Inspired by a one shot I read years ago called The Fire by Gwendilyn. I used the general plot and concept but adapted it to faberry.

(I don't own Glee, the characters, or anything else)

Hope you enjoy.

You linger at the door of the living room as you watch her fumble with the remote control and you let out an annoyed groan, when you see her start the movie. She sits on the carpet, her back resting against the couch, eyes flickering to the screen and you can't help but grimace as the melody of that first song begins to fill the room.

For a moment, you just watch her from afar, before you build up some courage and make your way to the couch, sitting at the far end. Her eyes never leave the screen and she doesn't seem to notice you at all. You can see her hum softly along the tunes and how she is biting her lower lip, a sign she is concentrating. You want to ask her what she is thinking, say something, break the silence that is suffocating the both of you, but words fail.

She turns slightly as her hand reaches for the glass of wine that is on the coffee table in front of you and your eyes follow her movements. Her hand almost graces your feet that rest on the table. She hates when you do that, but your legs are too long and your back starts to hurt when you don't stretch out from time to time. She doesn't say anything. Your eyes meet for a moment and you feel the urge to say something, but you can't and you plead with her to say something to you, but she doesn't. Instead she sets down the empty glass of wine again and her eyes focus on Barbra Streisand as she sings "Who are you now". The way her eyes fill with tears, makes you want to get up and turn off the television, but you don't. You know she wouldn't let you. She has tried to convince you too many times that this is the best thing to watch whenever they feel the heaviness of the world.

You could never agree. Not when you've seen her on that stage at Broadway and you know that no one will portray a better Fanny Brice than her. You don't want to start an argument though, so you stay silent as you always do. Suddenly, you watch her sigh and stand up from her sitting position as the movie plays in the background. You can see her thinking, without knowing the words and you see her face darken slightly. It makes you worry that something is wrong and you think of asking what it is, but communication hasn't been one of your strengths lately. You wonder if it's because of her, but you silently wish it's because of you.

You remember when she used to sit in front of that TV and stare at the first picture you ever took, just the two of you. It was back in junior year, when you stayed up late at her house to practice a song and you were still unsure of your feelings towards her. She turned on her webcam, stating that she needed to protocol everything leading up to her success, every practice. So, she leaned into you and told you to smile.

Before you could process anything, she clapped her hands together pointing at the picture she just took. Back then you wanted her to delete it immediately, and after threatening her with enough harsh words and slushies, she gave in and did just that. It wasn't until years later that she admitted to you she never got rid of that first picture, and a copy had been hidden in the trash on her desktop to be saved. You chuckled first, because it was something only Rachel Berry would do, and then you kissed her for the first time, showing her everything you weren't ready to say out loud. You were young then, feeling brave for the first time, not knowing the life that would follow.

You remember watching from a distance as she clutched the printed picture in her hands, sitting in the centre of your bedroom, tracing your features, as a silent tear fell from her cheek. She used to do that a lot, hold pictures of you, reread love poems and letters you wrote to her, because poetry was the only way to express how much you felt for her, not being able to transmit these emotions in prose. Sometimes, she had scrolled through old text messages, but she gave up on that quickly. You figured it was too hard for her to do that. She never noticed you as you stood by, watching, and part of you was glad she didn't. Another part was devastated that you couldn't fix this, couldn't tear down this wall that was building up between the two of you.

That's why, when the tears started, you couldn't watch. You looked away, stepping out of the room and turning so you didn't have to suffer seeing her.

She is still the best thing that has ever happened to you – and that's what's making your heart clench in pain when looking back.

You remember the night you knew you were over. The day it happened, engraved in your memory so deeply, even though you wished it would wash away. Neither of you would admit that this was the end, none of you daring to say it out loud.

Silently she sat on the edge of your bed, you still considered it yours even though you haven't slept in it for months, the photo of you clutched inside her hand like a lifeline, as you watched with guilty eyes from the doorframe.

