Author's Notes: With much thanks to Mike the Americanizer, beta, and proofreader of over-enthusiastic commas. Any mistakes left are mine, and they are remarkable indeed to have survived so many rounds of writing/editing/rewriting/proofreading.
Part Fourteen: If I'm wrong I am right/don't need to look no further
One Year Later
It took her a month before she found herself a new favorite coffee place.
There was nothing wrong with the old one, really. It just has too many memories attached that Marley would rather not deal with on a daily basis. So she set off on an expedition, determined to find another cozy cafe that fit her requirements.
Los Angeles is a big city. Even then, it takes a month of daily searching – weekday browsing, weekend expeditions – before she stumbles upon it in true fairytale fashion.
The keyword stumbles implies that it's off the beaten and touristy path, and that it will stay relatively empty. The plush chairs, friendly barista, and freshly-baked cranberry muffins seal the deal.
But it takes another three months before she finds that creating her own memories here, on her own, doesn't sit well with her. The days blur together into iced teas and printed pages, indistinguishable from one another, and she is disappointed.
(Her reading list shrinks considerably, but Marley has the sneaking suspicion that she didn't absorb any of it.)
So almost six months to the day she left her old haunt, Marley finds herself back again, a revenant. Even standing on the sidewalk outside, memories start to overwhelm her.
She'd found this place when she was showing Quinn around the city area, and they'd stopped for a drink. It was near enough the main tourist spots but surprisingly not as crowded as they'd expected. Quinn had suggested they try it instead of the other spot a block down because the aroma of freshly-roasted coffee was discernible even from where they stood on the pavement.
The air still smells faintly of coffee. If she closes her eyes, Marley can see Quinn before her, smiling at her over one shoulder.
Marley smiles back.
The second time she ever contemplates turning her hobby into a job (she'd secretly hoped for this when she sent off songs to competitions, back in high school), it's immediately after Marley finishes another song. Her guitar skills have improved tremendously from C-G-D-E and permutations thereof, but she keeps it pared down. Marley likes the simplicity of someone, anyone, being able to pick up a guitar and sing along.
She plays through the chords again, pencil scratching minor corrections on paper occasionally. When she's satisfied with her work, Marley releases a content sigh and rests her chin on the guitar body.
"Are you playing?" asks a familiar voice, sounding amused. "Or is the guitar just that comfortable?"
She flushes scarlet, sitting up straight. "Trent!"
"Hey, partner. It's been a while, yeah?"
"Too long," she agrees, still flustered. "It's late. Shouldn't you be heading home?" Marley's about to put the guitar she's been using as a chin rest in its case when he stops her.
"I could say the same for you, but I think we've got other things on our minds." Trent pulls up a stool. His guitar is out of its case and in his lap almost immediately.
"Like being newly single?"
He plays the opening chords of Fleetwood Mac's I Don't Want To Know with a flourish, making them both laugh. "Damn. Sorry to hear that, though."
"Thanks, Trent."
"But, you know what that means for us!"
Marley wrinkles her nose. "Ice cream and sad movies?"
"After that," he insists with a boyish grin.
Marley smiles, shaking her head. If her heart hadn't already been taken, she could easily see herself being attracted to Trent; his easy charm and talent were very appealing. "We write songs about tear-soaked pillows and broken hearts?"
"Of course." As he talks, he goes through an increasingly complicated series of chord progressions. Marley watches, fascinated, as his fingers move up and down the fretboard. "You got anything so far?"
"Better than the last time. I've got some words, some music, even some fancy guitar moves."
"Cutting out the middleman. Efficient of you, Rose."
"I can't always have Trent Morgan at my beck and call. You have a career to attend to."
He laughs. "Won't be much of a career if I don't come up with that follow-up album soon. I got critics waitin' on me not to be the 'Vanilla Ice of country music'," he drawls in a thick Midwestern accent. "How 'bout you help out a cowpoke here?"
"Of course. I'll ask Mr Jessup to assign me to the project; you have no idea how good it would be to work with you again, after the disaster zone that was Tap-Dancing Bears…"
"That band name already says a lot about them," says Trent, "but that's not the only thing I had in mind."
"Huh?"
"I want you producing my album; that goes without saying. But I'm thinking this time, we could collaborate proper. Write a couple of songs even."
In her surprise, Marley abandons picking at the sleeve of her flannel shirt. "You want me to write songs for you?"
"I want you to write songs with me," corrects Trent. "Lovely as your voice is, darlin', I need to be able to sing those songs without putting my balls in a vice. We made a good team for that song of yours back then, didn't we?"
Marley nods. "We did." The memory hurts, just a little. "But that was for fun. You want me to work with you, officially?"
"Songwriting credits, a glamour photo in my album liner art, the works." Trent's brows furrow suddenly. "You think Jessup wouldn't let you go for it? I can go talk to the boss man…"
"That's not it at all," says Marley. "I have the feeling that he wouldn't mind at all." She smirks.
His answering smile is infectiously bright. "Excellent."
It used to be the case, as with most people living alone, that Marley's hours were irregular. Dinner varied in timing and portions, depending on whether she felt like being home at the time.
Hugo changes most of that. He's content with being left to his own devices all day – she'd worried that he would be lonely, and she might have to get him a friend – but Marley makes sure she leaves work punctually so they can have dinner at the same time daily.
"Hey, Hugo," she says, kicking the front door shut behind her. Hugo noses her leg and accepts a scratch behind an ear. "Are you hungry? I'm starving."
Marley drops her takeout dinner and her jacket on the table, going to the cupboard to retrieve Hugo's kibble. "So, whatcha do today, buddy?" she asks absently. "Had a good nap? Did you play with the new toy Aunty Britt bought you?"
He wags his tail, staring at her. Marley takes that as an affirmative answer, pretending it has nothing to do with the bowl of doggy kibble she has in her hand. "Great! Maybe later we can get some photos of you with it. We'll send that to Aunty Britt as her thank-you note."
She sets the bowl down and leaves him to it.
After dinner, Marley is extremely pleased when Hugo fetches his stuffed duck for her. "Such a good boy," she coos, snapping photo after photo, and sending them in the group chat she created specifically for this purpose. "Ooh, this one's so good. We'll send this one to Grandma, okay, handsome boy?"
He plays a few rounds of fetch with her, nails clicking on the floor as he trots back and forth. Marley is pleased; for an older dog, Hugo is fairly active.
After a few rounds of this, Hugo takes the duck to his bed, refusing to surrender it to her. "Welp," says Marley, standing up and arching her back. "About time to call it a night, eh?"
Marley fetches her current book from her bag, settling on the couch to read.
"Love, no matter else it might be, is a natural talent. You are either born knowing how or you never know."
Marley frowns at the words. She isn't sure she knows what they mean, but she can't help coming back to reread them.
"What do you think, Hugo?"
His eyes open a fraction but he makes no other indication that he's heard her.
"I guess you wouldn't know. You're a dog; you love everyone already." Smiling, Marley leans over to rub his fluffy head.
The quote has put her in a pensive mood. Marley takes out her phone again to check her social media.
Her heart skips a beat when she sees this post most of her friends have liked, and – it's about Quinn.
Blaine made a post with too many emojis (about par for the course with him, really) with a link to some article. Marley clicks on the link and scans the article – not an article in the strictest sense of the word, but a critical review of a recently-published book – and it's written by a L. Quinn Fabray.
She frowns. As far as she knows, Quinn works at a publishing house. Quinn's job consists of proofreading manuscripts, and managing other people who read manuscripts. She has no idea how Quinn's found the time to be writing things like this.
