around and heads back towards the empty Hall. Although, she's surprised when it actually isn't. Quinn is still sitting in her seat, and it looks as if she hasn't moved at all. Rachel contemplates what to do, worrying if an interruption would even be wanted.
She retrieves her diary, steels herself, and then makes her way towards the seemingly-frozen blonde. She's cautious with her approach, unsure if she's subconsciously trying to sneak up on her. She thinks Quinn wouldn't appreciate that, so she shuffles her feet slightly to let Quinn know she's there.
If Quinn hears her, she doesn't react.
"Quinn," Rachel says, ripping her from her musing; "are you okay?"
Startling, Quinn looks up at her, flushing in embarrassment. She frowns in confusion, her eyes crinkling, and Rachel finds that she looks very real in this moment. "Oh, hey," she says, shifting slightly as she searches for composure. "What - "
"Are you okay?" she questions again, suddenly concerned.
Quinn shakes her head as if she's trying to clear it, and slowly rises to her feet. "I'm - I'm fine," she says slowly, even though they both know it's an untruth. "I'm just - I'm - "
"Quinn?"
"I'm panicking," she says on an exhale. "I'm literally freaking the fuck out."
Rachel blinks in surprise at the honesty in her response. "Why?"
Quinn sucks in a shaky breath. "What if I fail?" she asks quietly, almost directing the question at herself. When she glances at Rachel and sees her curious eyes; she snaps back to herself. What the hell is wrong with her? "You know what, never mind," she suddenly says, automatically straightening her spine.
Avoiding the brunette's gaze, Quinn bends to gather her - many, many - awards, and then starts to move out of the row, but Rachel blocks her path, a gentle hand coming to rest on her forearm.
"Quinn," she says, her tone gentle and soothing. "Are you sure you're okay?"
For a moment, Quinn says and does nothing. She doesn't want to be this weak person, who can barely keep it together enough to convince Rachel Berry that she's fine.
Even when she's very clearly not.
"Quinn," Rachel says again, practically whispering. "Please."
She shakes her head. "I'm fine, Berry."
"No, you're not," Rachel argues, stepping closer and ducking her head to catch Quinn's gaze. "You don't have to be fine all the time, you know."
Almost predictably, Quinn's defences rise, and her face twists into a scowl. "I said I'm fine," she says sternly. "Now, please will you let me past? I have a flight to catch."
Breathing out a defeated sigh, she steps back and to the side.
Quinn doesn't waste a moment to push past her, heading down the aisle towards the back doors in quick steps. It's when she's a few feet away - sufficient distance between them - that she turns back to look at her classmate.
"I'm sorry," she says softly, catching Rachel's attention. "I'm not - I'm not good at this kind of thing." Her eyes close for a moment, in an attempt to gather her thoughts. "Maybe I'm not fine right now, but I will be."
Rachel takes an involuntary step towards her, and Quinn immediately backs up, startled by her own admission.
"Have a great summer, Berry," she says, and then she's gone.
If Rachel is still unsettled by her interaction with Quinn, it disappears the moment she walks into the room she shares with Brittany to find the blonde wrapped around a grinning Latina. They're just hugging, sure, but it lasts a little too long to be anything remotely… friendly.
Rachel clears her throat, and the two of them spring apart as if they've been scolded. Brittany just laughs, refusing to let Santana move too far away from her.
"Hey, Rach," Brittany says.
"Hi, B," she returns coyly, unable to stop her smile. "Thanks for waiting."
"Sure thing."
Rachel looks at Santana, who's doing everything she can to avoid her gaze. It just makes her chuckle, and Santana's eyes snap towards the sound.
"Got something to say, Berry?" Santana challenges.
Rachel just shakes her head. "Nope," she says. "Why? Do you?"
Brittany glances between them. "What are you two talking about?"
"Nothing," Rachel says, and then strides into the room to fetch her backpack. "Are you two ready to leave? I'm catching one of the first buses to make it in time for my train."
"I'm ready," Brittany declares, shouldering her own backpack. "San?"
"I just need to grab something from my room," she says; "I'll meet you guys downstairs."
As she watches her go, Rachel absently wonders if Santana has any idea what could possibly be sitting on Quinn's brain. As her... former best friend, she must know about some of Quinn's demons. She might even be responsible for some of them.
