Chapter Thirty-Three
Quinn does more than just survive.
She thrives.
It's as if invisible shackles have been released from around her wrists and ankles, and she throws herself into impressing with her soccer skills without a care in the world. If she focuses on the reason she's here, it barely matters that she's the new girl, or that she's sure she's stepped into a divided camp.
The thing is Quinn knows she's good, and it is magical to be around people who are equally as good. They read her play well, and their execution is so much better than anything she's experienced before. She loves the Griffins - of course, she does - but they're all aware she exists on a different level. It feels good to push herself, running faster, shooting harder and just generally enjoying having coaches who are duty-bound to and capable of improving her play.
On the second night, Quinn calls Rachel and gets her voicemail. It's disappointing but expected, and Quinn leaves a detailed message about the events of her day, leaving out some of the hostile moments from some of the other players.
The third night, Quinn tries again, only to receive a similar result. Morgan isn't in the room to see the call go unanswered, but Quinn's mood must give away that something isn't particularly right.
It's on the fourth day that Rachel texts Quinn back, just wishing her a good training session, and Quinn uses the few words to get her through a gruelling fitness test. She'll admit to being below average in that regard, after the strain her body has been through following the events of the past few weeks, and it's the one thing Katy and Jae latch onto with vengeance and exploit.
When Quinn mentions her worries to Owen, he tells her to hang in there; assures her that the selectors are aware of her fitness levels, and reminds her to keep working as hard as possible. That night, when Quinn calls, Rachel doesn't answer, just texts that she's not quite ready to talk, but that she misses her.
Quinn just wants to talk to her; to hear her voice assure her that it's all going to be worth it in the end. Quinn already knows it, of course, but Rachel's voice holds a certain power that makes people believe anything she says. Still, they do text until Rachel has to go and make sure Bedtime is running smoothly, and Quinn will take what she can get.
It's on the fifth day that Jae says, "Oh, so, you're that Fabray," and Quinn's protective little bubble of relative anonymity bursts just before they're meant to be splitting into two teams for a defence drill.
Quinn freezes when she is, water bottle stopped where she's lifting it to her lips. Eyes are already on her, she can tell, because Jae has to have spread the news about her in her excitement to share what she thinks she's learned about the striker who's come in to steal the spotlight. It wouldn't do not to be on top of everything, would it? Quinn has thought about what it would be like to have her identity revealed, but it's different actually having to experience it.
Jae looks immensely pleased with herself, and Quinn glances over her own shoulder to some of the coaching staff a little way's away. They're technically having a drinks break, which is probably why Jae has chosen this moment for her big reveal.
For a second, Quinn wonders if Jae doesn't actually know anything, but then the girl shatters that illusion, inadvertently forcing a reaction from Quinn.
"I don't understand suicide," Jae says, almost offhandedly, but they all know it's in relation to their new knowledge of exactly who Quinn is.
Morgan's gaze flicks to Quinn, whose own jaw is clenched so tightly; she's probably going to crack her teeth. She doesn't expect Quinn to say anything, but the girl is constantly surprising her.
"Well, Jae," Quinn says, entirely too calmly; "That's probably because you're happy."
Jae sputters a little, clearly not expecting any response from Quinn, either. Or to hear those words. "And you're not happy?" she asks, recovering. "Is that it?"
Quinn gives her a baleful look that every one of them feels. "Are you trying to ask me if that's why I tried to kill myself?" she asks bluntly, and the entire camp goes quiet, just at the chill in Quinn's voice. "Because, if you are, you should just ask it outright, and I'll tell you what I've told everyone else."
The break has come to an awkward pause, all the girls stopping at the sound of something a lot more interesting. Jae looks around her, seeing all the attention on her, and red blooms on her cheeks.
Quinn looks at her expectantly.
Jae makes a show of composing herself and clears her throat. "Well, why did you do it then?" she asks, and there's an entirely new edge to her voice, as if she's found her confidence from somewhere. "Because, I mean, if I were gay, I'd want to off myself, too."
There is a collective gasp at the sound of the words, and Quinn's heart squeezes in her chest. It's so unexpected, and several beats of silence pass before some of the girls say Jae's name in something akin to horror.
Apparently, that's one step too far.
Quinn meets her gaze, surprisingly steady. "I didn't try to kill myself because I'm gay, you homophobic asshole," she says, resisting the urge to curse even further. "I did it because of people like you." She shakes her head, disappointed, and then turns and walks right off the pitch, feet stomping in irritation and something else. She's sure she'll get in trouble for it later, but she needs to be anywhere but here.
