Author's Notes: So Mike's been promoted from Americanization Specialist to a full-fledged beta reader! His input was invaluable to the final form of this chapter. Again, any more errors and spelling mistakes etc remain my own.
Part Thirteen: Who would've thought we would wind up here/ holed up and holding it all so dear
She didn't think she would ever stop crying.
But enough of her despair ebbs out together with tears and time, and Marley sits up to reach for the box of tissues on her nightstand. It was lucky that she'd answered her phone while in bed, so she could simply let herself go boneless, wrap herself around a pillow, and sob her heart out.
Marley feels like a liar. She was the one who insisted there'd be no talk of breaking up. Granted, the words hadn't actually been spoken – they'd never come to a definite conclusion – they would talk later, when they'd both calmed down – they still loved each other –
– she isn't giving up.
She lies back down and grabs a pillow, hugging it to her chest, wishing it was someone instead of something. It certainly feels like they're over, and she'd been the one to end it. They'd survived her moving out of state, distance, emotional baggage, and this was what they were left with.
A large part of her wants to cave in. She'd made all those interim plans, half-formed and hazy, for when – if – she moves back to New York. Quinn's words made everything seem simple and attainable; the job, the girl, the life. All part of the same dream, all hers if she went back. Right?
But there's a much smaller part of her that's been sleeping for a while. The part that's slowly been waking up with Doctor C's homework, that swore she'd never mold herself to the other person in her relationship. That part kicks at her and swears she'd rather die than go back to New York with her tail between her legs, because she'll be doing it for the wrong reasons.
Marley can't save Quinn, and she shouldn't. That's not her job. And by that simple logic: Marley shouldn't be the one saving their relationship, either.
She knows that.
But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
Judging from the stillness outside she can see through her window, it's late. Marley doesn't feel like checking her phone to find out how many hours she's spent in misery, so she curls up and tries to sleep.
Quinn's crying.
Marley's first instinct is to go comfort her, except – she has no arms? Marley glances down, mildly perturbed to find she has no legs, either.
Then it's not Quinn anymore. Valentino, face scrunched into a deep scowl as always, starts lecturing her on her inability to maintain a successful relationship. Which is absurd, because he's just a fish, and anyway she's too busy looking after her weed farm. Gordon Ramsay will yell at her if she doesn't grow the weed just right, thus spoiling the secret ingredient in his award-winning potstickers.
Then Valentino starts singing. Marley blinks, and realizes her limbs are intact, she has nothing to fear from Gordon Ramsay, and her phone is ringing next to her ear.
She answers the phone with a croaked Hello.
"Babe," comes Unique's mildly-panicked voice, "are you okay? I was waiting and waiting for your text, but I never got it… and I was thinking, no way Marley Rose flakes out on me, something must've happened, and yeah. What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Marley sniffles and attempts to respond, but her words choke in her throat. "Quinn and I…" she manages, before a sob cuts her off.
"Quinn and you what?" repeats Unique, now sounding borderline hysterical. "You're scaring me, Marl. What's happened to you guys? Did you break up?"
"I don't know," she admits. "We had a fight, and nothing got resolved, but I… I just don't know, 'Nique."
Unique swears. "Are you at home?"
"Yeah. You don't – I know why you asked, and no. I don't want you coming here, it's too far out."
"You can barely talk," points out her best friend. "The last time you were in crisis mode was… never. This is bad."
"'Nique."
"I'm invoking my best friend card." And she hangs up before Marley can get in another word.
She lets the phone drop to the mattress, and rubs her face with the palm of her hand. If Marley was the drinking sort, now would be a good time for her to knock back as much hard liquor as she can get her hands on.
But she doesn't let herself wallow for too long. It's a weekday morning; she has to water Peter. She has a job she needs to go to. And if she knows Unique as well as she does, she'll have an impromptu house guest for the next couple of days, along with plenty of junk food and guilty pleasure movies.
She pulls herself back upright, legs crossed Indian-style. Her breathing exercises calm her – it's been a while since she's needed to use them – and she swings her legs out over the edge of the bed, hesitating for a moment. "Get a grip, Rose," she says aloud, "you've faced worse mornings than this." Doctor C would have plenty to say about her brand of self-motivation, but it'll do for now.
Marley goes through the motions of her morning routine, apart from a brief disruption when she goes to the kitchen. Marley really doesn't feel up to eating, but she knows she has to. It shouldn't be a struggle – it shouldn't even be part of whatever she's feeling, but… her stomach churns unpleasantly at the thought of breakfast.
As she's pondering what to do, Marley's eye falls to the worn tin sitting beside the sink, and her heart lifts. Her mom's special peppermint tea blend; the perfect compromise. The scent is comforting, and hopefully her stomach'll calm down afterwards. She sets the kettle boiling and scoops out the fragrant tea blend into an infuser.
By the time the water boils, her mood has improved considerably. Marley takes it to the kitchen table and sits down, clasping the hot mug between her hands, the aroma of peppermint and other secret ingredients slowly filling the kitchen.
Her conversation with Quinn replays on loop in her mind. Marley envisions it as an audio track, and examines it critically; here she pauses, contemplating the words, the dissonance. She really wishes that they hadn't had that conversation over the phone; she only has Quinn's voice and words to derive meaning from, and her girlfriend admittedly isn't the best at expressing herself verbally.
She was so foolish, to think that moving back to New York would magically solve everything. Worse still, she'd gotten angry at the mention of Rachel's name; it seemed her old irrational fears hadn't faded as she'd believed they had. Marley's aware that she shouldn't be pursuing this self-destructive train of thought. She drinks more tea, eager to embark on healthier activities.
Her doorbell rings. Marley frowns; there's no way Unique could have gotten here from New York so fast.
Unless –
Marley's heart skips a beat. She gets up suddenly, almost knocking over her chair; tea sloshes onto the table. And she walks into the hall, fingers trembling as she works the deadbolt, and opening the door –
"Good morning, miss," says the man, clad in the black-and-purple of FedEx. "Are you Marley Rose?"
She stares, blinking in complete confusion, before her brain kicks in. "Oh – yeah, that's me."
"I have a parcel for you. Sign here, please?" He holds out an electronic terminal and stylus, and Marley scrawls her name. "Here you go. Have a good day."
The box is heavy for its size. She adjusts her grip on it so she can mechanically shut the door one-handed on the deliveryman's retreating back. There are tears gathering in her eyes for no reason at all; she doesn't understand why.
Safe behind the closed door, her knees give way. Marley slides to the ground, back pressed against the door, and drops her face into her hands; the package tumbles out of her grip and rolls away, forgotten. She'd spent so long getting her composure back, and now – she's crying. Marley doesn't understand what's wrong with her, what could she have possibly been expecting.