By the time they do make it downstairs, Rachel's thoughts have drifted on to the fact that she's going home. In just a few hours, she's going to see her family and she's going to get to sleep in her own bed. Gosh, she's going to get to eat home-cooked meals.
She suddenly can't wait.
"Do you know where your luggage is?" Rachel asks Brittany as they emerge from the large building that houses all the students.
"Bus Three."
Rachel nods, realising that she's going to have to make sure her friend gets onto the correct bus. It wouldn't do to arrive in the city and not have your luggage to get home. And, knowing Brittany, the chances of that happening are high.
"Hey," Santana says, coming up behind them. "Either of you on Bus Five?"
"Three," Brittany says.
"Two," Rachel says.
"Damn," Santana grumbles, knowing that she'll be part of the second wave of departures.
"They're just loading up the first bus now," Rachel says. "The first four are leaving at the same time."
Santana rolls her eyes. "You do know I've been here longer than you have, right?"
Rachel just laughs. "I'm going to miss you too, Santana."
Santana just grumbles under her breath before turning her attention towards Brittany.
Rachel uses the opportunity to look out at the buses that are slowly filling up with students. She can't quite decipher what she's feeling about leaving. Sure, she's only been part of this school for a few short months - or long weeks, depending on how you want to look at it - but she finds she's going to miss it.
For whatever reason.
Foreign movement to her right catches her attention and her eyes drift in that direction. She spies a sleek black Mercedes, and a suited man holding open one of the back doors for an approaching... Quinn Fabray.
Rachel can't help her frown, which draws Santana's attention and the Latina follows her line of sight, nodding in understanding.
"Quinn never catches the bus into the city," Santana explains. "Her father sends that car specifically for her, and it drives her straight to the private airstrip a couple of miles from here."
Rachel can't take her eyes off the blonde, even as she strides with purpose, and disappears into the car without a second of hesitation. "Private airstrip?" she questions.
"She flies straight to Hartford."
Rachel finally looks at her. "Quinn's from Hartford?"
Santana raises her eyebrows. "Don't you know who she is?" she asks. At Rachel's silence, she chuckles darkly. "Don't you know who her father is?"
Rachel frowns. "Should I?"
"Her surname is literally Fabray."
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
Santana rolls her eyes. "Are you sure you live in Connecticut?"
"Some of the time."
"What?"
"I don't live here all the time."
It's Santana's turn to frown. "Well, where do you live, then?"
"In New York," she says. "With my mother."
Santana regards her for the longest moment, and then presses two fingers to her right temple. "Shit, I just realised I don't know anything about you."
Rachel just hums as her eyes drift back to the departing Mercedes.
Well, Santana's not the only one.
"Ticket, please?"
Rachel's attention snaps up from her phone's screen and she smiles at the conductor before producing her ticket. She's relieved to be going home, of course, but she's not really a fan of how long it's going to take to get there. Sometimes, she wishes she could just teleport or... Apparate.
Now, that would make life so much easier.
When the conductor moves away, Rachel looks back at her phone, frowning slightly at the Google search that's just popped up. After her little chat with Santana, Rachel just couldn't resist finding out what she meant by 'Fabray,' but now she knows.
Oh.
Quinn is that Fabray.
She doesn't know why she instantly deflates when she realises Quinn is related to Russell Fabray, who, in all intents and purposes, is probably the smarmiest politician she's ever seen. There's just something... dirty about him, though she can't be sure how or why she even thinks that. Just from the look of him, she already knows she doesn't like him, and it makes her uncomfortable that Quinn comes from someone like him.
Because she's a bit fond of the blonde.
In a completely platonic way, of course, because, no.
Just, no.
Still, there's a part of Rachel that can't help but wish things were different. Suddenly, she understands Santana's reluctance to divulge her feelings for Brittany to Quinn, given who her father is. If Quinn carries any of his political and religious views, she must have the same feelings towards gay people as he does.
Rachel doesn't want to believe the stereotype, but it's the only way she thinks she'll be able to put a stamp on her own dangerous thoughts about the blonde.
Obviously, she's worried about Quinn, particularly after their moment in the Great Hall, but the last thing she wants is to spend any second longer of her precious summer vacation thinking about a girl who just... confuses her.
