AN: Particular trigger warnings for this chapter.
Chapter Ten
Rachel registers two things at the same time: Finn's tongue in her mouth and Quinn Fabray no longer in her line of sight. Her fight or flight senses kick in immediately and, fighting off a vicious flashback, she shoves Finn away from her as hard as she possibly can.
"What the hell?" she shrieks, and the entire backyard falls silent, their heads snapping towards the commotion. Her breathing is laboured and she's seeing his face and feeling his hands on her body. "Get away from me!" she screams, her hands coming up to cover her face, and then her ears as the flashback hits. She shuts her eyes tightly, trying desperately not to give into it.
She screeches when a hand touches her back, her arms flailing to get away from the contact.
"Don't touch her," Quinn suddenly yells, and she's so close now. "Just, everybody get back, turn away. Give her a minute." Then: "Now!" she growls.
Rachel hears light footsteps, and then Quinn's voice, gentle and soothing now.
"Hey, Rach," she murmurs. "Do you know where you are?"
Rachel shakes her head violently, smelling him all around her.
"I'm here," Quinn whispers, and she steps closer. "I'm right here. You're safe here, I promise. It's just us. Your friends and your family. Do you know where you are? You're here, at home, safe and loved. I'm right here with you. Reach out and touch me if you need to."
Rachel forces herself to steady her breathing.
"There we go," Quinn says. "In and out. Nice and steady. In and out. You're safe. He's not here. It's just us."
Slowly, Rachel drops her hands to wrap around her own body, taking up a protective stance.
"I'm right here," Quinn says again. "Reach out. I'm right here."
So, Rachel does.
Keeping her eyes closed, she reaches blindly with her right hand, and her fingers close around the fabric of Quinn's dress. She holds it tightly and tugs. The blonde goes willingly, and lets Rachel wrap her arms around her neck. Apples and cinnamon wash over the brunette, and she allows her body to relax.
"Can I hug you back?" Quinn whispers.
"Gently."
Rachel can barely feel Quinn's hug, and the reverence in her embrace is almost Rachel's undoing. She buries her face in Quinn's neck and just holds on.
"I'm right here, Rachel," Quinn whispers into her hair. "You're okay."
"I'm not okay," she mumbles against Quinn's skin, and the blonde shivers.
"You will be," she counters. "We'll find our way through the dark together."
At the sound of that, Rachel actually laughs, and Quinn's smile is small but present. "I'm so embarrassed."
"Don't be."
"I don't even know what happened."
Quinn's smile slips off her face and her eyes harden. "I do," she says darkly. "Do you want to go inside? Spend a minute alone. Freshen up. Anything you want."
Rachel finds herself nodding, even though her heart rate spikes at the word alone. It's what she wants, but also not. Still, she says, "I'd like that."
Quinn waits a few more seconds before she initiates the release, stepping back slightly but still shielding Rachel from curious eyes. She glances over her shoulder and locks eyes with Emily-Anne, which prompts the woman forward.
"Emily, take her inside," Quinn says, and her fellow blonde immediately complies, guiding Rachel back into the house without a fight. Though, Rachel does cast a longing look at Quinn that she's just able to ignore.
There's something she has to do.
When they're out of sight, Quinn turns the fiercest, coldest glare she can possibly muster on an unsuspecting Finn Hudson. The boy actually shrinks back, and several other people even flinch. "I don't know and don't particularly care to know who you think you are, but the next time you want to force yourself on someone, don't fucking do it," she practically growls, her tone low and dangerous. "Do I make myself clear?"
He nods dumbly.
"Now, when Rachel comes back out here, you will be gone. She is not going to see you, and she is not going to hear from you. If you ever deign to do something as stupid as that again, I'm going to show you exactly how I got this cast." She resists the urge to roll her eyes at herself because, seriously, she fell down a fucking flight of stairs. "Do we understand each other?"
He nods again.
"Good." She produces the fakest smile possible, and then spins around with a flick of her hair and disappears into the house after her brunette friend.
The backyard is eerily quiet in the wake of all the excitement, until Robert breaks it.
"Just when you thought she couldn't get any hotter."
He's awarded with a swat to the head first by his aunt, and then again by LeRoy.
"Has she said anything?" Quinn asks Emily-Anne when she finds the new mother sitting on the edge of Rachel's bed, looking pensive.
"No," Emily-Anne says, looking particularly shaken. "She just went into her bathroom and I haven't heard a peep since."
