AN: This didn't really turn out the way I thought it would. Honestly, I was going for more of a 'Monster-In-Law' vibe, because Wanda Sykes in that movie just kills it. But, that didn't end up happening. Still, do enjoy, and please be aware of trigger warning for discussion of a miscarriage. Once again, thank you for reading, and I hope you're all doing well.
III
Hiram isn't one to get frustrated.
In fact, he's one of the most patient people he's ever encountered, willing to wait out any plans until the desired ending. Law is sometimes about patience, and he has it in abundance.
The problem is that he's running out of time. There are mere weeks to go until the wedding, and Quinn hasn't reacted at all to anything he's thrown at her.
In fact, she's possibly even thrived, sailing through her Boards without a single hiccup - at least, according to Rachel. Because, obviously, Hiram wouldn't hear it directly from the source. He and Quinn barely interact, but he's been hoping something would push her over the edge enough that this entire engagement farce would be called off.
One way or another, something's going to have to give. He can almost convince himself he doesn't want to go to such extreme lengths, but the situation has reached critical levels, and he's really left with no choice.
It's time for the big guns; for whatever Bryan has found and seems somewhat reluctant to divulge. Hiram knows it has to be good, if it even trips up Bryan. It has to be the thing that proves him right and brings an end to all of this.
It has to be the thing that saves his daughter from this fate.
It has to.
It's surprisingly easy to get everything in place. An email here, a plane ticket there, and a simple call to Quinn's phone. He wants to talk it out. They got off on the wrong foot, and he'd like to have a conversation with her. Clear the air.
The words taste too sweet on his tongue as he says them, but she agrees to meet him, anyway. Because, she wants to fix whatever this is, for Rachel's sake, and he probably shouldn't use that against her, but he can't help it. She's just so much taller than Rachel.
Hiram grins to himself as he finally hangs up the phone.
It's time.
"Thank you for meeting me," is the first thing Hiram says when Quinn approaches the table in the restaurant he's chosen for this... conversation. He's slightly buzzing, because he's finally figured her out; finally found the one thing she's been hiding. He's about to expose the skeletons in her closet, and save his daughter from this toxic woman before it's too late.
Quinn doesn't say anything in return, just taking the seat opposite him and looking at him expectantly. When he doesn't speak, she says, "I don't have much time," with slight irritation. "I have back-to-back surgeries this afternoon."
He forgets, sometimes, that she saves lives. Baby lives. "This shouldn't take long," he reveals. "Just wanted to reunite you."
Her already-existing frown deepens. "Excuse me?"
"I'm all about reunions, you see," he says. "You and your father." She flinches. "You and your lovely ex." Her jaw clenches. "And, now, you and your former lover."
"What are you talking about?" Quinn asks, and she looks a potent mixture of confused and enraged.
"There's someone who wants nothing more than to see you again."
"What?"
Hiram waves an arm, beckoning the person who's just arrived towards them, and Quinn turns her head to see who Hiram is talking about.
"Quinn," Hiram says, entirely too casually. Smug, and so, so sure. "I do believe you know Mr Noah Puckerman."
He expects rage.
He gets nothing he expects.
§
Rachel knows, the moment she steps through the door to their shared apartment, that something is wrong. The lighting is too dim, and the space is too quiet.
It's just wrong.
Quinn is sitting on their couch, her hands clasped in her lap and a pensive look on her face. She looks solemn and serious, and Rachel freezes at the sight of her, wishing she could just turn around and avoid whatever this is.
But, then, Quinn meets her gaze and just sighs.
Oh.
"Hi," Quinn eventually says, her voice barely a whisper.
"Hey," Rachel says, matching the volume of her voice. She's not entirely sure why she does it, but there's something so terribly quiet about this moment.
Quinn pats the space on the couch beside her. "Come sit with me for a moment," she says. "There's something I want to talk to you about."
Rachel feels her heart rate spike, and she just knows she's not going to like what Quinn is about to say. "Do I have to?"
Quinn closes her eyes for a moment, and then says, "Yes."
Rachel takes a deep, fortifying breath, and then moves to sit beside Quinn. They're not touching, and Rachel can already feel the gulf between them, suddenly so clear that she's sure they could see it from space. It's just been growing and growing ever since the engagement.
Well, no.
Ever since Quinn met her father.
She knows she's been busy and a little lost in her own head with work and all the wedding planning, but she's tried to be so very careful with the two of them. She loves Quinn, and she thought, maybe, this woman would be the one to stay.
And, she has been, for the large part. Because Rachel can see the lines of stress in her features, but she keeps trying, extending olive branches towards Hiram, but -
"I'm sorry," Quinn starts, and Rachel's eyes immediately fill with tears, because she knows what's about to happen. Quinn doesn't fare much better. "Baby, I'm so sorry." She keeps her hands to herself. "I love you. I love you so much, but I can't - I can't spend my entire life like this. I can't." She shakes her head. "I spent years fighting against my own family, and then I fought against the world, and now I'm here, and I love you and I would like nothing more than to spend my happy, boring adult life with you, but I - I can't." She wipes at her eyes. "I thought I could. I convinced myself I could, because anything is worth it, and I'm charming, dammit. I win over teenagers, Rachel. I'm a fucking catch."
Rachel doesn't want to smile, but her lips do quirk upwards, because Quinn really is charming.
"I lost a baby," Quinn suddenly says, blinking repeatedly, and the words sound heavy in the space between them. Of all the things Rachel expected to hear today, that's the last thing.
But, suddenly, a lot more things make sense about Quinn and her drive to save children with such a force that it's hurt her in many ways.
"I never told you," Quinn says. "I - I don't talk about her, because I - " her voice catches. "I don't have stretch marks from it, so I've never had to explain her to anyone, but I was pregnant. It's why my parents kicked me out, but they would have done it if I were gay, so it was really a matter of time, and you already assumed that was the reason, and I just never bothered to correct you. But, I was pregnant and alone and the father, when I told him, just handed me a wad of cash and told me to get rid of it."
Rachel reaches for Quinn's hands where her nails are picking at her callouses.
"I didn't," Quinn says, keeping her gaze on their joined hands. "I made this plan. Santana's family took me in and I saved up the money as best I could. I'm smart, so I got out as quickly as I could, and I had all these plans for us. But, then, I woke up in the middle of the night and… she was just gone. She was gone, Rachel, never to be, and - and I don't talk about her. I don't even think about her if I can help it, and I - I don't - "
"Quinn."