So, Rachel closes the little window, navigates to her 'Travel' playlist and does her best not to think about Quinn Fabray.
Quinn hates travelling. She hates cars and trains and planes and everything else.
In fact, on a good day, she might even admit that she's... terrified of them, and it's taken her years of therapy just to be able to board a plane without completely losing it. Her most recent governess or nanny or something, Victoria Hilton - affectionately nicknamed Tori - likes to joke that she's willing to sedate her if ever they're going on a trip.
Really, it's Quinn's own fault she decided to attend a school out of the county in which she lived. She thinks she did it to escape being Quinn Fabray, but she's never really been sure.
What was she escaping, anyway?
To Quinn, it's no secret that her parents don't... care for her, so she wasn't running from anything she didn't already know. As far as the great public is concerned, the Fabray couple are the perfect pair, and have one daughter who is always - unfortunately and inconveniently - away at school.
Huh.
Maybe Quinn actually did it for them.
The flight is short.
It usually is, owing to the medication Quinn makes sure to take. She knows, from experience, that she would probably have the urge to claw out her own eyes if she didn't take something for her anxiety and, basically, crippling fear.
Her therapist once mentioned something about the idea of 'loss of control' playing a big part in her disposition, and all Quinn could think was that the woman was being paid way too much money to tell her something she could have read in a Psychology book.
Which, she eventually did.
As an only child with an abundance of free time, Quinn has spent hours upon hours with her nose buried in a book. Her family has been in the public eye for longer than she can remember, her father rising up the political rankings, so Quinn has always had a lonely childhood, forced to find ways to entertain herself.
And, she's found plenty.
Immersing herself in worlds that aren't her own have both helped and hindered her, making her somewhat anti-social as well as providing her with the vocabulary and knowledge to maintain educated conversation.
It's helped win her father's numerous campaigns, which was always something she actually wanted to help with.
But, that was before.
Before she turned seven years old and learned the truth that, as much as she tried, her parents would never love her.
For the most part, Rachel is successful in her endeavour to stop thinking about the confusing blonde. She doesn't want to be thinking about Quinn, so she doesn't.
She does, however, have to regale the campaign and election to her family when she arrives home something like five hundred thousand years after she left Dalton's campus.
Her oldest brother, Daniel, fetches her from the train station in Wallingford and drives her the nineteen miles out of the city to the Berry family's estate. Her father, Hiram Berry, once a prominent corporate lawyer in New York City, quit his high end job and packed up his fast-paced life to move to the middle of nowhere.
His colleagues called it an extreme midlife crisis, which was further accepted when he decided to buy a berry farm.
To this day, he remains firm in his belief that it was the best decision he ever made because, if he hadn't, he never would have met his neighbour, a man by the name of LeRoy Holt.
And, as they say, the rest is history.
Except, well, it's not.
It's not every day a straight, hard-assed lawyer type moves to the the country and falls in love with another man, who is widowed and has three children of his own.
It remains unsaid that Hiram's ex-wife was a little caught off guard by the new developments, and his own daughter was... confused.
It seems Rachel Berry merely exists in a state of confusion.
"Are they going to throw a 'welcome home' party?" Rachel finds herself asking Daniel, glancing over at him in the driver's seat.
"Probably," he answers, shrugging. "I don't know why you're complaining though. It's food, B. We love food."
Rachel can't help her smile. She's missed him, and his tunnel vision. Daniel's always been a painfully literal, black and white being, with a no nonsense approach to most things. He was the one to break through her little shell when her father brought her to Connecticut for the first time, and he's held a special place in her heart ever since.
"I heard Dad is even making his famous poutine."
Rachel practically bounces in her seat, before she instantly deflates. "No, this is terrible, Daniel," she says with a defeated sigh.
"Why?"
"I can't afford to indulge," she says sadly. "I'm losing muscle tone."
Daniel laughs out loud, tipping his head backwards. "Oh, B, you're my favourite sister."
"I'm your only sister."
"Exactly."
Rachel folds her arms across her chest, sighing again. "I suppose... one indulgence wouldn't hurt."
