Remember us

by gayfordiannaagron

The Vow—Faberry. It's different to the movie, but the premise is the same. Rachel and Quinn are married and a car accident causes Rachel to lose her memories.

2. Chapter 2

All chapters will jump from the present to the past.

Side note: All text/chat mistakes are on purpose.

---

She said, hello mister, pleased to meet you
I wanna hold her, I wanna kiss her
She smelled of daisies, she drive me crazy
Be my lover, my lady river
Can I take you, take you higher
Gonna hold you, gonna kiss you in my arms
Gonna take you away from harm
Gonna take you for a ride on a big jet plane

—Angus & Julia Stone: Big Jet Plane

•••

December 19th, 2015

When Rachel made her declaration of singleness in such a matter-of-fact way, it felt like someone had thrust a knife deeply into Quinn's chest. She looked deep into those chocolate orbs she loved so much, praying for even the slightest hint that Rachel recognized her. Rachel sure did recognize her, but not in the manner Quinn had grown accustomed to. Rachel looked at her with the gaze of a stranger. Until that point Quinn had hoped that Rachel, at some level, knew that they were at least friends.

"Rachel, please try and remember me," Quinn pleaded.

"I do remember you, Quinn," she answered slowly. "We go to the same school. You're in glee club and you don't say a minimal of more than two words to me on a weekly basis. Unless I try to hold the conversation."

Quinn cringed at the memory. She hadn't behaved in any way like her seemingly prudish, bitchy high school self toward Rachel the moment she knew she was in love with her. "Rach, we're more than that. Please try to remember us." Quinn sat on the bed and placed her hand on top of Rachel's.

Rachel felt her hesitation but otherwise did not remove them from beneath her grip. "Are we—I mean, do you even like me? You have in no way gave me the allusion that you like me."

"We're in love, Rachel," she blurted instantly. "I love you."

Quinn leaned forward, her heart almost plunging out of her ribcage, beating at one-hundred beats per minute. For a moment Quinn's heart leapt at the thought that Rachel would say, I love you too—an automatic response as the doctor had pointed out. It was also their automatic response—but Rachel gazed deep into Quinn's hazel eyes with nothing but questions running through them. Then, the reply came,

"Quinn, you're being ridiculous. How can you love me? We don't even know each other."

Rachel's therapist—Dr. Kev – Kelv—something—interrupted their conversation by shaking his head lightly at her and warning her not to speak any further. "Quinn, may I discuss something with you outside?"

No! She wanted to say. I have to make Rachel remember me no matter how long it takes. Instead, she nodded and he led her outside, closing the slide door behind him. "The accident may have caused two kinds of amnesia—"

"May? It may? Oh, Doc, I think it already has! My wife doesn't remember me!" She said fiercely but low enough that only he could hear.

The therapist continued as if he were never interrupted. "The first is post-traumatic amnesia, and that is basically a temporary confusion about where she is and what's going on around her. For Rachel, this has already worn away and it would soon disappear completely."

"You think?" Was Quinn's hasty reply. She knew there was something about this therapist she didn't like from the moment she saw him.

"The second type is retrograde amnesia, a permanent loss of short-term memory."

"How short is short-term?" Hearing him say those words was more distressing than she had imagined. "It seems to me that she can't remember anything about me. How we met, dated, gotten engaged, married, our honeymoon and our life together in New York!"

"She seems to remember you, but not the years you fell in love."

Well, no shit! His explanation of Rachel's diagnosis was not in the most encouraging way. "So, basically, five years?"

He seemed wary of the anger flashing in Quinn's eyes, but nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

"That's all you've got to say? Sorry? What am I supposed to do? My wife doesn't remember me!"

The therapist took a step back when Quinn raised her voice and pierced him with her eyes. "It's not certain that she has forgotten everything about you. Retrograde amnesia can sometimes be temporary and when Rachel is able to return to her life with you, she may begin to remember."

Quinn couldn't handle any more of the doctor's nonsense blabbering and staggered away from him and into the hallway. It hit her then that Rachel had no idea who she was and how much they meant to each other. When Rachel looked at her all she saw was the girl who tortured her in high school. Quinn balled her hand into a fist and began hammering the wall. Even the searing pain in her broken hand—still in a soft cast—couldn't penetrate her rage.