Quinn nods. "I can take it from here, if you don't mind," she says.
Emily-Anne doesn't read it as a request. It's more of a command, and she rises to her feet immediately, acquiescing. There's just something about this girl that's both frightening and incredibly soothing. "We'll be downstairs if she needs anything."
Quinn twists her body slightly. "Actually, do you think someone could make us some hot chocolate?" she asks.
Emily-Anne nods enthusiastically, jumping at the opportunity to do something. "I'll get right on it and bring it up."
"That won't be necessary," she says. "We'll have it downstairs."
There's no room for arguing, so the woman just nods again, and then disappears from the room. Quinn waits a beat to gather her thoughts before she gently knocks on Rachel's bathroom door.
"Rachel," she says softly. "Can I come in?"
"It's open."
Quinn turns the handle immediately and slips into the bright room. She's unsurprised to find Rachel sitting in the empty bathtub, her head leaning back and her eyes closed. Quinn moves towards her, taking slow and purposeful steps, and settles on the edge of the bath with her eyes on the brunette.
Rachel surprises them both by being the one to break the silence. "What's your favourite colour?"
Quinn startles, and then smiles. "It's green, on most days," she says; "but I'm quite the fan of red these days."
She smiles slightly. "Is there any specific reason for that?"
Quinn thinks there is, but she won't say so. "What's your favourite colour?" she asks, avoiding answering the question.
"Guess."
"I'm going to go with yellow."
Rachel chuckles lightly, her eyes remaining closed for a long moment. "You would be correct."
"I generally am."
She sighs in response, suddenly feeling content. She isn't even thinking about what happened downstairs. She's here, safe with Quinn, and she feels all her worries fade away.
"Tell me what you need," Quinn eventually says, growing antsy with the silence.
Slowly, Rachel opens her eyes. "I need you not to need me to apologise."
"Done," she says.
"I also need you not to need me to explain."
"Also done."
Rachel blinks once, twice, before she reaches for Quinn's hand and squeezes her fingers. "Thank you."
Quinn just nods, and then squeezes back. The two of them sit in comfortable, companionable silence for the longest time. Quinn's back hurts slightly, and her breathing grows unsteady. The sound is enough to pull Rachel out of her musings.
"We're going back downstairs, aren't we?" Rachel questions, sighing at the feel of Quinn's fingertips that are now dancing along the skin of her forearm.
"You tell me," she says in response.
"We're going downstairs," she declares, and Quinn grins at her.
"That's my girl."
Two cups of hot chocolate are waiting for Quinn and Rachel once they've cleaned themselves up enough to head downstairs. The beverages are still warm, sitting innocently on the kitchen island, just waiting for them.
"Mine?" Rachel questions, looking surprised.
Quinn just nods. "Where's the cinnamon?"
"Cabinet above the stove," Rachel absently answers, her attention on the chocolate liquid. "Do I even want to know how there's a hot cup of hot chocolate just waiting for me?"
"It's magic."
"You are magic," she concludes.
"That, she is," a voice says, and Rachel automatically flinches at the intrusion. It's Noah, though, and he's wearing his easy, schoolboy smile. It's incredibly difficult to be mad at him.
Quinn doesn't have that problem. "You can't just sneak up on us like that," she snaps. "And, don't even tell me I should have seen you coming. You snuck up on us on purpose."
Noah eyes her carefully, struggling to figure her out.
Rachel clears her throat. "Noah, this is Quinn," she says. "Quinn, this is - "
"Noah Puckerman," Noah interrupts, holding out his hand for Quinn to shake, which she does, albeit reluctantly. "I really want you to have my babies," he says, leering at her, and she can't stop herself from visibly cringing.
"Noah," Rachel admonishes, somewhat testily.
"Sorry, Babe," he says, moving to kiss the top of her head but stopping at the last moment. He's not going to be touching her unless she wants him to. "How are you feeling?"
Rachel merely shrugs because she doesn't want to lie to him. "What's going on outside?"
"The evening is well underway," he says. "It took a while, but I think they've all managed to push the incident from earlier from their minds."
Rachel chooses to be relieved by that. "Is - is Finn still here?" she asks, and she's not completely oblivious to the way Quinn clenches her fists on the countertop.
Noah shakes his head, nervous eyes flicking Quinn's way. "Your brothers made sure he left, and he was all to willing to go. I think he just wanted to change his pants after shitting them."