Daniel side-eyes her, watching the way she bites at her bottom lip in thought. She's been through a lot in the last few months, and he's the kind of proud of her he can barely put into words. "It's just one," he says, noncommittally.
"LeRoy would be so heartbroken if I didn't at least try."
"He really would."
Rachel nods her head once, deciding. "So, you said poutine, huh?"
There is nobody at the Fabray mansion when Quinn arrives in Hartford. Even Tori is suspiciously absent, but the head butler, Samson, informs her that the woman stepped out to purchase a few final items for Quinn's arrival.
The teenager suspects Tori wanted to buy those 'few final items' without anyone in the house knowing. Quinn hasn't really been allowed to indulge, but Tori likes to sneak things to her.
Anything to make a lonely girl happy, she guesses.
Quinn heads straight up to her bedroom, waits for her luggage to be brought up, and then collapses on her bed. The trip has exhausted her, and she's still a little groggy from her medication. Still, there's a tiny part of her that's glad to be back, even if it is to spend practically an entire summer alone at chez Fabray.
She's still sprawled out across her bed when Tori knocks on her door almost half an hour later and enters the dark room.
"Well, this is fitting," the older woman comments. She's ten years Quinn's senior, having come to work for the family straight out of college. She's part of the 'inner circle' with parents almost as rich as Quinn's, and she also has an individual mind that's constantly being stamped on.
They've known each other for longer than the five years they've been nanny and charge, but the last few years have created a bond Quinn knows she would probably die without.
Quinn doesn't even move. "I'm dying."
"If I recall correctly, you've been dying since you were twelve years old."
"You don't sound very concerned."
"I'm not."
Quinn opens one eye to watch the woman as she crosses the room and sits carefully on the edge of Quinn's four-poster, queen-sized bed. "Hi, Tori," she says with a grin at the brunette.
"Hello, Sweetheart," Tori immediately replies. "I've missed you."
"Have you?" she asks, propping herself up on her elbows and opening both eyes. "Don't tell me what you think I want to hear."
"I wouldn't," Tori automatically says. "You know I wouldn't. I haven't done that in years."
At that, Quinn sits up fully. "Well, I've missed you, too."
"Have you, really?"
"No."
They share a small laugh, which tapers off as the reality of their summer comes to mind. Quinn, while not physically restrained, is essentially a prisoner here, and Tori is her unofficial warden. She has been since she came into Quinn's life as her 'nanny.'
It's no secret to either of them that any indiscretions will be reported back to her parents, and neither of them wants that.
Quinn clears her throat, forcing the thoughts away. "So, I've been thinking about starting up painting again."
"Oh?"
She quirks an eyebrow, smirking. "Care to be my model?"
Rachel is showered left, right and centre in hugs and kisses when she arrives at the estate. She practically sprints into the large house when Daniel pulls up, leaving him to bring in her luggage while she greets her fathers, brothers and grandparents.
Hiram is always first on the list whenever Rachel returns to New Haven County. Even though they suffered a disjoint in their father/daughter relationship following the divorce, they've never been closer than they are, right now.
Trauma tends to do that.
Next is LeRoy, who lifts Rachel right off the ground and spins her in the air. Even though she's now seventeen years old, she still squeals like the little girl she was when she first met him. Back then, she was terrified of him. He's always been so large, and he still towers over her, but now she knows he's just a softie.
Well, most of the time.
Rachel moves on to her grandparents next, LeRoy's parents, Grandpa and Grandma Holt. As far as accepting their son's new family goes, the old couple have been wonderful. Everything was a bit of an adjustment for them all, and it's still a wonder they've managed to reach this point.
Rachel gets wrapped in twin hugs from her other two brothers, Levi and Eric, who, in all intents and purposes, are similar, though they're not twins. They've spent years clarifying that to people who continually confuse them for non-identical twins, but they're actually nineteen months apart. They like to tease LeRoy about how it's obvious he couldn't wait to get restarted after Levi's birth.
Which is especially funny now that he's gay.
Rachel's asked him about it. She's always wondered if there was a part of him that always knew, but could never quite admit it to himself. He claims that wasn't the case - though, he does admit to being curious - because he loved his wife. Rachel's never known how to reassure him that finding love in another man would never negate his feelings for his late wife. As a once-practicing physician, he has to know that already - logically, at least.
