Chapter Nine
There are questions a plenty, fired and lobbed at Quinn from every direction as she sits between Rachel and Eric at the dining room table. It's slightly uncomfortable, but Rachel keeps patting her knee in comfort, which goes a long way towards keeping her grounded and present.
Quinn comes to the conclusion really early that Rachel must have instructed her family not to discuss anything to do with politics or religion around her, and she's unsure how she feels about that. She's relieved, of course, because any talk of Russell Fabray is bound to sour any mood, and she doesn't generally engage in conversation about her religion. It's an immensely private issue for her, particularly when it comes to the perceived sin of homosexuality.
Most of the questions centre around school and sports and their tenure as Head Students. Not all of it is sunshine and roses, and Quinn doesn't attempt to shy away from the less than happy parts. The two of them have fought a lot, but they somehow manage to get things done and done well.
Halfway through dinner, Quinn leans into Rachel and whispers into her ear, "Why do I feel as if I'm being vetted?"
Rachel tenses momentarily, her eyes darting about. She's going to kill her family.
Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Rachel, am I?"
"For what would you be vetted?" she asks, trying to by herself time to think up a suitable response.
"Well, I don't suppose you need a Head Student with a habit for scoring soccer goals and has a barely decent singing voice to help run this farming operation, do you?"
Unable to stop herself, Rachel giggles, and heads turn towards her, which makes her blush. "Quinn," she murmurs.
The blonde just grins as she straightens and innocently resumes picking at her food. She hasn't dished all that much already - mostly the roast chicken and half a potato - but she's barely eating even that.
The second LeRoy opens his mouth to question her on whether she's enjoying the food or not, Rachel shoots him a pointed look that he, thankfully, catches, and keeps silent. Quinn's relationship with food is an entirely other can of worms that is not going to be opened in front of everyone.
Really, she doesn't think Quinn will even let her into that one.
After dinner, Rachel disappears into the kitchen with Eric, Levi and Kelsey to do the dishes, and Hiram invites Quinn to join him for a nightcap on the front porch.
Quinn's eyes widen slightly. "An actual nightcap?"
"You're safe here," he answers easily. "We won't tell."
Quinn manages to smile at him, though it doesn't reach her eyes. "I think I'll just stick with my water," she says. "I'm not - I don't really drink."
Hiram looks thoughtful for a moment before his face splits into a smile. "Well-mannered and wisely moral. Why aren't you my daughter?"
Quinn chuckles lightly as she lifts her glass from the dinner table and follows him out the front door of the house. The porch is dimly lit, and the air is chilly, but she's loving every moment of being here.
Hiram walks right to the edge of the porch and leans against the railing as he stares out at the fruits of his labour. In the darkness, they can't make out much of the grapes or the berries or anything. Quinn knows they're out there, and she finds she's looking forward to being able to explore once daylight lets her.
"Do you know anything about viticulture?" Hiram asks, noticing the curious look on Quinn's face as she too looks out at the invisible greens.
"Not much," Quinn admits. "But I knew considerably less than I did before Rachel told me what you did here."
"She mentioned that you're quite the reader."
Quinn blinks, unsure if she has a right to be irritated with Rachel or not. "Seriously, how much does she tell you?"
He laughs heartily, his entire body shaking. "She loves to talk about the things she cares about," he says. "It's much more fascinating getting to see her face light up than it is just hearing it on the phone."
Quinn can only imagine.
"If you're up for it, I'd like to show you around," he offers. "Only Daniel is at all interested in any of the work we're doing here, so it'll be nice to have a discussion about it with someone who actually wants to learn."
Quinn can't help her grin. "I'd like that very much, Sir." Then: "Rachel's not thinking of joining the family business?"
"Hah," he roars. "That'll be the day. My baby girl is headed to New York City the second she can, and it'll be a miracle to get her back here."
"Broadway, huh?"
"I assume you've heard her sing?"
Quinn nods.
"It's magical."
Quinn barely wastes a breath before she's speaking. "She's magical."
Hiram regards her carefully, hearing something in her voice that forces him to pause and take notice. "Not everybody sees that," he says.
"She's mentioned that, yes," Quinn says sombrely.
"But, you do."
Quinn bravely meets his gaze, acknowledging his words are a statement and not a question. "I do," she says anyway.
