AN: Trigger warnings especially for this chapter. This is an extremely heavy chapter. Please, please take care.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rachel finds Quinn twenty minutes later, sitting on the floor of the Great Hall's balcony. She's practically hidden from view, her knees pressed to her chest and her eyes unfocused.
Rachel sighs heavily when she sees her, half in exasperation and the other in apprehension. They're about to have a very serious conversation. Something they probably should have done before people started taking off their clothes.
If Quinn notices her approach, she doesn't say anything. Rachel is allowed to sink to the floor beside her, mirror her position and breathe out in unmistakable relief. Her own mind has been reeling since Quinn disappeared from the room, and she doesn't quite think she has a handle on what she wants to say.
She's taken her time, though. There wasn't any use rushing. She put on her clothes carefully, making sure not to trigger herself, and then walked out of Quinn's bedroom, fully aware that finding Quinn probably wouldn't be easy. She checked the library first, then the kitchens, the dining hall, really everywhere before she thought of this place.
It's almost obvious now.
They sit in silence for a few minutes before Rachel opens her mouth and says, "I'm sorry."
Quinn freezes. "What?" she squeaks out. "Rach, why are you sorry? I'm the one who should be sorry."
Rachel frowns. "What?"
"I shouldn't have pushed," she says. "I should have better control than that, and I'm sorry. Baby, I'm so sorry."
"Quinn, no," Rachel says, reaching out to smooth a hand over Quinn's forearm. "You didn't push me into anything, okay? I wanted it." She blinks. "I do want it. All of it. With you. I just - maybe, I'm not as ready as I like to think I am."
"That means I rushed you," Quinn says, adamant about her own fault in this.
"That means I rushed myself," Rachel argues. "Quinn, honey, you know as well as I do that you wouldn't be able to get me to do anything I don't want to do." She turns Quinn's head so they can look at each other. "I want you," she says, strong and determined. "I want you so badly, it terrifies me."
Quinn lets out a sound that's worryingly close to a whimper. "The last thing I want is for you to be afraid of me."
"I'm not afraid of you," Rachel tells her. "I'm afraid of me."
Quinn looks confused; utterly bewildered. "I don't understand."
Rachel doesn't know how to explain herself. She doesn't have the words, and she knows she's going to have to call her therapist in the morning. Both of them, probably. "I love you," Rachel says, because that is a truth that won't ever change. "I love you, Quinn, and I'm very attracted to you." She very carefully reaches out to run a hand of Quinn's hair, smoothing it.
Words are both easy and difficult to say, and she wishes she could just show Quinn what she's thinking.
"I promised you I would try," Rachel says, quiet and a little vulnerable. "I intend to keep that promise, Quinn, but it might not work out the first time, or the second time. Maybe not even the third. I just - I need you not to freak out on me, okay? I need you to stay and figure it all out with me, because there's nobody I trust with all of this more than you, okay?"
Quinn just continues to stare at her.
"Okay?"
"I'm sorry."
Rachel sighs, deflating. "Baby, please."
"No, I'm sorry," she repeats. "I did make you promise, and then I'm the one who freaked out, and I told myself I wouldn't. I'm sorry I ran."
Rachel kisses her cheek, and then rests her forehead against Quinn's. "I think this was probably always going to happen at some point," she says softly. "It was inevitable in some way, Quinn. I just need to know if you're okay."
"If I'm okay," Quinn echoes in slight disbelief. "I should be asking if you're okay."
Rachel shifts closer, linking their arms and leaning into her. "I think so," she says. "I just don't want us to take any steps back, Quinn. I need to know I haven't scared you away."
"Rachel, no, of course not," Quinn immediately says, trying her best to be reassuring. "I'm here, and I love you, and I'm very attracted to you, too."
Rachel laughs softly, feeling the tension in her body slowly dissipate.
"It's all just something we're going to have to work on," Quinn says. "It's on our list."
"It's a long one, isn't it?"
Quinn hums. "We're human beings, and we've been dealt some pretty shitty cards. All we really can do is work on it, or what's the point of anything, right?"