"I love you," Quinn whispers. "You make me the happiest I've ever been in my entire life, and I've never been more sure of anything in my life, but I couldn't even bring myself to tell you about my baby girl until her father just showed up in my life like something out of a nightmare, and what does that say about me? About us?"
It's a lot to take in, and Rachel doesn't know how to respond. She - she wants to find this boy and strangle him, and then she wants to hold Quinn in her arms forever.
"Maybe we're not ready," Quinn says, and her voice doesn't give away whether she believes her own words or not. "Maybe we're rushing."
"Quinn, no."
That much, Rachel can say.
Quinn shakes her head and pulls her hands back. She takes a deep breath, as if she's steeling herself for her next words. "I - I think I'm going to take the job in Baltimore," she says, voice steady. "Johns Hopkins is the best offer I've received, and I would be a fool not to take it."
Rachel feels all the air leave her lungs, and she wouldn't be able to speak, even if she tried.
Quinn touches her cheek. "You are magnificent, Rachel Berry," she murmurs. "The world is so, so lucky to have you in it, and I'm sorry I don't get to be the one to experience it all with you."
Rachel reaches for her, determined not to let go. "Wait," she says, suddenly breathless, because this isn't happening. No. "Just, just wait, okay? This is - no - okay. Just, no."
Quinn kisses her opposite cheek. "Maybe it's our timing," she whispers.
"No," Rachel says, almost hissing. "Don't say things like that! This is - no. This isn't happening."
"I'm sorry," Quinn says.
"No," Rachel immediately counters. "That's not - you're leaving me. You can't just - Quinn, we're getting married. We're getting married. I want to spend my life with you. I - we can figure it out. Fuck, we can have the longest engagement if that's what you want. We can postpone the wedding. I just - I need to be with you. Please, please don't do this."
"I'm sorry."
Rachel clutches onto Quinn's sleeves that bit tighter, keeping her in place. "No," she says. "Tell me the truth. Right now. Is this about my father?"
As much as Quinn tries to hide it, she still flinches. She's tried so hard to spare Rachel, because Rachel loves her father so, so much, and she deserves the love of a parent more than the love of a spouse. "This is about me," Quinn forces herself to say.
"Bullshit," Rachel barks, releasing her hold and getting to her feet. "It is. God, it is. What did he do?"
Quinn shakes her head. "This is about me," she reiterates. "If he's helped me see that we're not ready, then, maybe he's doing you a favour."
Rachel freezes, realisation sinking heavily in her heart. "It worked," she whispers, resuming her seat. "You - you believe him."
Quinn looks stubbornly away.
Rachel turns her head back, fingers featherlight on her chin. "I don't care," she says strongly. "I don't care that there are still things we have to learn about each other. I don't care that we're probably going to spend our entire relationship in couple's therapy. I don't even care if you do want to go to Baltimore, Quinn. We'll make it work. I love you, and I want to be with you. I don't care what my father says."
"Yes, you do."
"I don't."
"Rachel," Quinn breathes, and she sounds so, so tired. Exhausted in a way she's never heard, and this is a woman who works excess of eighty hours a week. "He won't stop. You know he won't. I won't do this to us. You deserve to be happy."
"Baby, you make me so happy," she immediately says.
"It doesn't matter," Quinn says, and she sounds defeated. "It's never mattered."
"Then he won't get to be in our lives," she declares, stubborn and defiant.
"No," Quinn says, more tears pooling in her eyes. "Baby, no, that's the last thing I want for you. I want you to be happy, and family is so important to you."
"You're my family," Rachel argues, her voice hoarse. "You are my family, Quinn."
"I'm sorry," Quinn says again. "I'm not enough, and we both know it."
As much as Rachel tries to argue that sentiment, her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, because the idea of giving up her father burns her insides almost as much as the idea she's currently losing Quinn. "Please," she whispers. "Please, please, Quinn."
Quinn, free from Rachel's grip, rises to her feet as gracefully as her trembling legs will allow and puts some distance between them. "I already packed a few of my things, and we can organise a time for me to get the rest of it."
Rachel hears the finality in her voice. Hiram pushed too far, Rachel asked too much and Quinn finally cracked.
It's over.
In this moment, she knows she's lost them both.
Hiram isn't expecting Rachel's visit.
It's not Sunday.
But, all it takes is one look at Rachel as she storms into the house and glares murderously at him for him to experience such a glorious mixture of feelings that he's unsure if he should be terrified or excited.
It worked.
It had to have worked, or Rachel wouldn't be here.
Holly takes one look between them, and then starts to take her leave, already knowing she doesn't want to be caught in the middle of what's about to happen. She expects harsh words and a lot of fighting. So does Hiram, which is why it's a surprise when Rachel reaches out to stop Holly's escape and holds onto her wrist, keeping her in place.
"Stay," Rachel murmurs. "I need a witness."
Oh, boy.
Rachel lifts her head and meets Hiram's gaze. "I don't know what you want," she says. "I've tried so hard to figure it out, but I can't. So, you're going to have to tell me. What do you want, Dad?"
Hiram tightens his jaw. "I just want you to be happy."
"She makes me happy."
"She's hiding something from you."
"I know," Rachel says. "She told me exactly what that was, and then she told me she's moving to Baltimore."
Hiram blinks. "She… what?"
"I don't know what you did, but you had no right," Rachel says, and there's a harshness in her voice that he's never heard before - let alone had directed at him. "You - you had no right to do that to her. To break her. You claim to know loss, and yet you wave someone else's in front of them, as if their pain doesn't count."
Hiram has words to say. They're on the tip of his tongue, ready to argue the point.
"What would Daddy say?" Rachel asks, and it feels as if he's been slapped. "If he could see you right now, what would he say?" She shakes her head, defeated. "You hurt her. You hurt me. So, no, I don't believe for a second that it's my happiness you want. You're selfish, and you just want me for yourself."
Hiram doesn't know how to respond to that, because it sounds something like the truth.
It doesn't matter, because Rachel didn't come for answers, anyway.
"Please don't make me choose," Rachel whispers, her head lowered.
"Why?" he asks, before he can stop himself. "Because you'll choose her?"
"No," Rachel says, and her voice is barely audible. "Because I'll choose you, and I'll hate you for it."
The silence that follows is deafening and severe.