Thanksgiving morning is a late start for Rachel. She rolls out of bed just after nine-thirty and trudges down the stairs, still half-asleep and sporting wild bed hair. She practically stumbles into the kitchen to find LeRoy and Grandma Holt buzzing about with breakfast and dinner preparations. Quinn is sitting at the kitchen table with Rachel's cousins, Julian and Declan, and all three of them are chopping vegetables.
"Good morning, Honey," LeRoy says as soon as he sees her bleary eyes. "Welcome, welcome. Thank you for finally blessing us with your radiant presence!"
Rachel doesn't have the energy to be amused as she receives a kiss to the forehead and heads straight for the counter beside the fridge to get a glass of freshly-squeezed juice LeRoy prepares every morning, without fail. She practically gulps it down as she staggers towards the kitchen table and comes up behind the youngest of the cousins, Declan.
"Hello, Monster," she says, bending to tickle his sides and press a sloppy kiss to his cheek.
Declan squeals, recoiling, and Rachel immediately moves onto Julian. She throws an arm around his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek, which he bravely endures; the ever-stoic Holt boy that he is.
Without even thinking about it too much - or, at all, really - Rachel moves her attention onto Quinn, her arms wrapping around the blonde's neck in a casual embrace.
"Good morning," she sleepily murmurs, her lips pressing against Quinn's cheek. It's so simple and easy, and it takes her brain a second too long to realise what she's doing. Quinn tenses in her arms, and Rachel immediately snaps back to reality as she freezes, and then releases the blonde and moves away as if she's been scorched. "Shit, I'm sorry," she mumbles, stumbling backwards.
Before anyone can say anything, she bolts, thereby missing Quinn's surprised but pleased look and the wonder in her eyes as she touches her fingertips to her tingling cheek.
The panic doesn't dissipate as Rachel goes through the motions of getting ready to face the day. If she can help it, she's going to avoid Quinn as much as possible. She imagines it's going to be incredibly awkward. What was she thinking, seriously? Just kissing Quinn like that. Her cheek, sure, but it was still a kiss.
When she's showered and dressed, she heads back downstairs and goes straight into her father's office to find Hiram sitting at his desk, working.
"I know, I know," he says when she steps into the room. "I'm just checking my emails."
"Sure, you are," she says with a roll of her eyes as she moves into the office and drops into one of the chairs opposite the desk. "How long have you been 'checking your emails?'" she asks, using air quotes.
He scowls playfully. "I'll be done by the time breakfast is ready," he says. "I have to be. I love having meals with the entire family, and it's honestly like a miracle to have all the children together these days."
"And now you've got a grandchild," she says. "You're getting old, Mr Berry."
He sighs, entirely too knowingly. "I know."
"Are you trying to take it easy?"
He shrugs noncommittally. "You know me."
"I do know you," she says. "That's why I have to ask, because you definitely don't look after yourself nearly well enough."
"What are you, my mother?"
She shakes her head in amusement, and then grows serious. "You talked to Quinn last night?"
"I did," he says, abandoning his emails to give her his full attention. "She seems like a good kid, burdened in some way. There's something heavy on her shoulders, isn't there?"
Rachel doesn't respond to his question, refusing to give anything away. Quinn has her secrets, and Rachel is going to try to protect them. "I just want to help her," she says, almost whispering.
"I know you do, Sweetheart," he says. Then, almost reluctantly, he asks, "Is that all you want?"
"What?"
"Rachel, you brought her home with you," he says. "I assume that's for a reason."
She swallows nervously. "I like her," she admits softly. "A lot." She presses her lips together, almost guiltily. "It's not the reason I brought her here, though. Well, not the full reason. There are no actual ulterior motives other than I just want to help her, and possibly keep an eye on her while I'm at it."
"Does she know?" he asks.
"I've never actually told her," she says; "but I suspect she has an idea, even if she won't acknowledge it."
Hiram nods thoughtfully, filing away that piece of information for later. "Sweetheart, is she helping you?"
Rachel nods, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. "Every day," she says. "Whether she even knows it or not." She sighs. "Dad, she makes everything so much better, and I barely even know what to do with myself."
Hiram chuckles softly. "Don't you just hate it when they do that to you?"
After breakfast, during which, admittedly, Rachel remained quiet and awkward with Quinn, Hiram takes Quinn on the tour he promised. He sees so many things in the young blonde and, like his daughter, all he wants to do is help.