She needs to talk to Rachel.
She doesn't even think about the fact nobody tries to call her back to training. She just knows she gets to her shared room in a bit of a daze, her feet carrying her to her destination. She enters the room, automatically moves towards the bathroom, and then stops.
She just stops.
Freezes in place as some kind of horrific realisation settles over her.
This moment feels familiar in a dangerous way, so she turns around, fishes for her phone in her bag and dials Rachel's number. It's what she knows she should have done that day, but she's doing it now, because she's learned.
It's taken a brutal experience, but she's learned.
Rachel, mercifully, picks up with a worried, "Quinn?"
"I did it because I wanted to give them what they wanted," Quinn immediately blurts out.
Rachel is silent for a beat. "Excuse me?"
"You want to know why I did it," Quinn says. "You want to know what they could have possibly said to trigger such a reaction from me."
Rachel waits another beat. "I did."
"You did?"
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Rachel assures her, and it's in such stark contrast to how they left things just days ago. Quinn doesn't even know what to do with the option, now that she has it.
Quinn sighs. "My entire life, I've done everything in my power to make them proud," she eventually says, standing on the carpet, her body rigid. "Everything, Rachel. I've worked so fucking hard to be perfect in every way, bending to their will and moulding myself into the kind of daughter they would even want to show off, just hoping, one day, they would be able to love me for me, and not the person I was supposed to save. I have spent so many hours perfecting myself, trained endlessly and basically hard-wired myself to give them everything they ask for." She breathes deeply. "I would have given them all of myself, if they asked."
"What changed?"
"Nothing," Quinn says heavily. "That's just it, isn't it? After everything we've been through; after all the progress I thought I made; I still gave them exactly what they asked." She pauses. "Or, I tried to."
Rachel's silence goes on for so much longer than a beat this time. "Quinn," she says, voice trembling. "Did - did your parents tell you - " she starts, but can't seem to finish her question.
Quinn hears it anyway. "It is a fundamental flaw of mine," she says quietly. "What they ask of me, I will do."
Rachel lets out a sob. "Oh, Quinn."
"I'm sorry," Quinn whispers, a sob catching in her throat. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't fight it. I'm sorry I couldn't say no. I'm sorry they've always had this power over me. I'm sorry I'm so desperate for their approval that I - " her voice catches. "I'm just so sorry."
They exist in an extended silence, then, each of them just listening to the sound of the other's breathing. There's a certain comfort to be found in such simplicity, and Quinn calms considerably, her heart rate slowing and her breathing steadying. She makes a valiant effort to pull herself together, just knowing they're probably going to spend more time talking about this when they're face-to-face.
The mutual silence goes on for nearly five full minutes before Rachel - of course, it would be her - breaks it.
"I'm sorry I've been such a brat," Rachel says, between sniffles, and they probably need something of a topic change. "I just - I can't stand the thought of your being so far away from me. I just want you close, but I know it's not realistic. I just - I have to work through it."
"It's okay," Quinn assures her, because she understands. "I just - God, I miss you so fucking much."
Rachel giggles, and then inhales deeply. "Did something happen today?"
"Kind of," she replies with a slight wince. "It was - yeah, it wasn't pretty, but it happened, and I'm okay."
"Of course you're okay."
"I love you," Quinn tells her, because they're the most important three words she'll ever say.
"I love you, too, Quinn Future-Berry."
Quinn laughs softly, enjoying the fact Rachel seems to have discarded the surname Fabray for Quinn. She's an honorary Berry now, and Rachel claims she's just waiting until they're old enough to make it official.
Yip.
That's just a casual conversation they have.
"Do you want to tell me about your day?" Quinn asks, moving to something that should be an even safer topic. "How are rehearsals going?"
Rachel waits a beat before she says, "We've actually changed our entire setlist."
Quinn blinks. "What? Why? You barely have enough time to perfect it."
"Well, we've been working really hard," she explains. "But, we all decided it was something we wanted to do."
"Why?"
"To show our support."
Quinn freezes. "Of what?"
"Mental health awareness," Rachel says, and she may as well have just said you. "Look. Nobody really talks about it, you know? I know I go through things, and there are countless other students around who must go through things, too, and we just want to spread the idea that you're never really alone. Life is hard, and it's okay to struggle, but there are avenues to get help, and I think we have a responsibility - I have a responsibility - to show my support."
"Rachel," she breathes.