The words are a truth they're now all going to have to face.
Rachel doesn't know what to do with herself when she leaves her father's house.
What happens now?
God, Quinn is going to Baltimore.
She's leaving.
She can't.
Rachel can't let her.
Except, she doesn't know what to say or what to do.
So, she reaches for her phone, hoping that someone does. There's really only one other person in the world who could possibly know what's going on in Quinn's head, and this definitely wouldn't be the first time Rachel has turned to her in the middle of a Quinn-Crisis.
Santana doesn't pick up the phone when Rachel first calls, but she does send a text when Rachel has called for the seventh time.
Santana L-P: Fuck, Berry, would you stop calling? I'm at work, okay?
Santana L-P: And I don't know where she is. She called in tears earlier and said something about Puck and Baltimore and I don't even know what else. I can't deal with all this drama right now. I have a surgery now. You lesbians sort out your own shit.
Rachel doesn't bother replying as she dials Brittany, who hasn't seen Quinn, either. Kurt, who is in the middle of a meeting. Blaine, who hasn't heard from Quinn either. Mike is a dead end, as well. Rachel works through a list of contacts, her own eyes blurry from unshed tears.
It doesn't take her long to realise she's not going to find Quinn, wherever she is.
Still, four hours later, she gets a single text from Santana, and she echoes the sentiment quite viscerally.
Santana L-P: Berry, what the fuck happened?
Holly makes them tea.
It's Sunday, and Hiram would usually be spending this time with Rachel, but the brunette isn't here, and Holly doesn't blame her one little bit. Still, she's on alert, because she's a sober companion, and her charge is going through something highly triggering, and she needs to keep a close eye on him.
Hiram hasn't said much of anything since Rachel stormed out of here three days prior. He's tried calling her, but she's ignored all contact. Again, not that Holly blames her.
Holly will admit that she's curious to hear what actually happened between Hiram and Quinn, but she doesn't think she'll ever actually ask. He'll tell her if he wants to.
And, as soon as she sets the tea in front of her, it seems he does.
"She didn't say anything at first," Hiram muses, remembering the moment Quinn laid eyes on Noah Puckerman. "I mean, she reacted to her father quite severely, but she was practically still at the sight of that man."
Holly says nothing; just waits patiently.
"She was pale, actually. Silent. Frozen in a way, like she could have gone her entire life without ever seeing him again. I thought - I thought, this is it, you know? I've finally figured her out, even though I had no idea what I figured out. It was perfect. I knew, somehow, in that moment, that it was over. I won." He pauses. "For some reason, I thought she would put up more of a fight. All he said was 'Hi, Lucy,' and she got to her feet, gave me a sad, pained look, and then walked away."
"She didn't even say anything?"
"Not a word, to either of us." He sips at his tea. "It seemed almost too easy. I didn't think just seeing him would be the thing to do it, and I was riding high until - "
"Until it worked."
"I don't understand why Rachel won't see that I was doing her a favour," he says. "It's obvious Quinn was hiding something, if her reaction to Noah was any indication. I exposed it."
"Exposed what exactly?"
He stutters. "Whatever she was hiding?"
Holly's eyes narrow. "You don't even know," she accuses. "Goodness, Hiram, you brought some man from her past to see her, and you don't even know the way they're connected."
Hiram's jaw clenches. "It got rid of her, didn't it?"
"Well, yes," Holly concedes. "It did. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"It is."
"Then there's nothing more to it, is there?" Holly says.
"Exactly."
By the time Rachel returns home after her show on the first Monday as a, uh, single woman, Quinn is gone.
Every sign of her, just gone.
If Rachel didn't have her memories, she could almost be convinced she never existed at all. Before, she used to marvel at the way Quinn so easily slotted into her life, but now it makes her sick. Quinn easily slipped in, and now she's slipped right out and, if the apartment didn't have the lingering smell of her perfume, Rachel would wonder if she imagined the entire relationship.
There's something so devastatingly final about having Quinn's things out of her line of sight. Before, she could look around the room and see her blonde in nearly everything. Textbooks and novels piled up on the furniture, blankets hanging over the arms of the couch and spare glasses always within reach.
Now, it's as if the apartment has lost its heart.
Its soul.
Rachel knows she's lost hers, and she doesn't even know what to do with herself. She's tried to keep herself busy, ignoring all calls from her father and Holly, and making sure to call Quinn's cell every few hours, on the odd chance Quinn will actually answer.
Rachel knows she can show up at the hospital. She's almost desperate to do it, but she's always been so respectful of Quinn's job and workplace. Storming into her space won't win her any favours, and, frankly, Rachel doesn't want to be that person who forces someone to talk until they're ready.
But, God, she's still Rachel Berry, which is why she calls as often as she does, desperate to make sure Quinn knows she's constantly on her mind. Because she is. Rachel keeps replaying where it all went wrong, wondering if she could have done something different if she'd just paid more attention to what was happening.
Well, phone calls are all she limits herself to for exactly one week before she gives in to her desire to be in Quinn's presence.
She just needs to see Quinn. Lay eyes on her, even if they don't talk. Just to know she's okay.
That's all.
Which, honestly, is easier said than done.
"She's not here, Berry," Santana says for the umpteenth time, standing at her apartment door and giving Rachel an exasperated look. "She knew you'd come looking for her here, so of course she's not here."
Rachel tries to keep the devastation off her face. "Where is she?" she asks, needing to know. "She's not here, not with Kurt, nobody. She's not even at the hospital. Santana, please, I need to know where she is."
"Why?"
"What do you mean why?" Rachel questions.
"I'm asking what you're going to say or do when you see her," Santana says, looking curious.
"More likely, cry," she admits more to herself. "Try to explain."
"Explain what, Rachel?" Santana asks, which really proves she's talked at length to Quinn about this. "It isn't even about you, and you know it."
Rachel stares at her shoes, chin pressed to her chest like a scolded child. "I didn't see it," she confesses quietly. "Or, if I did, I tried to ignore it. I just - I thought it would work out. I - she was supposed to be the one to stay. We were - are - stronger than this. I thought she loved me more than this."
"She does," Santana says. "That's the problem."
"How can loving someone too much be the problem?" Rachel finds herself asking, frustrated and so lost.
Santana levels her with a sad, understanding look. "That's a question you should be asking your father," she says, and Rachel feels it in her bones.
