Chapter Eleven
"You could have just told me, you know?"
Rachel has to drag her eyes away from Quinn - it's becoming increasingly difficult to do with every second that passes - to give Noah her attention. "What?"
"You and Quinn," he says, dropping into the chair beside her. "You could have just told me. You know how I am about that."
Rachel gulps audibly. "There is no 'me and Quinn,'" she says. "She's my friend."
"But that's not all you want, is it?"
Rachel sighs heavily in defeat. "I really thought I was hiding it better than this, but apparently not."
He smiles in sympathy. "We just know you really well," he says. "Although, I get the feeling you're allowing her to know you in all the important ways."
She presses her lips together. "She's special."
"Indeed, she is," he says, sounding slightly wistful, and she tries not to be irritated by it. It's just Noah being Noah. "Are you going to tell her?"
"I think I'm going to have to," she confesses, studiously ignoring the way he's staring at Quinn. "Lines keep getting blurred and I have no idea where I stand with her. I think, for my own sanity, I'm going to have to clear things up for both of us."
"How do you think she's going to take it?"
"Well, seeing as her closest friend is gay, I think she'll actually be okay with the whole 'Rachel likes girls' part, but the whole 'Rachel likes Quinn' might be a bit much to stomach."
Noah looks back at Quinn, who's currently being chased by Declan with a jug of grape juice in his hand. It looks as if he intends to throw it at her, and Quinn ducks under Eric's arm and hides behind him.
Sometimes, she can act like such a kid.
Rachel loves it.
"I think everything is going to be okay," Noah finally says, basically declaring it. "She's going to surprise you."
Rachel merely hums in acknowledgment of his words, even though she can't bring herself to believe them.
"That worries you too, doesn't it?" he asks, reading the vacant look in her eyes for what it is. "Either way it goes, you're terrified."
"I don't want to lose her," she says, practically whispering. "We could not be friends by the end of this, or we could be... more, I guess."
He looks thoughtful. "Would she give you more?"
"I don't know," she admits. "She's terribly confusing, you know? And, even if she did, it's doubtful it would ever become an open, full-blown commitment."
Noah nods in understanding, though she suspects he doesn't really get what she's trying to say. Even if Quinn was somehow okay with a relationship; it would be a secret one.
She's Quinn Fabray.
And, as much as they both would probably like to forget that fact, they can't.
Not yet, at least.
"Well, I think it's all going to work out," Noah says again, sounding even more sure of his prediction. "You heard it here first, folks," he says. "Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray are going to have their happily ever after."
As much as she would like to believe him, she's not naïve enough not to acknowledge all the shit they're going to have to get through to get to that elusive 'happily ever after.'
Quinn's sudden shriek draws Rachel's full attention from Noah, and they both look to see that Declan has succeeded in pouring grape juice over Quinn's light purple top.
Julian is quick to follow with his own glass of juice. And then Eric and Levi and Dennis and Tyler and Kelsey, but Quinn just glares hard at Daniel, and he retreats with his palms raised in innocence.
Rachel immediately gets to her feet with her own glass of juice still in her hand, her mouth going dry at the sight before her.
Quinn Fabray, covered in juice and sopping wet.
Rachel's dirty mind is taking her to all sorts of places because Quinn is wet. Her top is sticking to her skin, revealing the lipstick kisses on her pink bra and the outline of her oh-so-delicious abdominal muscles. Her hair is slicked back, and her eyes are crinkled through her shock and subsequent laughter.
She's gorgeous in every way.
Robert clears his throat. "Will you marry me?"
Quinn just rolls her eyes before her gaze settles on Rachel. "And you?" she asks slyly, arching one of those perfect eyebrows. "Have you come to join the party?"
Rachel cocks her head. "I was feeling a little left out."
Quinn's eyes flash with something, sparkling under the latent challenge. "Well, then, Berry, come and get me."
Rachel doesn't waste a second as she takes off, and Quinn practically squeals in her hurry to get away. Rachel chases her around the backyard, Quinn easily evading her because, damn, Quinn Fabray is fast. Quinn even manages to make a grab for a fresh pitcher of juice, which ends up all over Rachel's clothes before either of them can blink.
"Quinn!" Rachel shrieks
"Oh, shit," the blonde laughs, and then backs away when Rachel lunges for her. "Too slow, Miss Berry," she taunts, and then squeals again when Rachel breaks into a run. They're both aware of laughter going on all around them, but they have eyes for only each other.