Rachel closes her eyes. "We're teenagers, Quinn," she says. "Aren't these supposed to be adult problems?"
Quinn has no response to that.
"Are you willing to try again?" Rachel asks after a moment. "Not today, or any time soon. Just, again, with me?"
Quinn turns her head to look at Rachel's face, taking in the perfect lines of her features and the slight crease in her brow. "Whenever you're ready," she assures her.
"We both have to be ready," Rachel reminds her. If this little experience has taught her anything, it's that Quinn also has her own hangups about their physical relationship, even if she doesn't actually know she does.
"Okay," Quinn eventually says.
Rachel sighs heavily. "I was worried," she admits. "I didn't want tonight to make you change your mind about all of this."
"All of what?"
"Me."
"Never," Quinn says, stern and pointed. "Never, Rachel."
Rachel meets her gaze, looking and feeling vulnerable and a little lost.
"This changes nothing," Quinn whispers, leaning over and pressing a soft, barely-there kiss to Rachel's cheek. "I love you. I don't just say it. I mean it, and we're going to work through everything together, okay? You and me. We're - we're going to figure everything out. Just you wait and see."
For the most part, Rachel wants to believe her, but there's a certain tremble in Quinn's voice that puts her on edge. How is she supposed to believe Quinn when Quinn doesn't even believe herself?
"Are you watching?" Owen asks over the phone, and Quinn stretches out on the couch in their recreation room, her limbs aching after her morning running around the soccer pitch and getting her team one step closer to the Championship.
The Hat-Trick Hero Strikes Again.
"I'm turning it on now," Quinn answers, reaching for the remote and switching the channel. She's blessedly alone, given that majority of the rest of the school is currently still in the city - even her girlfriend.
Quinn wouldn't say she needs the space, but she gets the feeling Rachel has something very specific she wants to say to her, and Quinn isn't ready to hear it. Whatever it is.
So, she's perfectly content to sit alone - well, as alone as one can be with Owen in her ear - and watch the final of the CONCACAF Women's Olympic Qualification in relative peace. It's USA versus Canada, and Quinn will openly admit to forcing a certain disconnect between herself and the national team, in the face of the certainty her parents would never allow her to play for her country.
But.
Well.
Things have changed.
"So, I know we spoke about the Olympics last time we saw each other, but I don't think it's on the cards for this year," Owen says. "The roster is tight, they've already had January Camp, you're very young, and you don't have any experience with a national team at any level."
Quinn hums in agreement and understanding, accepting his words for the truth they represent. She's very realistic about her chances, and she thinks it'll be better not to rush her into the team when she's so green. For all they know, she probably sucks outside of a school environment.
Well.
Quinn knows it's not true, but she's determined to be a humble being.
"However," Owen says, "they're releasing the updated roster for the U20s on Monday, and I'm hearing rumours your name is on it."
Quinn sits up quite suddenly. "What?"
Owen laughs. "They've been a few injuries, which is unfortunate, of course, but it's great news for you."
"Owen," she scolds softly.
"There's a training camp mid-February," he continues as if she hasn't spoken. "If you make it through that, you could find yourself on a plane to Panama in March."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," he echoes. Then: "Ooh, the game's starting."
Quinn's gaze snaps towards the screen, and the referee is just blowing her whistle to start the game. "Got any predictions?" she asks.
"I'm going two-one to the US," he immediately says. "You?"
"Come on," she goads. "That's it?"
"It's going to be tight," he defends.
"I'm going at least three-nil," she says. "Total clean sheet. Alex Morgan with a brace."
"Are we betting?"
Quinn laughs. "No, we're not," she says. "I'll feel too bad taking your money."
He laughs loudly, and Quinn can't help wondering what her life was like before they officially met. He's the only one who was ever persistent enough with pursuing her, and now he's such a part of her life that she feels -
Well, Quinn isn't sure what to feel. Adults in her life usually disappoint her, and she can't help being cautious. Still, he's proven that he's firmly in her corner, and she's hoping he stays.
It's terrifying wanting someone to stay.