They descend into a silence that isn't exactly comfortable, but Rachel can't think of anything to say in response.
"She's in Baltimore," Santana finally says, sighing heavily. "She's visiting the hospital and looking at apartments. She just - she needed a break from the city for a little while."
Rachel has allowed herself to imagine none of it is real until this moment. Like, the 'breakup' could be nothing more than a brief break before they take that walk down the aisle, but the truth that Quinn is in Baltimore, planning for her life beyond Rachel, is paralysing.
They haven't even talked.
They haven't even cancelled the wedding. Not that Rachel wants to do that. It's just - it's in less than a month's time, and they aren't even together.
"Oh."
Santana sighs again. "I don't know what to tell you," she says. "I wish I did."
Rachel blinks several times. "You've known the entire time?"
"She came to me for advice," Santana tells her. "Wanted to know if there was actually something she was doing wrong, but - "
"But it's just my father."
Santana shrugs. "Look," she says; "it's obvious there's some underlying issues there that you probably have to deal with, but - "
"What?"
"Quinn has spent a lot of time trying to distance herself from the sixteen-year-old she was," Santana explains. "I know she's talked about it a little bit, being vague about the true reason her family kicked her out, but - " she stops. "I don't know her actual reasons for not telling you, given your relationship, and I tried to get her to open up about it, but you have to understand that the entire thing really messed her up for a long, long time.
"Puck was an asshole of epic proportions, and she's always been sketchy with the whole consent thing, even when she talks about it with me, and after she - after the miscarriage, she kind of threw herself headfirst into her studies, and I still don't think she's really allowed herself to deal with it. And then Puck just shows up out of the blue, and - " she breathes out. "I'm sorry to say this, Rachel, but I fucking hate your father for forcing this on her."
Rachel visibly deflates. "Yeah," she murmurs. "I - yeah."
Santana doesn't say anything.
"Next time you speak to her, please will you tell her something for me?" she asks, watching Santana's expression.
"I can't make any promises," Santana says. "I'm trying not to force her to talk until she's ready."
Rachel licks her lips. "I - if you could try," she says. "Please. I just, there's just one thing I need her to know, and I don't know for sure if she's reading my messages."
"She's reading them," Santana confirms, which releases some tension in Rachel's body. "She's just - she's not ready to say something in response yet."
"Okay," she says. "Okay, yeah, that's fine, but - uh, please will you tell her that - that I'm still living for the hope of it all."
Santana blinks. "What?"
"When we met, she was a cynic," Rachel explains.
"She's still a cynic," Santana comments, which Rachel ignores.
"On our first date, she kind of called me out on my optimism, and I - I love to wind her up about how I live for the hope of it all, and she - she's been living with me, and I - I know we'll work this out. I know it." It's maybe pathetic, but she doesn't care. "I - I'll wait as long as it takes, and I'm not giving up. If we need the space, then that's - that's what we need, but I love her, Santana. She - she knows that, right?"
Santana sighs. "She knows, Rachel." She pauses. "But, none of it means anything if you can't - "
"My father."
Santana doesn't say anything.
"Okay, yeah," Rachel says. "He's actually my next stop."
It isn't a Sunday when Rachel next comes by, and the visit is unexpected, to say the least. She's ignored his calls for days now, so her arrival catches them all off guard, and he practically trips over himself when she enters through the front door.
Hiram is sitting at the dining table, typing out the law textbook he's planned to write for years and years. It's just that he's had so much time lately, avoiding Holly's knowing gaze and trying to swallow the sting of Rachel blatantly ignoring him.
He knows he did the right thing. Making sure Rachel knows whatever Quinn was hiding from her was always going to be the right thing to do. That can't be denied. He won't apologise for it.
What's surprising is that Rachel doesn't even ask for one.
Holly makes them tea while they sit primly in the living room, waiting for something. Anything. It's as awkward as anyone would have expected, and it's never quite been like that between them. Not even after LeRoy's death. They drifted together, then, and now they're miles apart.
Hiram doesn't know how to start this conversation. He's got justifications planned in his head, but he needs Rachel to ask the question first. Why. It's all he needs to hear, and he'll happily explain all his detailed reasoning.
He's her father.
He knows best.
"I'm performing my last show next week," is what Rachel ends up saying. "My contract is up, and I wasn't planning on signing on again. It's probably for the best, anyway, because I now have to spend the next few weeks trying to convince Quinn my father isn't actually the kind of meddling, destructive parent she now believes you are."
Hiram opens his mouth to protest, but Rachel just raises a hand to keep him silent. It's her turn to speak, and she has a few things to say.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" she asks, rhetorically. "Do you even care?"
Hiram's jaw tightens.
"You know, I had an idea things weren't so hot between you two, but I know to expect that from you, based on past experiences," she says. "Nearly every relationship before Quinn has been... thwarted by you - affected in some way. God, Dad, and you wonder why I waited so long to introduce the two of you." She shakes her head. "I found her. I finally found her: the one, and you - you thought you had to take her away from me."
"She's not good enough for you," Hiram finds himself saying, needing to say the words out loud, so she can understand.
"Then, who is?" Rachel snaps, and she hasn't even touched her beverage. "Who? Hmm? Who on this Earth is ever going to be good enough, hmm? Because, I can assure you, Quinn is so much better than anyone I could ever deserve."
"She lied to you," Hiram reminds her. "She hid things from you."
"Oh, and you're the benchmark on honest relationships, aren't you?" she says, and the two of them freeze at the sound of the words, which allude to a time before New York, and before LeRoy's illness.
A time when Hiram considered leaving his marriage, and has never quite dealt with the guilt of sitting his husband down to talk about possibly separating, and getting an admission of a terminal cancer diagnosis instead.
"Is that what this is about?" she presses, because Rachel has always known, though the two of them have never actually talked about it.
Hiram can barely look at her.
"I wanted to say something after you invited her father to our wedding shower, but Quinn begged me not to," Rachel reveals, which sheds light on quite a lot of all that happened following the event. "She told me I shouldn't rock the boat; that the two of you would work it out. At first, I didn't even believe you would do something like that, but Marinette confirmed your inquiries into Quinn's family a few days later." She shakes her head again, her expression pained with lingering disbelief. "She - she loves me so much that she was willing to endure a life knowing her wife's father can't stand her, for reasons unknown. She was willing to do that because all she's ever wanted is for me to be happy, and she knows how much I value my relationship with you."