"Are you coming with us?" Quinn asks Rachel on her way out of the house.
Rachel can barely meet her gaze. "No," she says; "I think I'm going to stick around here and help with dinner preparation as much as I can."
"Oh." Quinn shifts awkwardly, and then reaches out to hold Rachel's hand and tug her closer. "Are we okay?" she asks softly, worriedly. "You've been... off, all morning. Is it something I did?"
"No, Quinn," she rushes to say, internally chastising herself fo being so weird. "It's not you. It's me. I should never have just, umm, kissed you like that this morning. I didn't even ask."
Quinn blinks. "Is that what has you in such a tiff?" she asks. "It's fine, you know?"
"It is?"
"Of course," she says, and then leans all the way forward and presses a chaste kiss to Rachel's cheek. "See? No big deal."
Rachel is too stunned to respond, her skin warm and a fluttering exploding in her abdomen.
"We're okay, Rachel," Quinn assures her. "I should get going. Hiram's probably waiting for me. See you later."
And, all Rachel can really do is watch the girl go, desperately trying not to feel as if she's witnessing her very own heart walking away from her.
"It's beautiful," Quinn says, her eyes taking in the endless rows of vines before her. There's something very real about seeing it in the daylight, grapes and leaves and sticks all forming the base of what is inherently part of the Berry-Holt dynasty.
Or is it Holt-Berry?
"Do you think you could ever live somewhere like this?" Hiram finds himself asking, glancing over his shoulder at her as they walk towards the barn.
"I like to think so," she answers after a moment of contemplation. "I prefer the quiet, so I think I could be happy in a place like this."
"It's better than the city, huh?"
Quinn chuckles. "I definitely think this is a far cry from a place like New York City."
"Have you been?"
"A few times, yeah."
"Are you a fan?"
Quinn thinks it over. "I like the... culture of it, I suppose. I think it'd be a very different place to live in, as opposed to visiting. I just don't know how functional it would be for me, because I doubt I would be able to use any of the public transportation."
"Oh, yes, Rachel mentioned you had a problem with the train," he says, frowning slightly.
Quinn, once again, isn't sure if she's irritated or not with Rachel's habit of discussing her with her parents. Is there a line drawn? What constitutes too much sharing, and is everything up for grabs? "Yeah," she says lamely.
"Rachel's destined for New York," he says, moving them along. "She's had her sights set on heading back since she was very little. Her dreams were always going to take her very far away from here."
Quinn can hear the sadness in his tone, and she attempts to assuage that. "This is her home, Sir," she says. "She can go as far away as she wants, but she'll always come back. The way her face lights up whenever she talks about this place or her family... It's impossible to think she could stay away."
Hiram slows his pace slightly, forcing himself not to mention the way Rachel looks when she's talking about Quinn. "You've got to know her quite well, haven't you?"
"When we're not fighting, yes."
"She can be quite the feisty one, can't she?" he says, grinning wryly. "She's just like her mother that way."
Quinn wants to ask a bit more about Rachel's mother, but she doesn't. Parents, in general, are a sensitive issue for her, so she can only imagine what it's like for Rachel, particularly when you add on the prejudice, homophobia and residual trauma of everything she's been through.
"I assume she's told you all about that debacle," he says.
"Bits and pieces," she confesses.
"It's not one of her favourite things to talk about," he explains. "The divorce wasn't easy for her; it wasn't easy for any of us, really, but especially her. She was young and confused, and Shelby and I did a lot of fighting, especially over Rachel. I'm a lawyer, you see, and it was very ugly."
Quinn can only imagine.
"When the divorce came through and Shelby was awarded full custody, I moved here. I was always going to move here, but I wanted to bring her with me. I wanted this life for her."
"She eventually found her way here."
"And it hurt her," he says. "I know she'll never say it to my face, but I hurt her. By leaving her and New York and by finding more ways to make her life more difficult, I hurt her in ways I'm sure she never could have imagined."
Quinn wants to offer a rebuttal but the words won't come.
"When did she tell you about us?" he asks.
"Excuse me?"
"When did she tell you all about us?"
She swallows tightly. "Day before yesterday, mainly. And yesterday."
"By necessity, I assume?"
"She - she was worried I would be uncomfortable," she confesses quietly. "But, I think it's more to do with me than with anything here."