Rachel frowns. "What?"
"Blondie over here is fucking scary," he says. "Even I flinched, and I've been to juvie."
Rachel turns questioning eyes on Quinn. "What is he talking about?"
"I have no idea," she immediately replies, her tone and expression all innocence.
Rachel gives her a look that clearly says she doesn't believe her, but Quinn is wholly unaffected by it. She just stands perfectly still, her back straight, and sips at her hot chocolate. Rachel makes a mental note to give her a fierce hug when they're next alone.
But, for now, she says, "Quinn Fabray, my hero."
And, despite her stoic front, the blonde can't stop her blush.
"Do you want some more potato salad?"
Rachel can only watch in amusement as Grandma Holt attempts, yet again, to get Quinn to dish anything more onto her pitiful plate of food, but she's failing. Quinn politely declines every time, merely stating that she already has some... that she's barely touched.
They're definitely going to have to have a discussion about food soon. Quinn definitely can't be getting all the nutrition she needs with how little she eats.
Rachel is sitting at one of the wooden tables in the backyard, her back warm as she chose to position herself beneath one of the upright electric heaters. It's heaven, really. The empty space to her left is Quinn's seat, but the blonde is fetching a garlic roll for the two of them to share, though Rachel suspects she'll be eating most of it.
When she finally decided to come back outside, nobody mentioned anything about the reason she was missing in the first place. Nobody tried to hug her either, which was a relief. She's kept Quinn right by her side, and they spent about an hour moving from group to group and mingling.
When LeRoy declared the food ready, it was a mad dash to plate up, and Rachel used the opportunity to pull Quinn into a hug that lasted much too long.
Now, though, Rachel believes it wasn't nearly long enough.
They're sitting with Noah, Tina, Emily-Anne and baby Lena, and all seem to have taken to Quinn in various ways. Noah obviously has the hots for her, Tina adores but is slightly wary of her, and Emily-Anne just loves her.
Lena, well, she loves just about everyone.
And, well, Rachel is pretty damn sure she's in love.
"So, do we get to sign your cast?" Declan asks, eyeing the green-wrapped plaster around Quinn's left forearm.
Quinn glances down at her still-pristine cast, and visibly weighs her options. "I don't think there's enough space for the lot of you," she says, which earns her a chuckle from the group gathered around her.
Rachel's hand is resting on her knee under the table, hidden from sight, and it's the only thing stopping her from feeling overwhelmed by the many eyes trained on her. She's shiny and new, and there is really a disproportionate number of boys in this family.
"She hasn't even let Rachel sign it, Kid," Daniel says; "I think you're fighting a losing battle there."
The reason for that is Rachel hasn't actually asked to sign it. Quinn isn't sure what she would say, but she hasn't really been forced to think about it. In her mind, she knows if she lets one person sign her cast; she'll have to let everyone as well, and she really doesn't want that.
It'd just be messy.
"Ice cream!" LeRoy yells, emerging from the house with a tray in his hands. There are three huge tubs of ice cream on it - vanilla, mint chocolate and strawberry cheesecake - and two boxes of cones.
A lot of people fall into line quickly, but Quinn barely moves.
Rachel leans in close to her to whisper. "Are you going to have some?" she asks.
"Probably not."
"Why?"
There are things Quinn can say, she knows, but the lies are starting to taste like acid in her mouth whenever she has to say them to Rachel. "I wasn't really allowed to indulge when I was a kid," she says. "I suppose I just got used to it."
Rachel presses her lips together. "What if we were to share one?"
Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Share a... cone?"
Rachel falters. "Or a bowl," she offers, mentally kicking herself. Sharing a cone? Seriously? She may as well have suggested they just cut to the chase and exchange saliva. Which, okay, sounds gross when you don't call it kissing.
Quinn gives it a bit of thought, and then nods with a grin. "Is there a particular flavour you prefer?"
"Surprise me."
Quinn's eyes flash with something, and then she's getting up and heading into the house to fetch a bowl and two spoons. Rachel can just watch her go, wondering what it was she saw in the hazel. There was excitement, sure, fear, and something else entirely. All Rachel knows is it had very little to do with ice cream.
When Quinn does finally return to her side, the bowl is less than halfway filled with vanilla and mint chocolate ice cream. The blonde looks particularly sheepish as she meets Rachel's gaze.