Though the therapist mentioned that Rachel still had a chance to recover part of her lost memory, Quinn knew there was also a chance that there will be some things she won't ever remember. The most agonising question was: Would one of those things be me? She quickly put the thought from her mind. She couldn't bear to contemplate the fact that her wife might never remember her.

As fierce as her reaction was, it quickly faded. Spent and defeated, she went to the gift shop and then walked back into Rachel's room and stood beside her bed. Rachel glanced up at her without anger or curiosity. She just seemed to be waiting for Quinn to speak. When she finally was able to open her mouth, she found she had nothing meaningful to say.

Instead, she handed Rachel the dozen white roses she had bought and said, "Happy Birthday for yesterday."

•••

August 11th, 2011.

Strange feelings come over Quinn sometimes, kind of like déjà vu, only before it happens. Its sort of like she knows what's heading her way. Up out of nowhere came these feelings when she woke this morning that the next few months was when everything changed. The sun grew larger and larger as it climbed and the morning began to take on color. The water around the lake house turned from dark grey to silver to a luminescent orange. She stood over the railing and watched a dolphin coming through the water with immense power. For the first time in weeks it seemed she had left behind a complex world—Lima and high school and all the scatterings of her past—and came here to a land of propulsion.

It had been a somewhat boring couple of weeks with her grandmother. Quinn protested and pleaded with her mother but the woman would hear none of it, insisting that Quinn stay with her grandmother for the remaining weeks of summer vacation. There were lots of moments in front of the television, knitting, baking, drinking tea, eating cakes and sweets but worst of all—worst on Quinn's part—there was talking. From the moment she stepped into the door her grandmother wanted to know everything about her life—boys, classes, grades, sports, hang outs, friends. There was no escaping.

The house was rambling and cool and she loved waking up to watch the sunrise. She breathed deeply in the salty breeze, the sun was setting out over the ocean and then the sun began to rise back east above the mainland. For about ten minutes, the sun was just above the respective horizon, and for that very moment she felt truly in an inverted world where all experiences would be new.

That is until she heard the loud ringing of her cell phone and scurried to answer it before it woke her grandmother.

"Q!" It was Santana, sounding excited (which was rare). "Have you received my emails?"

With a roll of her eyes, Quinn answered, "Yes."

"Then why have you not joined? I have sent you a request about ten times,"

"Fifty-three," Quinn corrected. "What the hell is this thing? I searched it up on the internet and it didn't look as interesting as you've described it."

"Are you kidding me?" Santana bellowed so loud Quinn took the phone away from her ears. "This is a phenomenon! I am threatening you to join."

"And what if I don't?" She challenged.

"Then when you come back from living in paradise for the past three weeks, you'll be the social outcast,"

"It is not that phenomenal! It's a social networking site. You said Facebook was a phenomenon and made me join that too."

"This is different! Join and prove it to me it's not as great as I say, Tubbers! I have to get back to checking my dash, I have fifteen new notifications." With that Santana hung up the phone and Quinn was left a little bewildered.

She sat in front of her laptop and sighed as she typed in the webpage: tumblr dot com. She sighed again when she typed in her email address and password, chose an appropriate and clever url: clickhereforquinn, and again sighed when she hovered her mouse over: start posting.

It didn't take her all that long to feel dull and disinterested when the first page loaded. She had no idea what to do. There was a blank avatar on the side, seven pictures with titles consisting of what she would be able to upload or do on this so called tumblr of hers and arrows pointing to make your first post and pick your theme. Other than that, the page was completely blank, and blue.

She took out her phone and typed in a message to Santana: All right, I joined. Now what?

Her reply was swift. Now post something. Follow people. What's ur tumblr name?

She received three notifications within three seconds in her email stating that iloveduckies-andsantana, fuckyeahimsantanalopez and puckasaurusindahouse, started following her. She rolled her eyes at the urls, clicked the follow button and within seconds her dashboard began to light up with images of supermodels, quotes, celebrities, food, photography, cars and the list went on.

While she discovered the phenomenal behind tumblr and began to toggle with the different settings, themes, and posts of her own, Santana's voice started easing itself into the front of her mind. Oh, this isn't a phenomenon, you say? Who is starting to enjoy this now, I say?

Oh, it was phenomenal, all right.

Quinn didn't sleep that night. At all.