"Oh?"
"I assume you know who my father is."
"Unfortunately."
Quinn lets out a humourless laugh. "It is unfortunate, isn't it?"
Hiram sighs. "I may not agree with his politics, but he is your father, so I won't disrespect him in front of you."
Quinn eyes him skeptically. "That's kind of you, Sir," she says; "but I don't really care what you say about him. I'm sure I've heard much worse."
"Strangers?"
She nods. "He has a lot of haters, and I've been on the receiving end of several verbal attacks whenever people learn who I am."
"It is unfortunate how much hate there is in the world, isn't it?"
"Indeed, it is."
"So, this is it," Hiram says, bringing Quinn to the end of the tour of the large barn that houses the bulk of their operations. "What do you think?"
Quinn's words fail her for the first minute, and then she smiles. "This is awesome," she says in wonder. "I mean, it's insane, but completely awesome, really."
"Rachel says you're a smart girl," he says. "Do you think you have any pointers for me on how to make the operation more efficient?"
Quinn just stares at him in surprise. "Are you serious?"
"Very," he assures. "Think about it, and we'll talk about it before you leave."
Quinn just nods.
"Based on what you said last night, I'm assuming you don't want a tasting," he says, eyeing her carefully.
"Maybe not today," she says; "but I definitely would like to try some before I leave. I think it'd be poor taste not to."
"You're not obligated to do so, Quinn."
"I know," she says; "but I still want to."
"Turkey's going in!" LeRoy announces happily, as he bends to slide the tray with the turkey and various diced vegetables into the oven. "How's that gravy coming along, Stacey?" he asks his sister-in-law as he straightens.
"Taste Test," Stacey yells, and both Julian and Declan come running from their positions at the kitchen table.
Rachel just giggles at the display. She's currently in charge of the lemonade, making it from scratch and succeeding in making a complete mess in her little corner of the large kitchen.
LeRoy comes over to check on her progress, poking her bicep for good measure. "How do you think Hiram and Quinn are doing?"
Rachel tenses for a beat, before she slides a forced smile onto her face. "I'm trying not to think about it, to be honest."
"She seems genuinely interested in the farm," he says.
"She is," Rachel agrees. "When I told her what we did here, she practically lit up. I think she enjoys learning about new things."
"I just think she wanted to get out of the house," he says with a chuckle. "With Patrick and the family staying here as well, breakfast was a busy affair. I don't think she's used to the noise."
"No, she's definitely not," she says. "She's handling it well, though. She loves Lena, and I think Julian and Declan like her."
LeRoy nods. "With Rob, Den and Ty coming tonight; I think she's going to have to beat them away with a stick," he says, watching as Rachel's face pinches in sudden distress. "She's a very pretty girl, Sweets."
"I know," she says tightly.
"I can see why you like her."
Rachel freezes, and then sighs. "Am I really that obvious?"
"Yes," he says. "No."
"That really doesn't make me feel any better," she grumbles. "I'm trying not to do anything... weird."
"Scared she'll run?"
"Terrified."
"Sometimes, these things are inevitable," he offers unhelpfully.
Rachel abandons her task and turns to face him fully. The sounds of the kitchen are drowning out their conversation, so she's unafraid when she asks, "Were you ever scared of how my dad would react if you told him how you felt?"
"Oh, definitely," he answers. "Well, at first, I was more afraid of what I was feeling. I knew one thing my entire life, mainly, and then this thing was just happening and it can be really scary, regardless of how old you are."
"I'm not afraid of it," she declares.
"But you're afraid of something?"
"I'm afraid of her."
LeRoy licks his lips, visibly thinking. "Has she given you any indication that she may feel the same?" he asks. "I'm wondering, because your dad wasn't very subtle once I actually started to look. It makes things easier when they actually help."
Rachel laughs, despite herself. "She's an enigma, that one," she declares. "I've been trying to figure her out since we met, and I've got nowhere."
"I think you've got somewhere, Sweets," he says, smiling warmly at her. "Look where you both are, right now."
"You're back," Rachel says, slightly mystified, as she descends the stairs to find Quinn standing in the entrance hall with a happy smile on her face. "How did it go?"
"Rachel, this place is amazing," she says, her smile growing that bit more. "Can we stay here forever?"