"There's something I have to tell you," she says, sounding serious. "I haven't told you until now, but it's probably like a dealbreaker or something, so I need you to know."
Rachel's eyes widen. Oh, God, what is she going to say? "What is it, Quinn?"
She sighs. "I really don't like strawberries," she confesses. "Or, any berries, really. Like, at all."
Despite herself, Rachel bursts out laughing. She practically cackles, doubling over and clutching at her stomach as Quinn's words roll around in her head.
"It's really not that funny," Quinn grumbles petulantly as she spoons some ice cream with more force than is strictly necessary.
Rachel's laughter eventually tapers off, and she reaches out to twirl a strand of Quinn's hair around her forefinger. "Quinn Fabray, I am so glad I get to know you," she murmurs.
This time, they both blush.
Rachel is almost safely in her bedroom when Hiram steps out of the room he shares with LeRoy. It's obvious he's come looking for her from the pleasantly surprised look on his face.
He reiterates that by saying the words, "Just the girl I wanted to see."
Rachel smiles at him, automatically moving towards him. "What's up, Dad?"
"I just wanted to check on you," he says gently. "We haven't had a chance to talk after what happened tonight. Are you okay?"
She presses her lips together. "Well, I wouldn't say I'm okay, but I will be," she says. "I'm more embarrassed by it than anything, and I think I'm going to have to make an appointment with Dr Howell for Winter Break. I thought I was over the flashbacks." She can't help sounding disappointed in herself, and Hiram's face twists into a look of sympathy.
Rachel hates it.
At least Quinn doesn't use that look on her. Quinn's eyes are sad, sure, but there's never pity. There's an apology and shared pain, but she's never looked at Rachel as if there's anything less about her because of what's happened.
Maybe it's just men, or just her father.
"I'm quite tired, though," Rachel says, extricating herself from this conversation. "I'll see you tomorrow, Dad. Goodnight."
Hiram leans forward slightly, as if to kiss her cheek, but stops himself.
Rachel sighs, but she doesn't move to close the gap between them. It's too soon, and she's not about to test her own reactions so late in the evening.
"Goodnight, Sweetheart," he finally says, and they go their separate ways.
Instead of going to her own bedroom, Rachel moves towards the closed door of Daniel's bedroom. She knows Quinn is behind it and, steeling herself, she raises her hand to knock lightly. She barely waits for a confirmation, before she's slipping into the dark room.
Quinn sits up in bed, ruffling the sheets. "Rachel?" she questions, sounding adorably confused. Rachel can't actually see her facial expression but she can imagine it. "Is everything okay?" she asks. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Rachel says. "I just - do you - " she stops, suddenly coming back to herself. What is she doing in here? God. No. This isn't part of the plan.
"Rachel?"
She takes a step back. "You're sleeping," she says. "I don't even know what I'm doing here. I'm just going to - "
"Rachel," Quinn interrupts, her tone of voice leaving very little space for arguing. "Come lie with me," she says, lifting her arm and opening the duvet. "I want to talk to you about something."
Rachel lets out a shaky breath. "Are you - "
"Sure?" she questions. "Of course. Now, hurry, you're letting out all the warmth."
Rachel jerks into motion and crosses the room. She barely hesitates as she climbs into bed beside Quinn, and the two of them settle on their backs, side by side, without touching. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Whatever you want to talk about."
Rachel chuckles. "So, that was all a ploy to get me into your bed, huh?"
Quinn breathes out slowly. "It worked, didn't it?"
"I'll get you a medal," she deadpans.
Quinn giggles, and then yawns. "You can talk if you want to," she offers. "Or, we can just lie here, okay? You're kind of warm."
"Oh, so I'm here for my body heat, then?"
"Among other things, yeah."
Rachel closes her eyes, allowing her body to relax into the mattress. She can smell Quinn all around her and it's soothing and welcoming. She can hear Quinn's steady breathing and it's settling.
Reaching blindly, Rachel's left hands slips into Quinn's right, their fingers linking and their palms pressing together. "I want to tell you about Finn," she says softly, and Quinn gently squeezes her fingers in support. "I imagine you have your own thoughts about him, but I think you should know the full story. He's been my first everything, you know? My first friend, boyfriend, duet partner. He was actually even my first kiss, with tongue." She chuckles to herself. "He's my first love, Quinn, and I sometimes hate him for it."