Emily-Anne, Daniel's wife, is last on the list, but that reunion lasts the longest. Rachel wants to know everything that's happened since the woman found out she's expecting the couple's first child. Everyone is excited about LeRoy and Hiram's first grandchild but Rachel is probably the most ecstatic. She loves babies. She can't wait to meet the newcomer and she's constantly devastated whenever she remembers she's probably going to be at school when the baby is born.
Emily-Anne grabs hold of Rachel's hand as soon as she's done the rounds and drags her upstairs to the teenager's bedroom. They have things to talk about.
"Okay," Emily-Anne says, pulling Rachel onto the bed with her. "Tell me about school."
"So, tell me about school."
Quinn looks up from the canvas on the easel before her, her eyes sliding towards Tori, who's sprawled across her bed. "I'd rather not," she says curtly, her attention back on her own paintbrush.
She's no stranger to the art of painting - she's tried nearly everything in her days of relative solitude - but she's finding it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the naked woman in her bed.
Tori sits up, holding the sheet against her bare chest. "Did something happen?"
Quinn's jaw clenches. "I don't want to talk about it, T," she says.
"Well, if you're going to be sitting all the way over there, then all I'm going to do is want to talk."
Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Oh, baby girl, you really are too far away."
Quinn chuckles, immediately abandoning her attempt at painting, and rises from her stool, her silk robe falling open. She stalks towards the woman in her bed, a predatory look on her face.
"Quinn?"
"Tori?" the blonde returns, crawling onto the bed. "Something on your mind?"
"Always," she says, falling back against the pillows.
"I'm here now, so you can stop talking."
Laughing lightly, Tori reaches out for Quinn, any and all words she intends to say dying on her lips.
"You keep mentioning this Quinn girl."
Rachel blinks in surprise, stopping mid-sentence. "What?"
"Quinn," Emily-Anne says, raising her eyebrows in question. "Who is she?"
"Uh, she's the... Head Student."
"Is that all?"
Rachel huffs. "Emily."
"Rachel."
"She's the Head Student," she says. "That's all."
Emily-Anne doesn't look convinced but she doesn't question it further. "So, you've made friends, then?"
Rachel nods, and then gasps. "That reminds me," she suddenly says; "I have to text Britt to make sure she got home okay."
"Britt is Brittany, your roommate?" Emily-Anne clarifies, watching as Rachel climbs off the bed to retrieve her phone from her backpack.
"Yip," Rachel says, looking at her phone's screen and frowning.
"What?" Emily-Anne asks, noticing her facial expression.
Rachel startles slightly, frowning that bit more. "It's just - "
"What?"
"Someone saw me at the station," she finally says, deflating as she sits on the edge of the bed. "I've been home barely three hours and it's already starting."
Emily-Anne immediately snatches the phone from her hand and looks at the screen, her face twisting into a scowl. "What the fuck?"
Rachel shakes her head, forcing away all the debilitating thoughts.
"I thought you changed your number."
"I did."
Emily-Anne immediately deletes the message, forcing the words from her mind. It's moot, though, because the words are already burned in her brain.
Rachel clears her throat. "It's fine," she says. "They're just words, and they mean nothing." She lifts her chin ever so slightly. "Also, I really don't appreciate your swearing in front of my niece/nephew."
Emily-Anne just stares at her in disbelief and... awe. She's always been strong and resilient - one has to be when you have divorced parents and gay fathers in this society - but she's constantly displayed something else entirely these last few months. "You amaze me," is all she says.
Rachel blushes, waving a hand dismissively.
"I'm just saying."
Before Rachel can respond, there's a knock on the door and Daniel pokes his head inside when Rachel beckons him inside. "Hey, pretty ladies," he says, grinning at them. "Party's starting."
"You know we can't do this anymore."
Quinn is exhausted, already half-asleep when Tori tries that whole talking thing again. "We can't?"
"No, we really can't," Tori says, reaching out with her right hand to touch Quinn's cheek.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
Quinn hums, content and thoroughly sated.
"Don't you want to know why?"
Quinn turns her head slightly, her eyes opening. "I imagine it has something to do with the fact your probably not wanting to go to jail for statutory rape."