"Sure, Quinn," she says, moving to stand right in front of the blonde. "We can stay as long as you'd like."
"Forever."
Without thinking too much about it, Rachel rises onto her toes and kisses Quinn's cheek, her skin cool from the outdoors. "Forever," she echoes.
She'll do all she can to make it happen.
"Let's all go around the table and say what we're thankful for," Grandma Holt says, earning a groan from several of her grandchildren. "Now, now," she warns, looking stern.
LeRoy pats his mother's hand gently. "I think we're all just worried that you want us to go around the table before we eat," he says, playing peacekeeper. Really, after the endless minutes it too to get a group picture before they sat down, he's starving. "We'll be here a long time, if that's the case. There are a lot of us here."
It's true. The entire Holt family is in attendance, spread out on two tables joined together in the large dining room. It's something the Holt family has been sure to maintain: large tables to accommodate their large family.
They're growing every day.
"Of course not," Grandma Holt says, as if her son just said the most preposterous thing ever. "We'll eat as we go around the table."
LeRoy exchanges an amused look with his husband, and then leans back in his seat. "By all means then, dear mother of mine, get us started."
There's a lot of generic thank yous given for family and food and home. Some of the boys are thankful for their good looks which, if it's meant to impress Quinn, definitely doesn't. Emily-Anne is thankful for friends who becomes family and the wonders of creating new life. Hiram is thankful for all their smiles and laughter, and he's especially grateful for the growing numbers of this family he didn't even know he needed.
Julian is thankful for his new PlayStation, and Declan is grateful for gravy. The laughter that produces is loud and hearty, which gives way to Rachel's turn.
Suddenly shy, she ducks her head slightly. "This year, I'm thankful for my family, obviously," she begins, her hands resting in her lap. "My friends, old and new. I'm thankful for fresh starts and clean slates. I'm thankful for life and love and the opportunity to learn and discover and feel all the wonderful, good things in this world." She ends with a beaming smile, and Quinn's hand slips into hers in her lap. She turns to her left to see Quinn's eyes, shining and bright, trained on her.
The two of them stare at each other for the longest time before LeRoy clears his throat and speaks, "It's your turn, Quinn."
The blonde's eyes snap away. "Uh, right," she says, and Rachel's hand squeezes hers. "This year, I'm thankful for, well, getting to spend this holiday with this lovely family," she says, and Daniel coughs a suck-up, that gets him elbowed in the ribs by his wife. Quinn chuckles in response. "I'm thankful for kind people with good hearts, who expect nothing and give freely. I'm thankful for the truth, and those who tell it." She swallows nervously, and then drops her gaze, prompting Eric beside her to speak.
Rachel tugs on Quinn's hand to get her attention. "You okay?" she mouths.
Quinn's eyes stay on her lips, watching her form the words. "As much fun as it is holding your hand, I have to take it back because I kind of need it to eat."
"Idiot," she grumbles, even though she's grinning. "Eat your vegetables."
"Can I pass you my tomatoes?"
"Of course."
"I'm thankful for you, too."
Rachel drags her eyes away from the baby in her arms and looks at Quinn, who's sitting right next to her on the couch in Hiram's office. The house is still abuzz with people, and Emily-Anne practically begged Rachel to bring Lena - and, by default, Quinn - into the quiet for a few minutes.
"What do you mean, Quinn?" Rachel asks, her eyes searching the blonde's face.
"At the table, I wanted to say I'm thankful for you, too, but I didn't want to - "
"Embarrass yourself?"
"I was more concerned about you, actually," she says. "But, I am. Thankful, I mean. I shudder to remember what my life was like before you started making it your mission to jump down my throat whenever I opened my mouth."
Rachel giggles softly. "You're very cute, did you know what?"
Predictably, she immediately blushes, ducking her head.
"I'm thankful for you, too," Rachel says. "Just so you know. I'm thankful for a lot of things about Dalton, but you in particular."
Quinn's cheeks are still on fire, so she changes the subject. "Why does Daniel call you 'B?'" she asks, frowning adorably.
Rachel relaxes into the couch, the side of her body resting against Quinn's. "Well, besides the fact that I had enough energy as a child that he used to refer to me as a buzzing bee; it's mainly because of my second name," she explains. "It starts with a B."
Quinn arches an eyebrow. "We both know that's not all you're supposed to say about that."