Her gaze travels to the corner of her living room. Despite Doctor C's misgivings, she'd kept a calendar on her wall. The day she'd broken up with Quinn was marked in red, as the beginning of the rest of her days. Every day after was ticked off as they passed. It gives Marley a sense of satisfaction, akin to actual physical distance traveled, to draw in a black cross over the little rectangle.
She is learning to look past the absolute joyful highs and the emotional lows of Quinn Fabray. Marley has long accepted she will always be in love with Quinn, but that doesn't mean she can't live without her.
She understands what that means, now.
Marley has spent a long time pondering her part in the failure of their relationship. The what-ifs and maybes still plague her, of course, but much less these days – part of the natural process of getting-over-but-not-really (she should write a book about it). But she's Marley Rose, and she writes songs.
She shakes her thoughts out of the past. Making a mental note to ask Rachel what the article is about (when she can muster the courage), Marley returns to her book.
The day starts out perfectly ordinary. She feeds Hugo, waters Peter Parker. Makes breakfast for herself, with a mug of Tubbington's Finest (that's more milk and sugar than coffee) that'll take the entire day to finish anyway.
Marley's expecting a delivery in the afternoon. FedEx texted her an hour ago to let her know that the van's left the warehouse, and should be in her neighbourhood.
"Looks like your new doggy coat will be arriving today," she tells Hugo. Really, she should give Unique an earful for even daring to buy the ridiculous thing. Her best friend had very wisely waited until she was safely out of the city before mailing the coat.
Hugo lifts his head to peer at her, before returning his attention to his food bowl.
Marley takes no offense. Hugo is far more responsive to her than Valentino ever was, which is reassuring to her wellbeing. "Yeah, you got the right idea." She goes back to her toast.
The doorbell startles her. The text estimated delivery in about two hours, and it's barely been thirty minutes since Marley got that text. "Looks like they're here." She pushes off from the table. "We get to take pictures of you in your fancy new coat for Aunty Unique. Make sure you look grateful, 'kay?"
Hugo makes a huffing noise. He sticks close to her heels as she goes to answer the door.
Marley unlocks it and freezes.
"Quinn."
A year is nothing, a single bar in the symphony of a lifetime. Quinn looks exactly the same, but there's something different about her that makes Marley's breath catch.
Quinn's gaze finally lifts to hers. A multitude of emotions lurk in hazel-green depths. "Marley. I… you look well."
"It's been a year, Quinn." She didn't mean to state the obvious, but most of her mental capacity has deserted her.
She'd said the words quietly. Yet, Quinn flinches as though Marley's words are physical blows.
"I know." She looks uncomfortable, and uncertain; descriptors she doesn't usually associate with Quinn. It disconcerts Marley to see her like this. "I needed time to sort myself out."
Marley tries not to look as concerned as she feels. "What happened to us wasn't your fault."
"It wasn't anyone's fault, but… there's no denying each of us had our individual part to play," replies Quinn. Her gaze lifts to Marley's, holds it for a long minute.
"You… want to come inside?" asks Marley through a dry throat. Right on cue, Hugo pokes his head around her legs to stare at Quinn.
"Is that your dog?"
"Yeah. I adopted Hugo from the shelter about a year ago."
Quinn smiles. She crouches to extend a hand to Hugo, who licks it. "He's adorable."
"Thanks. That's not strictly true, though; he's really a grumpy old man in a little dog body." Talking about Hugo helps to calm Marley down, and cast everything that's going on into some sense of normalness. "I… do you want anything to drink? Water?"
Quinn follows her into the house, seating herself at the kitchen table. "I'm fine, thanks. To be honest… I didn't plan on staying here long."
"Why?"
"Why what? Not staying here long?"
"You know what I mean. Why?" She flaps a hand in Quinn's direction. "Why now?" Marley gives this little laugh, trying to play off her question as something flippant. "I've just got everything back together, and you just – you show up now, one whole year later, and – " She cuts herself off, not knowing what else to say that she won't regret later.
Quinn looks taken aback by the question, but Marley doesn't care. She's waited a long time for this without knowing she had been, and she wants answers for everything she's feeling now. "Quinn – I'm happy to see you. I really am. But it's been a year. A whole year you weren't a part of my life. Her eyes prick, much to her annoyance. "I'm trying to make sense of all this."
"I'm sorry. I know this must be hard. Will you let me explain?"
"Yes – of course. Start from the beginning."
"The beginning?"
"Tell me everything."
Quinn's teeth press into her lower lip briefly. "The beginning… there was the shock of it, I suppose. I felt as though something vital had been cut away, out of me, with a blunt knife. But I managed to get back to New York, somehow, where Rachel and Santana collected me from the airport, took me to their apartment, and basically smothered me for the next few weeks."
Marley laughs weakly. "Santana did?"
"Her own brand of smothering," clarifies Quinn. "Nothing I wasn't already used to. But about two weeks in, I realized something." She runs her hand over her wrist absently. "I hadn't thought of calling them, but they were there, and they knew what had happened. I started getting random parcels from Brittany. Even Finn texted me, once or twice." Quinn's eyes soften. "It was you."
"I was worried about you."
"Most people wouldn't have done that."
"I'm not most people."
Quinn shakes her head, fondness still evident in warm hazel eyes. "I know."
"For the record, Santana was the one who called Brittany," says Marley. "I just wanted to make sure you made it back alright, and that you would have someone to be there for you – even when you're still not in the habit of letting them be."
"Noted," replies Quinn.
Marley contemplates Quinn's hands, folded gracefully on the table between them. As she's still wondering if it was too much for her to touch, Quinn starts to speak again: "I thought a lot about that day. I still do. There was so much that wasn't there before, or perhaps we'd ignored the signs long enough. And then I asked myself how did everything go so wrong. Remember that last Christmas? At your house?"
"Yes." The two of them, curled up in each other, able to pretend they existed in a world created solely for them. Being together, making theoretical plans for a future.
"I wanted all of that with you, so badly. I was determined to quit that very day and fly to Los Angeles. But they didn't take my resignation. They promoted me instead and I… I took it. I told myself that you would be okay with it because it was something good for my career." Quinn lowers her gaze, presumably in shame. "I didn't even realize something was wrong until I came to see you. And then…" She trails off.
Marley doesn't know what to say.
"When I went back to work, the first thing I did was revoke that transfer request," continues Quinn. "And they told me that they had never intended on opening that branch."
"What?"
Quinn laughs, a bitter sound. "They'd only made that up because they were desperate to keep me on, and they were stalling for time to create an opening so they could tempt me into staying by promoting me. Amazing, right? Everything, for nothing." Her mouth twists. "I quit on the spot. I told them I couldn't work for a company that resorted to underhanded tricks to keep employees."
"I'm sorry," says Marley. It feels weak, but she honestly doesn't know what to say. Conflicting words and emotions swirl inside her, clamoring to be voiced.
"Don't be. I got out, in the end; that was what I wanted." She sighs.
"What happened after that?"
"More soul-searching," replies Quinn nonchalantly. "I asked myself a lot of questions. Now that work was no longer an issue, where did I want to go? What did I really want to do? What did I want, period." She tilts her head to one side. "You were the answer to most of these questions."
"When was this?" she asks thickly.
"Last March."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Why didn't you come for me sooner, says the little voice at the back of her mind.
Quinn shakes her head. "Marley, if I had done that – flown to Los Angeles, showed up at your house, made some big dramatic gesture – it wouldn't have solved anything in the long run. The distance was a major problem, true, but if it had been the only problem, we wouldn't have broken up that day. It was a symptom, not the disease."