Eventually, Quinn slows enough to let Rachel catch up, and the brunette tackles her to the ground, both of them laughing at the absurdity of it all. Quinn doesn't even feel the residual pain of her healing ribs and shoulder because now she's lying on her back on the grass and Rachel Berry is on top of her, her body pressing down on her in all the best ways.
"You're the worst," Rachel says, her hands either side of Quinn's head and her eyes on Quinn's face.
"You like it," Quinn taunts, that same damn eyebrow arched.
It's another beat before the laughter is gone and the amusement gives way to something else. The smile slips from Quinn's face, and her breath catches.
As if she's just realising the position they're in, Rachel's eyes widen and she immediately scrambles off the blonde, laughing nervously. She gets to her feet and holds a hand out to help Quinn to hers.
Once the blonde is upright, her chest rapidly rising and falling, neither makes a move to release the other's hand. Almost shyly, Rachel meets Quinn's gaze through her lashes, and there's a moment.
Just a moment.
"Quinn," Rachel breathes, and the spell breaks.
Quinn sucks in a sharp breath, taking her hand back. "I should - I need to - umm - " she awkwardly stumbles through her words, and then absently gestures at her clothing. "I should change," she finally says and, before Rachel can even say anything, she's bolting towards the house.
Rachel can only stare after her, her own heart thumping in her chest.
"Oh, yeah," Noah says coyly as he sidles up to her. "She totally wants you."
Quinn can't get her heart to stop beating as if she's just ran an endless marathon. It's thumping and loud and fast and everywhere. She can feel it in her fingers; the blood rushing in her ears. She's short of breath and she just can't seem to catch it.
All because of Rachel Berry.
It isn't supposed to happen like this.
Quinn had a plan.
She was supposed to survive through everything her parents expected of her until she could get out, and then only was she supposed to try to be happy.
They've been punishing her, and she's been punishing herself, but even she knows she can't atone forever, so she did the thing and set a goal for herself. Turn eighteen, gain access to her trust funds, graduate high school, ensure she'll be able to be self-sufficient, and then defect.
She doesn't want to be a Fabray.
She just wants to escape the expectations, love freely and live guilt-free. It's what she wants for herself, and none of it is supposed to happen this way.
Rachel Berry was never supposed to happen.
Not now, at least.
It's too soon.
It's too early in the plan, and Quinn hasn't paid enough to deserve the happiness this flighty girl is offering her.
In truth, Quinn has been struggling for a while, hiding her growing feelings and responses behind amusement and animosity. It's much easier fighting with Rachel than whatever this is.
They slept in the same bed, for goodness' sake.
Quinn knows what the girl's breath feels like.
It isn't supposed to happen like this.
It isn't supposed to happen at all.
Quinn spends an obscene amount of time in the shower, struggling to clean her body and hair of grape juice with one hand. She's also trying to stall as much as possible. Maybe she's spending too much time with Rachel and they need to cool it a little.
Sure.
She can totally do that.
It's what she should have been doing this entire time. In fact, coming here probably was the worst thing she could have done, but she just couldn't say no to Rachel when she got all sincere and imploring. Who wants to be alone at Thanksgiving, anyway?
Not Quinn.
She doesn't want to be alone ever again.
And she can't ignore the very real fact that Rachel seems to be offering just that to her.
Rachel is waiting for Quinn in Daniel's bedroom when the blonde finally returns from the bathroom. Both of them are freshly showered and wearing clean clothes, hair slightly damp and wearing shy smiles. Quinn's resolve immediately crumbles at the sight of Rachel in a knee-length green dress and bare feet.
"Hey," Rachel says from her position perched on the end of the bed. "Finish the hot water?"
Quinn's smile is sheepish as she tosses her towel at Rachel. "Shut up."
Rachel suddenly looks nervous, her hands fisting the damp towel she now has in her lap. "You're not avoiding me or anything, are you?"
Quinn frowns as she makes her way to the dresser to deposit her toiletry bag. "What? No. Why would you think that?"
"After what I told you this morning - " she can barely finish her sentence before Quinn is suddenly in front of her, dropping to her knees and imploring Rachel to stop with her own eyes.
"Never," Quinn whispers, though it comes out strongly. "Never, Rachel."
"But you've been gone a long time," she points out, frowning slightly. "I mean, dinner is practically already ready. Are you sure everything is okay?"