Quinn knows she shouldn't speak, so she doesn't. Rachel is telling her something important.
"I slept with him for the first time the summer before junior year," she says, and Quinn does her best not to react. Just the thought of Rachel with him hurts. Just thinking about it makes her cringe. "It was his birthday, and he'd been asking, and - " she stops suddenly. "How stupid was I?"
"Rachel, no," Quinn immediately says.
"It's okay, Quinn," she says, rolling onto her side so she can look at the blonde's profile. "I know I did it for all the wrong reasons. I've come to terms with that and, as much as I regretted it at the time, in hindsight, I'm glad it was him, you know?"
Unfortunately, Quinn does know.
"We were dating when it happened. Things weren't so great before, though, and I'm convinced that he was going to break up with me." Her laugh is humourless now, and Quinn plans Finn'a death a million different ways. "Obviously, he couldn't do that afterwards." She snorts. "Well, I thought he couldn't."
At this, Quinn also rolls onto her side because she wants to see Rachel.
"I wasn't okay," she says. "I was barely functioning as a human being, let alone as a girlfriend, and - " she stops, forcing herself to take a deep breath. "I try not to blame him. I mean, I don't, because I wasn't - " she stops again. "I won't get into the details of how I found out, but I learned that he was cheating on me."
Even though Rachel's face remains unchanged, Quinn's hardens. She shifts close enough until they're breathing each other's air. "I am so sorry."
"Please don't apologise for him," she says.
"I'm not," Quinn counters gently, because she's done apologising for other people. "I'm apologising for everything."
Rachel smiles gently, her hand reaching to cup her cheek. "You are so precious, Quinn Fabray."
Quinn leans into her touch. "Is my cheek your favourite part of my body?"
Rachel flushes, but she doesn't take her hand back. "Actually, it isn't."
"What is?"
She presses her lips together, choosing to roll with this... flirting. Is it flirting? Whatever it is, Rachel isn't backing down. "I don't think I can accurately answer that question, Quinn," she says; "I haven't yet seen every part."
Quinn's breath catches, and she's suddenly thankful for the dark.
Rachel clears her throat. "So, we broke up," she continues, bringing them back from whatever dangerous place they're wandering. "Shit happened. I moved schools."
Quinn waits because, honestly, she doesn't know if she could speak if she tried.
"This past summer, we kind of rekindled things," she explains. "It wasn't anything serious, and we clearly didn't discuss anything properly because I thought it was over. I don't - I don't want to be with him anymore. Not in any way." Rachel needs to say this for herself, and for Quinn. "I think there was a part of me that worried if someone would ever want me again, you know, and I needed to be sure. I couldn't bring myself to sleep with him, though, so I can only imagine what he's been up to since I've been back at school."
"It looked like he missed you," Quinn says.
Rachel's fingers shift to thread through Quinn's loose hair. "Maybe," she allows; "but I rarely think about him unless he's right in front of me. There are other, more important, people on my mind these days."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Quinn closes her eyes at the feel of Rachel's fingers, absently humming in content. "Good," she murmurs, turning her head slightly and pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist. "Good."
Rachel chuckles softly, her eyes also slipping shut. "You already said that."
When Rachel opens her eyes the next morning, she's alone. It takes her a moment to get her bearings and, when she realises she's in Daniel's room, she panics.
She's in Daniel's room.
Which means she slept in here.
With Quinn.
Who's not here.
Rachel scrambles out of bed and leaves the room in a rush, hoping nobody sees her as she makes her way to her own bedroom to get ready for the day. She can only wonder what must be going through Quinn's head right now because she's five seconds away from losing it completely.
They flirted and they touched and they slept together.
Rachel has no idea how she's supposed to handle this day. Is it going to be awkward? Are they going to pretend none of it happened? Are they going to talk about it?
By the time she does leave her room, Rachel has a splitting headache, and the roaring noise in the kitchen definitely doesn't help alleviate it. She slips into the ruckus, kisses LeRoy's cheek and then helps herself to a fresh bagel that she nibbles on from her position in the corner.
"Looking for Quinn?" Emily-Anne asks, sidling up to her and bumping their hips.
Rachel swallows the bite of bagel in her mouth. "Is she out with my dad?"
Emily-Anne shakes her head. "She was in here pretty early," she says. "LeRoy offered her an out when the noise picked up. The boys can be a bit relentless."
Rachel mutters something under her breath.
"What's that?"