She could see the logic of this, but it didn't mean she had to like it. "So, what happened instead?"
"I started trying – really trying," says Quinn simply. "Rachel was able to recommend me a few good therapists, and I booked a trial session."
Marley finds herself speechless. "You did?"
"Yeah."
"That's amazing."
Quinn shakes her head, smiling faintly. "Not as amazing as you. You're a walking testament to self-improvement. Marley, you overcame an eating disorder. You earned yourself a full ride to one of the best schools in the country, and got recruited to a major recording label almost immediately after graduating."
"I had a lot of help," says Marley, going pink.
"Which I also needed," replies Quinn. "It took a long time for me to realize that – and longer to accept it."
A smile spreads across her face. "Did it? Help, I mean."
Quinn's expression sharpens as she considers her answer. "It wasn't a miracle cure, but it helped me put a lot of things in my life into perspective. Dr Miller – my therapist – helped me understand myself better; why I say and do the things I say and do, but don't actually mean. Managing the parts of me that I hate about myself, like how I lash out. My tendency to run." She looks embarrassed; Marley takes Quinn's hand into both of hers before she realizes what she's doing.
"Speaking as someone who had to be forced into therapy… that's a huge step." She squeezes. "I'm so proud of you."
"Wait. You were forced?"
Marley presses her lips together in a tight smile. "I acknowledged I had a problem. It took me a while to acknowledge I couldn't fix it on my own, and that I needed help… and longer still, to be able to ask for it."
"That doesn't diminish everything you've achieved since then," says Quinn.
To hide the fact she no longer knows what to say – now not because she has no way of expressing her conflicted emotions, but because she has drained away those emotions – Marley lowers her gaze to Quinn's hand, cradled in her palms. She turns the hand palm-up, fingers stroking the inside of Quinn's wrist.
"What happens now?"
"I don't know," replies Quinn. Her eyes stay fixed on her hand in Marley's. "I set out to tell you all this, but… I didn't really think about what happens after that."
"For the record, I'm glad you're here."
Marley's quiet exhale catches when Quinn's hand flexes, and fingers close around her own.
Eyes dart up to her face, and back to their hands. "I've missed you."
Marley closes her eyes. There's too much pain in that voice she knows and loves so well; she put it there. "I've missed you too." She squeezes Quinn's fingers. "You don't know how much I've wanted to see you again. God, I'm such a mess."
"You're not." Fingers wipe away her tears with gentle strokes. "But, even if you are, that's okay."
She closes her eyes again and relishes the familiar sensation of having someone take care of her. "Over all this time, I've come to realize something," says Marley quietly. "I change when I'm with someone. With Jake, with Alex… with you."
Quinn looks like she wants to say something. Marley's hand on her arm stops her.
"But I liked who I was with you. I learned new things about myself and the world every day. I saw the beauty in places I never knew could be beautiful. When I was with you, you made me feel like I was more beautiful, more talented, more incredible than the person I saw in the mirror daily."
"You didn't need me for all that," insists Quinn.
"Yes, I did. You helped me believe in everything I could be." Marley smiles. "I honestly think I wouldn't be here," she gestures to their surroundings, "if not for you."
"That's ridiculous. You could have been stuck in New York, working some crappy job to make ends meet because of me. You nearly chose me over your career."
"But I didn't. Even when I thought I'd lose you – and actually lost you – I didn't." She takes a deep breath. "We're here now, again. I choose to believe that means something, Quinn." Marley pauses. "For us."
"As friends?"
She can see Quinn struggling with herself after she says the words. Marley chuckles softly. "We've always been friends, Quinn. That hasn't changed. I meant… more."
Confusion clouds Quinn's eyes first, before it melts away into uncertainty – and perhaps, a glimmer of hope. "Are… are you sure?"
"No." Marley's lips quirk, and then become a full smile when faced with Quinn's consternation. "But I've never let that stop me, to be honest."
They smile at each other. Quinn breaks the spell, shaking her head. "I've always admired that in you, honestly."
"What? My inability to take directions from the universe?"
The weak joke has its intended effect of defusing most of the tension from the conversation. Quinn chuckles softly. "Actually, yes. You know your path, and you're not afraid to pursue it."
Marley takes the bold step of cupping Quinn's cheek with her hand. Her skin is warm and soft, and she can feel the faint thrum of Quinn's heartbeat under her fingers. "I'm not afraid anymore," she murmurs.
The urge to kiss her is overwhelming. Marley knows exactly how to kiss Quinn, and how kissing her will feel. But she doesn't. She doesn't want to create any more heartbreak for them, especially now; not when everything but what she wants is so uncertain.
Evidently Quinn feels the same way, because she puts distance between them; clearing her throat, she checks her watch. "I think I should go."
"Go?"
"You probably have other plans for today," says Quinn. "I don't want to intrude."
"You wouldn't be intruding in anything! Hugo and I, we were gonna go for a walk and we don't mind the extra company. Right, Hugo?" She smiles brightly at the Jack Russell, but the traitorous dog simply cocks an ear in their direction and continues napping.
"Thanks a lot," she mutters under her breath. Turning back to Quinn, Marley says brightly: "Uhm, maybe later."
"Maybe another day," Quinn corrects her without any hardness in her voice.
"But – "
"It's been eventful enough, especially for you; I just showed up on your doorstep without warning."
"That's kind of your thing," quips Marley.
Quinn's mouth twitches, but she continues: "You need time to think everything over, and… so do I, to be honest. We can always talk another day – I'm not going anywhere."
"Not going anywhere?"
She drops her gaze. "I – live here now."
It takes a while to process the words. "You – what? You live here? This city?"
Quinn sighs. "Like you said – it's been a year. I had to be absolutely sure I would choose New York or LA on my own terms. Once I chose, it took me a while to make the arrangements; find a job and apartment and familiarize myself with the city."
Marley does her best to control the sudden swooping leap of her heart. "You live here now."
"Yeah." There's a wry twist to Quinn's mouth. "That's exactly why I said we should do this another day – not just because we can, but I think you need time to process all this."
"Fine," concedes Marley – if only because she can't think of anything to respond to that. "Another day."
Quinn nods. "You can ask me anything you've wanted to ask. We can talk about everything that's happened – or even just the best food trucks in the city. It doesn't matter."
"Talk, huh?"
"You seem surprised," Quinn comments, not unkindly.
"Surprised, yes," admits Marley. "You don't normally suggest talking first, and I'm sure all of this isn't something you'd want to talk about. You've always been more inclined to run away than talk about feelings."
"I've been on the run for years, Marley. I'm tired of running," she offers with a tired smile. Quinn stands; Marley follows her to the front door and opens it.
"So…" God, she feels like she's seventeen again; awkward and off-balance. "I'll call you? If your number hasn't changed?"
"It hasn't," Quinn confirms.
"Can I hug you?"
"Marley…"
"No, forget it. Forget I asked."
But Quinn steps forward, expression determined. Marley finds herself wrapped up in a warm embrace. She melts.
"I'm sorry," whispers Quinn into her ear.
"I understand." Marley presses her face into the comfortable space between Quinn's neck and shoulder. "I've just missed this, that's all. I didn't think I'd see you again."
Maybe it's her imagination, but she sees Quinn mouth me too before pulling away.
After Quinn's left, the first thing she does is pick up her phone.
"Hi, Marley!" says Rachel cheerfully. "What's up?"
"Did you know Quinn moved here? To Los Angeles?"