Before, her list consisted of only Santana and Tori, and she managed to lose them both. Now, her list is so much longer, and it causes her a considerable amount of anxiety. All she knows is that, if she loses one, she'll lose them all, and she doesn't think that's something she'll survive.
"Five bucks, then," Owen says.
Quinn rolls her eyes. "Tell you what," she says. "If I take this bet and win, you have to wear a Princeton jersey to our first game against Cornell."
Owen exaggerates a gasp. "Quinn. You wouldn't."
"I would," she says. "Are you still willing to take this bet?"
He's quiet for a moment, and then he grumbles out a reluctant yes that he knows he's going to regret.
Quinn texts Owen what size do you wear? exactly eighty-four minutes later, and she is so, so smug about it.
Rachel can say, for the most part, nothing particularly significant does change between her and Quinn.
Quinn still kisses her and touches her with little hesitation. She still focuses on school with an intensity that's overwhelming. She still scores a hat trick in the Griffins' next game once she's allowed to play, and she still teases Blaine about it.
Nothing really changes, except for the fact it feels as if everything has.
There's a certain heaviness to their lives now. To their relationship. At first, Rachel doesn't know what to make of it, because it's nothing she's ever experienced before, and she's unsure who to talk to about it. There's Brittany, of course. Kurt, too. She can even talk to her father or LeRoy. Definitely not her mother, or Noah. Daniel, maybe. Emily-Anne. Tina.
She has people.
But, it's still not a surprise when she ends up talking to Quinn about it.
This is what they do. This is part of their very adult relationship they're desperately trying to make work. It's difficult and easy all at the same time, but Rachel wouldn't have it any other way.
She wouldn't trade Quinn for anything, and she can't help but wonder at the state of their relationship that she feels comfortable enough to say, "You're not going to try again, are you?" when she can finally get Quinn alone (and free, because this girl is a stickler for following her very precise schedule).
"Excuse me?"
Rachel waits for Quinn to look up from her iPad's screen, where she's been reading up on the post-game analysis, to speak again. "You're not going to try again," she says, a statement that would be an accusation if it didn't sound merely like an observation to both of them. "I can tell."
Quinn takes a deep breath, and releases it slowly, squirming where she's seated on the end of her bed. "I - " she starts, and then stops. "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
Quinn clears her throat. "I feel as if I'm the one who initiated the whole taking-things-further thing the last time," she says; "and I don't feel - I don't know if I would - "
Rachel sighs, understanding what Quinn is trying to get across without having to say the words. "It's going to have to be me," she surmises.
Quinn sets aside her iPad, and crawls along her bed towards where Rachel is perched on its edge. She doesn't stop moving until she's hovering over Rachel, forcing her to lie against her pillows. "It's going to have to be you," Quinn echoes quietly, and then kisses Rachel.
They've kissed since the flashback incident, but this one feels different.
It tastes different.
Rachel shifts back until she's lying properly, her body relaxing into the mattress and inviting the delicious weight of Quinn to settle on her. Her fingers slide into soft, blonde hair and her right leg hooks itself around Quinn's hips, drawing her closer and closer.
"I love you," Rachel whispers against Quinn's lips. "I love you, and I want you, and I want to do this with you. I do."
Quinn sighs, pressing a kiss to Rachel's cheek. "I don't know who you're trying to convince," she murmurs, and then lifts her head to look into Rachel's eyes. "You know I want you, too. I'm always going to, but I don't want you to feel as if you have to give yourself to me, in any way, special occasion or not." She pauses, visibly contemplating if saying her next words will be received well. She goes for it, anyway. "I'm not Finn."
Rachel freezes, and Quinn makes sure to climb off of her.
Quinn sits cross-legged at her side, awkwardly wringing her fingers together and avoiding her gaze. "I - I didn't recognise the signs, but I eventually caught on," Quinn says, her voice quiet. "You were tense all week, as if you were psyching yourself up for something, and it was this, wasn't it? You wanted to give me something, thinking you almost had to, because we were celebrating two months together, and I - " she stops and sighs. "Baby, that's not a good enough reason," she says sadly. "No reason is a good enough reason unless it's that you honestly want to."