"Nothing," she says. "Where is she, then?"
"With Grandpa H."
Rachel nods her thanks, pushes off the counter and goes in search of her blonde. She just wants to lay eyes on Quinn; just to know she's still here. There's a part of her that believes Quinn is one of those that could run if pushed too far, and Rachel is terrified she has.
Though, all those worries completely dissipate the moment she arrives at her grandparents' cottage to see her grandfather and Quinn sitting together on the front porch, both of them staring out at the vineyard and sipping at glasses of lemonade.
They see her coming a mile away, and Quinn's face splits into a beaming smile that makes her heart stutter.
Oh, she's so very screwed.
"There she is," Grandpa Holt says. "We were wondering when you were going to join us."
Quinn gets to her feet when Rachel is near enough, and drags a chair into position next to hers. Grandpa Holt pours a third glass of lemonade and, a minute later, they're all sitting together. The entire situation is a little overwhelming because Quinn is wearing a pair of denim shorts - in November - and Rachel can't stop her eyes from dropping down every few minutes. There's just so much pale skin on offer, and all she wants to do is touch.
Grandpa Holt clears his throat, catching her attention. "I was just telling Quinn here about the fishing trip we took when you were eight," he says.
Quinn's gaze catches hers. "Did you really fall out of the canoe?"
Rachel feels heat rise up her neck. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Grandpa Holt just chuckles, and then continues with his story about the one trip Rachel remembers fondly. It was the first time she really opened up to the new family she was now suddenly a part of. It was terrifying, setting off with these strange people and being expected to fit in.
She's never fit in.
She's too Rachel for that.
When Grandpa Holt finishes with his story, he excuses himself and rises to his feet. Without any hesitation, he presses light kisses to both their foreheads, and then shuffles into the cottage, leaving the two girls alone. They sit in comfortable silence until Quinn breaks it, slight amusement in her tone.
"Rachel Berry," she says. "Can I tell you something?"
"Anything."
Her grin is mischievous. "You snore."
Rachel gasps. "I do not."
"Oh, but you do," she says. "It's kind of cute, really."
"Quinn, are you messing with me?" she asks, because she is not going to acknowledge that Quinn just called her 'cute.' She's already struggling enough, as it is.
She laughs out loud. "You should ask Brittany; I'm sure she'll tell you."
Rachel shakes her head. "Not that I believe you or anything, but did I keep you up?"
"No," she replies. "It was actually the best sleep I've had in a while."
Rachel swallows audibly.
"You're very warm."
"Do you want more lemonade?" Quinn asks Rachel as she tops up her own glass.
"No, thank you," she replies, leaning back in her chair and relaxing slightly. She's said more things to Quinn in the past few days than she's said to Brittany and Santana combined, in the few months she's known them.
She's under no illusion that this entire trip is going to change things between the two of them. She's vowed to make a move before they leave and, if that ends up ruining the friendship they've managed to cultivate, then so be it.
What she's already seen between them makes her think it's worth the risk.
Quinn is.
"How are you feeling today?" Quinn asks, her voice sincere and her eyes gentle. "On top of your snoring, it also sounded as if you were having nightmares."
Her brow furrows slightly. "I generally do," she says. "Have nightmares, I mean. I've become a pro at stopping my awake mind of thinking about it, but my mind is open for the pickings when I'm asleep."
Quinn crosses one leg over the other, and Rachel's gaze drifts. "Do you remember them when you wake up?"
"Sometimes," she confesses. "I wasn't ever a bad sleeper but, after what happened, I was so jittery for so long that I could barely get through the night without the contracting roof having me convinced someone was coming to kill me." She shakes her head. "I really put my family through the ringer with my midnight panic attacks and demands that LeRoy check the outside for any intruders."
Quinn taps Rachel's shin with her dangling foot, and the brunette manages a smile in response.
"At school, I'm busy enough not to think about it, and I get exhausted enough to have dreamless sleep, but last night's flashback kind of brought it all to the forefront, and I was powerless to stop it." She sets her half-empty glass of lemonade on the floor and leans forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. "Can I tell you about it?"
Without even missing a beat, she says, "Rachel, you can tell me anything."