Marley's not in any condition to be heading to work. Not if she's going to become an emotional mess at the drop of a hat. She left her phone in her room; she should probably call in sick. The guys won't miss her, they'll be too busy bickering over chord progressions to even notice her absence.
When the doorbell rings again, it startles her enough to cut off a sob, but she doesn't move otherwise. Perhaps the person will go away if they think no one's home.
The doorbell rings again. The shrill noise starts to grate on her nerves. Marley clambers to her feet, scrubbing her face dry with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. She opens the door again.
Quinn stands on the other side, this time. There are dark circles around her eyes, her usually-impeccable clothing is visibly rumpled, and her face is puffy from crying. Marley opens her mouth – and closes it, when she realizes she doesn't know what to say.
Apparently Quinn doesn't take her reaction well, because a look of panic crosses Quinn's face, but – surprisingly – she stands her ground. "I'm sorry to show up like this, but I thought we needed to talk after… last night."
"You flew all the way here just to talk?"
"Yeah."
Marley darts forward, to wrap her arms around Quinn's middle and press herself against Quinn. Relief floods her body when Quinn doesn't push her away. "I'm so glad you're here… I thought I'd lost you." Hugging Quinn always feels like coming home. It's something she starts to see she's taken for granted.
Quinn's voice trembles when she says: "I wouldn't be anywhere else." She squeezes back briefly, but it's not long before she's gently prying herself out of Marley's arms.
She lets go, reluctantly. "What about work?"
Her eyes flash with an echo of the Head Cheerio. "Fuck work," she exclaims hotly. "It's not as important to me as you are. I can't believe I ever let you feel that way."
"You got on a plane immediately after we talked because you were afraid that I thought that your work was more important than I am?"
Quinn attempts a casual shrug, shaking her head. "I told you. I'm not good with words. I was worried that everything I meant to say wasn't getting across. And sometimes, actions speak louder than words." Her hand trembles as it reaches out to Marley; Marley releases the breath she's been holding steadily as Quinn's fingers brush her cheek. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have said those things – " She's cut off by a gentle thumb on her lips.
"You didn't do anything wrong. I shouldn't have said what I did, about selfishly wanting you back in New York."
"We should talk inside," says Marley. She steps back so Quinn can come in, and she shuts the door behind them. Her peppermint tea sits on the table. "I'll make you some tea," she says. "It's been a long day...couple of days, for both of us." She fetches a tea towel and mops up the spilled tea as she goes.
Quinn nods. She stands, awkward in the middle of Marley's living room. "... I like the couch."
"Huh? Oh." Marley turns away from the kettle. "I found it at a rummage sale."
"You can't tell. It looks new."
She makes another mug of tea, carrying the mugs over to the couch, setting them on the coffee table. Marley finds herself a place beside Quinn, who has her hands clasped tightly in her lap; Marley fights down the urge to hold them.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking," Quinn starts by saying. She trains her gaze on the steaming mug. "About everything – not just what we talked about last night."
Her heart starts pounding wildly in her chest. Marley reaches for her mug with trembling hands, just so she'll have something to focus on.
"It was – I shouldn't have run my mouth like that." Quinn sucks her lips inward. "There really isn't any excuse for what I said. It wasn't necessary, and I hurt you."
Marley shakes her head. "No. We were supposed to have talked about this, long ago."
Quinn smiles bitterly, and then it's gone. "We were."
"Even now, when we both know how important it is… I still wish we could put this off." She thinks back to the happier memories of when they were together. "I'm sorry I didn't push harder."
"Marley, you need to stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault."
"And you need to stop making everything your fault," she retorts without thinking.
A guarded silence follows after Marley's words. "I…" she stutters.
"No, I probably deserved that," says Quinn. Her smile is cold and fleeting. "We've been running from the truth for far too long. Do you realize," she adds abruptly, "we've hardly spent any time together?"
"Huh?"
"As a couple," she clarifies. "We've been friends for years, but we were acquaintances for most of that time. Seeing each other over summers in Lima."
"You came to New York for grad school while I was there for college."
"New York is a big city, and we still weren't spending that much time together. You had Alex, and then just after you graduated, you went to LA." Quinn looks sad. "We never really had much of a relationship in the first place, even when we were just friends."
That sets Marley off; she barely retains the presence of mind to put her mug back on the table before she surges forward. "Look me in the eye," she commands, "and tell me you don't feel something between us. Something worth fighting for." Marley softens on seeing the helplessness in Quinn's expression. "Quinn, you are everything I've ever wanted, before I knew what it was like to want."
"You've been that for me, too. But… I'm starting to wonder. Have we been in love with each other? Or with the idea of who we should be? For all our years of knowing each other, how much of me do you know? How much has been you filling in the gaps in my absence?"
Marley gasps softly. She isn't sure where all of this has come from. "I…"
"We barely started our relationship before you left." Quinn looks away, abashed yet adamant. "What we had was a solid friendship. It's wonderful, enduring, a once-in-a-lifetime thing, but ultimately a friendship. And based on that, we agreed on this long-distance relationship."
"What's wrong with that? I didn't want to lose you; everything we'd become, and could be."
"We barely had time to rediscover ourselves as more than friends, Marley. How was that strong enough to survive long distance? When most regular couples don't? How were we supposed to fall into a comfortable existence together when we weren't even sure of what our normal was?" She withdraws her hands from Marley; the small gesture stings.
She fights to maintain her composure. "I'm going to say something, and you're not going to say anything until I'm done. Okay?"
Quinn turns her head to stare at her. "Something tells me I'm not going to like this."
"That's why I need you not to say anything first, just… hear me out, please." Marley stares back, eyes wide and pleading.
After a long moment, Quinn sighs and nods. "Okay."
"I think… you're right. I picked the worst possible time for me to leave. That we had no time to get used to being in this relationship before I left. And we had to learn to be in this relationship with each other, and do that while being long distance." She chews on her lower lip pensively. "I made this way harder than it used to be."
"... Are you done?"
Marley shakes her head. "And I think – it was already showing. When I blew up at you, accused you of pushing me away. When you thought I'd be moving back, and I got upset over that. And just now, even. There were all the warning signs there that we weren't in a good place." A tear slides down her cheek.
Quinn glares fiercely. "Can I talk now?"
Marley nods and sniffles. A soft sound escapes her mouth when Quinn joins their hands again, starts rubbing her thumbs over the back of her hands. "Hey," murmurs Quinn, "don't cry. I meant what I said; it's not your fault, and I don't blame you for any of this."
She nods, too choked up to speak.
"I looked up that Japanese term you mentioned."
"Oh?" says Marley, surprised by the abrupt change of topic.
"Yeah. It's – very apt. And beautiful."
Marley smiles. "I'm glad you think so."
"But…"
"But?"
"I'm not your kintsugi." Quinn shakes her head. "I'm just the broken bowl, like you said. You can't unbreak it, and you can't make it better."