"So we're singing songs that do that," Rachel continues. "Songs about being broken and beautiful; songs about strength, and songs about support." She pauses. "I've talked to Dr Holliday quite a bit while you've been gone, and she thinks it's a good idea. I just - I want as many good things to come out of all of this as possible. Kurt and Blaine are talking about revamping the Equality Club, and making a special section focused on LGBTQ+ awareness, and Matt and Candice are keen on holding a few support group sessions to talk about how the other students are dealing with their own mental health. Dr Holliday said she'll even sit in for a few of them while she's here. I just - I want to help. I don't want - "
"You don't want this to happen to anyone else," Quinn finishes.
"Is it selfish of me?" she asks. "Like, the only reason I'm even taking this initiative right now is because I know what it feels like to - " she stops. "I just don't want anyone to know how it feels to face the possibility of losing a person they love this way when there are ways to help."
Quinn breathes deeply. "I love you," she says. "And, I think your motivations are your own. If this is something you feel you need to do, then you have to know I support you. And Kurt and Blaine and Candice and Matt, and everyone else who's willing to get involved."
"That - yeah, that means a lot, Quinn," Rachel says. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to talk about this before now. I have a lot of things I'm working on, too."
"We have the rest of our lives."
Rachel's silence stretches a little too long. "Yes," she finally says; "I suppose we do."
It isn't lost on either of them that they almost didn't.
"What prompted this call?" Rachel eventually asks. "You usually wait until the evening."
Quinn audibly swallows, contemplating whether an untruth would be justified here. "The other girls know who I am," she explains. "They know what I've done, and they wanted to know why."
"Oh."
"You are the only person who deserves that truth," Quinn tells her, serious and morose.
"I love you," Rachel says, so certain. "And, thank you for telling me, even if it hasn't made me worry any less. We'll - we'll talk about it some more when you get home, okay?"
"I have no doubt."
Rachel giggles. "Don't even start," she says; "you enjoy therapy."
"I don't think people actually enjoy therapy, Rach," Quinn responds. "Dealing with my problems isn't exactly easy, you know?"
"Well, I'm still proud of you for doing it, regardless."
"Thank you."
"No, Quinn," Rachel whispers. "Thank you."
Quinn sighs, feeling lighter than she did earlier. That's the power of Rachel Berry. "I'm glad we're talking. Like, talk talking."
"Me too, baby."
Quinn's smile is soft, genuine, and her heart feels full of something. "I should get going," she says. "I probably have some prickly coaches to deal with."
"No, you don't."
Quinn practically jumps right out of her skin at the sound of Morgan's voice somewhere behind her, and she turns sharply, to see Morgan just standing in the room, hands poised to reach into her tog bag.
Morgan winces. "Sorry," she says. "I didn't want to interrupt."
Quinn hears Rachel say her name in her ear, questioning her sudden disappearance. "Rachel, honey, I'm going to have to call you back," she says.
"Oh, okay."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
Quinn can't quite explain the feeling in her bones when she ends the call. It takes a moment to be able to look at Morgan again, but she does it, and it's both a relief and alarming to find the other girl smiling at her.
"I didn't hear a lot," Morgan says preemptively. "I just - well, I wanted to check on you after all of that."
Quinn shifts awkwardly. "Oh, uh, thank you."
Morgan drops her sweatshirt onto her bag, and then moves towards where Quinn is sitting on her bed. "Was that your, um, girlfriend?" she asks, soft and awkward.
Quinn manages a smile. "Yeah," she breathes. "Her name is Rachel. I just - I guess I just needed to talk to her, after all of that."
"That makes sense," Morgan says. "What happened was - it was just not cool. Some of the girls reported her, and some of the coaches actually heard, anyway, so - "
"What?"
"It's probable she's not going to make the final squad."
Quinn's eyebrows rise up. "Because she's a homophobe?"
"Because there are so many girls who are better than her," Morgan says; "and I doubt they'd want the two of you playing together anyway."
"Why would - "
"Quinn," Morgan says, shaking her head as if Quinn is slow. "You must know you're going to Panama. You may as well pack your bags right now."
Quinn chuckles. "Purely on soccer, maybe, but there's a lot more to me than that," she says.
Morgan shrugs. "We'll make do."
"Yeah?"
Morgan meets her gaze. "I didn't know if you needed me to say anything," she says; "but I'll tell you it doesn't matter to me if you need to hear it."
Quinn glances at the silver cross hanging around Morgan's neck. "I used to have one of those," she says.
Morgan automatically reaches for the pendant, fingers fiddling with it. "I am an ally," she says seriously, and then grins. "My friend, Ash, told me to say that."
"Oh?"