"His name is Justin Prescott," she immediately says, surprising herself by being able to say his name without her voice faltering. "Wallingford is a pretty small place, even if its population is excess of forty thousand, so people generally know people. I'd seen him around a few times but I didn't know his name until I was forced to learn it in the worst way." She wrings her fingers together. "It was a Saturday. We were having a barbecue at the house, and LeRoy needed someone to go into town to pick up some last minute things, so Emily and I volunteered. It was just a normal day, Quinn, and everyone was going about his or her business as usual.
"Emily drove, of course, and I manned the radio. We were singing at the top of our lungs, being goofy and silly and just us. I was louder before, you know, more in your face. I used to break out into song at the drop of a hat, greet everyone I saw in the street. I was so young and trusting and stupidly naive." She chuckles darkly, her eyes remaining forward. Right now, she can't bring herself to look at Quinn. "There's a grocery store in town that LeRoy likes for their fresh bread rolls, so we stopped there. To save time, we split up. She went for the rolls and tomatoes, and I decided to walk around the block to the little store that sells my dad's favourite Norwegian biscuits. LeRoy wanted them for making dessert, and those biscuits are to die for." She halts. "Well, that was a poor choice of words."
Rachel's eyes glaze over for a moment, getting lost in the memory.
She clears her throat. "Anyway, so there's this alley you walk past to get to the shop," she explains. "They tried to make it look pretty by putting potted plants and a few benches, but it was still pretty ugly. He was sitting in there when I walked past, and I waved." She covers her face with her hands. "I waved at him, Quinn. I fucking waved at him."
It's probably the first time Quinn's ever heard her swear that way, and it tells her all she needs to know about this moment that Rachel needs.
"Even though we live twenty miles out of town, LeRoy Holt is well known. The wine is known. So, everyone knows about my dad, and about me, and it was hard, you know? Lee's wife's family were livid, so they're rather estranged now. And this is an even smaller town when there are people who are homophobic, you know? You meet them all the time, and they say things, but you just ignore them and keep doing what you're doing. It's fine. It's something you can get used to. I think I tried to overcorrect, somehow. My personality could be a lot. I was always quite... friendly.
"Anyway, I bought the biscuits and a packet of liquorice that Lee likes, and then headed back to the car. I used the same route. Of course, I did. Why wouldn't I?" She shakes her head. "You know, for someone who grew up in New York, I had zero self-preservation skills." She licks her lips. "It all happened so fast, and then really slowly, at the same time. I can't explain it, really, but, one minute I was walking on the sidewalk, and the next I was flat on my back behind a bench with a blade pressed to my throat. Sometimes, I can still feel it there." Unconsciously, she presses trembling fingers to her neck. "Afterward, they told me I was in that alley for nineteen minutes," she says. "Nineteen painful, terrifying, horrific, degrading, disgusting, dehumanising, violent, hellish minutes."
Quinn sits perfectly still as she listens.
"I learned his name that day, and I learned so much more about myself," Rachel says. "I always thought I had this life figured out. Things happen all the time, good and bad, and we keep going regardless, you know. My parents got divorced, my dad moved to another state, I was bullied, my mother sometimes resents my talent, my dad married another man... these are all things that happened, and they're all things I managed to get through. I survived them with a determination I didn't even know I had, until I just did.
"So, I should have been able to survive this, right? I should have fought harder. I should have screamed louder. I should have punched and kicked and struggled and bitten. I should have done so much. But, I didn't. It wasn't enough.
"I remember this moment when the fight left me," she says, disgusted with herself. "I - I wanted to die, Quinn. I just wanted the pain to stop. I just wanted it all to stop."
Quinn gets up then, and moves to Rachel's chair. She doesn't even think about it as she gathers the girl right into her lap and holds her. She's not thinking that Rachel might not want to be touched, which is moot anyway when the brunette burrows into her, soaking up warmth and comfort.
"It didn't stop," Rachel cries into Quinn's shoulder. "It hasn't ever stopped, and it's never going to stop. Sometimes, I see him in faceless crowds, and I hear his voice in a chorus of others. I smell his breath when I'm walking the streets and I feel him when I close my eyes. He took something from me. He took everything from me."
Quinn's grip tightens, and her own tears are falling into Rachel's strawberry hair. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so sorry."
Rachel just sobs and sobs until she's spent and Quinn's shirt is soaked. She pulls back, suddenly apologetic.
"Don't," Quinn says before she can begin to apologise. "It's okay," she whispers, using the pads of her fingers to wipe at the tear tracks on Rachel's cheeks. "You are so beautiful."
"Quinn," she breathes.