Quinn looks away, feeling her heart rate rise at the sincerity of Rachel. "I was cold," she says. "And, I think my shorts are stained. I tried to wash them, but I kind of just left my clothes soaking in the tub. It's a little difficult to do things with one hand."
Rachel studies her face, knowing there's something she's not saying. "Did I make you uncomfortable?" she suddenly asks, refusing to dance around this anymore. "I mean, I know we've just been joking around and all that, but I don't want to do anything to - "
"Rachel," she interrupts, exhaling slowly. "Stop, please."
"I'm sorry," she says automatically.
Quinn shakes her head as she rises up to look into Rachel's eyes. "You've done nothing wrong, okay?" she reassures. "It's just - "
"What?"
"It's a lot."
Rachel's brow furrows.
"I'm an only child, you know," she says, and it suddenly clicks for Rachel.
"Ohh," Rachel says, laughing lightly as she cups both of Quinn's cheeks and forces her lips into a pout. "I have a big family."
"It's huge."
"And they're always around."
"All the time."
Rachel giggles. "I see," she says, releasing Quinn. "Well, there's only one more night of family, and then you and I get to go back to homework and responsibility."
"My two favourite things," Quinn drawls.
And... Rachel is reaching out again, her hands resting on Quinn's shoulders. "We can hide up here for a while," she offers. "We're waiting on Uncle Jared and Aunt Edith to get here, anyway."
Quinn takes a moment to place them in the large family tree she's been learning. Jared is the Holts' middle son, and he and his family live in Wallingford. Robert, Dennis and Tyler are his children.
Ah.
"My potential in-laws," Quinn jokes.
Rachel rolls her eyes. "If Rob is to be believed; you've agreed to a summer wedding."
Quinn laughs, her head tilting to the side. "Not that it's important or anything, but I've always wanted to get married in August."
Why did she even say that?
You're not helping yourself, Fabray.
Rachel's hands squeeze Quinn's shoulders for a beat. "I'll remember that," she says. Then: "So, you want to get married?"
Quinn chuckles secretively. "Uh, yeah, probably."
"Only probably?"
Quinn gently pries Rachel's hands off her and shifts so she can sit on her bottom and lean against the end of the bed. From her position, she reaches for one of Rachel's hands and tugs. The girl follows the movement and slips off the bed, settling right beside the blonde.
"I have to find someone to marry first," Quinn eventually says, which also isn't helping her cause.
"Anybody in your sights?" Rachel asks, and it sounds forced.
Quinn looks at her for the longest time, and eventually decides not to answer the question at all. "Do you want to get married?"
She nods, mercifully allowing the topic to shift. "I think, for a while, I wanted the wedding more than the marriage," she says; "but I've grown, somewhat." She shrugs, her shoulder bumping Quinn's. "I want that shared life with someone, you know. I want to live through all of life's trials and tribulations with someone by my side, loving me and letting me love them."
"Don't you ever get scared of that?" Quinn asks. "Marriage is - it's scary."
"I think I know the truth of that more than most," she says. "I literally watched my parents' marriage implode in all the ugliest ways, and then I look at how my dad is with LeRoy and it's fascinating to me that two people can complement each other so well. I've seen two ends of the marriage spectrum, I think, and if I can get something in between; I think I could be happy."
"Is that really what you want?"
"To be happy?"
Quinn presses her lips together. "Does your happiness have to lie with another person?" she asks, sounding very serious. "Doesn't it just put a lot of pressure on both of you?"
"Probably," she admits. "I've been happy alone, you know. I've also been happy with someone else. I think I would choose the latter, though I'd settle for the former. I just want to be happy, Quinn."
"And you're not, right now?"
Rachel breathes out slowly. "If I'm being perfectly honest, I think this is the happiest I've been in a very long time."
Quinn can't think of anything to say without taking them past that invisible line she's decided to draw in the sand. They're teetering on something here, and it's going to give at some point. She'll happily put it off for as long as possible. There's still too much to get through before she can allow herself to accept any kind of happiness, particularly one that lies with Rachel Berry.
"Are you?" Rachel asks.
"Hmm?"
"Happy, Quinn? Are you happy?"