Rachel also sits up, feeling tears spring to her eyes.
"I am in love with you," Quinn says. "It is not conditional." She grits her teeth. "Baby, I'm not him, okay? I'm none of them."
Rachel closes her eyes to stave off her impending tears. She doesn't want to cry, but it's almost an impossibility at this point. So she does, and Quinn just holds her; wraps arms around her and drags her into a warm lap. Quinn is solid and present, breathing words into her hair and gently rubbing her back.
"I know you're not," Rachel finally says, blubbering into Quinn's chest. "I know you're not him. I know you're none of them."
Quinn kisses her hairline. "I love you," she says softly. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
"I'm sorry," Rachel mumbles.
"Please don't be," Quinn says. "Don't ever be sorry."
Rachel focuses on her breathing, trying to calm herself. Quinn is too good to her; too good for her. She wishes there was something she could say; that even Quinn could say, just to make this all better.
"I think we have to keep talking about it," Quinn eventually says. "There's no rush, okay? I'm not in a rush. I'm not going to lose interest in our relationship or you or your head or heart or body or mind."
"What if I can't ever - " Rachel starts to ask, and then stops.
"Hey," Quinn murmurs, cupping her cheek. "So what, huh? So what if you can't ever?"
Rachel shakes her head. "You can't even say that, Quinn," she says. "Sex is important."
Quinn sighs. "I think you're putting far too much importance on something we've been going without for months now," she says. "I don't understand why you're putting so much pressure on yourself. Did I say something to you? Do something, to make you worry? To make you feel as if this is something you have to give me?"
Rachel traps her bottom lip between her teeth.
"Baby, what is it?" Quinn asks, and she sounds so deeply sincere that Rachel feels tears pooling in her eyes again. "You can tell me."
Rachel wrings her fingers together, suddenly feeling very ridiculous. It must show on her face, she thinks, because Quinn ducks her head to catch her gaze, and Rachel feels her blush multiply.
"Rachel," she murmurs. "Does the reason you're so determined to advance our physical relationship have anything to do with the auditions for West Side Story that are coming up?"
Rachel says nothing.
Quinn leans back. "Wow, that is definitely not a sentence I ever imagined myself saying." She chuckles softly. "Even if you paid me."
"Quinn."
She looks into chestnut eyes. "I'm sorry, but I think I'll go a little crazy if I don't find even a little bit of amusement in this," she says. "What exactly are you trying to do?"
"I want to be with you," Rachel says.
"I know you do," Quinn says, sighing. "I've never doubted that, Rachel." She shifts onto her knees. "I just wish you wouldn't rush yourself based on what you think should be happening. There's no timeline on our relationship, and fuck if I know what the school musical has to do with anything."
She immediately drops her gaze. "It's stupid."
"It obviously isn't," Quinn counters. "Not when it's got you all twisted into knots."
Rachel lets out a nervous laugh. "It really is stupid, Quinn," she says. "I guess I just let it get to me."
"What?"
"I really, really want this role," she says.
"And, I'm sure you're going to get it," Quinn says, sweet and always so supportive. "Still don't understand what any of it has to do with me, or, uh, our physical relationship."
Rachel pats her hand, silently asking for patience.
Quinn gives it.
"Have you ever seen West Side Story?"
Quinn blinks. "No, I can't say I have," she says. It's not one of the musicals she's seen, and she hasn't seen any recordings of it.
"It's a very… passionate story," Rachel says. "Sexy, in a way."
Quinn nods, trying to follow.
"I was rehearsing my audition piece in the auditorium yesterday, and Jesse was there to give us some notes," she explains. "He might have mentioned that I - I lack… sex appeal."
"What?" Quinn asks, her tone sharp, and Rachel just knows she'll go out and strangle Jesse if she needs to. Right now. In fact, she looks just about ready to bolt.
"Baby," Rachel says, squeezing her fingers and keeping her from darting off to defend her honour. "He's - he's not wrong."
"What are you talking about?" Quinn asks, indignant. "You're the sexiest person on the planet."