Hiram just watches her, realising these are words she needs to say.
"Do - do you have any idea what we've been through already?" Rachel asks, rhetorical again. "Do you know what we've gone through to get here? Only to have you come in and ruin everything on some misguided mission to save me from myself?"
"Obviously not," he bites out, unable to stop himself. "I met her a week before you proposed."
Rachel glares at him, the look on her face something so foreign to him. She's never looked at him with such… dispassion and detachment. "I thought about quitting performing before we met," she reveals, and Hiram's breath gets stuck in his throat, because that's not something she's told him before. "You'd already been away for a while, and I couldn't handle the guilt of living my life and achieving my goals when you were still struggling so much. I thought it was disingenuous to Daddy's memory that I could even move on, and I was crippled by the idea of starting this brand new show and living my dream when - " she stops, breathes deeply. "But, then, I met this doctor in the ER, who took one look at our rag tag group of theatre geeks and sighed so heavily that I'm sure she dropped a dress size in the process. I'm certain I fell in love with her on the spot, which she constantly refutes, but - Dad, I finally found her.
"I found her. The woman who makes my heart speed up and slow down at the same time. The woman who has loved me for months, despite my crazy schedule and insecurities and clinginess and… just general persona. The woman who's listened to me cry and worry over you; who's reminded me over and over that all my feelings are valid and valued; who's spent the time learning about me and loving me, regardless of my baggage and in spite of you.
"And now she's gone. She's gone. It's- it's like she was never even here. All her stuff is out of our place, and she's leaving the damn city, because - because of some misplaced mission of yours to make sure we go into marriage with no secrets! I - I can't sleep or eat or even breathe properly. Our place is dull and lifeless and cold, and I miss her more than I ever thought possible, and I hate that you've done this to us. I hate that you've forced us into this world of pain just because you haven't managed to deal with your own!"
Hiram doesn't even know what to say to her in this moment.
He was right.
He did the right thing.
"She wanted only friendship from me," Rachel says, eyes on her untouched tea, voice suddenly calm. Broken. "When we first started out, we hung out as friends for almost two months. She - she wasn't ready for something more, having just come out of a relationship with a woman who used her job against her, and who involved her own mother in trying to get Quinn to adjust herself to fit some predetermined image. She asked me, before she agreed to anything romantic, if we would ever end up in a situation like that, and I promised her - I promised her that would never happen to us, and look at us now. Look at what you've done."
It was the right thing to do.
Rachel will recover from this.
She'll see it his way once she's past the hurt.
The silence that exists between the two of them feels like an endless gulf, and Hiram doesn't know what to say in order to bridge the existing gap. Apologising isn't on the table. How can what he's done be wrong when it merely exposed some harsh truths?
It needed to be done, and he's just saving her from a painful revelation in the future.
These are things he's learned from his own marriage. Secrets will tear them apart, and he's determined to keep her from that kind of pain.
Rachel gets to her feet then, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She looks exhausted, and he desperately wants to ask her to stay with him. Just, for a little while. Until it doesn't hurt anymore. He's her father. It's his job to make it better.
Hiram says nothing.
"I think it'll be a while before I visit again," Rachel says. "I - I think you need to schedule more sessions with your doctors, Dad." She sighs. "You don't even think anything you did is wrong, and I - I can't keep doing this with you until you see it for exactly what it is."
Hiram can't think of anything to say to stop her from leaving that won't automatically make this situation worse.
So, he lets her leave, and just hopes she comes back.
Rachel performs her last show on the same night Santana texts, She's back in New York. Rachel has tentative plans to celebrate with her cast, but her heart stutters in her chest at the sight of the words, and she makes a hasty excuse to her cast, vaguely mentioning Quinn and receiving a few knowing smiles and good-natured teasing.
God. They don't even know what kind of mess her father's created.
Rachel doesn't know exactly where Quinn is, but she'll hazard a guess she's at Santana and Brittany's place, and, as tempted as Rachel is to go straight there, she doesn't want to show up sweaty and disheveled from the show. She also thinks she needs a few moments to gather her thoughts before she goes barrelling into a conversation she's replayed over and over in her head.
Which is why she gets the surprise of her life when she steps into her - their - apartment and finds Quinn sitting on the couch. It's something like deja vu coming home to such a scene, and Rachel almost screams at the first sight of the intruder.
Quinn.
Quinn is here.
Rachel practically trips over herself to get to her, just needing to be closer. To touch her and make sure she's real.
Except that Quinn flinches at her approach, and Rachel freezes where she is, her heart breaking all over again. She doesn't even know why Quinn is here, but she has a feeling it's not to reconcile.
It's only confirmed when Quinn says, "I'm sorry just to show up like this," as if this isn't her home. As if, just a few weeks ago, she wasn't sprawled out on that same couch, naked and waiting for Rachel to get home. "But we have some things to talk about."
Rachel finds herself a seat, absently dropping into an armchair. It's a good thing, too, because, when Quinn mentions their taking the steps towards cancelling the wedding, Rachel feels her legs give out beneath her, even if she's already seated.
Her mouth moves before she can stop it. "You're giving up on us." It's an accusation, definitely, but also a plead for an explanation. Something. Anything.
Quinn breathes deeply. "It isn't about us," she finally says. "God, it isn't even about your father."
Rachel frowns.
"It's about the fact I can't realistically tell you that I would have told you about the baby or - or Puck before we got married, or ever," she explains. "I still haven't been able to tell you everything, and I can't bring myself to do it. I - I don't want to. Okay? That's - that's what the problem is." She shakes her head, looking momentarily frustrated with herself. "It isn't even because I don't trust you, because I do. I trust you the most in this world. It's about me, and my demons, and all of it is proof I'm not ready to give every part of myself to someone else, regardless of how much I convince myself I love them."
"I don't care that there are things I don't know," Rachel says, and it sounds as if they're having a repeat conversation. She knows she's said something similar. "I was going to learn."
"You don't understand," Quinn says, shaking her head. "If I could have helped it, you never would have found out."
The air leaves Rachel's body, because she wasn't expecting that. "Oh."
"I kept it from you," Quinn says, her brow creased. "I actively hid it from you. That - that says so much more about me than - "
Rachel blinks. "Why are you so determined to make this all your fault?"
"Isn't it?" Quinn asks, squirming in her seat. "None of this would have happened if I'd just managed to be honest with you about this in the first place."