Morgan nods. "I figure you need to know there are more good people than there are people like Jae."
"Are you sure about that?"
Morgan nods. "Just have to find them."
Quinn sighs, her body relaxing slightly. "Thank you," she says, and then clears her throat. "You mentioned that I wouldn't have to talk to the coaches. What did you mean?"
"I just meant, you know, you're not in trouble or anything for walking out of training," Morgan clarifies. "They let us go soon after that, anyway. I think they've already settled on who they want in the squad, give or take a few spots."
"Definitely you."
Morgan rolls her eyes. "I think, if they could, they'd love to have an entire team of Lindseys," she says. "Even as goalkeeper, I swear. She's a tree."
"She tackled me yesterday, and I swear I'm still feeling it."
Morgan laughs. "I think I saw that one," she sympathises. "I'm sure everyone is going to leave with at least one Lindsey-sized bruise."
Quinn hums in agreement. "The turnaround time isn't that much, is it?"
"I'm pretty sure they're already making sure we have valid passports as we speak," Morgan says. "The first game is on March second, and I'm sure they wouldn't even let us go home, if they could help it."
Quinn groans softly. "I've already missed more than enough school."
"Oh, yes, you're still in high school, aren't you?" Morgan says, eyes a little wide. "Goodness, those were the good old days." Her tone is a little wistful. "Life was a lot easier back then."
Quinn doesn't mention that high school has been rather rough on her, and she's hoping college will be easier.
Morgan seems to relax even more, the two of them settling into their conversation. They've talked a little in the days they've known each other, but this is the first time Quinn really learns about who Morgan is, where she's from and what she does. It's nice to get some advice about what college might be like, especially if she's planning on being rather academically-focused while still being an international athlete.
"It's hard," Morgan says. "It's really, really hard."
Quinn smiles at her. "But you're doing it."
"I am," she agrees solemnly. "Still, it's probably going to take me five years to graduate if I intend to make it into the senior national team and stay there." She looks Quinn up and down. "You're probably going to have the same problem."
Quinn blinks. "I don't think - "
"Quinn," Morgan says. "Take the compliment for what it is, and just accept that, if you're planning on taking this seriously, you're about to become a household name for a completely different reason."
And, well, that is both terrifying.
But still exhilarating.
When the final squad is announced, Quinn is already on her way back to Dalton.
She lands to a series of texts from Morgan, and from Faye, who ended up designating herself as Quinn's bodyguard. Have to keep all those homophobes away from you.
Quinn thought having her sexuality be common knowledge would be something akin to the end of the world, but the aftermath of the initial aftermath hasn't been all bad. Morgan was right. There are good people, and Quinn knows she's probably found a handful more.
She also has a missed call from Hiram. The sight of his name gives her pause, and not because it's a surprise or all that foreign to see it. It's just that she doesn't know how to talk to him anymore. Whenever they talk, it always feels as if they're trying not to apologise to each other, and it makes their conversations awkward and stilted.
Then, there's also the word, Mother, waiting. It's the second time she's called, which lets Quinn know that the first time wasn't a fluke or some kind of mistake. And that she's trying not to overwhelm Quinn with her desire to contact her. It's all just very confusing, so she forces it from her mind and rather focuses on Rachel.
It's the easiest thing she's ever done.
Rachel is actually waiting for her when she pulls up in front of Dalton's main building, standing in her school uniform and wearing an expression on her face that Quinn isn't able to read. She does have the string of a floating balloon in her hand, though, so Quinn isn't too worried it's all that serious, but anything could have happened while she was in the air and out of contact.
Actually, she looks stupidly adorable, and Quinn can't help her smile. "Is that for me?" she asks, dragging her small suitcase behind her and coming to a stop right in front of her.
The first thing Rachel says is, "Congratulations, I love you, please don't freak out."
Quinn has just enough time to blink before Rachel closes the space between them and presses their lips together. She pulls back barely a beat later, looking concerned.
Quinn frowns. "Why shouldn't I freak out?" she asks, perplexed. "What did you do?"
Rachel blinks slowly. "I kissed you."
Quinn's frown deepens. "Okay…?"
"In public," she clarifies.
Understanding settles over Quinn, and then she's the one to step into Rachel's space and kiss her, eyes barely flicking away from Rachel's face. It's a longer, deeper kiss, and Quinn is smiling when she pulls away.
"Well," Quinn breathes; "I wouldn't mind coming home to that for the rest of my life."