"You're wrong," says Marley gently, in contrast to the firm words. "The bowl has been broken before, yes. It bears the scars of past trauma. But it's still a bowl, a functional bowl, that's even more beautiful for having been broken. There are so many terrible things that have happened to you, that you blame yourself for. That's not on you, Quinn." A laugh slips out of her as she realizes something, belatedly: "Antifragile."
"What?"
Marley shakes her head. "The opposite of something vulnerable, and easy to break… it kinda makes sense, in a twisted and tragic way, that you've always been trying to finish reading that book. To learn how to become something beyond breaking, rather than something mended."
"The broken bowl means that it's no longer a bowl, that it can no longer serve its purpose. But you're not broken. Can't you see that, Quinn? You think you've lost so many things, but you haven't. You're working on repairing your relationship with your mom. Shelby tried to stop you from getting to know Beth, but Puck helped unknowingly. There's no reason for you to act like you're broken. I think… the only way that you're broken is that you persist in believing you're broken."
"I don't…" Quinn sets her mouth in a thin line and doesn't complete her sentence.
"So it's not just us." Marley knows there's no turning back once the words leave her mouth. "Everything that's happened, it's not solely because we didn't know how to be more than friends." She draws a ragged breath. "You need help. And I can't be the one to give it. I can't be the one who saves you from yourself; that's not what I'm meant to be to you. I'm your partner and your lover; not your saviour, or your emotional punching bag."
Quinn flinches. "I never asked you to save me."
"That's true. That's my fault. I can't bear to see you hurting, and I took it upon myself to save you. That was foolish hubris on my part, but, Quinn – that doesn't mean I don't love you. That I'm not in love with you. Do you understand?"
"No, I really don't." Quinn's expression is frosty. "So, you pity me?"
"The last thing you need is pity. You need someone who will be patient with you as you grow, but – that can't be me. I'm no saint; far from it. And, you need to save yourself before anyone can save you."
"It's certainly taken a long time for us to reach this inevitable conclusion." Hurt laces every word. Quinn's defense mechanisms have kicked in, and Marley desperately tries to hold on.
"I tried, Quinn," says Marley. Her voice cracks on Quinn's name. "This isn't easy for me, either. I learned the hard way I can't save you, that I can only be there with you every step of the way. Which I will, because I love you."
"Different from me trying every day of my life to understand that fact?" Quinn looks upset. "This is the most serious I've been about a relationship. You are the only person I've ever felt this much for. The only one I would fight for. And you… do you know how it felt, when we'd argue, and I had to tell you I'm trying, over and over again? Because I didn't know what else I can tell you but that."
She shakes her head. "This is… I don't know what to do, Quinn. I know you're trying; I see it in everything you do. It's the reason you're here with me now." Marley pauses, voice catching on the words. "But you're not trying to save yourself, and it's killing you." Marley's voice drops to a whisper. "And watching you suffer kills me too."
Quinn's facial expression stiffens. It's the look she gets when she's about to crumple, but her pride won't let her give in to her emotions. "I never wanted to be like this."
"I know."
"So? What you're saying is, we call it quits." She sighs. "Right? You set me free, all those things."
"Please don't be mad," says Marley. It's the wrong thing to say, she realizes belatedly, when Quinn's gaze darkens.
"Mad? How can I be mad? You've just broken up with me in what's probably the most gentle and considerate way anyone has ever done." Quinn closes her eyes; when she next opens them, they're glassy with unshed tears. "Better than being dumped at a funeral, or just after telling someone you love them, I suppose. It's nice to know you care enough for that."
She won't let Quinn's anger get to her. She can't. Quinn doesn't even mean it, she just lashes out when she's in pain. Marley steels herself, and says: "I'm sorry you've been hurt before. I wish I could give you better. Quinn, you deserve everything good in the world."
"But you've decided that doesn't include you," says Quinn softly. Her lips part as a ragged breath escapes them, a sure sign she's doing her best not to cry openly.
Marley opens her mouth, then closes it. Whatever she can say now won't do them justice, won't erase everything that's passed between them. She watches Quinn's expression harden as she withdraws into herself, mask sliding into place. Bit by bit, the raw emotion fades from her eyes until Marley finds herself looking at Head Cheerio Quinn Fabray, Kitty's idol.
Quinn stands up. "I should go."
"I'll drive you to the airport."
"No, you need time away from me."
Quinn's cold rejection stings. "I'm sorry," says Marley helplessly.
"Don't be. I… I've been preparing for this day for some time."
The confession stuns Marley. "What?"
Up until this point, Quinn has kept her back resolutely turned towards Marley. But she turns her head at the question. "Everything I've cared for leaves me in the end, Marley. I've wanted to believe that you were different, that you would be the exception, but…" She exhales.
"You don't get to turn this on yourself," snaps Marley. "It's not your fault – "
"– then whose fault is it?" Quinn ripostes, quick as lightning and twice as devastating. "You yourself said that you wished you could blame something or someone because then you could get over it eventually. So," she says, "it's not your fault, nor mine, nor anyone's. But the person I am has always been there, and that's just something I have to deal with. Alone, now."
Marley just stood there, speechless, for the duration of Quinn's outburst. She continues to watch numbly as Quinn adjusts her bag on her shoulder and slips out the front door.
"Wait."
She does, head bowed.
"I didn't ask you to come all the way out here, but you did. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
Quinn hesitates. "Not anymore," she says, and leaves.
Things take a while for Marley to process. First Quinn is there, and then she isn't; leaving without so much as a backward glance.
Marley dashes outside in time to see her disappear into a car. Her first instinct is to chase after it, except that would be useless, and it would probably make everything worse – as though it isn't bad enough, as it is.
She crams her knuckle into her mouth to stop herself from crying. The pain helps with that, somewhat. Marley scrunches up her eyes.
Inhale, exhale. Repeat.
Work.
She has – she needs to call in. Her hand gropes at her pocket, coming up empty.
Her phone's still in her bed. She should go get it before they'll miss her, and off she goes. Marley is sure to water Peter on her way there. At the very least, she sounds nasally and congested enough that her boss tells her to take it easy, and come back when she's feeling better.
It's too much, too quickly. Marley leaves her phone to the side and collapses back into her bed.
That's where Unique finds her, hours later.
"Babe, wake up."
Marley stirs. "... Unique?"
"Duh." The mattress compresses as it takes the weight of another person. "I'm so sorry, Marl."
She remembers, then, everything that's happened. "It's over," she says, voice shaking. "We – "
Unique cuts her off with a gentle 'shh', cradling Marley's head in her hands. "Shh, shh."
Marley lets herself sink into her best friend's comforting warmth. Her fingers grip Unique's shirt.
"'Nique?"
"What is it, baby?"