Rachel leans across to kiss her cheek, quieting her pout. "I love you for saying that, but his words kind of brought to light something I know is true."
"Rach - "
"Just listen for a second."
Quinn nods, pressing her lips together.
"Maybe you don't realise it, but I do actively try to make myself look… less appealing," Rachel admits, unable to look at Quinn's face. "In public, and around strangers or just people I'm not fully comfortable with." She sighs. "Take the Halloween party."
Quinn visibly flinches at the reminder, and Rachel slides a hand along her arm, soothing her.
"I wouldn't usually wear anything like that," she says. "Maybe, before the assault, I might have, who knows? But I felt so uncomfortable and exposed, and then - well, you remember what happened. And I'm not saying it was the outfit - of course it wasn't, because I should be able to wear whatever I want on my own body, and not be attacked for it - but I think a part of me has always…" she trails off, trying to find the words.
Still, she thinks Quinn understands.
"It's a bigger issue, of course," Rachel says. "Obviously. Especially after tonight, and I think I'll have to talk to my therapists about it, but I, uh, I'm sorry." She sighs. "I'm sorry I get so lost in my head about this kind of thing. I don't - I don't want it to seem like I'm forcing you into anything."
"You're not," Quinn says, automatic and true. "If anything, you're forcing yourself."
Rachel sighs. "Can - can you come here, please?"
Quinn frowns in confusion. She's cute like this, open and gentle and so, so willing to be everything Rachel needs. Just like this, the two of them locked away from the word, working through things together.
"Come here," Rachel says again, and Quinn clicks, then, moving to wrap her arms around her as they both settle against her pillows.
Quinn holds her so gently, hands still firm, silently letting Rachel know she's right there. "For what it's worth," Quinn eventually whispers into her hair, nuzzling just behind her ear. "I really do think you're the sexiest person on this planet."
Rachel shuts her eyes tightly, suddenly feeling undeserving.
"And, I don't care what stupid Jesse says," Quinn adds. "You're going to get the part."
"I love you," Rachel whispers, turning her head to kiss Quinn's mouth. Just briefly. "I love you so much."
Quinn hums in response, softly nipping at her bottom lip.
Rachel laughs softly, pulling back. "Will it ever be easy?" she asks, genuine, needing to know.
Quinn's hold on her tightens. "God, I hope so."
Quinn makes the roster.
There's no actual fanfare. It flies right under the radar, and Quinn really prefers it that way, given there are still a number of days before she can truly breathe easily.
Rachel makes a big deal out of it, of course, even though Quinn reminds her numerous times that it's just a training camp, and she's still going to have to impress the coaches if she wants to make the official team.
Things have changed, and it's obvious to only the two of them.
Rachel still kisses her silly, dragging her into her bedroom, locking the door with dramatic flare and shoving her onto her bed. It's easier when she's in control, she's coming to learn, whether she's above or beneath Quinn, and she's just relieved Quinn is so flexible with their positions.
"My girlfriend," Rachel practically sings as she climbs over Quinn, easily straddling her hips. "Called up to play for her country. Going to be on the international stage." She leans over, getting as close as possible without actually touching Quinn. "So fucking sexy."
Quinn sucks in a sharp breath, her heart racing. "Rachel," she whispers, feeling overwhelmed with the sight and smell and feel of the girl hovering above her.
"I'm so proud of you," Rachel says, her voice dropping in register. "And, now, you're just going to lie there while I show you just how much. Okay?"
All Quinn can do is nod.
"No touching, okay?"
"Huh?"
"Keep those hands to yourself," Rachel instructs. "This will go so much better for you if you do as you're told."
Quinn exhales shakily, just managing to nod again.
Rachel will admit she's riding a certain high from the solo she just sang during rehearsals with the ConChords, and she's so ready and willing to do wonderful, dirty things to her very deserving girlfriend. It hasn't been long since they last tried this, but she's not one to back away from pushing herself.
Well, she hopes.
"Do we understand each other?" Rachel asks, an inch away from giving Quinn exactly what she so desperately wants.
"Uh huh."