"Uh…"
In the background, Marley hears loud laughter. "Is that Santana?"
"Ay, Dios mio," cackles Santana. "Fabgay finally showed up on your doorstep, did she? And it only took her a couple of months. She's made progress, alright."
"So you knew from the start? Why didn't you tell me?" asked Marley, even though she already knew the answer.
"She asked us not to tell you, in the strictest terms possible," chimes in Rachel this time. "She guessed that we were in touch with you."
"Tubbers is smart for a blonde. Even a bottled one. The peroxide does things to your brain, y'know."
"Santana, go away. Let me talk to Marley," huffs Rachel.
"I am letting you talk. My job here is to provide the real facts because you sugarcoat every damn thing."
Marley sighs. "Guys? Still here."
After about a minute of silence, Rachel's voice comes back on the line. "Marley?"
"Yep."
"Yes. Sorry. Quinn was very adamant she do everything on her own – you know how she is."
She can't help her fond smile. "Yeah."
"So, how was it? Is she there now?"
"No, she just left." Happiness bubbles up within Marley as she adds, "But we made plans to meet up again soon."
"Okay. Good." Rachel pauses. "She didn't tell us she was going to see you today," she confesses.
"I gathered."
Rachel chuckles softly. "I was a little taken aback when you called, to be honest."
"So am I." Marley blows out her cheeks, lets herself sink more comfortably onto the couch.
"How are you feeling?"
"Happy. Exhausted. Like I ran a marathon, but emotionally. But… mostly happy." Much to her horror, Marley's voice wobbles a little. "I've missed her so much. I thought I'd never see her again. She… I know she needed space. I appreciate you guys inviting me to New York, and just being there for me as well, but… she's done so well without me."
"And she'll do even better from now on," says Rachel. Her voice also sounds suspiciously thick. "You've been nothing short of amazing over this year, Marley, and I'm proud to call you my friend. Quinn's so lucky to have met you – we all are. Marley?"
"Yeah?"
"You're okay? We can always fly over there if you need us. Santana has sick days saved up, and I can always claim a day or two to recharge my voice. That's what understudies are for, anyway."
Marley stifles a giggle. "No, you don't have to. I'm fine, I promise. I appreciate you offering, though."
"Okay. If you're sure."
Middle ground.
The coffee place that was theirs, then nobody's, then Marley's.
(Marley's kind of crossing her fingers that it'll become theirs again even though she knows she shouldn't.)
She's early, as she always is. Marley decides to wait for Quinn before buying drinks. Marley is nervous, in a way she hasn't been in more than a year. If there is such a thing as first-date jitters, what is she feeling now?
Closure jitters? It is, of sorts, but Marley is really hoping it won't be all it is. Potential-reconciliation jitters?
God, she's hopeless.
She's been in love for a relatively short period of her life, but it's sunk into her soul, become such an integral part of her being, that Marley won't, doesn't want to fall out of love with Quinn. It's taken all her self-control learned from battling her disorder to keep herself in check, but…
She'll get over Quinn; that has never been in doubt. It's simply a matter of not wanting to.
But, what if nothing's changed? What if Quinn's still emotionally repressed? What if she still runs when overwhelmed?
What if she's just setting herself up for another devastating heartbreak?
Marley knows she's not capable of holding Quinn together anymore. That's not her job, nor should it have been. On her part, she likes to think she's more mature now – as mature as a year of being a single mom to a dog, a friend, a musician, will make her. It's a year spent working on herself, to be the best person she can be.
She wasn't lying when she told Quinn they're friends. That will never change. But she also wants more, to go back to everything they were before they tore themselves apart. Perhaps they can heal together, now.
Quinn walks in. She visibly lights up when she spots Marley in a corner of the space, and makes her way over. "Hey."
"Hi." Marley stands up. To keep herself from doing anything she may regret, she angles her body towards the counter. "Shall we get drinks? What do you want?" asks Marley, hoping it doesn't come off as stilted as it feels.
"The usual would be good," she says. "What do you want? An iced tea?"
Marley grins; she can't help it. "Yeah, exactly."
"You can sit down," insists Quinn, "I'll get it for you."
She acquiesces. Marley watches, entranced, as Quinn sweeps off towards the counter and joins the (mercifully short) queue. She thinks she may explode with anticipation from her monologue becoming a dialogue.
When Quinn returns, two iced teas in hand, she slides one across the table towards Marley. "The barista automatically made it a venti when he looked over in this direction," she comments. "Come here often?"
"Yeah." Marley smiles sheepishly. "I'm kinda infamous around here for never drinking the coffee."
Quinn laughs. "I thought you took up Tubbington's Finest?"
"Still in the process of habit forming. That's the only coffee I'll ever willingly drink, by the way." As she talks, she stirs her tea, takes a sip, adds a dash of sugar syrup, and stirs again. "Albeit with plenty of milk and sugar."
"I should've guessed." Quinn's eyes are still smiling as she sips her own tea.
"Tell me about your job," blurts out Marley. "Um, here. In LA," she adds, mentally kicking herself.
"Oh. Yes. I'm a lecturer at USC in English." She gives Marley a small smile. "A bit of a career change; I've always loved teaching."
"That sounds really great, though. I'm glad to hear you like it." Marley returns the smile.
"I do. Trust me, I've read way too many terrible manuscripts, it's fitting that I do my part to prevent the next generation from inflicting their work on the publishing industry." Quinn sips her tea. "And you? Still doing well at Atlantic?"
"Yeah. I've gotten a few more albums out. In fact, Trent – the guy I worked with, whose first album was also my first to produce – just asked me to work on another album with him. More than just production this time; he wants me to write songs with him."
Quinn hums approvingly. "That sounds like a fantastic opportunity for you. You're such a talented songwriter."
Marley's smile wavers. Then something snaps inside her. "Fuck this."
"What?" Quinn stares, clearly shocked.
"This awkwardness." She jerks her hand back and forth between them. "This is – just, fuck it, Quinn. What are we doing?"
It takes a while for Quinn to respond verbally, but she eventually says: "We're getting to know each other again," in measured tones. "It's been a year."
"A year! After years of knowing you! Not everything's changed so drastically." Marley takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself before she says something she'll regret. "Why are we making this so difficult? I love you. I'm in love with you. I want us to be together again." Her eyes search Quinn's face. "... Don't you want that, too?"
"Marley."
"Please. Just answer the question."
Quinn tries to laugh; the sound that escapes her resembles a sob. "We can't rush into this. God, Marley, don't you understand that rushing got us into this mess in the first place? Can't you see that I want us to be better so we don't make the same mistakes again?" She rests her head in her hands. "Fuck, I – it killed me the first time. I can't go through that again. Rachel and Santana told me everything, and I don't want you going through that again.
I know it's so tempting to think everything that went wrong the first time is fixed. I'm here, I'm better now, you've had time to mature. But we've both changed. For the better, arguably, but we're not the same people we were a year ago." Quinn looks up. "Love can't be the only thing keeping us together."
"I know that now," responds Marley.
Quinn keeps her gaze fixed resolutely on a point beyond Marley; she, in turn, stares into her tea.
"I think… we should go someplace else." Marley's words are fractured. She pushes aside her iced tea, and reaches for her bag. "Where we can talk. Or not talk, even. Just… somewhere other than here."
"Okay."
"We'll come back for your car, we won't be long," says Marley. Now that she has Quinn's cooperation, she's not about to take too much time, take more than she's been given. "It's not too far."
The other woman doesn't say anything else apart from her initial agreement. She simply nods, and gets into the passenger seat of Marley's car.