"Could you…" She tilts her chin up, pulling away so she can point out her phone on her nightstand. "Could you call Rachel?"
"Rachel? Why?"
Marley chews on her lower lip. "She won't call them, and I don't want her to be alone."
Unique sighs. "Of course." She kisses the side of Marley's head, then releases her to retrieve the phone. "Babe, could you unlock this for me, please?"
She does, pressing her thumb to the fingerprint sensor. Marley does her best not to look at the photo of Quinn she has as her lockscreen picture. "Here."
"Thanks." Unique goes outside to make the call, shutting the bedroom door behind her.
She's thirsty. Marley scoots over to the side for the bottle of water she usually keeps there, unscrewing the cap and taking small sips. The water goes down into an empty stomach, which gurgles. She winces. Unique won't be happy when she inevitably asks Marley when was the last time she'd eaten.
Marley takes some time to decide if she should go outside. It feels like she's intruding, somehow; but she really, desperately, does want to know if they'll convince Quinn to let them in.
Unique solves her conundrum for her by poking her head in and going, "Marley, babe, Rachel and Santana wanna talk to you for a sec." Then she covers the phone with her hand, adding: "You don't have to if you're not up for it; I can just tell them another time."
"No, it's okay." She shuffles closer. Unique mouths if you insist and presses the speaker button.
"Rosie!"
Marley smiles a little. "Hey, Santana."
"Marley, are you alright? Unique told us what happened, and we…" Rachel clears her throat. "Thanks for thinking to call us. She isn't picking up her phone, so we're on the way to the airport now." There's a honk in the background, and a vivid curse.
"Santana's driving?"
"Um, yes."
"You let Santana drive?"
"Hey, we have to bully the airline into sleuthing out Tubbers' flight, and then stalk arrivals to make sure she doesn't pull a Carmen Sandiego. We gots to get there in one piece, so no way I'm letting Strawberry Shortcake drive."
"Charming," mutters Rachel. "Why do I even love you?"
"Says more about you than me. Eh, Rach? Hey, Unisex, you there?" The last sentence is louder, and clearly directed at Unique.
"Of course, Bad Santa," says Unique, rolling her eyes.
"Oooh, bitchy. I like. Anyway, you know what you gots to do."
"Yeah, yeah. Seriously, Lopez, it will not kill you to admit you have a heart."
"We'll talk to you later," interrupts Rachel. "Bye, Unique, Marley."
Unique goes over to the wall socket and plugs the phone in. "Now," she says, turning to Marley with her hands on her hips, "I'm not gonna bother asking if you've eaten. Kitchen, now."
Marley sighs. She trudges off obligingly. There is a wealth of bags and takeout containers and other assorted things filling up her dining table, and Marley barely has any time to process all of this before Unique's clearing a space on the table. "Sit," she commands, pulling out the chair in front of it.
She feels like she's a kid again. Marley sits obediently, watching as Unique uncovers a takeout container of something that smells warm and hearty, setting it in front of her.
"What is it?"
"Chicken noodle soup." Unique continues to produce an assortment of food from the bags. "I want you to finish all of it."
Marley stirs her soup with her spoon. She finds it amusing that Unique's bought her favorite comfort food for when she was upset or needed a general pick-me-up when she was a child. Granted, her mother's homemade soup is much better than this, but she'll take what she can get.
Unique sits down with her own bowl of soup. "Eat," she says, pointing her spoon at Marley.
"Yes, Mom." Marley eats a spoonful grumpily. Unique doesn't look away until she's eaten a few more, and then it's only to retrieve a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter from a bag.
The chicken soup warms her insides. It makes her realize how hungry she is, and that one bowl won't be enough.
"You don't know how glad I am you didn't even try to pretend you weren't hungry," says Unique. She stands up to throw Marley's empty bowl into the trash.
Marley shrugs. She reaches for the loaf of bread, accepting the knife proffered in her direction with a faint smile and a nod. "You'd kick my butt, crisis or no crisis."
"Damn right."
Her knife scrapes across the bread. She crams a peanut butter sandwich, and another, into her mouth. "I'm full."
Unique stares at her in silence for a few seconds, before nodding. "'Kay. Ice cream and movies?"
"Can I say no?"
"Hahaha, nope." Unique stands up again and bends forward to kiss the side of Marley's head; it elicits a small smile from Marley. "But it was cute that you thought you could try. Here, I left the DVDs in front of the TV. Go pick out one, and I'll join you in a minute."
There is a stack of DVDs waiting for her on the coffee table. Marley is thankful they don't include She's the Man because she's still very much an emotional wreck – and a tear time bomb, to boot, because the mere memory causes her eyes to prick.
Less than a year, and everything in her life brings her back to Quinn. Marley knows she's in for a long and difficult journey.
She selects Mean Girls and slots it into her DVD player, just as Unique reappears with two pints of Ben and Jerry's. "Oooh, I love this," she enthuses, handing Marley a tub of ice cream and a spoon. Chocolate chip flavor; the cannon in Unique's predictable yet effective arsenal for dealing with emotional crises. The last time she was here – sitting in front of a television watching teenage dramas with her best friend and eating chocolate chip ice cream – Marley had just fought with Quinn. The memory of her breakup that wasn't a breakup makes her want to laugh at the irony.
"Marl?"
She steels herself, looks up at her friend. "Yeah?"
Unique pulls out A Cinderella Story from the bag at the side of the couch. "I also have this, if you're feeling up to it later," she says, with a soft look that tells Marley she certainly hasn't forgotten.
"I…" Marley swallows, then gives Unique a tremulous smile. "Maybe later."
Without Rachel's influence, there is no alcohol involved. She's glad for it; it brings back too many memories of questions asked through the emboldening influence of wine, and the pleasant haze of better days. Heartbreak has turned her into a maudlin person.
Halfway through Zootopia, Marley reaches out to pause the movie. "I think I'm ready to talk," she says.
Unique simply puts aside her ice cream tub and turns to Marley.
"How much do you know?"
"The bare basics."
Marley blows out a breath. "Uh, okay. So – Quinn and I, we had a – misunderstanding. She was hoping that I'd move back to New York, and I was hoping she'd move here."
"And did you happen to have any, I don't know, tentative plans of your own to move to New York?"
She colors under Unique's scrutiny. "Yeah."
"Plans which you talked about to everyone except me?"
"Yeah…"
"Because you knew I'd chew you out?"
Marley groans. "Yeah."
"Babe…"
"I know." Marley picks at a loose thread on her sweater. "It was a bad idea, right from the beginning. Quinn kept telling me not to make a decision for the wrong reasons, but she'll never not be a wrong reason, and I… it was stupid, okay?" Her vision promptly blurs.
"Babe, shhh. It's not stupid. You're not stupid." Unique squeezes her knee until she lifts her face, and then Marley closes her eyes as a warm hand wipes away her tears. "No judgement here. I just want to know what happened so I can be here for you."