•••

December 20th, 2015

Due to all the stress and drama of the past few weeks, it took Quinn a while to remember that she wasn't really helpless at all. She had forgotten that God's miracles were only a prayer away. Her mom had always taught her that prayers weren't always answered the way we want, and she hadn't gotten to thank him for bringing Rachel back to her—even under the circumstances, she was thankful Rachel was alive. So, she went in search for the hospital's chapel and got on her knees and spoke softly,

"God, I haven't done this for a long time. I know I haven't always been the best Christian, but you gave me the strength to continue with my life when I was sixteen and I am thankful for that every day. Today I come to you in prayer. I ask you to touch Rachel with your healing hand so that she will be able to recover from the accident, and I ask that you give us both the strength to find our way back to each other."

It turned out; she wasn't the only one praying for Rachel.

"That was really beautiful, Quinn." Hiram said softly.

He startled her when she gazed up to see him beside her. Before answering, she wiped the tears away from her eyes. "Thank you." she looked around for Leroy but he was nowhere to be seen. "You're here alone?"

"Yes, Leroy and Judy went to get some coffee."

Quinn had wondered where her mother had gotten to this morning. "I hope they come back with the good kind and not the hospital's vending machine kind."

He laughed heartedly. "A joke? You haven't made one in weeks,"

"And I haven't heard you laugh in weeks." She responded with a laugh of her own.

"Laughter is the best medicine, they say."

Quinn linked her arm with Hiram and they made their way back to Rachel's room. Quinn couldn't help but think how she was going to adapt to her new life. She was afraid one minute, mad the next and everlastingly confused. All kinds of questions flew through her mind. What will life be like now? What kind of person will Rachel turn out to be? Will she always be different? Is the young woman she married still in there, or is she gone for good? When will she know Rachel's recovery has stopped—that she has improved as much as she's going to? She couldn't sleep most nights, she couldn't relax, and she couldn't get rid of the stress.

In the short distance they were to Rachel's bedroom, Quinn heard her tiny voice. "Santana, Brittany? What are you two doing here? Where's Finn?" Her heart did crazy leaps in her chest. Though it felt more like it was going to break.

Where's Finn?

"Rachel, I'm so glad you're okay." Brittany wrapped a shocking and surprised Rachel in her arms. "You smell like hospital food, but you still smell nice." Quinn couldn't see Brittany's face from her position in the doorway, but she pictured Brittany's soft eyes shining down at her. "I'm so glad you're doing better. We've missed you so much."

Santana rolled her eyes and patted Rachel on her back. It seemed Santana wanted to hug her, but refused to do it in front of a crowd. "Glad you're back, short stack."

The incredulous expression on Rachel's face remained as Quinn walked into the room. "Don't scare her, San."

"What's happening?" Rachel asked softly. "Is this real life?"

"Of course it is," Brittany answered and plopped herself on the bed. "If it weren't real life, you would be dreaming."

"I am so confused right now." Rachel pouted. "Why are you two here and where's Kurt, Mercedes and Tina?"

"They're with their families, Rach. Just like you're with yours." Brittany pulled the blanket up past Rachel's waist. "Are you comfortable? Do you need me to get you anything?"

"Uh—no. I'm... good,"

Santana didn't miss the confusion in Rachel's voice. "What's wrong, short stack? You look like you've seen a ghost. Oh no, your psychic abilities aren't kicking in are they?" She laughed but was slightly upset when Rachel didn't. "I was joking."

"If I may say, your jab at my height is not doing well to my self-esteem. I am not that short. In fact, I'm only a mere few inches shorter than you. And as for my psychic abilities, it only gives me the possession of extrasensory perception."

"I'm so happy that the accident didn't affect your brain, Rach. You still know big words."

"As a matter of fact, it did, Brittany. Dr. Kevin O'brien patiently explained to me last night the extent of the damage to my brain. He states that I am currently suffering from retrograde amnesia, therefore from his studies, he has concluded that I am unable to remember anything from the last five years. However, I have explained to him that I am functioning perfectly fine. Of course, my motor skills have not reached its full potential, but daily physical therapy will cure that within a few weeks. My voice however, is a rather dejected story. I'm unable to reach the strong and piercing notes I once could due to my vocal cords not getting the required amount of exercise it used to while I was in my coma, but I believe with sufficient nutrients—"

"You can't remember anything from the last five years?" Brittany interrupted.