Rachel kisses her, slowly and purposefully. She doesn't necessarily have a plan, which she thinks is better. Giving it too much thought puts a lot of pressure on her, and she's content just to kiss Quinn with no actual destination in mind.
It helps that Quinn is good. Those hands don't stray, though they do fist the sheet at her sides from the effort. Rachel feels so powerful, and it's the very moment she has a terrifying, absolutely horrible thought that this is probably exactly what Justin felt.
She jerks back so suddenly that her neck actually clicks. She scrambles off of Quinn like she's been burned, and there's a sense of disgust seeping into her bones.
"Oh, my God," she says, her body shaking, her eyes on Quinn, who just looks stunned.
Rumpled and gorgeous, confused and so, so pretty, but still shocked. Her school shirt is unbuttoned to reveal her undershirt and so much skin. Her eyes are wide, red marking her pale skin, and Rachel loves her. She loves her so much.
"I'm sorry," Rachel says.
"Why?" Quinn asks, sitting up. "What happened? Did I do something?"
And then Rachel is scurrying back towards her, throwing her arms around her neck and hugging her so tightly that she's sure she's giving them both a lot more than emotional whiplash.
This week has been an entire trip.
Her emotions have been all over the place.
Quinn slides a hand along her back. "Rachel, what's going on? Tell me what you're thinking."
She keeps her face pressed into the crook of Quinn's neck, unwilling and unable to put into words into what she's feeling.
But, Quinn still seems to understand.
Somehow.
"Hey," she soothes, a hand cradling her head. "It's okay," she says. "I liked everything you were doing. I promise I did. I would have told you to stop if I didn't. I didn't even know you needed to hear this, but I trust you. I trust you, and I love you."
The silence that follows is long and heavy, and Rachel just stays where she is, tucked into the curve of Quinn's warm body. She could probably fall asleep right here, if left unchecked, especially with the way Quinn's hand smoothes over her hair every few seconds.
Rachel might even purr if Quinn keeps it up.
"I thought I was getting better," Rachel eventually whispers, leaning into Quinn's touch. "I'm supposed to be getting better."
"And, you are," Quinn says. "Of course you are. Just look at how far you've come already; how far we've come. So what if we stumble a little? So what if some weeks are harder than others? It's all just part of it."
Rachel sighs, somehow a little irritated that Quinn is being so nice and understanding and so stupidly mature about all of this.
All while looking sexy and adorable and beautiful, and Rachel grips her shirt tightly in her fists and tugs her into a kiss that surprises them both.
"My girlfriend," Rachel murmurs against Quinn's lips, trying to get back some earlier comfort. It's okay. It's okay to touch her, and it's okay to want her. "Called up to play for her country. Going to be on the international stage."
Quinn just laughs, the fingers of her left hand sneaking under Rachel's school shirt and tickling her skin. "At least someone's excited for me," she says, nipping at Rachel's bottom lip.
Rachel pulls back to look right into her eyes, very serious. "Oh, don't even," she says. "I'm certain Owen actually squealed when he called earlier. I heard it myself."
Quinn tilts her head, kissing the side of Rachel's neck. "I swear it's still ringing in my ears."
Rachel's fingers slide into her hair, her own head falling back to give Quinn better access. "I'm so proud of you," she says. "It's only the beginning, Quinn. This is just the start for you."
Quinn nips at her skin a little harder than necessary, which makes her yelp, and then laugh. "It's not just me," she says, her tone entirely too serious. "Never again. It's never going to be just me ever again."
This time, when Rachel kisses her, nothing stops her.
It's better in the morning.
Somehow, Quinn just knows. One look at Rachel's face, seeing her her clear and focused eyes, puts Quinn at ease. She can't help but wish for a few days of calm. They just need to get through the next few days unscathed, and then she'll be able to breathe more easily.
Or, just breathe, at all.
It's better in the morning, and Quinn wants nothing more than for it to keep going in that direction. She needs it to get better and better, for her sake, and Rachel's.
Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't, Rachel can't quite tell, because she's convinced that nothing has changed, except for the fact everything has.
So, no, nothing really changes.
At least not until just over a week later.