Quinn wants nothing more than to be honest with her, so she tells the truth. She knows Rachel can handle it. "No," she says. "I don't think I've ever truly been happy, Rachel. Even as a child. I think there were bursts here and there, but it never lasted. It's always been this abstract concept to me, fleeting and elusive. And, if I really think about it, I don't think I've ever felt as if I actually deserve to feel it."
Now, that's an entire can of worms not to be opened right now, but Rachel can't resist. She wants to know all of Quinn. "Is that what Sam was talking about?"
"What?"
"He mentioned that you - " she pauses. "Well, I don't really understand what he was saying, and you're saying something similar now, so I can only guess that you're not letting yourself feel happiness, right?"
Quinn tenses. "Right," she echoes.
"Am I allowed to ask why?"
"You can ask."
Rachel sighs, leaning against Quinn. "One day, will you tell me?"
Quinn breathes in slowly. "I think, with the way things are going; I'm probably going to end up telling you everything."
Rachel rests her chin on Quinn's shoulder and studies the blonde's profile. "Does that scare you?"
"It terrifies me," she confesses.
Rachel makes the decision quickly and nuzzles the skin beneath Quinn's ear, and both girls relax into the contact. "If it makes you feel any better; you kind of frighten me as well."
"It really doesn't."
Rachel puffs out a breath, making Quinn shiver. "I want to know everything about you, Quinn."
"Like what?"
"What's your favourite song?"
Quinn chuckles. "Jumping right into the tough ones, aren't you?"
"I suppose I am," she says. "Most people claim it's impossible to pick a favourite song, but I think it's possible. You know. You always know, deep down, which is your favourite."
Quinn hums deep in her throat, and Rachel closes her eyes, just enjoying the feel of Quinn. "I think I can bring it down to two," she finally says. "Please don't make me choose."
"Tell me both."
"Collide by Howie Day," Quinn says, acknowledging that both her choices aren't particularly happy, feel-good songs. They're actually a little sad and depressing. "And Cover Your Tracks by A Boy and His Kite."
"I've never heard that second song," Rachel says, immediately reaching for her phone on the bed. She unlocks it, opens her YouTube App and passes it to Quinn. A search and a click later, the space between them is filled with soft, purposeful music.
Rachel watches Quinn's face as they listen to the song, the blonde absently humming along.
Heart, cover your tracks
The blood that you spill will wash what you lack
Soul, sew up your wounds
Test out your engine. Give it some room
Mind, pick up your pace
Capture the thoughts you always chase
Soul, open your wings
Lift this cage higher than any dream
Cover your tracks
Sew up your wounds
Pick up your pace
Open your wings
Heart, flesh out your webs
The past that was tangled will unwrap and shed
Soul, sing out your songs
Clear out your throat. Belt it out strong
Cover your tracks
Sew up your wounds
Pick up your pace
Open your wings
Cover your tracks
Cover your tracks
Rachel sighs happily. "Can you play it again?"
Quinn glances at her. "Any specific reason why?"
"No."
"Okay, then."
"Quinn?"
"Hmm?"
"Where did you go to school before Dalton?"
Quinn opens one eye to peek at Rachel, who's already peering up at her with wide, imploring eyes. They've been sitting here for nearly half an hour, the same song playing on a loop and lulling them both into an easy, calm mood.
"I'm just curious," Rachel adds, almost embarrassed.
"I went to a school called Sunningdale an hour outside of Hartford," she finally says. "I was there from the second until the eighth grade."
"Why did you move?"
"They don't have a high school."
"Oh."
Quinn sighs. "I suppose there are schools closer to Hartford but, seeing as I was already in boarding school, it didn't really matter to me where I went."
Rachel snaps up, almost knocking her forehead against Quinn's teeth. "You were already in boarding school?"
Quinn blinks. "Uh, yeah."
"But you were so little."
This time, she shrugs. "It was fine. I was fine."
"Did you like it?"
"I didn't really know anything else, so I wouldn't say that, no," she confesses. "But, I guess, once you stop crying for your parents and focus your attention on schoolwork and sports, you eventually get used to it. They try to keep you busy enough not to miss home."
Rachel's face falls. "This makes me sad," she says with a pout. "You were barely your own person before you were sent off."
"I had people who looked after me and actually cared about me at Sunningdale," she says, which really means she's saying something else entirely. "I suppose I should thank my parents for doing at least that much for me, you know? It could have been different. I could have been different if they…" she trails off, unsure what she's going to say.
"Your parents," Rachel says with a shake of her head. "They're not very nice, are they?"