She breathes in and out for a minute or so before she feels ready to continue. "I… talked to Doctor C. She pretty much said it was a bad idea, and she gave me homework to help me focus on myself. Stuff like making this house feel more like a home, buying a plant, taking dance classes…"
"That explains why I'm not getting that hotel vibe from this place anymore," quips Unique, arching an eyebrow.
Marley laughs in spite of herself. "Yeah, exactly."
"And that's good. So what happened next, baby?"
"She called," whispers Marley. "She got a promotion, but she… she told me, at Christmas, that she was considering moving here because she could get a job anywhere, Unique, and then suddenly she was calling and talking about staying because her bosses didn't want her to leave. They offered her the promotion because she'd tried to hand in her resignation." She dabs at her face with her sweater. "And I got upset."
"Damn right you did. She told you she was coming, and then she goes back on that?"
Marley shakes her head. "It's not her fault," she defends, "we were just talking, and she didn't say was serious about it."
"She handed in her resignation, and you're saying that doesn't sound like she was serious about leaving?"
"I…" She bites her lip, and makes no reply. Put as bluntly as that, Unique has a point; she only hasn't thought about this because she had other, more important things to think about.
Unique seems to sense her internal war, and says, in mollifying tones: "Never mind that. It was just a thought, nothing important. What happened next, baby?"
"We ended the conversation. I was upset, and I decided to get out of the house and browse pet stores – that's when I called you," she says, and Unique nods. "But getting a pet is a huge commitment, it means that I won't be going anywhere for years at the very least, so I… decided to sit on it."
"Okay."
"I was browsing through my photos to pick the ones I wanted to send you when Quinn called." Marley rubs her palms together, then wipes them on the thighs of her pants. "She apologized for what she said earlier. Which should have fixed everything, but it didn't; I told her I wasn't going back. Or, rather, I said… that she wasn't coming here, and I wasn't going back."
Unique hums, waits for her to regain her composure.
"And then I told her I was sorry for breaking her heart."
There's a small intake of breath from Unique. "Marley."
"I know. We agreed that we shouldn't pursue that over the phone, and we hung up. Then she showed up on my doorstep the next morning, and we talked about all of it. Me leaving before we knew how to be more than friends. Her struggling to be the person I want her to be. And me…" Her breathing hitches. "I told her I can't save her."
"Oh, honey."
"We brought up everything that we should have talked about before but didn't. And then she left." Marley's crying at this point; great heaving sobs that make most of her words indecipherable. "She left, 'Nique, because I told her we were done."
Unique shushes her, envelops her into a hug. Marley continues to cry into the front of Unique's shirt.
She wakes up to the title menu of A Cinderella Story and Unique sprawled over her couch, the both of them tangled up in her throw blanket. Marley doesn't feel up to participating in the real world, but she goes to find her phone anyway.
"Mmmph. What's happening?"
Marley jumps.
Unique, bleary with sleep, sits up. "God. What time is it?"
"Uhh – half past eleven?"
"Too early." Nevertheless, she stands up and disappears, muttering something about a shower.
Marley has a missed call from Rachel, about three hours ago. She presses the button to call her back; her knees give way and she flops back on the couch as she waits for the call to connect.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Rachel. You called?"
"Marley! Hey! Sorry about earlier; I forgot we're ahead by three hours, and you might have still been sleeping."
"It's alright. We didn't sleep until late anyway." She wonders if Rachel will take offense if she skips the pleasantries to ask her burning question.
Luckily, Rachel knows her well enough to say: "Quinn's fine. She's staying with us for the next couple of days; Santana has us taking shifts to sit with her."
Marley breathes a sigh of relief. "Good. That's – that's great. How is she…?"
There's a rustling sound in her ear as Rachel exhales. "Not great, but she'll be okay. How are you?"
Marley pauses as she thinks of how best to sum up her condition and emotional state. "A mess," she concludes.
"I'm sorry."
"I'll be fine. I'm worried about Quinn."
"Marley, do me a favor? Take care of yourself first, okay? I know you care about Quinn, but you need to look after yourself; you know she'd be saying the same thing to you."
"... Okay. Rachel, could you tell her something from me?"
"Of course."
"Tell her…" Marley clutches the phone tightly. "Tell her that she's antifragile. I think she'll know what it means."
"I will," says Rachel. "I need to go now; we'll talk later, alright?"
"Of course. Bye, Rachel… and thanks."
She ends the call as Unique emerges from the bathroom, dressed for the day. "Rachel?'
"Yeah." She doesn't feel much like talking this early in the day. Marley climbs off the couch and heads to the kitchen to find herself some busywork.
"Something on your mind, babe – besides the obvious?"
Marley forces a laugh. "No. What makes you say that?"
Unique comes in to lean against the kitchen counter, in what Marley perceives as a judge-y manner; arms folded, expression unimpressed. "You're making coffee."
"So?"
"You don't drink coffee."
She holds up the bag of Tubbington's Finest defensively. "I drink this!"
Unique squints at the bag, and sighs. "You do?"
"It's surprisingly good. And it's Brittany's cat's business."
"... I don't see how that has to do with anything, but fine." She backs off, and lets Marley pour the ground coffee into the machine. "Make me some while you're at it, thanks. I would like to see how taking up that cat coffee habit has improved your non-existent coffee-making skills."
The silence persists until they each have a mug of steaming coffee. Marley wrinkles her nose as Unique adds just a little cream and sugar to hers; in return, her friend makes an exaggerated face as Marley puts copious amounts of milk in hers. "You're lucky I love you for your other qualities, and not just your sense of taste," laughs Unique.
Instead of feeling like a compliment though, the offhand comment causes a small frown to appear on Marley's face. Unique has been her best friend for years, and yet Marley hasn't treated her as such recently; she'd talked to Santana about moving to New York, and Rachel about songwriting. Even if Quinn and her mom were exempt, she'd talked about Quinn with Finn and Brittany. And at the very beginning, it had been Quinn to coax her into taking the first step towards fighting her purging.
Marley runs her spoon through her coffee, watching the color lighten to a beige shade, as she searches for the right words to phrase what she's thinking. "'Nique…? Do you hate me?"
"Hate you?" her friend echoes. "Nope. I can't speak for what you're doing to that poor coffee, though."
She sighs. "No, as in… you're my best friend."
"That's never been in question. Unless you're thinking of replacing me…?"
"Yeah, that's… you're my best friend, but I haven't been treating you like one. I talked to Santana and Rachel and Brittany and even Finn about everything, lately – but not you."
Unique doesn't reply immediately. Just when Marley's about to spontaneously combust from nerves, she says: "Babe, I don't know what to tell you, aside from the fact you're being stupid."
"Stupid, huh?" She'd been expecting worse.