Surprisingly to Quinn, she had expected Santana to interrupt the moment she heard Rachel say retrograde amnesia, but it seemed the Latina was happy to let Rachel speak. Something she thought would never change.

"Yes, I can't remember—"

"Even me and Santana?"

"Santana and I," Rachel corrected and shook her head. "I remember who you are."

"Then why did you say you can't remember anything?"

"There are parts of my life I can't remember."

Santana stepped in. "What she means, B, is that she doesn't remember how we became friends, how she has gained recognition and stardom for her Broadway shows, and—" Santana chanced a glance at Quinn. "And being married."

"Oh, Rachel." Brittany sniffled and embraced Rachel in another hug while Santana dragged Quinn away from the scene.

"When were you going to tell us?" Santana demanded once they were outside.

"If you think that for a minute I had time to even pick up my phone and ring you about this, then you're wrong!" Quinn felt brittle, and at times she found it hard to breathe. Sometimes she'd be overcome with the dread that there wasn't enough oxygen in the air to sustain her lungs. Quinn sat down on the chair, her shoulders hunched forward, her fists clenched. "I don't know what to do. She remembers nothing, S! Nothing! She still thinks Finn is around!"

Santana took Quinn's hands in hers, one at a time. "It'll be okay, Q. It will. Rachel will get her memories back, right?"

Quinn shook her head as tears fell from her eyes. "I'm not sure, the doctors aren't even sure. And even if she did, what are the chances that she will remember me?"

"Because she loves you! Hell, a love like this just doesn't happen to anyone. Trust me, I know."

They both gazed at their significant others from their position. Rachel was smiling at whatever story Brittany was telling her. It was her usually bright smile showing her pearly white teeth.

Santana's voice bought her back to reality. "You two fell in love with each other before you even knew who the other was. How many people can say that?"

•••

August 20th, 2011

Quinn had always considered her life normal—besides the baby-gate incident, but that just confirmed that she made mistakes like any other human being (not that Beth was a mistake in any way, the timing was just astray—she was as normal as any other person). She had a path laid out for her and although she didn't know where that path would lead to in the future, it was there and she was walking along like she has for the past seventeen and a half years. Her life wasn't perfect, it was nowhere near perfect.

Today she started to think what would happen if on this fateful day—if she hadn't done the things she did. Would she have come along some other way? Would they have started talking somewhere down the track?

There was a mild curiosity inside of her the moment a message popped up in her tumblr inbox. Brilliant, someone wanted to talk to her. She had never gotten any messages before. She recognized the name instantly and knew it was a girl when she looked at her profile: Rachel, Sixteen, US of A. There was an arty photo of someone famous and she'd written her interests were music, films, along with a lengthy list of what she guessed were bands the girl liked; in other words, they had nothing in common.

I'd just like to say how much I loved your recent picspam of Lea Michele, the message said. Yes, Quinn had been bored and posted a picspam of Lea Michele, showing off her amazing photoshop skills.

Interest in this girl got the better of her. thankyou so much! she is so talented i couldn't help myself.

Quinn remembered the moment this girl started following her on tumblr. Somehow she had stumbled across this particular tumblr and thought the name was divine, everlyluminiscent, and Quinn followed her due to the amount of Lea Michele and Dianna Agron that appeared on the girl's blog. The girl followed her back right away, and Quinn wasn't even exaggerating that fact.

I whole-heartedly agree, was the reply. I only wish that I was able to kidnap her and lock her in my basement.

A smile plastered wildly across Quinn's lips and she hastily replied. my thoughts exactly. since you have a basement, maybe we could come up with something together?

Dianna Agron should come along also. If we lock them up together and threaten them by saying that we will allow them to leave once they admit their true feelings for one another maybe they'll finally come out of the closet? Haha!

This girl was good. Quinn wondered if this conversation was going places she didn't know if she wanted it to. lol! they just might! but if they don't, i want Lea to myself :P

I won't argue with that. I lean more towards Dianna! Lol.

This girl was turning out to be a little more interesting than she had thought. so… what is in this basement of yours and how did you get one?

An hour or two passed without a reply and Quinn decided that the girl must have logged off. She clicked on the girl's tumblr; it was colorful with fancy pictures of quotes, celebrity photos and a few text posts of her own—she'd evidently spent a lot of time customizing it. There was even a link containing pictures which she had edited with photoshop and posted it herself, mostly of people Quinn half-recognized from films.