Rachel's blush is sudden and deep, and a laugh bursts out of her as she throws her arms around Quinn's neck. "Baby, that sounds like a proposal," she whispers right into Quinn's ear.
"Not yet, my love," Quinn assures, and, yeah, okay, why would Rachel think Quinn would freak out at all when she says things like that?
As soon as Quinn knocks out on Rachel's bed - the two of them actually spending time in her bedroom, for once - Rachel receives a phone call from her father. She glances over her shoulder at Quinn, just making sure she's still asleep, and then moves to answer.
All she manages to get out is, "Hello," before a voice that is decidedly not her father is speaking.
"I'm sorry, Rachel," the voice rushes out. "God, I'm so sorry."
She hangs up immediately, a certain chill settling over her body. Without saying a word, she sets her phone screen-down on her desk, slowly gets to her feet, and walks towards her bed. She's almost on autopilot as she moves to lie beside Quinn, curling into her side and just breathing her in.
Quinn shifts closer, almost automatically, and Rachel feels herself smile.
This isn't something she and Quinn have actually talked about. Eric and Uncle Jared. She's carefully avoided all talk of that particular topic with anyone and everyone. She changes the subject whenever her father alludes to it, and Quinn definitely isn't going to be the first one to bring it up between the two of them.
She's also blocked Eric's number. It's a wonder he's taken this long to use her father to contact her. She doesn't want to talk to him. As far as she's concerned, she never wants to see him again, let alone hear from him.
"Quinn," she whispers, and gets nothing in response. "Quinn," she tries again, and gets the same result. She breathes out a sigh of relief, and then keeps talking. "I don't think I want to go to Wallingford." Her eyes close at the admission. "Not for Spring Break. Not even for the Summer. I just - I don't want to be anywhere near that place. Not when it - I mean, even before, it felt safe… but not anymore." She turns her head to look at Quinn's slumbering form. "I don't want to go some place where I get the feeling you won't follow."
It's the feeling she sometimes gets from Quinn; that she wouldn't go back to Wallingford when the time came. Wouldn't step into the house where she allowed her guard down and had her deepest secrets exposed by Rachel's family. Rachel won't force her, of course, but Rachel also doesn't see how they're supposed to move forward with something like that hanging over them.
There are so many things still looming; so much they still need to address.
Rachel's fingers reach out to touch Quinn's skin, fingertips gentle over her cheek. "If you won't go where I go, then I'll go wherever you go," she whispers, and she means it. After everything they've been through, she knows the lengths she'll go to in order to keep Quinn. In order to be with her, wherever in the world that might take her.
Take them.
If she were braver; more spontaneous, she might even ask Quinn to marry her right this moment. But she's distinctly aware of her age and what she has to offer, and she doesn't want to risk asking Quinn a question to which she would get a negative response. Her heart wouldn't be able to handle it.
Hah.
It seems Quinn will have to be the one to propose, and they appear to be on the same page about that.
"I love you," Rachel suddenly says, maybe a little too loud, because Quinn shifts in her sleep, nose crinkling adorably. "If I never have to see members of my family to keep you safe from them, then I will," she declares, and successfully ignores the part of her that knows it's just an excuse.
She's doing it more for herself than for Quinn, and she's okay with that.
Santana has been putting it off, reluctant but still determined to see it through.
Only, she doesn't want to interrupt whatever progress Quinn seems to be making since getting back, but she's also too much of a coward to go looking for her. Then, Quinn is suddenly absent from school, rumours about a possible international soccer tournament coming up, but then she's back, and Santana still can't do it.
Brittany is patient with her, allowing her to work through her own thoughts and emotions, because -
God, she was wrong about everything.
This whole time - the entire time - and she just -
Santana clenches her fists as she makes her way towards Quinn's bedroom, trying not to think about the words exchanged during her last session with Dr Holliday. Even Santana has to recognise the woman has been incredibly patient with her as well, allowing her the time and space to work through her own emotions surrounding Quinn's suicide attempt.
Until now.
When she's figured the only way forward is actually to talk to Quinn. And probably Rachel, who has been careful around Santana, given everything.
She's trying to see things though, it seems. Her heart stutters with her approach, flashing back to the last time she came sprinting down this hall at the sound of Rachel's inhuman scream. It rings in her mind sometimes, playing on a loop when she's trying to get to sleep. When she's trying to forget that her once best friend almost died.
Would have died, if -
Quinn's bedroom door is open, and she can hear voices inside. Her steps slow when she hears Rachel say, "I don't want to fight with you."