You didn't even recognise it at first. A photo of your younger self, before being head cheerio, before being Lucy Caboosey, so young you were barely walking. You didn't seem to have a care in the world. You looked so young, a wide smile offered to the camera. Your eyes sparkling, and your nose was slightly too big for my face, but it looked like you were the happiest toddler in the entire world, still untouched from the dangers, unknown to the hardships, and unharmed from the evils of this world. She was clutching it tightly, tracing your face and asking in a whisper if our daughter would have looked exactly like you.

Your heart cracked on and you couldn't help but imagine them. Your kids. It was all you could think about, a miniature version of you – of her. You saw her eyes close and you silently made your way to your bed, lying down beside her. Neither of you spoke, both seeking in the silence of the room. You knew then that it wasn't your future to have.

The next night you were over. A darkness clouded over you, like a blanket too tight to let you keep breathing. Away went the dreams, images of the future. Vanished in front of your eyes. Dreams of being a family, of having a future – gone with one decision she made for the both of you. It was the night she betrayed you with him.

Kurt and Blaine had finally decided to willingly take a step into their future and were ready to promise forever, so they had everyone invited to celebrate with them their declaration of unity, of love. And because he was considered family, and a brother to Kurt, he was there too. It pained you seeing him. You know she loved him once. You know she was in love with him. And you've never been able to shake off your insecurities altogether.

All you could do was watch him offer her a shy hand and your eyes had burned when she accepted as he led her to the dance floor, holding her delicate body with strong arms. It hurt you seeing them so close, but you couldn't tear your eyes away, not for a second.

You stood next to Santana who drank away her own pain, watching Brittany dance with Sam and you felt somewhat scared she would forever be stuck in her love for the girl that had been once her high school sweetheart, but couldn't give her the things she wanted, needed, anymore.

Mercedes joined you as her eyes lingered on Sam, and you didn't miss the irony that it was the three of you – the strongest, sharpest, toughest women of Glee - that pinned after the loves of your lives, watching from a distance, as soft melodies and hushed words of affection soaked up the room around you.

I think it's progress. Maybe she is ready to move on.

You heard Kurt whisper to Mercedes beside you, as their eyes shifted from the blonde-haired couple to the dark brunette you had been watching all night, all your life.

You hadn't even noticed him join you and the moment he said those words, had you turn around, wanting to snap at him or punch him in the eye for even suggesting that she would move on with him of all people. But it was his wedding day, so you swallowed the words and remained silent.

The four of you kept watching as the couple swayed away on the dance floor and it was not until you saw her rest her heard to his broad chest, that you realised you should have stopped watching before you broke altogether.

The song ended and you followed them against your will into the hallway, where he held her hand tight and whispered into her ear, and brought his arms around her slim form. He let go for a split of a second to dip down his head and you weren't able to look away when she looked up and their lips met in a kiss that must had been laced with alcohol and guilt. You felt betrayal shift inside you. She didn't move for a few seconds, before she kissed back hesitantly and you still like to think it was because she felt alone and she was hurt, and not because he made her feel something still.

You watched her break the kiss, stepping back from him and you noticed tears welling up in her eyes.

I can't. I am sorry. I can't do this, Finn.

She looked over his shoulder then and our eyes met. You wondered if she had stopped the kiss because she had seen you watching them or because she knew it was wrong. You couldn't think of an answer and you saw her say something to him as he stepped back. You wanted to feel happy, satisfied as you watched her send him away, but there was a part of you that felt guilty, too.

You followed her to your apartment, you still considered it your home, even though you had not lived in it for almost two years, and she didn't stop you from following her up the stairs. She stepped into the bedroom, sighing as she slumped onto the bed, and you stood before her, tense arms resting on straight hips and your lips parted to give her the speech she deserved for pulling such a stunt on you, fully prepared to lash out and not hide the hurt she had caused you. But then she buried her head into her shaking hands and wrenching sobs escaped her tiny body and you shut your mouth as you kept on watching silently, too afraid to move.