That night it struck Quinn that it was the first time she had ever spoken about another woman in that way to anyone. With Rachel, she had a different glow towards her. The way Quinn could immediately identify with her sense of humor and playfulness. She was amazed at how much she got along with this girl and her cheeks hurt from the smiles.

Despite herself, she was interested... and realized how perfectly well-timed Rachel had entered her life.

•••

December 20th, 2015

Lack of foresight could get you into trouble. It's a lack of foresight to not know that your wife still knows how to use a cell phone. She woke up from a coma and forgot five years of her life, she didn't wake up from a coma and was suddenly in the future where they magically upgraded cell phones and was unusable to the post-dead. Equally, it's a lack of foresight to plan for your new futures together and think that deep down nothing could get in your way.

At such times you find yourself adrift in anxiety, unprepared once more for the onslaught of stomach cramps and the hideous sweat.

"Finn, what are you doing here?" With trembling hands, Quinn brought her palms together in order to keep herself from lashing out at seeing the tall, lanky, dopey-eyed male known as Finn Hudson who had casually strolled through the hospital wing.

Quinn didn't miss the way he paled but remained as calm as he could. "I came to see Rachel. She called me last night saying that she wanted to see me."

"What else did she tell you?"

This time, Finn didn't miss the troubled expression on Quinn's face. "That she doesn't remember anything."

"And what did you tell her?" She dared him to answer the question with pride.

Of course, with Finn Hudson, he was too moronic to read between the lines. "I told her that we're friends and that I'll always be here for her."

Quinn lunged forward but Santana held her back. "This has nothing to do with you, Hudson. You made it pretty clear you didn't want to be in her life when—"

"Your life, Quinn. Not hers. Now, she doesn't remember you, maybe it's a sign."

"It's been four years," Santana said. "Get over the fact that she dumped your ass back to your crummy tool shed of a garage."

Lack of foresight leads to head-spins and headaches and heartache. Of course Rachel was going to call Finn. This wasn't her Rachel at twenty-one. This was her Rachel at sixteen—in love with Finn Blockheaded Hudson.

"Finn, you came!" Rachel's voice shot through the sliding door. Finn tore himself away from Quinn and Santana and walked—stomped—his way over to Rachel.

Quinn watched as Finn held Rachel in his arms for what seemed like a minute too long. Rachel didn't recline and nestled her head in-between his neck and shoulder, and Quinn had to dig her nails into the door-frame to stop herself from pulling Finn away from her wife when she saw Rachel's large, magical eyes shine up at him. A wide I'm-so-glad-you're-here smile on her face. The last time Rachel had looked at her that way was before the accident.

What was acute was her awareness of the immediate absence of Rachel's warm body from her life. When Rachel hugged her it wasn't with the same love. She felt frightened whenever Quinn came near her, at the same time shocked that their friendship had progressed this far without her knowing how. A terrifying sense of instability consumed her. She was scared to admit that maybe there would be no more future between Rachel and herself, only a series of moments of connections in the past.

It was when Brittany placed her arm around Quinn's shoulder that she looked away from the two ex-lovers. "She's going to be okay, Q. You'll get through this."

She prayed and wished silently to the big man upsets that that were true.

"Quinn, can you give us a moment, please?" Rachel asked her softly.

"No, I want to be here," Quinn's eyes glared fiercely.

"I—I just want to talk to Finn alone," Rachel said.

"Where was he when the accident happened? Where was he when you woke up? He doesn't belong here, Rachel!"

"Quinn, please just leave. This doesn't concern you."

"You're my wife of course it does!"

Rachel exploded, all control vanished. "I don't remember ever being married to you! Stop saying that. We're not together, we'll never be together."

Quinn began to tremble but stepped forward, her expression very threatening. Instantly, Finn stood up. "She wants you to leave, Quinn,"

"Stay. Out. Of. This."

"Q," Brittany placed her hand on her arm. "Let's leave. We'll get coffee and something to eat."

Quinn's face went dark with fury. She felt her blood coursing through her veins, the hairs on her neck were upright. She raised her arm, it spliced in the air and then her open palm descended to strike Finn's cheek. The slap seemed to echo. It cracked the twilight. Finn looked down at her in shock. There was a long silence. It was as if everyone in the room could not comprehend what had occurred, how Quinn's action and the pain Finn felt was beginning to feel coincided. The silence broke, Quinn's face crumpled: when the tears began to fall, they fell silently.