Rachel shrugs. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."
Quinn laughs. "Fine. Tell me yours."
"No, you tell me yours first."
Quinn's gaze meets hers. "Rachel Berry, I promise I will reveal my middle name to you the moment you tell me yours."
The severity in her tone catches Rachel off guard, and her mouth automatically opens. "It's Barbra."
Quinn rolls her tongue over the name. "Barbra. Rachel Barbra Berry." Her eyes study Rachel's face. "I can see it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"What's yours, then?"
Quinn's grin is mischievous, and Rachel's heart beats that bit faster. "You already know it."
"I do?"
She nods. "Quinn."
"Quinn?"
"Quinn is my middle name."
Rachel's eyes widen. "No way?"
"Yes, way."
If she wasn't holding a baby in her arms, Rachel would fold them across her chest. "That's not fair," she argues. "You tricked me."
"And, now you sound like a four-year-old."
"What's your first name then, and why do you call yourself by your middle?"
Quinn takes a breath, using the moment of reprieve to make a decision. She wants Rachel to know her, in every way: the good and the bad. It's terrifying, but she's finding it increasingly difficult to keep hiding herself from this disarming girl. "I was named after my grandmother," she explains. "My father's mother. She passed away when I was six years old, and I don't really remember all that much about her. Anyway, her name was Lucille, so I was named Lucy, which definitely doesn't suit me, at all."
Rachel's inclined to agree, but she doesn't say anything. It's obvious Quinn has something more she would like to say.
"I started calling myself Quinn after she died," she explains. "My father - he couldn't quite bring himself to say Lucy, so I asked him to call me something else. I just wanted my father to talk to me, you know? I just wanted him to look at me and actually see me."
Rachel rests her hand on Quinn's thigh, adding gentle pressure.
"For a long time, I thought the one thing that was wrong with me was that my name reminded him of his dead mother," she adds a beat later, her eyes dropping to Rachel's hand on her leg. "But it was more than that. Apparently, there are a lot of things wrong with me."
"Quinn, no," she hastens to argue. "There's nothing wrong with you."
Quinn looks at her. "Thank you for saying that, but there are still so many things you don't know about me."
"I want to learn."
"And I find I want to tell you," she admits. "I've - I've never actually told anyone any of that. Not even my therapist."
Rachel blinks. "You see a therapist?"
Quinn chuckles. "It's unbelievable, isn't it?" she jokes. "I've been in therapy all this time and I'm still so fucked up."
"Quinn," she admonishes.
The blonde shrugs. "I see her to battle my anxiety, mainly," she explains after a moment. "It hasn't worked, obviously. She mainly just drugs me up. I suppose it's partly my own fault because I'm not completely honest with her about everything, but I've always been terrified that she reports back to my parents because they're the ones who sent me to her in the first place."
Rachel can understand that fear, so she doesn't attempt to alleviate it. "I think talking to someone is good, though," she says. "It definitely helped me, at least. After the divorce, my mother sent me to a child counsellor, which was... odd. We kind of just drew pictures and talked about imaginary adventures. Eric says you can learn a lot about a child's psyche that way."
"Did it help?"
"I think so," she says. "I don't know any different, so I imagine it did. I think I managed to adjust accordingly, and then I learned that my dad is in love with another man who has his own entire family." She sighs. "My mother went insane, Quinn. Like, insane insane. She refused to let me see him, and she threw the biggest adult tantrum the first time I came to visit him here.
"I was young so I didn't really see what it was all doing to her. In my mind, she was just this evil person who was keeping me from seeing my dad and I hated her for a while. I'm not proud of it, now that I can put myself in her shoes. I can't even imagine what it feels like to face the possibility of losing your child to your ex-husband and his new family."
"And then she did?"
Rachel sighs, shifting slightly and dropping her head to rest on Quinn's uninjured shoulder. "I asked to move here after a particularly terribly bullying incident in New York," she says, her voice low. "It - it was bad, and I wasn't happy at all, and my parents actually talked about it, and they let me move. At the time, it was the best thing ever to happen to me... and then it just wasn't."
Quinn doesn't press for more.
"When you're a kid, you never really think about it," Rachel says.
"Think about what?"
"The consequences of your words or your actions."
Quinn blinks. "No, I don't suppose you don't."
"Inherently, you know right from wrong, but - " she stops. "I always wonder about it."