Which is a day Rachel Berry will never forget for as long as she lives.
She'll try; she'll desperately try, but the entire day will never release her, haunting her in some truly awful ways for the rest of her life.
The day, itself, starts out as normal.
It's a Tuesday, which means Rachel has dance class in the afternoon and a potential vocal lesson if she's feeling up for it.
Rachel wakes at the normal time, and goes through her morning routine with little fanfare. She texts Quinn, even though she knows the blonde is on her run - probably, definitely, without her phone or inhaler.
It's a simple text, about nonsense, but Rachel still sends it because she can.
Rachel: If they feed us that substance they like to refer to as Cottage Pie again, I think I'm going on a hunger strike.
It's normal.
Quinn drops by her room after Rachel has breakfast with Santana and Brittany, and the two of them spend almost fifteen minutes trying to make each other smile. It comes easy to Quinn, Rachel realises, because the girl is capable of saying swoon-worthy things without even having to think about it.
It's really days like these that Rachel falls more and more in love with Quinn, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
After a steamy kiss, during which Quinn's hands drop down to her ass and squeeze, they head their separate ways to class. Their schedules are vastly different this semester, and the one class they do share, AP English, is spent reading through A Streetcar Named Desire, so there isn't much talking involved.
All Rachel knows is that she should have said something to Quinn.
Anything.
She should have reached out with her hand, closed her fingers around Quinn's thin wrist and just held onto her with every ounce of strength she had.
Because, the second Quinn walks out of that classroom, everything about their lives changes.
Everything.
Rachel meets up with Brittany outside the dining hall for lunch.
She's feeling odd, like something terrible is happening, but she's powerless to stop it. It's not a feeling she successfully shakes, but she manages to ignore it enough to eat her food and listen to Brittany prattle on about one of the new dance instructors.
Rachel sometimes feels as if she neglects her friendships in favour of her romantic relationship, so she makes a point to spend time with Brittany and Santana, and she even makes extra time for Kurt these days.
All Rachel knows, by the end of the day, is that she should have sought out Quinn and spent the hour with her, instead.
In the long run, Rachel can't know how much that would have changed the events of the day, but she would feel much better knowing she did something.
Anything.
As it stands, though, Rachel and Quinn don't cross paths during lunch, and Rachel can't know that she's seen the Quinn she knows and loves for the very last time.
It happens when Rachel and Brittany are on their way back to their respective rooms after classes have let out for the day. Rachel isn't sure what it is at first, but she notices that other students are looking at her at about the same time Brittany does.
"What's happening?" she asks nobody in particular, and that unsettling feeling is back with a vengeance. It forces a tightening in her chest, and she reaches out to Brittany, who's now leading them in the direction of the recreation room.
It's odd, Rachel acknowledges, that there's a large group of students around the television. It's not usual for this time of day, and she feels her palms start to sweat from how… awful everything suddenly feels.
"What's going on?" Brittany asks the first person they see.
It's Candice, and she looks a little shell-shocked by something. Her eyes grow impossibly wide when she sees Rachel, and then she says, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Rachel asks.
"That," Candice says, and she points at the television's screen where an advertisement is just coming on.
Well, no.
It's actually a campaign ad.
For one of Russell Fabray's direct opponents.
Rachel sucks in a sharp breath at the first glimpse of her own face in what is obviously a crudely-shot video. And then Quinn's face. And then them. Kissing. Looking lovingly at each other. Smiling. Kissing again.
"They've been running it all morning," Candice says, barely looking at Rachel or Brittany, who have both gone worryingly pale. "Herold claims that Fabray can't speak about family and Christian values when his own daughter is, well…" she trails off guiltily. "I think it's all horse shit, but the political sphere has gone crazy."
Brittany grips Rachel's arm tightly. "When was that video taken?"
And Rachel suddenly knows, with sudden clarity, that someone in her own home took that video. She remembers the moment perfectly. It was Christmas Day, moments after Quinn came down the stairs in her pretty dress, cardigan and headband, and Rachel stole her away to the kitchen to kiss her (and get her some soup).
Somebody in her home helped out her.