"Quinn, how could you?" Rachel pushed herself up off the bed, knocking Finn to the side. She fell forwards and Quinn caught her in her arms before her left foot could touch the ground. "Don't touch me, Quinn. How could you? I only wanted to have a private conversation with Finn. Is that not allowed now because we're married?"

Quinn could not forget the exhilaration when the sound of the slap slammed through her body. It had been electric, fiery, exciting. She was glad Finn had finally been punished for what he put Rachel through that year they broke up, she was glad he was shocked and terrified. She had expected praise from Rachel, but expectation always leads to disappointment.

Enrage filled her insides and she wiped her eyes. "I did what I had to do!"

"You in no way had to hit him! Just leave us alone. Can you do that?"

"Fine! I'm out of here. You're going to regret this, Rachel!" She pushed passed Santana and Brittany on her way out, nearly knocking them over.

The last sound she heard was the slamming of the slide door and Santana and Brittany's voice before she rounded the corner and locked herself in an empty room. Her chest hurt, a cord wrapped tightly around her lungs. She tried to breathe but couldn't. She knew she must not panic, this wasn't a heart attack, it couldn't be, it mustn't be, she just had to breathe.

With a gasp that sent her sprawling to the floor she convulsed and drew sweet life into her throat and lungs. She rocked back and forth, wiping the sweat around her neck with the sleeves of her jacket, remembering again how to breathe. She massaged her chest and repeated—I have to be there for her. Rachel needs me now more than ever. I can't give up. I won't give up—over and over again as if it were a chant.

•••

August 21st, 2011

Quinn had spent today the same way she had spent the previous day: in front of her laptop. Her grandmother had tried to get her to come down for breakfast, but she didn't feel comfortable, especially with the next door neighbors hanging around. But after a while, the Sunday evening quietness started to get to her. She wanted someone to talk to. She wanted to talk to Rachel. The girl hadn't yet replied to her previous message and she was impatiently waiting.

It was almost lunchtime before she felt hungry enough to detach herself from the laptop and found her grandmother sitting in the kitchen with the Morrisons (their neighbors). Quinn groaned at the thought that they were still there, but she was too hungry to ignore their presence. Her only concern was that she had wished she had put on descent clothes other than her night sleep shirt—and she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Good morning?" Her grandmother said as she went to the fridge. Quinn could tell from the expression on her face that she was trying not to sound annoyed.

"Great," she muttered, taking a carton of juice.

"What is so interesting on that laptop of yours that has gotten you staying awake all night and locked up in that room all morning?" Quinn grunted and her grandmother continued. "Would you like me to make you something to eat?"

"No, thanks. I'll just have some..." She scanned around the kitchen for something worth eating that didn't require making. "A bread roll."

"For lunch?"

"It's fine, grandma. I'll have a big dinner." She quickly ran to her room before her grandmother could stop her.

When she closed the door, she glanced at her laptop but made no attempts to move. There were two possibilities that could arise once she opened the lid. One, was that a message would appear in her inbox with Rachel's reply and she would smile like a little child and two, there would be no message and she would appear despondent.

On a whim, she turned to her laptop and the 1 New Message notification sign almost had her tripping over her chair trying to sit down. That's a secret for me to know and for you to find out ;-) Besides, I don't know you well enough to tell you my deepest, darkest secret. Let's start from the beginning. My name is Rachel, how are you today mysterious stranger, who didn't introduce herself when we first met.

She hadn't mentioned her last name. Quinn figured it was still early stages at the moment. oh, i'm sorry, my name is Quinn and today has been rather boring for me. what about yourself? nice to meet you, Rachel. can i call you Rach? :-)

After about fifteen minutes, a new message popped up. You can call me Rach if you like! I'm currently in New York on my way to see a Broadway show with my mom and then possibly some dinner and back home tomorrow. Do you enjoy Broadway, Quinn?

not entirely, no. it has never been one of my favorite types of music, but i wouldn't mind seeing one with you ;-) It was too late. She pressed sent.

Waiting for a reply felt as if someone held a gun to her head and she was waiting for them to pull the trigger. That is so sweet of you to say, Quinn. I didn't know I had that kind of effect on someone haha.