"No," Rachel says, her voice firm. "None of this would have happened if my father didn't get involved in our business." She shakes her head. "Why are you defending him? After what he's done - "
Quinn winces.
Rachel breathes out. "What else?"
"What?"
"What else have you both hidden?"
"Rachel," Quinn starts.
"Tell me."
Quinn licks her lips. "You already know about everything," she points out, because Rachel must even though they've spent weeks avoiding the important discussion.
"Tell me anyway," Rachel presses.
Quinn sighs, looking and feeling defeated. There's no use in mentioning the hostility or snide comments, because she could have handled all of that and then some, so she lists just the highlights. "My father," she says. "Jesse. Jules."
"Quinn."
"And Puck."
Rachel tightens her jaw, anger flooding her veins. "Why didn't you just tell me from the start?"
"Because none of it mattered until it did," Quinn says. "She was always going to be the one who mattered."
"Why wouldn't you have told me about her?" Rachel asks, because it's out there now, and there's no hiding from it. Quinn started the dialogue, and Rachel has questions.
Quinn looks down, her expression pinched. "I didn't want you to know how I failed," she confesses in a whisper. "At so many things. God, I was such a stupid kid, and he - the - it all happened so fast, and I didn't even realise what it all meant until it was over. And then I was so late, and I ended up pregnant and alone and - fuck." She sniffs. "I had all these plans. I was going to be better and become something and somebody, and then it all fell apart, again, and I failed, Rachel, and I've never wanted anyone to know just how broken I am because of it. Especially not the person who's fallen for the not-so-broken part of me."
"Baby," Rachel says, and then she's slipping off her seat and kneeling in front of Quinn. "I don't mean to sound insensitive, but I already know you're broken."
Quinn just stares at her, eyes wide and mouth agape.
Rachel winces. "Wow, that came out all wrong, didn't it?"
"I don't even know what you're trying to say."
Rachel places her hands on Quinn's knees. "I mean, I've never been under the impression you're not-broken." She pauses. "Dammit, that sounds even worse."
Despite everything, Quinn smiles shakily.
Rachel reaches a hand up to wipe away a stray tear. "What I'm trying to say is that there aren't just parts of you I love," she says. "I love all of you. I always have, and I always will." She breathes deeply. "I know you don't want to believe me, but I mean it when I say I'm living for the hope of it all. With you. Always with you."
Quinn shakes her head, and then sighs again, heavier than earlier. "We have to cancel the wedding," she says, which isn't exactly news to Rachel, but it still stings in a way that she's sure she's got wounds on her insides. "I'm moving to Baltimore," is what comes next, and Rachel can't help the ache in her heart.
It must show on her face, because Quinn's hands quickly cover her own, and they remain like that for long, long minutes.
"I love you," Rachel says, because it's supposed to mean something.
Quinn says, "I know," so quietly that Rachel barely hears her. "That's why I'm here."
The announcement catches him by surprise.
It arrives in an email, straight to Hiram's personal account, and it floods him with a cacophony of feelings he doesn't think he'll be able to explain. The news of the cancelled wedding should elate him - he did it; he actually did it - but he's rather wracked with something like guilt, which is unexpected.
It's all expounded when Holly receives an email of her own and says, "Well, I hope you're happy," in that way she does, and then disappears into the kitchen.
Happy.
No, he wouldn't say he's happy. Relieved, most likely, given everything, but he doesn't know how to be happy, he doesn't think. He hasn't for a while, and having Rachel near was almost enough to mask it.
But, no, he can't remember a time he's been happy. Especially not now, when he knows Rachel is miserable. Not while she's still convinced he hasn't done her a favour.
Not until she realises he's done the right thing.
The news makes it to gossip blogs and entertainment shows, and there's a constant loop of discussion over the possible reasons for the Broadway Star's failure to make it down the aisle with her doctor girlfriend. They do an entire timeline of their public relationship, and Hiram watches it all as if Rachel wasn't his daughter. It's odd, from this side, witnessing the way it all unfolded through a viewer's eyes.
He never saw any of this. Rachel kept this beginning part of the relationship from him, and it's the first time he realises she did it for more than just the reasons she initially said. It was less about protecting him from the changes in her life, and more about protecting the changes in her life from him.
Protecting Quinn, and protecting her own happiness.
Huh.
They look happy, is what one person says. But, you can never know what's happening behind the scenes, another one says. Something must have happened.
Something did happen.
The truth came out, and Hiram made sure it did.
"You need to eat."
Hiram snaps to attention, blinking several times as he watches Holly's approach. She has a tray in her hands, her features set passively. He knows she's not too happy with him, but she's said little more about it in the past few days. She's paid to be here, so at least she won't leave him, too.
Holly sets the tray of food in his lap. It's just slices of toast with some jam on the side and a bowl of fruit. He stares down at it for a moment and feels his stomach churn.
"I'm not hungry," he finally says.
"Do you even know what time it is?" she asks, ignoring him. "What day it is?"
He frowns, thinking back. "Uh, Tuesday?"
Holly sighs. "It's Thursday, Hiram," she says. "You have an appointment in an hour, so you need to eat something."
His frown deepens. "An appointment?"
"Isn't that what Rachel asked of you?" she reminds him.
Hiram blinks slowly. "You know, in all her life, she's only ever actually asked two things of me," he says, more to himself. "To get the help I needed," he lists; "and to like Quinn."
Holly just watches him, taking note of the twitching in his fingers and the shiftiness in his eyes. She's had to keep a close eye on him, but he seems to be holding it together, despite everything.
"I've already failed at one of those," he says, and he doesn't clarify to which one he's referring. It barely matters, anyway.
"Do you want to fail at both?" Holly questions, and his answer is simple.
He sighs heavily. "What appointment is this, anyway?"
When he falls apart, it's owed to the amalgamation of several things.
First, his session with his therapist throws every act he's done against Quinn into the light, and having it showed to him in that way makes him feel sick. He did it to protect his daughter from Quinn, when he should have been protecting her from himself.
Second, and probably most important, is that Rachel makes a public statement saying that yes, the wedding might be cancelled, but they're working on their relationship. She asks for respect to their privacy, and then very carefully says, many things have been working against us, and we're taking this time to be with each other without the pressure of external forces. Without him.
But, third, which is the most triggering, is when Holly tells him that Rachel called her to say she's going to be out of the city for the next few weeks, but that she'd be able to rush back in an emergency.