"About what?"
"What kind of person I would be if just one thing about my life happened differently."
"I think about that too," Quinn says, her own cheek resting against Rachel's head.
"It doesn't help with anything, does it?"
"No," Quinn says; "I reckon it just makes everything worse."
Quinn doesn't sleep well. All she can think about is little Rachel, trying to navigate all that life sends her way. Quinn could hear the sadness in Rachel's voice, and all she wants to do is hold her and protect her and make her feel all those positive, good things she deserves to feel.
It's terrifying.
Quinn doesn't want this.
She can't have this.
Not yet.
It's too soon.
When Rachel emerges from her bedroom the next morning, she's dressed and ready to face the day. This time, when she sees Quinn, she's going to be at the top of her game. There will not be any sleepy kisses to cheeks and lingering hugs around apple and cinnamon necks.
She's determined and focused.
Which all amounts to naught when she strolls into the kitchen and finds Quinn Fabray, flushed red, wearing a white tank top, the tightest jeans she's ever seen and a 'Kiss the Chef' apron. Rachel's eyes nearly bug out of her head at the sight, her mouth going dry.
"Hey, Rachel," Quinn says when she spots her, her own smile bright. "We're transforming leftovers."
Rachel looks from Quinn to LeRoy to Grandma Holt, and then back to Quinn. "Hey," she says, still in a bit of shock. "How long have you been up?"
Quinn's smile falters slightly, and her eyes grow darker. "A while," she says, and Rachel makes a note to ask her about it later. "We're making omelettes, by the way. What do you want in yours?"
"I'm having an 'Everything Omelette,'" LeRoy declares from behind Quinn.
Quinn visibly grimaces, and Rachel giggles. "He's not kidding," Quinn says. "It's currently cooking, and it has everything in it. I'm actually terrified of that particular concoction."
LeRoy eyes his daughter curiously. "Are you coming inside or not?"
Rachel jerks into motion and crosses the kitchen to hug LeRoy and Grandma Holt. All her resolve to keep her head around Quinn dissolves when the blonde waits expectantly for her own hug. Steeling herself, she steps into Quinn's space and wraps her arms around her neck, automatically closing her eyes and breathing in her overpowering scent.
Even in the kitchen, the apples and cinnamon wash over her.
Quinn's arms close around her waist, and the two of them hug for longer than is strictly necessary. Quinn releases her first, looking that bit more flushed. "So, your omelette?"
Rachel takes a large step away from her. "Uh, what are you having?"
Quinn blinks. "Oh, I already ate."
"Oh?"
"I've been up for a while."
Rachel immediately steps back into her space, her own eyes studying Quinn's face. There are circles under her eyes, and her lips are pressed into a thin line. "Later," she says.
Quinn grins, despite herself. "Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice, Quinn."
Before Quinn can respond, LeRoy interrupts them, however inadvertently, by banging a pan on the stove, and they both flinch. And then giggle.
"Sweets?" LeRoy says. "The boys are keen to have a barbecue this evening; what do you think?"
"Any particular reason?"
"Do we ever need a reason to have more food?" he asks rhetorically. Then: "But I do think, with Eric's birthday just passed, we could use it to celebrate a little."
Rachel nods in agreement. "That sounds like a good idea, yeah. Can I invite Tina and Noah?"
LeRoy laughs out loud. "I'm sure, even if you didn't, those two would show up here anyway. They're like bloodhounds, sniffing out a Holt barbecue from afar."
She smiles knowingly, and then turns to Quinn. "Looks like you'll get to meet my best friends after all."
It never quite occurs to her that Quinn is about to meet a hell of a lot more.
"What am I supposed to wear?" Quinn asks, poking her head through Rachel's slightly ajar door. She's been in the brunette's room a handful of times, but it's never been for more than a few minutes at a time. Now, though, she walks straight into the room and sits on the edge of the bed and lays back, her head resting on Rachel's outstretched legs.
"Anything you want," Rachel answers, eyeing Quinn over the top of her book. Despite the temperatures outside, the blonde has been in her tank top nearly all day, and it's distracting to Rachel. She didn't even know Quinn had biceps like that.
Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "So, I could go naked?"
"I'm sure the boys wouldn't complain."
"Rachel," she says, a steady smile on her face. "What are you going to wear?"
"Probably just a dress."