The trigger wasn't pulled and her heart began to pound with relief. what show are you seeing btw?

Wicked! It is one of my favorites! Have you heard of it?

Quinn wasn't sure whether she should tease Rachel to see her response, but thought better of it. of course i have. this girl in my glee club is obsessed with broadway and she doesn't stop talking about it. i probably could listen to you any time of day though ;-)

She was flirting. Was she flirting? Quinn swiveled in her chair, heart beating quickly. Rachel had taken longer than she had expected to reply. Quinn wondered if she had stepped out of line.

You are extremely sweet. What would I have to do to take you out on a date? Haha.

ask me?

When I come back from New York in a few days I definitely will :-)

•••

December 27th, 2015

Rachel soon got into a routine with her therapy, and there was steady progress in her condition, walking, speech and reasoning. Everything was a process, though. For example, when she started walking on her own, she jerked her right foot forward, then dragged the left one on the floor behind her. Gradually the movement got smoother and more natural. Before long she could dress by herself, eat, and take care of all the basic necessities of life.

Scott Madsen, Rachel's physical therapist, was an energetic trainer who had a special gift for encouraging his patients to do just a little more every day than they thought they could possibly do. His plan for Rachel's therapy included time on the treadmill, working with hand weights, and a range of exercises designed to help her get as much flexibility and strength back as possible.

From time to time Rachel would act strangely childlike. This childishness hadn't gone away with therapy; in fact, it seemed to have become a permanent part of her personality. During her therapy sessions she experienced wild mood swings and threw tantrums that would make a pre-schooler proud. When she was mad at Quinn, she would lash out at her in sudden bursts of temper. Her lack of subtlety and propriety rivaled that of a little girl, and she had no qualms about telling anybody exactly what she thought about them or their suggestions. Seeing this side of Rachel on a daily basis convinced Quinn that the wife she knew now was no longer there. She was a far cry from the polite, amiable, easy-going Rachel of the present.

Rachel was sixteen again.

Though there were some worrying aspects of this old Rachel personality, Quinn's fears were often offset by the good things about her recovery. As her therapy continued, she kept getting stronger physically. That was encouraging, but what excited her even more was the mental progress Rachel was making. She started having what her doctor called 'flash memories' or 'snapshot memories'. These were mental pictures she would get of a specific moment during the past five years, but the problem was that there was nothing to link those memories with anything from her life before or after them. Even so, Quinn put a lot of hope into these flash memories. She knew they could be the key to Rachel remembering their life together. One of the snapshot memories Rachel had was of her sitting outside at a table surrounded by lush tropical plants. That snapshot was from their honeymoon, though unfortunately Quinn wasn't in the frame of their Hawaiian 'camera'. But Quinn held on to that memory because it was one more link Rachel had with their missing past.

Ever since Quinn had slapped Finn on that miraculous day, Rachel had been refusing to talk to her, but she didn't mind having Quinn around during her therapy sessions. Her interactions with Rachel were strictly surface conversations; they were without any depth or dimension.

"I'm sorry about Finn," Quinn said after a few moments of awkward silence. She hadn't bothered to apologize for the past few days, her pride clouded her from doing just that. "You have to understand, Rach, it's hard for me seeing you with him. Considering your history together and the fact that you don't even remember me."

"I remember you, Quinn."

"Not in the way I want you to." Quinn had felt calm when she had made the decision to continue to support Rachel no matter what the odds were, but that had not lasted long. Her mind kept drifting to what may lay ahead.

Rachel made no attempts to move. "I'm sorry about that, Quinn, but you can't possibly blame me for it,"

I blame myself, she thought. "No, I could never blame you."

Rachel offered her a small, tight smile. Quinn saw in her eyes that she was searching for the right words and this version of Rachel made her breathless and anxious. Interacting with Rachel like this was always difficult, confusing, as though seeing her peeled away the years of Quinn's maturity back to the shy, tongue-tied girl she was back in high school. But she was aware of a deep and satisfying pleasure, a warmth flooded her whole body: when she was with Rachel it was as if she had stepped out of the shade and into the warm invigorating sunshine. The world felt colder to her now when Rachel wasn't around.

"Rach, I need you back," there was nothing menacing in her voice. Her arms were crossed and her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders. "I need you so much." It was the first time since the accident she had let Rachel see her vulnerability.