"Yeah. Stupid. I don't quantify what makes a best friend; that's not something I do. Being my best friend means you get all my love, all the time." She spreads her hands. "You wanna talk to me? I drop whatever shit I have to listen. You need me? I fly across the damn country to be there for teen movie marathons and junk food. It's given, not earned."
"Oh."
"Sweetheart. I know you're feeling out of sorts with the things that've happened recently, but I don't think it's healthy to be doubting everybody else around you." She scoots to the other side of the table so she can wrap an arm around Marley's shoulders, giving her a little shake even as she pulls her into a sidelong hug. "So… any more sordid best friend-worthy secrets you've been keeping from me?"
Marley laughs a little through the tears that are already threatening to fall. "God, I'm such a mess," she says, wiping her cheeks.
"Mmhmm. I don't judge, though."
She swats at Unique before giving in, and pressing her cheek to her friend's shoulder instead. "I met this girl."
"Uh huh."
"We got together."
"Awesome."
"Then I broke up with the girl of my dreams because I'm a mess, so is she, and we were such a beautiful mess together."
"Sounds rough."
"Wait 'til you see the getting over part." Marley glances up at Unique. "Could we go back to the teen movie marathon part now?" she asks softly.
Unique chuckles. She bumps their heads together softly. "Breakfast first, then trashy movies and snacks."
Marley sighs.
Rachel video calls Marley later that night.
"Hey," says Marley. "Not that I don't appreciate the call, but isn't it kinda late for you guys?"
She sees Rachel shrug. Part of Santana's face is visible in the frame, cuddled up at Rachel's side. "We're fine. We don't have work in the morning."
"In case you were wondering, Tubbers is currently dead to the world," supplies Santana. "Berry here got her wasted on wine."
Rachel rolls her eyes. "Shut up." To Marley, she says: "She's fine. She's just tired."
"Okay."
"We didn't call to report on Cueball, though; we are neutral like Switzerland. Seriously, Rosie: as much as we don't hate you and we'd like to ensure you blast through the getting-over phase good and hard… we're kinda contractually obligated to take Quinn's side. No hard feelings."
They wait for Rachel to say Santana reproachfully, as she usually does – Marley even saw Santana brace herself for impact – but Rachel simply sighs and says: "As much as I hate to say this… she does have a point."
"I do?"
Marley smiles; more of it at Santana's surprise than in response to Rachel. "No, it's fine; I totally get it. She was your friend first."
"There is no such thing as a friend hierarchy," insists Rachel. "Marley, you've got Unique, and even your mom – and us, of course. Quinn's only got us. She needs us more."
"Even if she insists she doesn't," adds Santana, and Marley's heart gives this little lurch.
"She'll always have me."
"Marley…"
She brushes off Rachel's concern. "I know, it's pathetic and sad and whatever, but I'll always care about her. She's important to me."
"Looks like we're having feelings, so that's my cue to leave." Santana rolls out of the frame.
Rachel ignores her, focusing on Marley. "We know." Rachel's eyes are soft. "Regardless of what everyone may think, and certainly regardless of everything that's happened… I think that she's lucky to have met you."
"... Thanks." Marley finds herself unable to look at the phone.
Curled up with Unique on the couch reminds her of all the times spent with her mom.
She's not looking forward to breaking the news to Millie, but she's almost due for her weekly call, and her mom will worry if Marley doesn't call.
"Unique?"
"Mmm?"
"Could you – I have to call my mom. I should tell her about me and… Quinn." The pause is small, but still there. She hopes that it'll get better with practice.
"Of course. Do you want me around?"
"I think I'm good. I'm a big girl, I can call Mom on my own," jokes Marley.
"Well, sure. Here, give me your keys and I'll make a grocery run; we're running low on food anyway."
"Don't I – "
" – No."
"You didn't even let me finish," says Marley indignantly.
"No, you don't get a say in groceries until I say so, because right now you'll just be tempted to live off cereal bars." Unique finds her purse and checks if she has enough cash inside. "Anyway, I know all your favorites."
Marley scrunches up her face. "I'm not predictable."
"You are, but I love you anyway." Unique takes the car keys from Marley with a sweet smile. "I won't be long."
She waits until Unique is gone before she grabs her phone, pressing her finger to the sensor so she doesn't see the lockscreen (she's supposed to change it, and her phone wallpaper, but she keeps forgetting). Marley dials her mom's number and waits.
"Hi, sweetheart."
"Hey, Mom."
There's a brief pause, and then Millie asks: "Marley, is somethin' wrong?"
She tries to laugh. She should have known better than to underestimate her mom's – well – mom senses. "I guess so. Mom, Quinn and I… we broke up."
"Oh, baby." Millie's soft voice makes Marley feel years younger. When she was five, after skinning her knees falling off her bike. When she was sixteen and Jake Puckerman had just broken her heart. When she was seventeen and finding it so, so hard to love herself again. "I'm so sorry."
"I thought everything was gonna be okay – we'd done well enough all this time, but I was wrong."
"You're gonna be okay, baby girl. Are you alone? I can be on the next plane out."
"No, Unique's here." She blinks away her tears. "You don't need to come here. I'll come visit soon, as soon as I can get the days off."
"If you say so. You need anythin', you just call, okay? Anythin' at all. If you wanna talk, or want a listenin' ear, sweetheart."
If she closes her eyes and concentrates, Marley can pretend her mom's right in front of her, ready with smile and a warm hug. "I will. Mom?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Could you talk for a bit? Tell me what's been going on with you. You had that county bake-off a couple of days ago, didn't you? I remember you telling me about it last week. How'd it go?" She needs something else to think about, to remind her life goes on.
"Oh, that ol' thing. Remember I was tellin' you about that Cartwright woman an' how she carries on about her blue ribbon apple pies? Well, they were no match for your mom, lemme tell you…"
She curls up, chin on a cushion, her mom's throw blanket around her shoulders. The phone stays at her ear until Unique joins her later; and then Marley puts the call on speaker so they both can listen to Millie's detailed recounting of her baking triumphs.
Right when they've watched every movie Unique has (including the veritable stash she keeps inside her portable hard drive), Unique stretches, and checks her phone. "I think I should be getting back," she announces.
"Oh." She'd known this day was coming, and was grateful that her friend had taken the entire week to be with her, but… they have real life to get back to, and suddenly it's not enough time.
Unique sighs. "Oh, honey."
"I'm not doing anything," insists Marley. She's aware that her expression is probably miserable, but she's stubborn.
"You aren't," agrees her best friend. "I'm just gonna miss you so much." She reaches for the closest part of Marley's hooded sweatshirt (the hood) and tugs Marley into a massive hug. Marley, on her part, pretends to struggle to get away; it barely lasts a few seconds before she's holding on to Unique tightly.