Quinn smiles for the first time since Marley's outburst when she sees the exit Marley turns into. "Griffith Observatory?"
"It's quiet," remarks Marley.
"Yeah."
Quinn immediately exits the car when Marley engages the handbrake. She walks to the overlook point, Marley quick to follow. Quinn braces her hands on the railing. "I haven't been here since the time we came."
"It hasn't changed much since then."
Quinn nods.
"You haven't answered my question," says Marley suddenly; Quinn turns her head to stare at her, blinking.
"That was blunt."
She blushes, feeling self-conscious. "I, um. I'm pretty impatient nowadays."
To her surprise, Quinn smiles. "I wouldn't call that being impatient. More… being straight to the point. Rather than wait patiently for me to open up, like you used to. I'd say this is a good thing."
Emboldened, Marley approaches the railing, picking a spot less than an arm's length to Quinn's left. "You'd be the only one. I've been told that it's a shock to everyone who's used to nice and sweet Marley Rose."
"Some assertiveness is always a good thing to have." On catching Marley's expression, Quinn sighs heavily. "I know. We didn't come up here to have more small talk."
"I don't want to pressure you – " begins Marley, feeling self-conscious.
"– you're not. I'll tell you if you are, but this… I'm fine. You deserve answers."
Marley shakes her head. "I just want to know why we're here, Quinn, and what we are. Isn't that why you showed up on my doorstep?"
"I thought…" Quinn exhales. "When I showed up at your house, Marley, it wasn't to get you back. It wanted closure."
Her heart splinters. "Closure."
"It's been a year," Quinn rushes to say, "since we broke up. We haven't spoken in that entire year. I was sure you'd moved on – "
"You idiot!" Marley interrupts heatedly. Quinn, startled, cuts herself off. "You – just because I'm not with you, doesn't mean I can't care about you, or even love you. I know it's not healthy. I tried moving on, believe me. But we were friends before any of this – we promised we wouldn't lose this friendship if the relationship didn't work out."
"I would have understood if you never wanted to see me again, or slammed the door in my face." Quinn's eyes search Marley's face earnestly. "You know that, right?"
"I do. It's the same for me. But I… I never stopped loving you. You're not easy to love, I'll grant you that; but once I started, it's pretty damn impossible to fall out of love with you." Marley shakes her head. "Honestly, the only moving on I managed to do was accept that it may be over for good between us, and I'd never see you again."
"But you still loved me."
"Still do," murmurs Marley. She smiles weakly, which Quinn doesn't return. "I'm a fool, I know."
"For lack of a better word." Yet, Quinn looks like she doesn't mean it.
She shrugs. "I do want closure too. Like, if you've moved on, or…" The words have a bitter taste in her mouth, and they numb her tongue. Marley trails off.
Quinn shakes her head. "There hasn't been anyone else. How could I, after the mess that I made of another relationship?"
Marley gives her a sharp look.
"Sorry." Her lips press together. "That was uncalled for. But my point still stands; I'm focused on myself these days."
"You know, I wouldn't blame you, or hate you if you'd found someone else," says Marley. "I'd be happy for you. We've always been friends; there's nothing in the world that would make me stop caring about you. I just want you to be happy." Her voice cracks on the last word.
"But you're still hoping we can start again," offers Quinn tentatively.
Marley's tired. "Yes," she says, not bothering to sugarcoat her words. "You're the most complex, incredible, beautiful person inside-and-out that I've ever known, Quinn, and I'll do anything to keep you in my life, in any way you'll let me have you. Even if – " her teeth worry at her lower lip, "even if that means just friends, or…" She doesn't finish her sentence.
"I still love you."
Marley's head snaps up immediately.
"I never stopped," says Quinn, voice barely above a whisper.
They go silent, again. Quinn presses her lips together, Marley dares not break the fragile spell.
"But…"
"You don't want this," whispers Marley.
"I can't lose you again."
"You never lost me."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Marley growls – actually growls. She's furious, but she almost laughs when she sees the deliberate lack of emotion in Quinn's eyes be replaced with alarm. "God, you're frustrating. Just – tell me what you want. Whatever you want – if you want me to leave, or never speak to you again – I'll respect your decision."
"Life isn't as easy as you make it out to be, Marley," snaps Quinn. "You can't see the future; if we get together again, there'll be fights and arguments. We're going to say terrible things we don't mean to each other. I can't be constantly venting my anger on you. I can't… I won't tie you down for the rest of your life, in case there's someone out there who can love you like you deserve to be loved."
Marley laughs incredulously. "Were you not listening to me earlier? I don't want anyone else who can love me better or whatever. I don't want anyone perfect. I want you. You and your stupidly insufferable ideas of nobility and self-sacrifice, and whatever you think I deserve."
"You were the one who told me I should find someone who could give me everything I deserve," shot back Quinn.
"... I was wrong." Marley gives a bitter laugh. "I was being like you are now. That's why I'm telling you now that I've grown; I can give you better. I can be better for you."
"I don't need you to be better for me. I just need you to be yourself."
"I guess we can agree on that."
Marley leans forward, putting more weight on her arms, as though talking has sapped all the strength from her. "So… what now?"
Quinn blows out her bangs. "I don't know. I was hoping that one of us would be smarter at this."
"I know what I want," says Marley stubbornly. "I'm just waiting on you to tell me if what you want is the same thing."
"Tell me what you want," Quinn says, not responding to the second part of Marley's words.
"I think you were right when you said we rushed into a lot of things. I do think we should take things slowly. But I was thinking – and hoping – we could take things slowly. Together." Marley runs her hand through her hair, mussing what the wind hasn't got to yet. "From the ground up."
Quinn's expression gives nothing away, no hint to what she might be thinking. It's more than a little terrifying. "What if I'd said that I didn't love you?"
"We wouldn't be having this conversation at all," says Marley, ignoring the pang in her chest. "We'd settle on something else – staying friends, going our separate ways. I'd get over you, but I'd always care for you."
"You make it sound so simple."
"Life is complicated. The future is scary and uncertain. That doesn't mean we have to be, too." Marley smiles wistfully. "I find it comforting to believe in uncomplicated absolutes."
"Do I get to think about my answer?"
"Quinn, we both know that if you have to think about it, your answer is probably not the same as mine, and you'd be coming up with ways to let me down gently. I don't want that to happen, and I'm guessing neither do you." Marley stands up straight, and looks straight into Quinn's eyes. "I just need your answer, straight from your heart. I'll accept whatever answer you give. I won't ask again." Her hands curl into fists at her sides, and she braces herself for impact.
"Yes."
"Huh?"
"Yes," repeats Quinn. "Yes, I want to try again. I want us. I want to believe we're better now, and that we have something that's worth fighting for."
Both of Marley's hands fly to her mouth. Her eyes instantly full with tears. "You're really sure?"
Quinn doesn't reply verbally, but she presses her lips together and gives Marley a quick nod.
"That's all I could ask for." Marley looks down to Quinn's hands, at her sides. She extends her right hand, palm-up between them, and looks back up at Quinn's face. "We'll figure everything out. Together. That's a promise."
The other woman nods. Her fingers brush Marley's.
"You what?!"
Marley winces, holds her phone away from her ear. "I said, Quinn and I – "
"I heard you the first time! That was me commenting on you! Ugh! This was your idea, wasn't it? Because I'm sure Quinn wouldn't dare suggest something as hare-brained as this within five minutes of meeting up!" rages Unique.
"I thought you would be happy for us!" Marley yells back.
"You spent a whole year getting over Quinn, and then when she shows up on your doorstep, you practically coerce her into getting back with you! I thought you were doing fine!"