All he hears is that she's leaving.
She's leaving him, the same way LeRoy did, and the idea of having to live without her kicks off his worst episode to date.
And, the most difficult part to accept, really, is that it isn't even Quinn's doing at all.
It's his own.
They go on their honeymoon.
Just, without the whole being married part, and neither of them can quite explain the way the heaviest of weights seems to have been lifted from their collective shoulders.
Maybe they were rushing.
Maybe they just weren't ready.
It's what Quinn says repeatedly, referring mostly to herself, and Rachel thinks it might apply to her, too. She didn't handle the situation well enough to keep Quinn safe. She knew her father would struggle - she did spring a long-term girlfriend and engagement on him straight after leaving treatment - but she had no idea he would ever go this far.
Maybe they do need the space.
Not her and Quinn, no, but Rachel and her father. It's a truth that settles into her bones as she luxuriates in Quinn's smile, and boughs at Quinn's touch. It really is something of a honeymoon, in that Rachel can't bring herself to stop touching Quinn. Which, thankfully, she allows, always looking a little amused whenever Rachel reaches for her. It's as if they're rediscovering something, from before Hiram, and Rachel is desperate to hold onto it with everything she has.
She doesn't want to spend another moment existing in a world where Quinn isn't hers.
So, yes, they need all the space they can get. Which is why Rachel almost doesn't pick up the phone when Holly calls. She rather just stares at the screen for the longest time, so desperate to keep the real world at bay. She knows Quinn is watching her - the feel of her gaze is as familiar as her touch - just waiting for her to make a decision whether to answer.
The sun is out, the sky is clear, and the weather is perfect for a poolside laze-about. Answering this phone is going to change that, because they both know Holly wouldn't be calling unless it were something serious.
Before the call can go to voicemail, Quinn reaches for the phone in her hands and answers with a soft, "Hello, Holly, it's Quinn."
Rachel watches her facial expression shift through various emotions as she listens to whatever Holly is saying on the other end. Quinn's ability to remain calm and stoic in trying situations is one of the things Rachel loves her - it makes her a brilliant surgeon - but she wishes her girlfriend - it feels so good still to be able to call her that - would give something away.
Rachel is prepared for the worst when Quinn eventually hangs up, but the blonde doesn't immediately say anything. Instead, she moves over to Rachel's deck chair, sliding in behind her and bracketing her body with her own legs. It takes a moment for her to relax against Quinn's chest, because this can be only bad news, right, and she doesn't think she could handle the risk.
When they've both settled again, Quinn says, "He's okay," so quietly that Rachel rather feels the words against her skin than hearing them. "Holly's checked him back in. They're evaluating him now, and he won't get to see any visitors for another three days." She breathes out. "He's okay, baby." Her fingers thread through Rachel's hair. "We knew the chances of something like this happening were high. It's better he's getting help."
Despite Quinn's words, guilt still sits heavy in the pit of her stomach, but Quinn is here with her, and that makes all the difference. "Did I do the right thing?" she asks, voice barely audible.
Quinn places a gently kiss agains the skin of her neck. "Baby, you didn't do anything," she points out.
"Isn't that even worse?"
Quinn doesn't respond for a moment, probably thinking it over to find the right words. "I think, for once in your life, you're putting yourself first," she says carefully.
"I'm putting you first," Rachel points out, because that's the takeaway from this whole situation. Then she frowns, thinking it over. "Which is basically the same thing," she adds a moment later.
Quinn leans back when Rachel moves to turn to face her, neck twisting.
"I love you," Rachel says. "I know we've been through some things, and I know we have a lot more to talk about, but I - I haven't changed my mind about anything, okay? I want to marry you and spend my life with you and have many, many babies with you and - " she stops when she sees Quinn's facial expression change. "What? Wait, what's wrong? What did I say?"
Quinn can barely look at her when she says, "I just wasn't sure you would still want all of that." Her eyes close for a long moment. "With me."
Rachel replays the words she's just said, frowning slightly. "The marriage?" she asks. "Or the kids?"
Quinn looks helplessly at her. "Either," she answers. "Both."
Rachel shifts some more, facing Quinn properly, sitting on her feet between Quinn's legs. "Do you not want to have children?" she asks, seriously. They've talked about children in their future, of course, but they've never quite dived into it like this. Especially not after everything that's been revealed since.
Quinn keeps her eyes focused on Rachel's collarbones, deeming it the safest place for her gaze at the moment. "I want children," she says, and Rachel can't suppress the relief that spreads through her body. "I just - " she tries, which forces tension back into Rachel's body. "I don't want to have them."
Rachel frowns as the full understanding of what Quinn is trying to tell her settles in. Oh. She spares a moment to lament the loss of getting to witness Quinn being pregnant, but that was never going to be a dealbreaker. Rachel would happily carry all their children. They could even use a surrogate. They could even adopt; Rachel doesn't care about any of that.
Quinn ends up in tears by the time Rachel has finished saying all of that, choosing to voice all her thoughts out loud, regardless of how they come across. "I'm sorry," she says, wiping at her eyes and flushing with all the emotion she's suddenly feeling. "I just, yeah, I don't even know what I expected." She puffs out a breath. "We definitely should have talked about this a lot time ago."
"We're talking about it now," Rachel says, because that's the important part. "Nothing has changed for me, Quinn. I still want everything with you." Her fingers touch Quinn's chin, lifting her head so she can look her right in the eye. "The question now is: do you?"
§
It takes a little over three months, rather than three days, for Rachel to visit him. It's something he expects, though it still hurts him to know she doesn't want to see him just yet. He knows, from his therapists, that Rachel is aware of how his treatment is going, but she's trying to listen to the professionals when they say this separation is best.
He has to learn how to live without her.
The way he's never quite learned how to live without LeRoy.
Even though Holly no longer has any obligation towards him, she's really the only person who visits. She provides small updates on the rest of the world, even though Hiram does have limited access to communication. Holly tells him Rachel and Quinn are living in Baltimore at the moment. She explains that Quinn's fellowship is going well, and that Rachel is working on her first studio album while they work to repair their relationship. She says the words gently, but they still strike him where he's weakest, because he's aware now.