"Before I go," says Unique's muffled voice, "there's one last thing we gotta do."
"It's my car," mutters Marley petulantly, "I don't understand why you couldn't just tell me where you wanted to go. I can drive; I'm not dying, for crying out loud."
"It's the twenty-first century, babe. We have GPS, I think I'll manage." The robotic voice from her phone instructs Unique to take Exit 54 towards Olympic Boulevard. "And you'll have plenty chances to drive yourself. You should just enjoy being chauffeured around like the princess you are."
Marley snorts in unladylike fashion, before she goes back to pouting.
Unique throws a cereal bar into her lap. "Eat. It'll occupy you until we get there."
"Stuffing my mouth won't stop me from judging your driving, if that's what you were aiming for."
Unique sighs. "It was worth a try." She takes a few more turns, and finally slows down. "Luckily we're already here."
Marley stares at the large complex they've just pulled into. "'Nique?"
The other woman takes her time parking the car. When she's finally killed the engine, she turns to Marley. "Even before you were gonna send me those photos," she begins, "I was gonna tell you to come here."
"I'm not ready," murmurs Marley.
"I know you're not – replacing anyone or anything. But you need this. I'm not about to insist you walk out of here with a puppy, but I just think you need to go in there and start looking for someone."
She takes a deep breath. "Alright. I'm ready."
Barking is clearly audible, even from the parking lot. Marley trails behind Unique, letting the other woman talk to the shelter workers and receive the list of rules for visiting. Her eyes are already drifting to the compound behind the door, and the animals there.
She loves animals, and it's been an old dream of hers to be settled enough to be able to keep a pet. Marley had always envisioned that time to be the mythical period after she'd graduated from college and got a steady job.
Unique slips her hand into Marley's. "You ready?" she asks, as the shelter worker opens the door for them.
"Yeah."
The worker – whose nametag says Sandra – gives them brief descriptions of the dogs they have up for adoption. Since Unique hasn't given her any particular descriptor of what they're looking for, they get the grand tour.
Unique herself is rather taken with a cheerful Dachshund and Chihuahua mix named Simba, who approaches the bars of his cage to lick delicately at Unique's fingers. It makes her swear to drag Andrew to their local shelter with plans to adopt one of their own.
But Marley's attention is immediately drawn to one of the cages at the back of the room. Sandra spots her looking, and brings them closer. "This is Hugo," she says. "He's a Jack Russell. We think he's about ten years old, but he's in excellent health." At the sound of his name, Hugo's ears prick forward, but he stays put.
"Can I take a closer look at him?"
Sandra nods, bending to unlatch the cage. "Come on, boy," she coaxes. The dog responds with a nervous wag. "He hasn't been here long; he was found wandering the streets a few blocks over. Probably abandoned by his family." Sandra blows out her bangs. "It's very likely he'll spend the rest of his years with us, poor old man. Most of the folk that come here don't want an older dog."
Marley crouches down and extends one hand towards the dog. "Hugo," she tries. The ears swivel in her direction. She looks into sad brown eyes – and melts. "Come here, boy."
Slowly, the dog uncurls and walks out. He stands in front of Marley and regards her for a long moment; Marley stares back, not looking away from his sad eyes. "You've been hurt," she murmurs, "I don't blame you for being hesitant. You trusted someone and they let you down, didn't they?"
His tail wags again. Marley doesn't look away from those eyes as Hugo walks closer, close enough to lower his muzzle and lick her fingers.
The next few hours they spend shopping for dog things. Marley lets Unique go wild as the doting godmother (a title she claimed for herself), smiling as she trails after her best friend. It feels very much like when they were in high school, and they'd go window shopping in the mall. The only difference now seems to be their spending power – and sartorial taste, it seems. Marley draws the line at doggy clothes and other such accessories.
By the time they exit the mall, considerably laden down with shopping, the late afternoon sun paints everything gold. It's a picturesque backdrop for another goodbye she's not ready for. When they're packing up Unique's things, Marley tries not to cry.
"Hey."
She looks up.
Unique takes the DVD case out of Marley's hand. "You'll be fine," she says determinedly. "You're tough."
"Toughest thing in Bowery aside from Dan's steak," says Marley.
"Did he say that? I knew I liked that man." Unique still has yet to let go of her best friend. "Ugh, it doesn't feel like a week. I need to come here more often. Or you need to come out and spend more time with us. I know Drew would marry you given half the chance if I told him you'd cook."
"Lies. We both know he'd pick my mom over the both of us."
"That is true. He's such a guy sometimes; all about his stomach." Unique kneels down, clucking gently, holding out a hand to Hugo; she sighs, disappointed, when the dog doesn't even look in her direction. "And here's another one. Strong, silent, only has eyes for one woman at a time."
"He'll warm up to you."
"Of course he will. I have my ways."
Marley eyes the last of Unique's luggage. Half the DVDs she'd brought now adorned the shelf beside Marley's television, with the excuse that she didn't want to pay for excess baggage for her return trip.
Knowing her best friend, there'll be bits and pieces all over that she'll be uncovering for days – and she won't think much of it.
The past week has been an emotional journey, and she's grateful for Unique. However…
… there are some things she has to do alone.
The words come easy, when they're set to music, and not spoken towards Quinn.
She writes furiously. GarageBand isn't the right tool that gives voice to the raw splintering of her heart, so she borrows a guitar from the studio and a book of chords, picking away until her fingers are just as raw as the rest of her.
The experience is cathartic. When everything else has left her, Marley will always have music.
We found a tender love it blossomed wild and free.
Pure proof was in your arms when you were kissing me.
I was an open book, you were an ocean breeze;
rustling through pages I never should have let you see.
Never should have let you see.
Was I so wrong being such an open book?
Trusting so soon, losing all the tender time it took to love you,
just to crawl away with broken wings
and the pieces of my heart still splintering.
The pieces of my heart still splintering.
"That's nice. Who is it by? Someone we've already signed, I hope." He chortles at his own joke.
Marley clears her throat, self-conscious. "Um, me."
Her boss coughs. "You? You mean, you wrote that? Really?" His eyes crinkle at the sides. "Huh. You could give Trent Morgan a run for his money. Maybe we should have produced you, instead of him."
"I, um." She stumbles over a proper response. "You hired me as a producer, sir."
Jessup chuckles. "Cute. You're really not looking for any more than that, are you?"
"Not really, no. I'm not interested in the performing. I like what I do, and the songwriting is more of a hobby." Marley clears her throat. "You lobbied for me to be hired here, and took care of everything. I appreciate that."
"Well, if you say so. I'll respect your decision." Jessup pauses on his way out. "One last thing, Marley?"
"Yes, sir?"
"If you ever think about taking that hobby professional, we'd be interested. Just something to think about." And he leaves her to do exactly that.