"I am doing fine! More than fine, even!"
Unique breathes heavily. "Alright," she says, in calmer tones. "Alright. Yelling isn't gonna solve anything. So. Let me get this straight. You broke up with Quinn because of a few issues, and the distance was one of them."
"Yeah."
"You spent a year getting over the whole breakup, moving on with your life, yada yada, in which you had zero contact with Quinn."
"Yes."
"Then she shows up at your door one fine morning, tells you she's moved to LA." Unique's tone becomes increasingly strident. "You tell her you're still in love with her, and you ask her if she still loves you, then you people get back together!"
Marley scowls. "It's not just like that," she defends herself, "we agreed to take things slowly, and figure everything out at our own pace. We know what went wrong the first time, we're not gonna repeat those mistakes."
"Babe, I love you, but this isn't a piano we're talking about here. Practice doesn't make perfect."
"We're both adults!" exclaims Marley. "We know what we're doing!"
"Calm down, Marl. I know you're way more rational than this; you're just upset."
"Of course I'm upset! My best friend, who – by the way – wanted us to get together in the first place, can't be happy for me!" Marley's throat tightens. "I'm in love with her, Unique; a year didn't change that."
"You broke up with her."
"That was a mistake. I should never have let her go at all."
"Marley, will you just listen to me for a hot minute? I'm not saying that you guys getting back together is a mistake! All I'm saying is, the timing is shit! A whole year without speaking and barely a minute after you see each other again? You were putting her on the spot! That's – "
But Marley, breathing hard, ends the call. She also switches off her phone, hand trembling, when it starts to ring again barely a minute later.
She and Quinn are together again.
She should be happy – this is everything she's dreamed of over the past year, even though she was convinced it was never going to happen. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that Quinn would still feel the same way about her; that she would also want Marley back, the way Marley has dreamed.
But she hurt Unique's feelings. After she's calmed down, guilt starts to prickle at Marley. Her best friend is right. She was so caught up in the excitement of everything that had torn them apart being fixed, that she hadn't stopped to think rationally about them.
Marley groans. So much for no longer believing love is the only thing they need in their relationship, and everything else can be worked on. She isn't as mature as she'd fancied herself to be, and it stings.
She'll need to apologize to Unique, but not immediately. Her best friend will need time to cool down, just as she needs time to mull over how sharp her words were. But most importantly, Marley needs to forgive herself first.
When she turns on her phone, there are a number of missed calls: from Unique (unsurprisingly); one or two from Brittany (expected); and one from Quinn.
Curiosity piqued, she calls Quinn back.
"Hello?"
"Hi. It's me. You called?"
"Yeah. Your phone was off. Is everything okay?" Quinn sounds hesitant, and it sets Marley's internal alarm bells off.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just… my phone died, must've forgotten to charge it."
"Okay. Marley, is everything alright?"
"Yes! I'm fine, why do you ask?"
"Because," says Quinn, "we may not have talked for a year, but I do know that when you deflect like this, you're not fine."
Marley huffs. "I could've changed."
"You're not denying anything happened, either."
She wavers. "Well…"
"Tell me what happened." Her voice is soothing, and Marley can feel the tension ebbing away.
"I told Unique about us," she admits.
"You – what?"
"I know I shouldn't have," she says, flushing, "but I was so excited and I wanted to tell someone. She wasn't happy because she said we were rushing into things, and I put you on the spot. Then I hung up on her."
"Marley!"
"I know!"
"I'm not mad," Quinn assures her. "I'm just surprised. You hung up on Unique? That doesn't sound like you."
"I know," she repeats, thoroughly chastened. "I was just… I wanted her to be happy for us, because I'm so, so happy. I was about to call her and apologize."
"Please do. She really didn't deserve any of that; she's only got your best interests at heart."
"I will." Marley curls up on her side, phone tucked under her ear. "Is is weird that I'm feeling simultaneously better and worse about the whole thing now? Like – I feel bad that I got upset with her, but I don't regret what we did."
"You're just biased. You already knew what you did wrong before you called me," replies Quinn.
"Yeah, but I know if something major had really happened, I could always get into my car and look for you," says Marley. "We're in the same city now. Just talking to you like this reminds me that you're not three thousand miles away."
"Mm." Quinn sounds distant.
"You sound tired. Am I keeping you up? I should be calling Unique now, anyway," Marley says hastily. "I didn't… put you on the spot, did I? God, I totally did," she rambles on without waiting for an answer. "Ugh, 'Nique was right, I wasn't being fair to you at all and you're probably dealing with everything on your own right now…"
"Marley," Quinn interrupts sharply. "Call Unique. Talk it out. Then call me back. Okay?"
"Okay," she says meekly.
"... hey. Listen to me. You didn't put me on the spot. I'm not currently freaking out, regretting anything, or repressing. Alright? It's been a long day coming for us both – a year coming, in fact. I went to therapy committed to being ready for whatever we talked about today – and whatever outcome." Quinn pauses. "But I'm still me. I'll need my time to, well, not be the emotionally constipated person I was for more than a quarter-century, and actually work towards expressing everything I'm feeling in words. I'll talk when I'm ready to – actually talk, I promise."
"I trust you," says Marley. "You don't know how proud and impressed I am, and just so – grateful, to hear you tell me all that."
There's a silence which Marley interprets as discomfort. "Go call her," says Quinn at length, her tone neutral, "and I'll talk to you later. Bye, Marley."
"Bye." She hangs up, not at all discomfited by Quinn's brusqueness, preoccupied with Unique and her apology. Marley sighs and dials the number.
Unique picks up barely two rings later with a terse, "You."
Marley tries her best to sound contrite – even though her best friend has a dramatic diva streak that could rival Rachel Berry's. "Yes. Me. I'm calling to grovel."
Unique snorts. "I'm waiting."
She takes a deep breath and releases it through her nose. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got upset because you wouldn't be happy that Quinn and I got back together. I'm sorry I yelled. I'm sorry I didn't hear you out even though we promised each other we would years ago. I'm sorry I hung up on you, then turned off my phone so you couldn't call me back and give me the verbal ass-whooping I deserve."
"You missed out being sorry for not calling me immediately after you stopped being a little shit," says Unique. Cattily, maybe, but Marley thinks she can detect a smirk.
"Yes. I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier. Honestly, I regretted it from the moment I switched my phone off," admits Marley.
"Fair enough," says Unique. "Now are you gonna listen to me?"
"You have my full attention," promises Marley. She sits up and pulls a pillow into her lap, nestling her chin into the plush material.
"For the record, I'm not against you two – never have been. The only thing that worries me is the whole rush. Like, for crying out loud – you broke up after about a year? Well, even with the long distance and all, you both seemed fine. Then you spent another year getting over Quinn – or so I thought," says Unique with a derisive snort, "because apparently not. You two get back in contact, and boom! Together again. Do you not see why this worries me?"
She sighs. "I do. I really understand where you're coming from, 'Nique, but I can explain. If you're done."
"I love you both, but you're also morons," huffs Unique. "Okay, done now."
Marley rolls her eyes. "Right. Thanks for that. Okay, so… I was getting over her. I swear. But that doesn't mean I stop caring for her, you know; we were friends for years. I can't just stop because our relationship didn't work out."
"That sounds legit, but you weren't even friends, weren't you?"
"Not in any conventional sense, no," admits Marley. "And honestly, I was okay with that. I'd be fine if she never talked to me again."
"But then she showed up?"