Quinn swallows audibly. "They're not really parents," she says. "I'm more of their... investment, as it were. Part of the fodder to perpetuate my father's image of 'family.'" She takes a breath. "It's not entirely their fault, though. I mean, I don't blame them or anything. It's just - " she stops. "It's complicated."
There's something there, and Quinn knows Rachel can hear it in her voice. She doesn't ask, though. There are times Quinn knows that Rachel wants to push and does, and then there are times like now, where she gives Quinn the softest of looks, leans forward and presses her lips to a soft cheek, and then sighs.
"I'm glad you came to Dalton," Rachel murmurs.
Quinn doesn't say it back because she won't accept that anything Rachel has been through to get to Dalton is remotely worth it.
"I'm just so glad I met you," Rachel adds a beat later.
"Me too," Quinn says, and she means it. Even if she met her too early for her liking; she's glad she met her nonetheless.
"It was bound to happen, wasn't it?"
Quinn nods. "Please don't call it anything lame."
"It was destiny, Quinn," she practically sings, and the blonde groans. "It was fate."
"Why do I know you?"
Rachel laughs, and it's the most glorious thing Quinn has ever heard. There's happiness to be found just in that sound.
It seals it, really.
Quinn Fabray is in deep, deep trouble.
"Dinner!" LeRoy yells from downstairs, and both girls flinch at the sound interrupting their little bubble. They haven't moved in an hour, just talking and breathing and being.
Together.
Quinn doesn't want to shift an inch, but Rachel's stomach growls, and they both laugh. "Someone's hungry," Quinn says.
Rachel still doesn't move. She's enjoying being able to soak up Quinn's warmth, her body practically draped over the blonde's. She really doesn't want this moment to end, but it does.
In probably the worst way.
There's a knock on the door, forcing Rachel to straighten, and Hiram sticks his head into the room and smiles at them. Rachel isn't even sure why she's blushing, but she can't help it.
"Quinn," Hiram says. "Can I borrow you for a second?"
"Sure," Quinn immediately says. She gently pats Rachel's leg, and then rises to her feet slowly. "I just need to put on some shoes."
"Meet me in my office."
"Okay."
When he's gone, Rachel stares at Quinn for a moment. "What do you think he wants to talk about?"
She shrugs. "I don't know," she says; "but it's probably to do with the vineyard. We started chatting about it while you were napping, so, maybe he just wants to finish up."
Rachel nods to herself as she too rises to her feet and switches off the music on her phone. The sudden silence is unsettling, and the entire atmosphere immediately turns awkward. They've been in their own little world, just sitting here and existing, and now life is resuming and they have to walk out and face it.
"Lee will throw a hissy fit if you take too long to get to the dinner table."
Quinn chuckles, and then playfully salutes her. "So noted."
"You're ridiculous."
"Don't sound so surprised, dear," she says. "I think you'll find I'm a lot of things."
"Quinn?"
"Sir?"
Hiram rolls his eyes, but refrains from calling her out on her address. "I took the opportunity of selecting one of my favourite wines for you to try," he says. "If you're still willing, of course."
She smiles politely at him. "Of course."
"It's just old enough, I think," he says. "2001. I've already decanted it - aired it - so it's in perfect condition. Personally, I'm not all that much of a fan of chilled wine. I think it's best to be had at room temperature."
Quinn just watches as he pours the red wine into two separate wine glasses and then reaches across his desk to hand one to her. She just holds the glass in her hand as she waits for instructions because she knows there's more to this.
There's an art to this.
Of course, there is.
Hiram smiles knowingly at her. "The wine's aroma or nose is important," he says, swirling his own glass and sniffing lightly.
Quinn does the same, feeling a bit like a fraud. Still, she knows how to act the part. She's very good at playing the role, and she'll grow into this one.
"What do you smell?" Hiram asks.
Quinn hums in thought. "It's kind of smokey," she says after a moment. "Is that... wood?"
"Cedar."
She grins at him. "Do I even want to know how you do that?"
He chuckles heartily. "I don't think we have enough time for that, Kid."
"Next time, then?"
He nods. "Next time, indeed," he agrees, and Quinn feels a certain warmth spread right through her. "Are you ready for a taste?"
She tenses slightly, and then nods. "I'm assuming I don't just gulp it down."
"You assume correctly, Quinn," he says with a laugh. "Drink slowly. Actually taste it."