The next day, she woke up early and you watched her rise from the bed, not looking at you once, when she kneeled in front of the bed to reveal a hidden box full of your memories. You could only watch as she stepped out of the room and dropped the life you had into the trash. You snapped suddenly, angry eyes directed at her as you scream at her for vanishing the last pieces of your life together. You could see her blink a few times, but she didn't listen and she looked right past you as she walked into the bathroom to dry her tears.

You knew then, it was over. It was over and there was nothing you could do to fix it.

You watch her stand in the room, soft melodies still humming from the back of the room. You take another step forward, to stand next to her, but she keeps a distance between the two of you. You used to be so close, you used to share everything, talk and touch in the most intimidate way. You used to be in love.

Where did that go?, you silently ask and you feel a darkness, even though the lights in the living room make your eyes sting.

She was perfect for you. Her voice was the best sound you could listen to, her touch the best feeling you had ever felt, and her words were the lifeline you didn't know you needed in the darkest moments of your life.

She was all you could ever ask for. Her best friend, her voice of reason, her lover, her comfort. She was everything. She still is.

But now to someone else.

You hear voices first, and you see her step into the room, a wide smile on her face as she grins. You feel her beam as she notices her, too, and she smiles lovingly. You can't help but feel jealous. She is your biggest competition. You think she loves her more than she ever loved you.

You notice how the girl's eyes flicker to the screen, a small pout on her lips.

"Mommy, can we please watch something else?", she asks, barely four-foot-tall, her brown locks falling over her shoulders in waves and her socks are covered in pink socks with little golden stars. Her brown eyes are shining brightly.

I watch her laugh as she tries to explain the magic of the movie as she had to me so many times before.

For just a brief moment, I pretend it's me she's talking to and I look into her eyes.

"Honey, Funny Girl is a musical for the ages. It's magical. And it always makes one feel happy when you watch it. You know how much I love it. And I love it best, when you're watching it with me."

Baby, I know, but I like it better when you perform it on one of your shows. Why do I have to settle for second best if I can have the best thing right here?

The little girl says something, trying to convince her to watch something else, but you pretend to not listen to her as she speaks.

Please little girl, this is my moment. Let me have this one moment with her, you beg.

"But the movie is so much better and it reminds me of my younger self. We can sing the songs together. I love singing with you. It will be fun, I promise."

What if I get bored? I have watched the film a thousand times.

"Then we can cuddle up and I'll make us some hot chocolate."

I'd like that. I miss spending time with you. I miss holding you in my arms. She smiles and her eyes fill with happiness.

Then there's a pause.

"Why don't you look for Daddy and ask him if he wants to join us?"

No! There is no Daddy. There is no one else, but me and you.

She is ruining it. She is ruining your moment. You just want this one moment with her.

Is that too much to ask?

Rach. Look at me. Please. I am here. This is our moment.

You see the girl run out of the room and hear her small feet sprint up the stairs as you to try to ignore that she is getting him to join them. You watch her eyes fall close for a moment and you can't help but be brave and step forward until you are inches apart from each other. Your arms find their way around her waist, holding her in place as you look down at here beautiful face, begging her silently to open her brown eyes.

"I love you, Quinn.", she whispers softly and your heart fills with glee.

You dare forward until your lips touch in the softest kiss. You linger for a few seconds, trying to saviour that moment, remembering and treasuring it for eternity. It doesn't matter that you can't feel her lips on yours, or that she can't feel the kiss either, or that she doesn't even know you are right there as you kiss her.

It doesn't matter that you are dead, and that she is alive.

It is still the best kiss you two ever shared.

The little girl comes sprinting back, grinning up, saying she loves her, too, but you try to block it out, pretending just for one more moment, that this is real.

I love you, Rachel.

The girl runs away again in her search for Jessie St. James, and once again Rachel is there with you – alone – and you've never been happier or more grateful that she named her daughter after you.

Reviews are very welcome! :)

AN: I am sorry if it's not a happy ending, and I am aware that some are pissed that I didn't warn them, but it would ruin the story if I gave it away. Writing is art, and art is not always bright and shiny. I would advise not reading my stories if you look for pure fluff.