Tori gasps in surprise at her candidness, and then laughs nervously. The age difference is something they've never really spoken about, and she wonders if it's something they should have discussed before they fell into bed the first time.
"While I admit that's a worry, it's not the reason," Tori says, which is true. Quinn has always been able to get under her skin, convincing her she's more mature than her age suggests. It's true, Tori knows, and she probably should never have given in, but -
It's Quinn.
"I'm getting married," Tori says, and Quinn snaps to attention, sitting up immediately.
"What?"
"Tom proposed," Tori explains, also sitting up and immediately missing the contact. "I said yes."
"Oh."
"Quinn, we both know this was never going to be anything," she starts. "It was always going to - "
"Don't," Quinn says, raising a hand. "Don't say anything that makes this less, okay? I can handle stopping, whatever, but I won't be able to handle your claiming it's meant nothing."
"I wasn't going to say that."
"Then, what were you going to say?"
For a moment, Tori says nothing, thinking it over. Then: "It was always going to end, Sweetheart."
"I know that," Quinn murmurs, turning away from her. "I just didn't expect it to happen like this."
"Like what?"
Quinn rises to her feet, bends to retrieve her robe and slips it on. "Why didn't you tell me before we took a tumble in my bed?" she asks, somewhat harshly.
"I missed you."
She growls in frustration, turning around and glaring at the brunette still in her bed. "That means nothing," she hisses. "You've known this entire time. You've known you were ending this and you still had your fucking fingers inside me!"
Tori automatically rises from the bed and approaches the girl slowly. "Quinn, please."
"Please what?" she snaps, moving away. "Don't be hurt? Don't be fucking angry that you're ending things because you've finally convinced yourself to bend to your family's wishes and marry a man you can't even stand?"
"Stop it," Tori says. "Stop acting as if this isn't something you've known for years, Quinn. We both know it was only a matter of time before I was going to give in. Girls like us, there's only one life mapped out for us. I mean, what were you expecting, huh? Did you actually expect us to be able to be together?"
Quinn whips around, a cold glare on her face. "I'm not stupid, T," she says coldly. "I'm also not a naive little girl who doesn't understand." She pinches the bridge of her noise. "That doesn't mean I have to like that it has to happen. I guess I liked to think that if you could escape it, then maybe I could as well. But, if you're being forced down this path, then there's nothing to stop my parents from ensuring I do too."
Tori's face twists into a look of sympathy. "Oh, Quinn."
"No," she says. "I get it."
"I wish you didn't have to."
Quinn turns away again, suddenly wishing she were still four years old and able to crawl into her father's lap and just be held. She just wants comfort, and she knows she can no longer find it in Tori.
She's ruined that.
Tori approaches slowly. "You're going to be fine," she says, her hand reaching out to touch Quinn's shoulder.
Quinn steps away, out of reach. "I already know that," she says, unable to keep the hurt and confusion and anger out of her voice. "I don't need you to tell me what I already know."
"Quinn?"
She shakes her head. "Please just go."
"Quinn, no."
"It's fine," she says. "I get it. You can go. Be with him and be... happy."
"Quinn?"
"Tori, please," she practically begs. "I'll be fine."
Once Tori gathers her things and escapes from the room, Quinn finally lets herself fall back on her bed and let out a shuddering breath.
She's not going to cry, because how can she?
What right does she have?
She's going to be fine.
For the first time since she arrived home, Quinn thinks about Rachel. She told the brunette she would be fine, and she's determined to prove it.
To Rachel - which is just an insane thought - and to herself.
"There she is!" Levi yells when Rachel emerges from the house, having changed out of her school uniform and into a pretty, yellow summer dress and ballet flats. They're having a barbecue, apparently, out in the backyard, and there are far more people in attendance than Rachel would have expected.
Emily-Anne slips her hand into Rachel's and urges her forward into the masses. Okay, not really masses, but still a considerable amount of people... including her best friends, Tina Cohen-Chang and Noah Puckerman. Once again, Rachel gets buried in two separate hugs, and one large group one.
Also in attendance are LeRoy's younger siblings, Jared Holt and Patrick Holt, and their respective families. Rachel is amazed that Patrick, his wife, Stacey, and their two kids, Julian and Declan, made the trip from New Haven specifically to see her. Her other cousins, Robert, Dennis and Tyler live in Wallingford, so she gets to see them more often.