"But then she showed up." Marley buries her face in the pillow. "And I was thrown. I was… I'm happy, 'Nique. Happier than I've been in a while. And yeah, I guess that's part of the reason I was so impulsive. I still love her, and she feels the same way about me; so… that's what happened."
Unique sighs, but Marley thinks it sounds considerably less aggravated then before. "Then you got back together."
"It's different this time; I know it. We know what went wrong before, and most of it's fixed now, or in the process. We're taking our time, taking things slowly, but together now. We're gonna figure it all out." She chews on her lower lip. "I know you think I'm being overly optimistic, or I'm setting myself up for more heartbreak, but… I believe her, 'Nique. If you could've seen her today, you'd understand. She's so different from the Quinn I knew before."
"Sans Puckerman, baby Beth, and Fabray family drama?"
Marley sighs. "I didn't ask."
"And that's why I worry."
"I know, babe. You love me, that's why you're being so hard on me and her."
"But even if you know all that, it's not stopping you," says Unique.
"... No."
Unique is silent for a moment. "Marley, you're an adult, and I'm not your mom. If you really want to do this, well… ain't nothing in the world that can stop you. But," she continues, "I've got my fingers crossed and hoping like hell that you'll get that chance to tell me 'I told you so'."
"Yeah. Me too," murmurs Marley. "I love you. Thanks for chewing me out."
"Love you too, you idiot," says Unique fondly.
She hangs up on Unique again – albeit on much better terms – and sprawls flat on her bed, arms and legs spread wide like she's trying to make a snow angel. Quinn was right, as she usually is; a goofy smile flits across Marley's face as she remembers she has another call to make.
But first: Marley's thumbs fly across the phone screen as she taps out a quick message.
done r u still up? can i call u?
Her reply comes in while she's browsing her social media. Yes.
Marley grins. "Hey," she says the instant the call connects.
"I'm guessing it went well."
"You were right, of course. I groveled, we talked it out."
She can imagine Quinn smiling. "Groveled."
"I messed up."
"Marley…"
"No, really; it was all my fault. She didn't deserve the attitude I was giving her." Marley smiles broadly, and stands up; she's read somewhere that posture can change the tone of one's voice, and she doesn't want Quinn worrying about her. "It's all good now."
"That's good to hear."
"I know you're not asleep – wow, is that the time? – but you'd better be ready for bed now."
Quinn doesn't reply immediately.
"Quinn?"
"I have some readings to do before tomorrow's lecture," she says at last, and Marley sighs.
"Fine. Don't work too hard, okay? Because I was thinking, if you've got no plans tomorrow evening, we could go to this food truck fair in town." Marley hesitates. "If you're also not too tired."
"I actually have a cocktail reception tomorrow evening," replies Quinn. "I can't get out of that; we've got some important people from a few institutions attending, and we're supposed to be mingling. Building a social network, all that stuff."
"Oh." She feels stupid. Of course Quinn would have plans; she actually lives and works in LA now. They may be in a relationship again, but that doesn't mean they're anywhere near getting back to normal. "Okay. Sounds fun."
"Those things usually do."
Marley sniggers. "Careful, Ms Fabray; one would think you didn't actually want to attend the reception."
Quinn laughs. "It's not that I don't want to. It's more like I can think of better things to do than to make very small talk with very rich people as I sip very fancy drinks."
"Okay, I have to admit that sounds a lot better now." Marley decides to push one last time before calling it a night. "Have fun. And if you decide to bail out early, or you feel like having something afterwards that's greasy and satisfying, you can always text me."
"I'll bear that in mind." Quinn yawns. "Sorry. I should get back to work. The sooner I'm done, the sooner I can sleep."
"Sure. Good night, Quinn." She swallows any further words she had wanted to say. It would have been pointless, in any case; Quinn had ended the call even before Marley had finished wishing her a good night.
She stares wordlessly at the phone in her hands. Marley can't help but feel as though Unique is more right than she's letting herself believe.
Frustratingly, Marley finds herself in another waiting game. It has better rules than the last one, honestly – back then, she was convinced Quinn wasn't even playing – but the waiting is always a killer. Even for someone as patient as she is.
Plus, she already has plenty of guilt keeping her grounded.
It comes as a surprise when she's at home, under her throw blanket with Hugo and a book, that her phone rings. "Hello?" she says, still distracted by her book.
"Hey."
Marley sits up, book forgotten. "Hi! Quinn! Sorry, I was distracted by my book. What's up?"
"I'm really not surprised," replies Quinn. "What are you reading?"
"Love in the Time of Cholera." Already she can feel the hot blush climbing up her neck. "I've been meaning to read Marquez for a while now, and the librarian suggested I start with that."
"Oh? I haven't read that one. Let me know if it's any good?"
"Of course I will."
Quinn clears her throat. "Um, before I get distracted, I was actually calling to see if I could still take you up on that offer of greasy and satisfying food."
"Oh! I – wow, I honestly wasn't expecting you would," says Marley with a little laugh. "Sure, let me just – I need to get dressed. Uh, do you want me to pick you up? Or I could give you the address and you could meet me there?"
"I'll meet you there," says Quinn.
"Sure. It's King's on Figueora Street, I can be there in twenty." Marley pauses, as it dawns on her that she doesn't know where Quinn lives.
"I think I can be there in about the same time. See you."
Hugo has this attitude when he's waiting for Marley to feed him; seemingly calm on the outside, but practically vibrating with anticipation under the surface.
She feels very much the same as she arrives at the diner two minutes earlier than she'd estimated. Marley picks a booth to the side.
"How many?"
"Two, please. My… friend, isn't here yet."
The waitress either doesn't notice the hesitation, or doesn't care. Either way, she drops two menus onto the table and walks away. Marley occupies herself with flipping through the menu. She deliberately ate a light dinner in the hope that Quinn would call.
"Hey. You're early."
Marley peers up at Quinn. "Hi. I hope you're hungry."
Quinn's smile is grim as she opens her menu. "I am. Champagne and smoked salmon blinis are not an adequate dinner."
"Fancy, though."
She closes her menu. "I'll have a bacon cheeseburger. You?"
"Maybe the pancakes." The waitress returns, pad out to take their orders, and disappears behind the counter. She returns not long after with their drinks.
Marley eyes the steaming mug in front of Quinn with distaste. "At this hour?"
"I need something stronger. I've got to finish my lecture on Yeats for next week, which should have been done yesterday." Quinn drinks her coffee black.
Marley bites her lower lip, and makes no further comment.
"Is something on your mind?"
She glances sideways. "No?"
Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Okay. Just wondering if you wanted to talk."
"Not really." Which is true, mostly. Marley does want to talk; just not about the things Quinn thinks she wants to talk about. She hopes it's enough to get Quinn to leave off this line of questioning.
But Quinn says something surprising. "Then would you mind if I talked instead?"
Marley's jaw drops. "No! I mean, I wouldn't mind at all. I'm just – surprised you would want to. Especially since it's been a long night for you." She shifts closer. "I'm always happy to listen."
"I couldn't help thinking about our conversation last night."
A soft sigh escapes Marley's lips. "Quinn, we don't have to talk about this if you're uncomfortable…"
"No, but I think we need to. If we're going to do this together." She sees Quinn's gaze flick to where Marley's hand rests on the table, and then back to her face. "What Unique said, about putting me on the spot… she wasn't wrong."
Marley's composure cracks. "What?"
"It felt that way for a little while back then," admits Quinn. "I didn't come to ask you for a second chance, because goodness knows where we were after so long apart. But you said you still had feelings for me, and… I wasn't expecting that."