Quinn waits a beat before she does as instructed, and sips at the deep red liquid. It's... different, and it's new. She wasn't expecting to like it, but she kind of does.
"What do you taste?" Hiram asks.
"It's slightly sweet on the tongue," she says; "at first, at least."
"It's bold," he agrees. "Wait a moment. Can you feel how smooth it is?"
"It draws out," she says, nodding. "There's a long finish. It's almost fruity."
Hiram nods, suddenly delighted at Quinn's level of interest and apparent palate. "There are hidden layers of fruit," he says.
Quinn drinks again. "I taste blueberries," she says, scrunching up her face slightly.
"Not a fan?"
"Not really," she admits. "I don't like any kind of berries all that much."
He throws his head back and laughs out loud. "That's hilarious."
"I know."
He shakes his head in amusement. "There's also blackcurrants and cherries, by the way," he says. "We grow them all on the farm."
"It's good wine, Sir."
"I like to think so," he says, looking equal parts smug and bashful. It's a look that reminds her of Rachel, and she can't help her smile.
When Quinn sets down her relatively untouched glass, Hiram takes the cue and gets them moving. He's learned a little bit about her in the few days they've been able to interact, and one of her tells is this: crossing one leg over the other and wringing her fingers in her lap. She's uncomfortable, for some reason, and he's going to give her the out she's silently looking for. Hiram imagines it's something to do with the alcohol itself, and he makes a mental note to keep an eye on it.
"We should probably head to the table," he says, rising to his feet. "Lee might send a search party, and he gets cranky if we're not all seated for the start of the meal."
Quinn breathes out in relief, gets up, and follows him out of the room. She wants to get the taste of the alcohol out of her mouth, and she wants to rid herself of the smell, so she stops by the guest bathroom on her way. She rinses out her mouth and washes her hands with pretty-smelling soap, trying not to think about what alcohol represents in her life.
Something dirty.
Something painful.
"No," she says to herself as she stares at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. "Not today, Quinn." When she's managed to get a hold of herself, she finally makes her way into the dining room.
Into what has just turned into the lion's den.
"Are we not even going to talk about this?" Jared suddenly asks, cutting into all conversation at the long table and bringing about silence.
LeRoy cuts his younger brother a harsh look, immediately knowing what's on his mind. "Jared," he hisses in warning.
Declan looks between them, confused by the animosity he's sensing. "What's going on?" he asks, as only the youngest grandchild can.
Jared opens his mouth, but LeRoy beats him to it. "Nothing," he says, shooting another glare at Jared.
Quinn shifts in her seat, just knowing the silent discord is about her. Her surname and her father. She can't say she's surprised. It was bound to happen, and the fact that LeRoy is trying to shield her from it is endearing and wonderful, but the last thing she wants is for the family to fight owing to her presence.
"It's not nothing," Jared presses, and every eye is suddenly on him, save for Quinn's. Out of everyone in the room, she knows it's not nothing. "Russell Fabray's daughter is literally sitting at the dining room table."
Several things happen at once. Most of the table gasps - though, Quinn can't be sure if it's because they didn't know who she was before now or because of the way Jared practically spits out the words - and others start talking all at once, directing their words at Jared.
Quinn just sits quietly as people talk and shout around her.
"He openly hates the LGBT community!" Jared says loudly. "He's not even shy about quoting the fucking Bible. He's a racist in all the worst ways, dammit. He would look at you like you're the dirt on his shoe, LeRoy, and now you have his spawn staying in your home."
Quinn closes her eyes.
"He's a rich, bigoted asshole! Why is everyone just conveniently ignoring that? Do you have any idea what loops we've had to jump through just to get and keep our businesses running? Do you have any idea the way people have suffered under his laws in this Goddamn state?"
It goes on and on, Jared just spewing out all the awful things about her father - and, well, her - while everyone else tries to get him to stop talking.
On and on.
Until.
"I get it!" Quinn suddenly snaps, her eyes flashing dangerously, and everyone falls silent. "My father is an abhorrent, miserable excuse of a human being. I get it, Mr Holt, so I really don't need you to remind me, okay?" She practically growls. "I'm the one who's had to grow up and live with him. I'm the one who shares his goddamn surname, so, please, save me the lecture and accept that I know far more about how much of a monster my own father is than you possibly ever could!"