Somebody in her family did this to them.
A student near the front flips the channel to the news, where they're talking about the campaign ad and its aftermath.
"They caught up with her parents to get their thoughts on the contents of the ad," Candice is narrating for the girls. "Russell Fabray claimed that no daughter of his would ever participate in something so sinful, so it's either a mistake or some kind of strategic video editing. He vowed to get to the bottom of it, and then deal with it as he saw fit."
Rachel watches the screen in horror as Russell Fabray does just that, vowing to see that the appropriate people pay their dues with a certain look in his eye that would be terrifying for anyone and everyone.
And then Candice - sweet, oblivious Candice - says, "Poor Quinn," and Rachel's entire world grinds to a halt.
Quinn.
Rachel makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, and both Brittany and Candice look at her strangely. "Has - has Quinn seen this?" she forces out.
"I don't know," Candice says. "Though, I don't know how she couldn't have. It's all everyone's been talking about since school let out." She shakes her head. "She probably doesn't want to be around people right now," she says. "Well, probably other than you, Rachel."
And, it's those words that kick off Rachel's panic, because why hasn't Quinn sought her out? Why hasn't she called or texted or -
Years from now, people will ask her if she knew, and she'll always be able to tell them, yes, she did.
So, Rachel runs.
She's not the fastest in this respect, but she literally flies through the school corridors with one destination in mind. She's vaguely aware of Brittany following behind her, but she's too focused to pay attention to that.
Rachel gets to Quinn's bedroom door before she knows it, and she freezes before she can move to open it. She's terrified of what she'll find behind it, but she has to know.
"Rachel," Brittany whispers just behind her, and it's enough to get her to open the door. For some reason, Rachel almost expects to find Quinn lounging on her floor, or even hunched over her desk.
But, what she finds, instead, is an empty room.
For just a moment, Rachel breathes a sigh of relief… that quickly turns to panic at the sight of Quinn's inhaler innocently sitting on her nightstand.
While Quinn doesn't take it with her when she's out running, she always has it while in her school uniform. She has a specific pocket on the inside of her blazer where she keeps it.
Which means Quinn returned to this room.
But -
"Quinn's not in here," Brittany observes unnecessarily. "Where could she be?"
"I don't know," Rachel's mouth says, even as her eyes continue to scan the room for whatever is out of place.
She can feel it.
Something is amiss, and it's clawing at her in a very unpleasant way.
Rachel eventually turns around to face Brittany, who's hovering in the doorway, looking out of place. There's a group of students just behind her, all of them curious and waiting. She doesn't know why, but she suddenly hates them all just a little bit.
"I don't know," Rachel says again. "I honestly don't know."
Brittany shifts nervously, clearly unsure what to make of this situation. Rachel looks legitimately spooked, pale as a sheet and trembling. "Maybe she went for a run," she offers.
Rachel considers it, and she moves to Quinn's closet to confirm. Her panic spikes when she sees Quinn's running shoes still in their spot.
But, it's the sight of Quinn's blazer so neatly hung up that cools the blood in her body, bringing it to a standstill.
No.
Rachel turns away before her brain can latch onto that thought, and that's when she sees it.
Quinn's phone.
Behind her desk.
Smashed to pieces.
It's the moment she knows.
Quinn's parents got to her first.
Rachel's too late.
Almost, without her consent, Rachel's head turns to look at Quinn's bathroom door. It's slightly ajar, revealing just a sliver of the sunlight shining into it.
It's this moment that will stay with Rachel for years to come, always making her particularly nervous around bathroom doors.
Still, she takes unsteady steps forward, a shaky hand reaching out to push on the door, even if her subconscious already knows what's behind it.
She knows.
Of course, she knows, because she knows Quinn.
And yet, still, the second her eyes land on Quinn's limp and cold body lying on the bathroom floor, she screams.
And screams and screams and screams.
Later, after the paramedics have come and gone, and after the room has been scrubbed down; students will claim that they can still hear Rachel Berry's screams for Quinn Fabray to wake up echoing in the halls.
AN: Chapter Thirty shortly to follow.