Quinn rests her forehead against Rachel's. "You're wrong, you know?"
"I am?"
"He didn't take everything," she says, her right hand rising to press over her heart. "He didn't take this, and, if I have anything to do with it, he never will."
After a quiet lunch, a red-faced, puffy-eyed Rachel goes upstairs to catch a nap. Quinn doesn't follow because she suspects Rachel wants a moment to herself. It's been an emotional day and they've both been avoiding gazes and sidestepping questions about why they both look as if they've been crying for years.
It doesn't take Rachel long to fall into slumber, and the exhaustion she feels saves her from the nightmares. She's perfect pickings for them in this moment, but all she feels is the warmth of Quinn's fingers on her skin and the smell of apples and cinnamon wrapped all around her.
She feels much better when she wakes more than two hours later, her chest lighter and her body more energised. She's going to enjoy this last night at home, if it's the last thing she does.
After a quick stop at the bathroom, she heads downstairs, slowing at the bottom of the staircase and trying to decide where she wants to go.
It's the sound of running feet that alerts Rachel, and she immediately follows the source because, yes, she hasn't seen Quinn in one hundred and forty-three minutes and she's missing her already.
It's pathetic, she acknowledges, but she doesn't actually care.
"What's going on?" she asks Eric when he moves into view in the otherwise empty kitchen.
He grins at her. "Come into the backyard and see for yourself."
Shrugging in acceptance, she follows him out of the house and into the backyard of the house - which is really just open to the many vines of what is their home - to find Quinn Fabray standing in a grape tank, bare feet and a beaming smile... that grows impossibly wider when she sees Rachel.
"Rachel!" she shouts, her excitement getting the better of her. "I'm squishing grapes," she says, sounding giddy and childlike in her excitement. "With my feet."
Rachel can't help her own smile. "I can see that," she says, folding her arms across her chest. "How does it feel?"
"Awesome," she immediately says. "And cold." Her eyes suddenly widen. "Wait. Are my feet going to turn red?"
"I thought that was your maybe favourite colour."
"Doesn't mean I want red feet, Berry," she says. "And, by the way, your support has been noted."
Rachel laughs out loud. "Honestly, the fact that you can go from playful to petulant to sarcastic that quickly really gives me whiplash."
"Do try to keep up, dear."
Levi and Kelsey burst out laughing behind Rachel, and she glares at them over her shoulder. Levi just raises his palms in innocence. "I think she's my favourite of your friends, like, ever," he says.
"Hey!" a voice calls out, and Rachel turns towards the source, clearly surprised.
"Noah?" she asks, startled. "I didn't know you were here."
He shrugs, his eyes barely straying from where Quinn is laughing at herself. "I thought I'd drop by. It seems I made a good choice. This is quite the sight."
Just from the look on his face, she knows. He's not here for her at all; he's here for Quinn, and that's not okay. She would be perfectly fine with it if Quinn were any other girl, but she's not. Quinn is Quinn and Noah Puckerman isn't getting anywhere near her if Rachel can help it.
"Hey, Rach," he says, distracted by the image of Quinn in front of him.
"Hmm?"
"Don't think this is weird or anything, but do you know if Quinn has a boyfriend?"
Rachel feels her hackles rise, and it takes all her willpower not to snap at him in some way. "Not that I know of, no," she says carefully.
"Do you think she would ever go for me?"
Honestly, she thinks not, for a lot of reasons, both to do with Quinn and to do with Noah. In the end, she says, "I don't know, Noah." She glances at Quinn's flushed cheeks and happy smile. "Guys ask her out all the time at school, but she says she just doesn't have time for dating. We're all pretty busy, and you don't even live in the same Counties."
Noah frowns at her. "Who said anything about dating?" he asks. "I was talking about hooking up."
At that, Rachel rounds on him. "You will not, Noah Puckerman," she hisses, making him recoil in surprise. "I will not have you making Quinn yet another notch in your belt. Do we understand each other?"
"Um, okay."
"Good."
Before she can turn away, he steps into her space. "Is there a particular reason why?"
"She's my friend, Noah," she says, the word tasting like acid in her throat. "How awkward do you think it's going to be after you take her to bed?"
Noah eyes her carefully. "Are you sure that's all it is?"
"Of course," she dismisses, and then walks away.
Really, both girls have enough problems to work through without adding a nineteen-year-old boy's raging hormones into the mix.