Rachel sometimes worries that they've suffered from being somewhat related to her. They've assured her they'll endure it all for her. She is the only granddaughter in the family, which automatically makes her special, even if there's no actual blood relation.
And then there are her other... friends.
She lost a lot of them when she moved schools, so it's a bit of a surprise to see Finn Hudson, Mike Chang and Mercedes Jones in attendance. She greets the last two quickly and warmly, and then gives Finn her full attention. He's always had her full attention, and she suspects he's always known it.
"Hey, Finn," Rachel says, suddenly irritated with how small her voice sounds.
"Hi, Rach," the tall boy replies, offering her a easy smile. "It's great to have you home."
"It feels pretty good to be home."
Finn stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking awkward. "I'm - I'm sorry I haven't really been in touch," he says, smiling sheepishly. "Things have been busy with school and football and the garage."
Rachel merely nods, as if she accepts the explanation. It's probably true, for all she knows, but she can't admit to him that, without him there; she didn't really think about him at all. "That's okay, Finn," she says, and she's surprised by her own sincerity. "It is good to see you, though."
"Yeah?"
She nods.
He grins happily. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Answer your phone," Tori says, entering Quinn's room without bothering to knock. "Your mother has been calling me trying to get a hold of you."
Quinn rolls her eyes. "What does she want?"
"How would I know?"
"I thought you knew everything."
"I don't," she concedes, shrugging. "Are you still mad at me?"
Quinn glares at her. "Seriously? It's been exactly one hour."
"You always could hold a grudge."
"I think this is a little different," Quinn grumbles, her eyes snapping to her bedside table when her phone begins to vibrate again. She's tempted to ignore it again, but Tori physically hands it to her, so she really has no excuse. Muttering a curse under her breath, she answers the call. "Hello, Mother."
Tori giggles at Quinn's false cheer, listening to the blonde hum and sigh as her mother practically lectures her. It's when Quinn's shoulders suddenly slump that Tori pays attention but Quinn's side of the conversation gives nothing away.
"Of course," Quinn says into the phone. "I will. I won't. When have I ever? No, I'm sorry. You're right. Of course." A deep, painful sigh. "Goodbye, Mother." She hangs up, sets the phone back down, and throws herself back against her pillows in a huff.
"What did she want?" Tori asks, unable to stop herself.
Quinn looks at her. "As if you don't already know," she scoffs.
"What?"
"Engagement party... ring a bell?"
Tori recoils slightly, suddenly remembering. "Oh."
"Oh, all right," she says, sighing. "Apparently, Biff McIntosh is going to be there, and I am to make a good impression and not embarrass the family."
Tori visibly grimaces, and then sighs as well, risking the act of sitting on the edge of Quinn's bed. When the blonde doesn't complain, she relaxes slightly. "I suppose you could do a lot worse," she says, trying to placate the blonde. "He comes from a good family and he's not completely repulsive to look at."
Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Who are you trying to convince here, T?" she asks. "Nothing about him is remotely appealing to me, you know? He has a penis."
"And a trust fund."
Quinn rolls her eyes. "I do, too."
"Quinn, be serious."
She shakes her head. "Maybe you're resigned to this life, but I'm not," she says. "I have one more year to endure before I can get out of this place."
"Oh, Quinn," she says sympathetically. "It's cute how you think you could ever escape this."
Emily-Anne's sudden laugh startles Rachel out of her musings, and she looks across her bed at the older woman. Much to Daniel's distaste, Emily-Anne decided to spend the night with Rachel, just catching up, though his complaints were mainly to tease his wife for loving his sister more than she loves him.
"What?" Rachel asks, frowning at her sister-in-law's behaviour. "What are you laughing at?"
Emily-Anne places a hand on her stomach, her laughter tapering off. "I don't even know why I'm laughing. It isn't even funny."
"What?"
She waves a hand. "It's just, well, Finn," she says, giggling.
"What about Finn?"
"His name," she says. "It literally rhymes with Quinn."
Rachel frowns. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"I don't know, Rach," she says with a disinterested shrug. "Why don't you tell me?"
"Are you still mad at me?"