Quinn rolls onto her side, and uses her free hand to take the book from Rachel. "I like you in dresses," she says seriously.
Rachel's eyes widen in surprise, and the breath catches in her throat. "Oh?"
"I think they show your personality the best, and I'm kind of a fan of it."
Rachel sits up to study Quinn's face, thinking back to what LeRoy said about reading the signs. Is this one of them? Is this Quinn's way of telling her what she needs to know without actually telling her?
"Do you want to tell me why you didn't sleep well last night?" Rachel asks, and Quinn immediately looks away. "No, don't do that," she presses. "Talk to me."
"It's nothing," she dismisses unconvincingly. "I'm fine."
Rachel lets out a long-suffering sigh, contemplating the best way to go about this. She wants Quinn to be able to talk to her, and the best thing she can think to do is offer something of herself.
So.
"Quinn," she says.
"Rachel?"
"I do worry."
"What?"
"You asked me if I thought you would do something if you weren't here, and the answer is, yes," she says, reaching out with her right hand and running a soothing hand over Quinn's perfect hair. "I worry about it, all the time, because it feels to me as if you blame yourself for something terrible, and I - " her voice catches, and she forces herself to take a deep, calming breath. "I know what that feels like. I know, Quinn, because I blamed myself for what happened to me too."
Quinn's eyes widen, and she immediately sits up, shifting as close as she can to the brunette without actually touching her.
Needing some form of contact, Rachel rests her hand on Quinn's bent knee. "I've never really told anyone this, but I blamed myself for what happened. I thought that I must have done something to deserve it; that it was my fault; that I asked for it in some way, and it was horrible, Quinn. It ate me up from the inside, and it made everything black and ugly. It just sat inside of me, this miserable painful thing, consuming and consuming until I felt as if there was nothing left.
"Sometimes, I look at you, and I see it in your eyes, Quinn, and it terrifies me. It paralyses me with fear, and I don't want that for you. I never want that for you. So, yes, I'm worried, all the time, because I know. I know what it's like to get lost in the dark and want nothing more than to let it take you with it."
There are tears in Quinn's eyes. "Rachel," she whispers.
Rachel's other hand cups Quinn's cheek. "Please don't shut me out," she whispers. "I'm right here, okay? I'm here, and I'll bear the weight with you. I'll hold your hand in the dark and lead you into the light, because I know what it feels like to think you have to search blindly. I'm not going to leave you, Lucy Quinn. I'm not going to let you suffer in the dark the way I did."
Quinn won't cry, but she does drop her head to rest her forehead against Rachel's collarbone. "It wasn't your fault," she whispers brokenly. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't."
Rachel closes her eyes, her nostrils overwhelmed by apples and cinnamon. "It wasn't your fault either, Quinn. Whatever it was, I promise it wasn't."
Rachel decides to wear a purple dress.
Quinn might not have explicitly said it's her favourite colour - Rachel suspects it's actually green, or even red - but she is definitely a fan of wearing it. Rachel isn't going to spend too much time thinking about the fact that she's dressing for Quinn, and chooses just to enjoy the evening. She's going to see Noah and Tina, and she's definitely missed them.
Once she's deemed herself presentable, she heads downstairs, knowing the barbecue is already in full swing downstairs. She can hear voices and music, and she just hopes Quinn isn't feeling too overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people in attendance. Rachel's family loves a celebration. Any excuse, really, to have hoards of food and warm company.
Rachel skips down the stairs and stops in the kitchen to check on things. Grandma Holt is sitting at the kitchen table with baby Lena, and Rachel kisses both their foreheads before she heads out back. She steps out through the back doors, her eyes already seeking out Quinn in the surprising number of people.
When chestnut brown lands on hazel, Rachel's breath catches, and she takes an automatic step forward. Quinn is looking at her over the rim of her glass, happily ignoring the conversation Robert and Eric are trying to have with her. A grin spreads across Rachel's face as her feet keep her moving, a single destination in mind.
Her tunnel vision is the only reason she doesn't see him coming because, before she knows it, Finn Hudson is standing right in front of her, his dopey smile in full display, and Rachel practically yelps as she walks straight into his chest.
"Hey, Rach," he says, and immediately wraps her in an unexpected hug.
Rachel tries to squirm out of his embrace, and he releases her just enough... to kiss her.