It's surprising when Quinn snorts out a laugh. "Baby, we all know you like fighting with me a little too much," she says, and Santana's eyes widen, because -
Logically, she knows everything is true. Rachel and Quinn are in a relationship, but it's another thing entirely to have it confirmed this way. To hear and see it and know it's all real. Because, the same way she hasn't been able to talk to Quinn, she's also struggled with what to say Rachel.
Rachel, who was also outed to the entire State. Rachel, who's tried to help bridge some chasm between the two of them for months. Rachel, who's hidden parts of herself from her best friends. Rachel, who has been devastated by too many things out of her control.
Rachel, who loves with everything she has.
"I do not," Rachel counters, and Santana's mouth pulls into a smile, already picturing her facial expression.
"You definitely do," Quinn counters, and Santana can just imagine her smug grin. "I would even go so far as to claim you regard it as a form of foreplay."
Rachel's gasp is matched by Santana's, and she has only a few seconds to catch herself and close her mouth before Quinn is appearing in the doorway with an unreadable expression on her face.
Santana audibly swallows, and then pales when Rachel appears at Quinn's side. "Uh, you should probably be careful what you say," she says. "Never know who's walking past."
Quinn shrugs. "What does it matter? Everyone already knows our business."
Santana looks to Rachel for some help, but her eyes are focused on Quinn's face, a slight crease in her brow. Santana clears her throat. "Um, well, I was wondering if we could talk."
Quinn doesn't move. "About what?"
Santana really doesn't want to do this out in the corridor, but she'll bumble through it if she has to. She's here now, and she doesn't think she could look Brittany, Quinn or Rachel in the eye again if she doesn't manage to say what she needs to say.
Which is why it's surprising to them all when she says, "You're an idiot."
Quinn's expression shifts immediately, darkening right before her eyes, and Santana scrambles to do damage control.
"No, wait, I mean, yes, you're an idiot, but so am I," she rushes to say. "I just - hold on."
Quinn and Rachel exchange a look, questioning.
"Look," Santana says. "I just - I want to apologise."
"For calling me an idiot," Quinn says, and her voice is like ice.
"No," Santana says carefully. "For being an idiot and betraying you the way I did."
Quinn instantly deflates, steps back and gestures for Santana to enter the room. She does so immediately, her eyes flicking to the bathroom door that's open wide and revealing the room that held the scene that could and would have ruined them all.
Rachel is the one to close the door behind her, and then she and Quinn shift to sit on the edge of Quinn's bed. Ready. Expectant.
It's terrifying.
"I'm sorry," Santana says. Well, she blurts it. "I had - I couldn't tell you why - " she stops, closes her eyes. "I can't even imagine what this must be like. I - I think about my family ever finding out, and I can't even breathe."
Quinn's head snaps up, and her eyes are a little wide.
"I couldn't tell you," Santana says again. "When I started to like Brittany. I couldn't tell you, and I - I don't even know why. I just - you're you, and I couldn't stand the thought of you… being disappointed in me." She can barely look at either of them, and she especially can't look at the way their hands are clasped, fingers linked so naturally. "I couldn't stand the thought of you being disgusted with me, and rejecting me for something that - " she stops again. "But, it was almost worse, what ended up happening." She puffs out a breath. "The way you looked at me; it was as if I was nothing. Nobody. Like, I wished for anger and hurt and I even wanted you to be disgusted… but there was just nothing, and I - " her voice catches, and she doesn't even know what she still wants to say.
Quinn says nothing, but Santana can tell her mind is whirring.
"But, you never would have been disgusted, would you?" Santana says, mostly to herself. "There would have been no rejection. You would have accepted me, and we could have helped each other, and I took that away from us, and I'm sorry." She thinks that's all she's going to say, and it should be enough.
Except, well, Santana has always exceeded expectations.
"Don't you dare do that again," Santana says after a beat, and there's a ferocity to her voice that's largely expected from Quinn. She's the one who protects, regardless of the state of their friendship. "Never again, Quinn. Do you hear me?"
Quinn's jaw is clenched, but she nods just once, indicating she's heard her clearly.
Santana shifts, a little awkwardly, and then nods her own head. "Okay then," she says. "That's all I wanted to say. Thank you for listening." And then she spins on her heel and starts for the door, stopping only when she hears Quinn call out her name.
God, it's been so long since she's heard Quinn actually say her name.
When Santana turns back, Quinn is on her feet, eyes dark. "Thank you," Quinn says, quiet. "For this, and for - " she stops. "For making sure I - you know - wasn't actually some kind of idiot."
Santana manages a smile. "Of course, Quinn."