Quinn sighs heavily, just wishing Tori would leave her alone so she can get some sleep. "I'm not mad at you," she speaks into the darkness. "I'm disappointed."
Even though Quinn can't see it, Tori visibly flinches. Disappointment is probably worse than anger. "In me?" she asks, her voice small.
"Partly, yes," she says honestly. "In the situation and circumstances, as well. It shouldn't have to be this way. It's supposed to be better."
"Quinn, your parents don't even know you like girls," she points out.
"And, what would they do if they did?"
They both already know the answer to that question, so neither of them bothers to answer it.
Though, whatever the response they possibly come up with to finding out their Christian daughter prefers to lie with women would probably put a dampener on all the eventual plans for Russell Fabray to run for the presidency. Especially when he maintains little to no support for the LGBT community.
It's basically a scandal just waiting to happen.
They could bury it, of course. They've managed to do that with everything else. Maybe they'll send her away to one of those special boarding schools where they'll try to fix her.
Maybe they'll bring her home and lock her away for the duration of his term. Who knows?
Tori clears her throat. "I'm leaving next week to spend the summer in Palm Beach with Tom and our friends from college," she says.
"Next week, huh?"
"Quinn."
The blonde props herself up on her elbow. "Today is today and next week is next week," she says, almost conversationally. "And, I kind of didn't know it was the last time while it was the last time."
Despite her decision to end things, Tori can't help the wave of arousal that washes over her just at the blonde's words. Or, is it her tone?
It's definitely something.
Quinn doesn't even wait for a response as she rolls closer to the other woman, thoroughly believing that one last time surely won't hurt.
It remains to reason that she's wrong.
"Are you asleep?"
Rachel giggles softly. "I don't understand how you're not passed out right now," she whispers into the dark of her room. "You're literally fuelling two bodies, and one of them is actually, physically growing."
"I guess I'm just excited to have you back," Emily-Anne says, shrugging slightly. "I've missed you."
"Are you just saying that because you've been surrounded by so much testosterone in this place?"
"Maybe."
Rachel laughs into her hand. "Oh, I see how it is, then."
"But, we really do all miss you," she says. "I have to spend as much time with you as possible before you jet off to the Big Apple."
"I'm here for at least another three weeks," Rachel reminds her.
"It's not enough time."
Rachel sighs, before whispering to herself: "It never is, and it never will be."
"Your new governess is Martha Holmes," Tori says, still not allowing Quinn to sleep. She knows, the second she does, it's going to be over. They may have a week, but this is their last night. "She's sixty-three years old."
Quinn chuckles. "Is she hot?"
Tori makes a sound of disapproval. "She's no-nonsense and very strict."
"That's redundant."
"Jesus, I forget how stupidly annoying you can be when you get cranky."
"Just admit it," Quinn teases. "You're going to miss me."
The mood sobers quite instantly, and Tori reaches for Quinn's hands in the darkness. "I love you, Quinn Fabray," she whispers.
"As I you, Victoria Hilton," she says softly, whispering the words into the darkness. "Though, I hate you a little bit right now for leaving me alone all summer."
"You'll have Martha."
"And you'll be lucky if you don't leave this place without some vicious rash somewhere truly uncomfortable."
"Got it."
"I'm glad we understand each other."
Tori sighs. "We've always understood each other."
That part's never been their problem.
It's the middle of the night, Rachel awakes, practically jolting her into a seated person as if there's something hovering above her. Which is just insane.
Either way, now that she's up, the least she can do is close the window. Even for summer, there's a certain chill in the air, and it unsettles her. She's supposed to be having a good, easy, happy summer without a worry or care.
Once again, Quinn Fabray comes to the forefront of her mind.
Dammit.
And she was doing so well.
Rachel stands by her window, looking out at the moon high in the sky. Without thinking, she raises her thumb and closes one eye.
Perfect fit.
Almost like magic.
Quinn lowers her thumb and opens her left eye, sighing. The rustle of moving sheets behind her catches her attention and she glances over her shoulder.
"Come back to bed," Tori says sleepily. "We don't have time to waste."
Quinn chuckles to herself, casting one last look at the moon, before she crosses back to the bed.
No, they really don't have time to waste.
Nobody does.