There's just stunned silence at the table, and Quinn feels it all closing in on her. Quite abruptly, she gets to her feet, making several people flinch as her chair topples over. "If you'll excuse me," she says, fake politeness and suppressed horror lacing her tone.
And then she bolts.
Rachel is frozen in place for all of five seconds before she's on the move, scrambling to her feet and knocking her elbow on the table. She doesn't even feel the pain as she throws her uncle a disgusted look and goes in search of Quinn.
The front door is flung open, still swinging on its hinges, and Rachel races through it, Quinn's name already on her lips. It's pointless, though, because she hears a sound to her right. She flies down the front steps and turns in the direction to see Quinn doubled over in the dark, retching.
"Quinn," she says in disbelief, moving towards her. "Oh, Quinn," she murmurs, finally reaching her and holding back her hair with one hand. With the other, she rubs soothingly on her back.
"I'm sorry," Quinn chokes out. "Rachel, I'm so sorry."
Rachel frowns. "Why are you sorry?"
Quinn lifts herself up, eyes bloodshot and wet with tears. Her nose is running and she looks a bit green. She's still the prettiest girl Rachel has ever seen. "Weren't you in there?" she asks, incredulous. "I just flew off at your family, and I'm sure I ruined dinner."
"Quinn, no," she says. "It's not you who should be apologising, okay? You did nothing wrong. You've done nothing wrong. Uncle Jared was way out of line, and I'm sorry you had to sit through any of that. It's not fair to you, and I hate him a little bit, right now. I know you're nothing like your father. There's too much goodness and kindness and purity in that heart of yours."
She shakes her head. "Rachel, you still don't know anything about me."
"I don't care," she argues strongly. "I know enough to know you're nothing like him. You're you, and I like who you are."
Quinn wipes at her eyes. "You're an idiot," she says, but not unkindly.
"I know," Rachel allows, because she is an idiot sometimes. Like now. Without warning, she wraps her arms around Quinn's neck and holds her close, their bodies fitting perfectly together. Quinn hugs her back after a moment, and the two of them lose themselves in the embrace for the longest time.
Eventually, Quinn releases her and pulls away. "I'm disgusting, right now," she says, flushing from embarrassment.
Rachel gives her a once-over. Yip. Still the prettiest girl she's ever seen.
Quinn's blush increases under the obvious scrutiny. "I think I'm going to go for a walk," she says softly. "Clear my head."
Rachel nods, refraining from asking if Quinn wants any company. She can sense Quinn's need to be alone, and she's going to give it to her. "Don't get lost," she says.
"I think I'll just head to the barn," she admits. "Freshen up over there, and then head back."
Rachel reaches out and squeezes her bicep. "I'll be here, okay?"
"Okay," she says, offering Rachel a reassuring smile. Then: "I'm still sorry. Please will you tell your parents I'm sorry."
"It's not necessary, Quinn," she says; "but I will."
"Thank you."
And then she's walking.
Rachel stands perfectly still as she watches Quinn walk away from the house, disappearing into the dark and taking Rachel's heart with her. The feeling in Rachel's own chest is odd, but not new.
She's come to accept it.
She has no choice now.
Breathing a sigh once Quinn is out of sight, she turns and heads back into the house, unsure of all but one thing. Whatever comes out of this night, it's Quinn. It's Quinn, and she has a feeling it's always going to be.
Somehow, she's going to have to learn how to live with that.
In the dining room, she finds everyone still seated, existing in tense silence.
Hiram jumps to his feet as soon as she enters the room. "Rachel?" he says, frowning at the somewhat vacant look in her eyes. "Sweetheart, are you okay? Is Quinn okay?"
Rachel blinks rapidly, her mind spinning. "I - uh - I think she'll be fine."
"Where is she?"
"She went for a walk," she says, looking desperately distracted. "She - she - "
Hiram suddenly moves towards her. "Honey, what's wrong?" he asks, asking the question softly, soothingly, as he draws her into a hug. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Dad," she says, mumbling into his sweater so only he can hear her.
"What is it?"
"I'm - "
"Sweetheart, it's okay," Hiram says. "Whatever it is, it's okay."
Rachel shakes her head because this is the furthest thing from okay. "I'm - " she hesitates, "I'm in love with her."
Rachel waits for Quinn in Daniel's room.
And waits and waits.