Even though the original reason for Doctor C's homework is gone, Marley still keeps up with it. Its purpose has changed; it's not helping Marley discover things about herself that she'd lost or forgotten. It's reshaping her life, making new memories and helping her grow into this new life of hers.
It's the reason why she ends up in the philosophy section of her local bookstore, and comes face to face with a familiar book. Marley buys it, and heads home to start reading Antifragile in Hugo's stoic company.
Marley doesn't know what she's hoping to gain from reading that book. It's much weightier than the fiction novels she reads for fun. An insight on what makes Quinn Fabray tick? Some light shed on their cracks which she didn't see until they were crevasses?
Over time, the impulse to go to New York has gradually lost its impetus. It was strongest in the immediate aftermath of Quinn's departure, to the point Marley would have followed her back (just to apologize, she'd rationalize to herself). Unique may have known this; it certainly explains why her best friend stayed with her.
But it doesn't change how much she misses Quinn. That had never been the problem.
Now, she realizes she can't go after Quinn even if she wants to (and she wants, so much). So many times, she would patiently wait for Quinn to come to her; now, more than ever, Marley's instincts tell her to do the same.
Even if there's no real reason Quinn should ever come back.
Impulse shopping is not a habit she indulges, especially not with the upbringing she's had.
But Marley doesn't need to think it over when she spies a bright blue bowl, partly bisected by a spidery trail in gold. It's going for a reasonable price in an antique shop not far from work. Authentic from Japan, the salesman assures her, and she buys it.
She's feeling good about herself, about everything, for the first time in what feels like forever. Marley checks her phone and sees a text from Finn.
U free now? Wanna hang out or smth
She replies in the affirmative, adding that she's currently out and will be home shortly, and she now has a dog at home. Marley likes having friends around, and the more good people Hugo gets to meet, the better.
Her phone floods with texts while she's driving. She doesn't open them until the car's safely parked in its lot.
Cool! Brt wants pics
Do u hav lays i cn brng snax lmk wat u wan
Brts free shes comin 2 if u dont mind cn she brng tubbs
Nah bad idea tubbs is grumpy c u soon
4got ure prbly drivin nvm re: snax
Marley's snickering as she reads through the texts in chronological order. Any snax r fine, she writes back.
Hugo's waiting for her at the door. "Hey, buddy," she says, bending to scratch him behind one floppy ear, "we're expecting company in a bit." He sniffs at her, pads over to his dog bed in front of the couch, and flops down.
It's not long before her doorbell rings. She lets them in.
"Hey," says Finn.
"Hi, Marley!" says Brittany brightly. "Finny said you have a dog now!"
"Yeah, I got him from the shelter last week…" She trails off when Hugo trots over to lick Brittany's face enthusiastically, tail wagging. Marley shrugs, accepting that her friend will always have a way with animals beyond common understanding. "That's Hugo, by the way. Whom you're already acquainted with. Clearly."
"He's really happy you chose him," she informs them all, seriously, "he likes having a family again."
Finn smiles indulgently at her, stooping to pat Hugo before returning to Marley. "So," begins Finn, "I had a weird thought; like you've never actually seen a game with both me and Britt, so here we are." He's already located the remote, operating it as though this is his house. Finn makes himself comfy on the couch.
"We brought snacks!" Brittany starts taking out bags of food, arranging them on the coffee table. "Unique said you like this." She pushes a bag of tomato herb popcorn towards Marley.
"Just in time for the game," chimes in Finn. "Lakers playing the Rockets." He settles back in.
Marley smiles. She's been on her own for barely a day (not counting Hugo), and she can't help but think that this spontaneous visit has something to do with Unique. Her suspicions are confirmed when Brittany wraps her up in one of her Brittany-hugs and whispers we hope you're feeling better in her ear.
"Not that I don't like having you guys around, but how did you find out?" She fully expects Brittany to say something like Lord Tubbington read the air or we calculated it using derivative calculus, but Brittany simply says: "San told me."
"Santana…?"
Finn blinks. "Santana what?"
"Santana told me that Marley needed us, baby," says Brittany. "That's why we're here."
"Oh. Okay." He turns back to the game.
Marley blinks, confused by the entire exchange. "Britt, Santana told you?"
"Oh, yeah. She's always had my number, but she doesn't use it unless there's a big emergency. She's still a bit of a Lebanese, but these days it's not about liking girls but rather letting people see that she really does care. So she was worried about Marley, so she called me to tell me what happened."
"That's really cool of her," says Finn, nodding. He drapes an arm around the back of the couch cushions, creating a space that Brittany fits into.
Marley does recall that apart from Rachel and Santana, here are two other people who know Quinn fairly well. She makes a mental note to thank Santana – in private, unknown to anyone who might want to know that the brash Latina actually has a marshmallow core. "Thanks, guys."
She's suddenly aware of eyes staring at her. "Hugo wants to be included in the couch huddle as well," announces Brittany unnecessarily, as the dog peers up at them.
"Sure, buddy." The dog lets himself be picked up, much to Marley's surprise. He curls up on her free side, his nose touching her knee.
Marley waits until it's a decent hour in New York before she calls.
She takes out her phone and stares at it. Before Unique left, she'd taken a photo of Hugo and set it as Marley's new lockscreen; but if Marley stares hard enough, she can imagine Quinn's face there.
So far, she's doing well. She'd successfully stopped herself from visiting any form of social media. She doesn't dwell on things that they've shared.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Santana."
"Is there a reason we're interacting, when you can just call Rachel?"
"Yeah. Thanks for sending Brittany."
Santana makes all sorts of huffing noises, before settling on a flat, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"She told me."
"And you believed her? She's Britt; she thinks that demon cat of hers is smart enough to run a coffee business." Santana groans. "I make one. One. One teensy throwaway comment about calling me, and you don't let that go. Seriously, Rosie, what will it take for you to forget?"
"I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate all of it. Everything you and Rachel are doing for us," says Marley. In the background, she hears a voice say: "Bunny? Who's that?"
"Hang on a mo'," says Santana.
"Bunny?" Marley asks when Santana comes back onto the line. She does a fairly good job of suppressing her laughter.
"It's short for the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog," she says dryly.
"Uh, okay?" Santana doesn't sound like she's joking. In hindsight, it sort of explains what Brittany saw in Santana – and what Rachel sees, for that matter.
"Whatever. You've probably done worse, just that I'm lucky enough not to be mentally scarred by them." She pauses. "You done?"
"Yeah."
"Good. There are better things I could be doing, or people, if you get what I mean."
Marley smiles fondly. "Thanks, Santana."
Author's Notes: The chapter title comes from Souvenirs by Kina Grannis; Marley's song is actually Splintering by Sara Bareilles.
Further Author's Notes: I'm sure y'all hate me now :D I'm on Archive of Our Own (AO3) or Tumblr under the same name if you would like to register your complaints.