"My thoughts exactly."
"So, I don't regret anything. I really don't. But I know it looks bad from Unique's point of view."
"I didn't intend on asking you, initially," says Marley quietly. "You have enough complicated relationships in your life, Quinn; I'm not going to be one of them."
"I know."
They both jolt, startled, when the waitress returns with their food.
Marley pokes at her pancakes, appetite gone. "I'll understand if you've changed your mind."
"Don't be silly. We know what we're doing this time, we've got plenty of time… there's no reason why we can't go about this in an emotionally mature and sensible manner."
Marley's face wobbles, and she laughs. "You sound exactly like my professor did. This job's perfect for you."
"My students don't seem to feel the same way."
"Yeah, I'm sure they don't."
Quinn focuses on her food. It falls to Marley to break the silence. "Tell me about your fancy party," says Marley. "How important were the people you needed to impress?"
"Oh, you know… university chancellors, deans, heads of institutes." Quinn picks up a fry. "The whole point of the party was to let us poor scholars meet the rich people who fund us, and to ask for more cash."
"And how'd that go for you?"
Quinn humps a shoulder. "Not so much of a concern for me; I'm only a lecturer. I was asked to go because most of these rich people are older men, if you get what I mean."
"... oh."
"Yeah," says Quinn with a grimace. "Sex sells, even in the upper echelons."
Marley mirrors her expression. "I'm glad you asked me out tonight," she says. "Hugo's just about as fun to hang with."
"I doubt that. At least he knows how to keep his hands – paws – to himself."
Marley's frown deepens. "They touched you?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," says Quinn. "My boss made sure it didn't go too far, and she actually let me leave early-ish."
"That's good." She senses, though, that Quinn isn't as unaffected as she lets on. Marley decides to forgo serious conversation for the rest of the night. "I hope that cheeseburger turned out to be the highlight of your night," she says, pointing with her fork.
Quinn gives her a soft smile, gazing up at Marley through her eyelashes. It's one of Marley's favourites. "It's a close second," she says.
She'd almost forgotten what it was like, to have her heart flutter like that.
Her phone rings; cursing softly, Marley dives after her bag for it. She usually turns it off when she's working, but she must've forgotten this time.
Marley pauses when she sees the caller's name, frowning in confusion. It quickly morphs into panic after she realizes the phone continues to ring. "Hello?"
"Hello, Marley."
"Doctor C? This is a surprise. You don't really call – actually, you haven't called in a long time." Marley thinks back to the period in the early days of their professional relationship when the therapist was concerned enough about her that she called outside their sessions.
"I'm surprised myself; I wasn't expecting you to pick up so promptly. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
She tugs off her headphones guiltily. "Yeeeah. I forgot to switch my phone to silent. Luckily for me, we aren't recording today."
"I see. To get to the point, I'm actually in LA until Friday for a conference, and wanted to look you up. Perhaps meet for coffee, if you happen to be free."
"Oh! You're here!" Her face lights up. "That's – wow! Is tonight too soon? We could have dinner!"
"No, tonight will be fine. Dinner sounds good."
Though she'd struggled with whether she should bring her therapist to a less-than-classy place for dinner, Marley did want Doctor C to try the famous milkshakes. She's rewarded with the unexpected but highly amusing image of the normally prim-and-proper therapist slurping a chocolate milkshake.
"These aren't supposed to be consumed neatly," says the older woman, reaching for her napkin. Marley hides her smile behind her straw, albeit poorly.
"Enough of staring," exclaims Doctor C with a laugh. "Tell me what's been happening. As a friend, of course; we aren't in a session right now."
"And I was busy saving everything that couldn't be put in emails for Christmas," replies Marley in that same light tone. "But I do have some major news. It's kinda good timing that you're here, because…" she hesitates, not sure how to frame her next sentence. "I have a feeling you won't like this."
As Marley talks, the amusement in Doctor C's face gradually fades, until all there's left is the neutral therapist's expression. Her last sentence is the tipping point that causes Doctor C's eyebrows to furrow. "Going simply by how you phrased that, it doesn't bode well."
"Hear me out? Not as my therapist, but a friend. Someone whose opinion I greatly value." Marley sends a pleading look her way; after what happened with Unique, she is considerably more apprehensive about what reaction to expect. "Quinn moved here. She's been working on herself, and she… we talked. I still love her, and she feels the same way about me, so… I got back together with Quinn."
Her therapist doesn't react outwardly. Her gray eyes assess Marley coolly. "I see," she says. "And?"
"And?"
"Is there anything else you want to add to that?"
Marley takes a deep breath. "Yes. I told Unique. I'd expected her to be happy for me, but she told me off."
"Ah."
"She's worried that we're going about this all wrong, that we're rushing, and that I pressured Quinn into it."
"Did you?"
"No!" Honestly, she'd expected that. It still hurts, though. "I would never do that to her."
Doctor C steeples her fingers in a classic therapist's pose. "How did you ask her?"
"It just came out. I told her I'm still in love with her," mumbles Marley, dread pooling at the bottom of her stomach. When the older woman sighs, Marley adds: "We both intended to find closure. I would have been perfectly fine never seeing her again, you know that – regardless of whether I still love her or not."
"I think Unique and I share the same concerns," is all the older woman will say. She reaches for her milkshake.
Marley sighs. "I know. I didn't expect you to be fully on board with this, either. I'm only telling you this because you've been an important part of my life for so long, and…" Marley squares her jaw, lifts her chin to look Doctor C in the eye. "Quinn is my life."
"... I see."
"I'm not asking for your blessing, or even your approval; I knew I wouldn't get either. But I'm okay with that. I have to grow up some time, y'know?" Her eyes prick with tears. "I want to do this. It's on me if everything blows up in my face, but… I'm ready for that. I can make my own mistakes."
Doctor C nods, her expression still stony. "Marley, I've been your therapist for a long time. Although we've kept our relationship professional, I do admit that I've viewed you as a daughter of sorts."
Marley's eyes widen in surprise.
"I've watched you grow from a child into a woman any mother would be proud to have as their daughter." The therapist folds her hands together, placing them on the table. "I'm quite certain you already know what I'm going to say, and where it's coming from – and that nothing will stop you or make you change your mind."
Marley nods.
"Then I won't repeat those things," says Doctor C firmly. "Most importantly, I'm here as your friend now, and not your therapist. I want the best for you, but I'm not obligated in any way to guide you towards what I think is best for you."
"I've always appreciated your advice," blurts out Marley.
Doctor C graces her with a soft smile. "But ultimately it's your life, Marley," she continues, "and you'll have to make your own decisions sometime." Her therapist's eyes crinkle at the sides. "I'm not saying that there'll be a time you can't ask anyone for advice; what I mean is that you shouldn't be asking."
"I know."
"Even though it seems a bit ironic to be drinking milkshakes as we talk about adulthood," she adds.
The weight releases from her stomach spontaneously. Marley laughs, light and genuinely happy. "I debated taking you to a more grown-up brunch place, but the milkshakes are so worth it."
"I'm glad you decided to bring me here." Her therapist continues to look at her – not disapprovingly, Marley can tell; a hint of a smile lurks in the lines of her mouth, like it did when Marley told her about the time she got rid of a guy that wouldn't stop pestering her for her number by giving him Santana's instead, at the older girl's suggestion.
It gives her confidence that she may be going about this entire adult thing the right way.
Author's Notes: The chapter title comes from Chasing Pavements which was originally by Adele; but for the purposes of this fic, it's the cover version sung by Melissa Benoist (Marley) of course :)