She has to force herself not to go looking for her because Quinn needs her time and space. She knows it's pointless to call her because she can literally see Quinn's iPhone sitting on the nightstand. She's really going to have to have a chat with the blonde about that.
Eventually, she goes to her own bedroom to change into her pyjamas and perform her nightly routine, before she returns to Daniel's room and crawls into the bed. She plans on staying awake as long as possible, quietly enjoying the scent of Quinn in the sheets and in the air.
Even though this entire night turned to shit, Rachel doesn't think she's ever felt this content.
And Quinn isn't even here.
It's well after midnight when Quinn makes it back to the dark house, and she's just relieved the front door is unlocked. She slips inside in complete silence and makes her way up the stairs towards Daniel's room. She knows she's going to have to apologise to Hiram and LeRoy for just storming out of dinner the way she did.
Her knees sting a little after her fall, and she stops at the bathroom to clean the scrapes with disinfectant she finds in the cabinet above the sink as best she can - particularly with one working hand. As long as she doesn't get an infection, she decides, and then heads to Daniel's room.
Quinn can't say she's surprised to find a certain Rachel-shaped lump in Daniel's old bed, which is why she doesn't switch on the overhead light. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop the brunette from stirring and moving into a sitting position.
"Hey, you," Quinn says softly.
Rachel blinks away her sleep, smiling crookedly. "Hey," she croaks.
Quinn can't help her grin as she moves over to her suitcase to retrieve her own pyjamas. "Did you get lost?" she asks, sounding amused.
"I was waiting for you," she defends weakly. "I fell asleep."
Quinn keeps her body facing away from Rachel, kicks off her shoes and pulls on her sweatpants under her dress. Without thinking too much about it, she lifts the dress over her head, exposing the scars on her back to the moonlight, and Rachel gasps.
Quinn tenses immediately and quickly slips on her t-shirt. Shit. Refusing to turn around, Quinn quickly grabs for her toiletry bag, and then leaves the room.
And she leaves Rachel, with whatever thoughts she's currently thinking.
It's almost inevitable that Rachel is still awake when Quinn returns. As long as she tried to take brushing her teeth and washing her face, Rachel is sitting up against the headboard with a pensive look on her face.
Apparently, they have quite a bit to talk about, and Quinn isn't even sure she wants to fight against it. It's just so exhausting having to hide herself, and Rachel is proving to her, day in and day out, that she can handle it.
Breathing a sigh, Quinn accepts her fate and climbs into bed beside Rachel. For the longest time, neither of them says a word, and then Rachel speaks.
"I'm sorry," she says.
"I'm sorry, too," Quinn automatically replies.
Rachel reaches for one of Quinn's hands and links their fingers, just needing to touch her. Quinn accepts the contact, even if she's desperately wary of what it means.
"Are you up for talking?" Rachel asks.
"Do I have a choice?"
"I won't let you hide from talking about it, Quinn, but, right now, you have a choice," she says, gentle and soothing, her voice matching the movement of her thumb on the back of Quinn's hand.
Quinn risks a look at her, and immediately gets lost in the affection and sincerity she finds. "So, I have the option not to talk tonight?"
Rachel just about manages a smile. "Do you know what my favourite time of day is?"
Quinn frowns, clearly thrown by the quick change in topic. "Uh, no," she says.
"It's now," she says. "Late at night, after everyone has gone to bed and the house is perfectly still and quiet. When the world is just serene. I find such peace in it; just silence."
"Sometimes, I can't stand the silence," Quinn confesses. "I end up thinking too much."
Rachel squeezes her fingers. "What keeps you here, Quinn?"
The question catches her off guard, and she tenses for a beat. "The future," she says. "My escape."
"From what?"
"Everything," she breathes. "This life. Myself."
"Why are you so intent on running away from yourself?"
Quinn chuckles darkly. "Why wouldn't I, when everyone else is?"
"Rachel," Quinn murmurs into the dark of the room, her right hand wrapped around Rachel's forearm.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you," she whispers.
"For what?"
"For this," she says. "For being my friend, for being here, for inviting me to come home with you, for trusting me, and for helping me."
Rachel shifts closer, soaking up the other girl's warmth in all the best ways. "You're welcome, Quinn," she says sleepily, her eyes staying closed. Then: "Quinn?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you," she breathes.
Quinn chuckles softly, her breath washing over Rachel's face. "For what?"
"For letting me," she says, yawning. "Thank you for letting me be exactly what you need."