Rachel beams at her from behind Quinn, giving her a dorky two-thumbs-up. "We'll see you at dinner, yeah?"
Santana nods again, and then successfully manages to leave the room, just hearing Rachel say, "You're still my very sexy idiot, Quinn," and Santana snickers all the way back to Brittany's bedroom.
"You're taking this foreplay thing really seriously," Quinn comments, watching Rachel calm herself after practically jumping down Quinn's throat at the fact Quinn spent the previous evening's rounds showing Marley how it's supposed to be done.
"You're showing favouritism," Rachel points out, again.
"I'm doing the same thing with Kitty tonight," Quinn also points out. Again. "And then the next night with Unique."
Rachel continues to glare, despite it all.
"But, you're focused only on Marley," Quinn says, crease in her brow.
"No."
Quinn's slight frown turns into a grin almost instantly. "Baby."
"No."
"You're jealous."
"I am not," Rachel huffs.
"Oh my God, you totally are."
Rachel folds her arms across her chest. "I can assure you I am not."
"Holy shit, you seriously are," Quinn says, and she sounds positively delighted at this turn of events. "Rachel Berry, honestly, I never thought I would see the day."
Rachel continues to glare. "It is one thing having to deal with boys having crushes on you," she says; "but now I have to watch you fend off girls, as well."
Quinn's laughter bursts out of her, which forces a scowl out of Rachel. "Wow. Just wow."
"It's not funny," Rachel huffs. "I mean, you must know you're attractive, and you've just opened an entire pool of possibilities here, and I'm - "
"You're what?" Quinn asks seriously. "Rachel, you must know I have eyes for only you, right? Like, there isn't another soul on this good Earth who could possibly catch my attention. Not when I managed to find you. And get you. And actually keep you."
It should settle Rachel's worries, but the literal last thing she wants to be doing is dealing with girls ogling her girlfriend. Especially now that Quinn's establishing herself as something of a rising star in international soccer. They always have so much to be dealing with, and she was settled in this not being one of those things.
Stupid Quinn being her gorgeous, talented self.
"Come here," Quinn says, waving a hand. "Lie with me. I'm exhausted."
Rachel doesn't move.
"Baby, please," she says, smiling softly. "You can be mad at me, or whatever it is you are at the moment, but that doesn't mean I want you standing so far away." She meets Rachel's gaze. "I want to hold you."
Rachel instantly deflates, automatically moving forward. She's aware enough to know she's reacting in a particular way, but there's something else undeniable fuelling her current reactions. Almost losing Quinn, and then spending so many days away from her have put her on edge, and she's not handling it well.
Well.
Rachel wastes little time climbing onto Quinn, straddling her hips and placing her hands on Quinn's abdomen, sneaking under her shirt, palms cool against her skin.
Quinn eyes instantly darkening, but she squirms in place. "Baby, your hands are so fucking cold."
Rachel slides those traitorous hands upward, lifting Quinn's t-shirt up so she can see Quinn's skin. If possible, she's even more toned than she was before her trip to Florida, which makes some sense, since Quinn has spent hours and hours training in preparation for her big international tournament debut.
"Can I take this off?" Rachel asks, and Quinn sits up with little prompting, lifting her arms so Rachel can rid her of her t-shirt. Quinn is left in a sports bra that Rachel wants to remove immediately, and that thought gives her pause.
There's a certain desperation she hasn't been able to shake. She's talked about it a bit with Dr Holliday - and with Brittany - but the only thing that makes sense in her head in this moment is that Quinn could have died before they had the chance to have sex.
Okay.
So maybe it doesn't make a whole lot of sense.
There aren't a lot of days to go before Quinn is going to leave for Panama, and just the idea of that is making Rachel a little reckless. She knows herself. She knows she's acting in a way she normally wouldn't, but she can't seem to stop herself.
Quinn is alive. She's here, breathing and smiling. And looking at her with all the love and care in the world, and Rachel can't imagine life without her. She never wants to. Not again.
Never again.
So, when Rachel kisses her, she doesn't intend to stop.
Which Quinn realises the moment Rachel's hands drift more south than they ever have before, desperately tugging at the waistband of Quinn's pyjama pants. It's maybe a step too far into the unknown, and it makes Quinn slow down, suddenly hesitant. She's breathing hard from being kissed so thoroughly, and her hands go still as she says, "Rachel," very softly.
It echoes in Rachel's head, and she comes back to her senses rather abruptly. Her instinct is to pull away in something like panic, but Quinn's hands are gentle on her skin, keeping her in place.