He understands what he's done, and, despite his lingering guilt, he's relieved that they're working things out. He knows all he wants is his daughter to be happy, and it is a thundering blow to realise that he hasn't brought her any such happiness in quite some time. Quinn has, and that is a bitter but sizeable pill to swallow. The problem is that it's still digesting.
So, when Rachel does finally visit him, he's come leaps and bounds, but he's not quite there. She looks good, though; light and happy and a little tan. Her eyes say so much, even if her body is closed off and the entire situation is awkward beyond measure. They're not alone. There are other patients in the common room, with their own visitors, and a handful of orderlies lingering around. Watching.
Rachel sits stiffly, her hands in her lap and her eyes focused everywhere but at him.
The first thing she says is a surprise, but also not. "Quinn is waiting in the car." She practically blurts it out, and then presses her lips together, as if chastising herself for even mentioning it. "We didn't - I didn't want to come alone, and she - " she stops, sighs. "Just, she's here."
Hiram isn't sure what to say in response, so he opts to remain silent.
"I - we've been living in Baltimore," she explains. "Quinn's place is actually really nice, and she's enjoying her work more than either of us anticipated. She was so worried I would hate it there, but I kind of love it. It's so different to New York, and I've been able to explore the city when Quinn's at work." She breathes deeply. "There's actually this really neat café I found that I want to show you. Maybe. Some time."
Hiram thinks she's being kind, given everything that's happened between them, and between him and Quinn. The silence stretches between them for a long, long time. There are many things he wants to say; things he's spent weeks planning out, but his voice seems to be failing him in this moment.
"I brought you a few things," Rachel suddenly says, reaching into the bag she's brought with her. "They said bringing some things from home might help, so I stopped by the house on my way here, and I thought you might like a few things." She pulls out a few novels - Grisham and Archer and Gimenez - and his priceless chess set.
"Fancy a game?" she asks, and she starts setting it up before he can even nod his head. It helps though; gives them something to focus on while they get through the difficult conversation.
It doesn't take him long to apologise. It's heavy on his tongue, but he forces himself to say, "I am sorry. I now see what I did was wrong." His hands shake slightly. "Dr Sanders talked me through it all, and I'm - I'm so sorry, Sweetheart."
Rachel moves her Knight forward, poised for attack. "I'm not the one you should be apologising to."
"You are," he insists. "You and Quinn, and everybody."
"That's a lot of apologies," she points out.
"I've had a lot of time to think about this," he says, moving his Bishop out of the way. "Whenever she's ready, I'd like to apologise."
Rachel shakes her head slowly. "It's going to take a while, Dad," she says. "We're still recovering from - " she stops. "We're still recovering."
"Who was he?" Hiram finds himself asking, even though he knows he shouldn't.
Rachel doesn't have to ask to whom he's referring, and he can tell there will be things she forgives him for but this won't be it, if the sudden tension in her body is any indication.
She takes a moment to compose herself, and then says, "He was just another man in her life who hurt her." Her gaze meets his, colder than he's ever seen. "She has quite the list." And you're on it, is left unsaid.
Hiram takes it for what it is, silent in acceptance.
Rachel sits back, abandoning her play. "I have a confession," she says. "I've been debating whether to tell you or not, because the last thing I want is to derail your progress."
Now, the tension is in his body.
Rachel breathes out slowly, her gaze softer when she meets his. "We're married," she says, soft and light. "We actually got married on our honeymoon three months ago."
Hiram blinks several times.
"It was small, just the two of us, and - " she stops and smiles. "Maybe, one day, we'll do the big thing, but I was always interested in the marriage part, anyway."
Hiram just stares at her, taking it in. The smile on her face; the sudden lightness in her gaze, and the ease in her shoulders. She is so different when she speaks of her love, and he aches for a time when he had this same thing.
"We had things to work on," she continues in his silence. "We still do, obviously, but we're in a much better place now, and I get to go home to my wife every day now."
It strikes him, then, in this moment, that Rachel has never quite needed him the way he's needed her. It sparks a feeling in his chest he would have called jealousy or resentment at another time, but now he's just relieved.
She's done it.
She's moved on, and managed to find it.
Happiness.
"You're happy," is what his mouth says, and she startles a little at his verbal observation.
"She makes me happy, yes," she says, her tone careful.
"No," he murmurs. "It's more than that." He frowns a little, a thought taking root in his mind. "It's more than just wanting to keep you for myself."
Rachel frowns, too, obviously confused.
"I didn't see it," he says. "I didn't want to see it."
"See what?"
"That you could be happy," he whispers; "When I couldn't."
Rachel says nothing; just sitting there in silence as he tries to work through his sudden revelation.
"It wasn't even about you, or about Quinn," he says. "It wasn't even about me."
"It was about Daddy," Rachel finishes for him, and the two of them sit in silence once more. It goes on for barely a minute before Rachel's phone pings, and she immediately reaches for it, smiling at her screen. "It's Quinn," she says unnecessarily. "Just checking in." She shoots off a quick text, and then looks at him. "I won't pretend to know what it's been like for you," she says, her tone serious. "I lost Quinn for mere weeks, and I felt as if I wasn't living, so I - I can't even imagine what it's like having to get through every day with a hole in your heart."
Hiram drops his gaze, because she must understand this all much more than he thought she did.
"The mistake we both made was your using me to plug it in," she says, and it's an alarm that rings true, just years too late. "But, we can fix it, Dad. It'll take work and time and a lot of patience and trust, but I want this to work. Quinn wants this to work. She wants you in our lives." She hesitates a moment. "In our kids' lives. So, you're going to have to work extra hard in here, okay, because we have a whole lot of life left to live, and I'd really like it if our children had at least one grandparent, you know?" Her eyes are teary, but she's smiling. "Think you can handle that?"
Hiram barely knows what to say in this moment. "You - you still want me?" he asks. "After everything?"
"Dad," she breathes. "I love you. Even if you almost ruined my life."
His heart aches at the sound of those words, because he almost did do exactly that: by breaking the person she loves. "I'm sorry," he says again.
Rachel doesn't tell him it's okay, because it isn't. What she does say is, "Quinn is a bit of a cynic," with a fond look on her face. "I'm the optimist in our relationship, but even she believes everything is going to work out."
Now, that stumps him, because, just - but -
"How?" he questions, breathing the word in something like wonder. "How could you both think that?"
Her smile is a little secretive, but it's something he doesn't actually want to learn. "Because," she says. "It's taken a while, but we're both now living for the hope of it all."
Fin