"Baby," Quinn says; "what is happening?"
Rachel tries to move away again, and Quinn lets her go this time. She shifts all the way back, rising onto her knees and sitting on her feet. "I don't - "
"Rachel?"
"Is it so wild that I would want you?"
Quinn sits up as well, eyes a little wide, because that's an unexpected question. "Rachel?"
"I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head. "I don't actually know what's happening."
Quinn shifts where she's sitting, her chest exposed, and Rachel reaches behind her for the t-shirt she managed to discard in her desire to touch every part of Quinn's gorgeous, delightful body. Quinn immediately reaches for it, slipping it on and crossing her legs in front of her. She looks adorably dishevelled, and Rachel loves her even more in this moment than she ever has before.
Even more when she asks, "What are you thinking?" in a voice so concerned that Rachel wants to reach out and touch her.
She doesn't. She can't even move.
Quinn's voice softens once more. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking that I want you," Rachel suddenly says. "I want to be with you."
Quinn blinks in surprise, and it's adorable. "You do?"
"I do," Rachel confirms.
"But?"
"I wouldn't even know what to do," she admits. "And I - "
"What?"
"Do you not want me?"
Quinn waits a beat, and then lets out a sudden laugh that sounds more like a bark. "Please tell me you're not actually serious."
"Quinn."
Quinn shifts onto her knees as well, shuffling closer until she's right in front of Rachel, eyes imploring her to understand that her question is just short of ridiculous. "Of course I want you," she says, voice firm and leaving no room for miscomprehension. "I've always wanted you. I always do."
"But?"
"But nothing," Quinn says.
"Then, why aren't you touching me right now?"
Quinn smiles gently. "Baby," she says; "look at you."
"What?"
Quinn gestures at Rachel as a whole, and Rachel looks down at her body. "You're holding onto yourself really tightly there, my love," Quinn says, indicating the way Rachel's arms are wrapped firmly around herself and her body is held so stiffly.
It just makes her tense up that bit more.
"And, to be perfectly honest, I want to be prepared for when we do this the first time," Quinn adds a moment later.
"Prepared?"
Quinn glances around the room. "I don't know," she murmurs. "Maybe some candles. A good playlist." She smiles a little slyly. "I'd also like the opportunity to make sure I've waxed all the appropriate places before you decide to go poking around."
Rachel's eyes widen at the sound of those words, and Quinn's smile turns into a full-blown grin. "Quinn."
"Please never think I don't want you, Rachel," Quinn says, and her entire demeanour has shifted to something serious. "I just - it's supposed to be special."
"It's not supposed to be," Rachel assures her.
"Well, I want it to be," Quinn says. "This is - it would be a big step for us, and I - "
"It doesn't have to be."
Here, Quinn pauses. "You don't want me to make a big deal out of it?"
"Please don't."
Quinn looks visibly conflicted. "But - " she starts, and then stops. "Okay - just - we should probably talk about this more," she says. "Not taking into account what's happened in your past, I would have made a big deal out of it, anyway."
"If we didn't take my past into consideration, Quinn, then I can assure you we'd already be having sex," Rachel comments uneasily.
"Maybe," Quinn allows; "maybe not."
Rachel's body slowly uncoils. "Not tonight?"
"Not tonight," Quinn confirms, voice low. "But, if you really want to, then we can and we will. You just - "
"What?"
"You just have to let me plan for it," Quinn says, and now she's blushing. "I want it to be special."
"At least you're aware it wouldn't be perfect," Rachel says.
Quinn smiles. "With you, of course it's going to be."
"Baby, you do realise it could go terribly, right?"
"Don't jinx us," Quinn says, exaggerating her horror. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing well enough to know where everything's supposed to go." She makes a complex little action with her fingers, and Rachel laughs, reaching out to swat at her hands.
"You're horrible."
"I'm also in love with you," Quinn says, the words falling easily from her mouth. "If you want this, then I do too."
Rachel's brow creases, hearing something particular in Quinn's tone. She opens her mouth to respond, but the sound of a knock on Quinn's bedroom door stops her. She can't mistake the brief flash of relief on Quinn's face as she leans forward to press a kiss to Rachel's cheek and then gets to her feet to answer the door.
It's Kitty, coming to fetch her for bedtime rounds.
Quinn glances at her wrist to check the time, and then winces. "I'll be one minute," she says. "Sorry about that."
"No problem."
Quinn closes the door again, glances down at herself, and then turns to face Rachel, a look of bemusement on her face. "Okay," she says; "where the fuck is my bra?"