Rachel moved over to the table beside Quinn and started picking pieces of lint off the pale blue sheet. She was refusing to look at her. "I don't know what to say when you say things like that to me."

"I just—I needed you to hear it."

"I didn't want to say this to you so soon, considering... our situation. But I realized that there is no right time. I was—I'm thinking that..." Rachel had no idea how to act around Quinn. It crushed her heart to see Rachel so acutely aware while around her. "I'm thinking when I get out of here I should... stay with my fathers."

Quinn wanted to be kind but she didn't know how. "You can't do that. The doctor said that you should go back to your daily routine so you have a better chance of getting your memories back."

"I don't know you, Quinn. Please understand that if you can't understand anything else. Let me do this on my own,"

"I want to be there for you." She softened her tone.

"You have been. For the past few weeks you have been there for me all the way and I'm extremely grateful for everything." Rachel still couldn't look at her. "But it's time I do this on my own. I need to surround myself with belongings that I'm familiar with. Going back to New York and living in that apartment with you will be a whole new experience for me. I wouldn't know what to do. It's not my place."

"It is your place. It's our place."

Rachel began struggling for the right words. "I can't do it. I can't be the Rachel you want me to be. I can't stay with you not knowing anything about our life."

"That's why you have to stay with me so you can find out." Quinn's response was almost violent. She started shaking. "I have been looking forward to you coming home for weeks. I'm not letting you live with your fathers when we still have so many things to work out." She knew she wasn't being reasonable; she couldn't stop Rachel from doing what she wanted. Quinn figured that once Rachel was able to make her own decisions, she might never come back to her.

Rachel finally lifted her eyes to meet Quinn's. It was poisonous, "I knew you'd never understand. You can't make my decisions for me, Quinn! I'm my own person now." She took a shuddered breath. "I don't know how our relationship was like previously, but I will not allow you to stop me from doing what I want to do."

Quinn wasn't surprised they had begun arguing so quickly into the conversation, it seemed that was all they did. She sat down on the bed next to Rachel. She could smell the smaller girl's perfume; over-ripe, sugary, it trickled her nose. It didn't smell like her Rachel anymore. Quinn wished she could reach out and touch her, stroke her hair, kiss her like she had used to. But she couldn't bring herself to show any affection. Any touch between them now would be loathsome. She dreaded the argument ahead.

"You can't go." She stated.

"I can and I will! You need to let me go, Quinn!"

Quinn hesitated, wanting to put off the inevitable conversation, wanting to remain in the blissful, uncomplicated silence. "So what are you thinking? That once you get better you're going to leave me and we'll never see each other again? Move on with your new life? With Finn Fucking Hudson?"

Rachel's eyes flashed angrily at her. "Firstly, I'm still furious at you for slapping him. I haven't accepted your apology. Secondly, what I do now is not of your concern. I want to find out who I am! Five years of my life has disappeared and I have no recollection of anything. Why can't you understand that?"

Rachel was watching her warily, Quinn knew she was preparing her arguments. She didn't want to fight—she couldn't summon either annoyance or self-righteousness. But Rachel was already there, Quinn could tell she was spoiling for a fight. Rachel's eyes were alive and shining, she was clenching her right fist.

"I'm scared you'll leave me. That's why I can't let you go, because you'll leave me." She didn't know when she had lost faith in their love for one another. She didn't even know why it scared her so much.

Rachel was taken by surprise; Quinn even thought a shadow of disappointment might have crossed her face. She unclenched her fist. "If we're meant to be together, things will work out." Her response was muted, unconvincing.

"That's what I'm afraid of. What if it doesn't?" She muttered softly to herself. She was unsure if Rachel had heard her because she was off the bed and making her way to her bag for some new clothes to change into.

Rachel's next sentence caught her off guard. "If two people are meant for each other, it doesn't mean they have to be together right now."

The chocolate eyes staring back at her were pleading, tormented, and almost against her will. Not wanting to hurt Rachel anymore than she already has, she nodded in agreement.

Quinn rolled her eyes when Rachel went into the bathroom to change. They had seen each other naked countless times, but Quinn reminded herself that this Rachel was bashful and apprehensive in terms of her appearance. However, she took the opportunity to place the Christmas present she had bought for Rachel on her hospital bed. Quinn rummaged through the pile of magazines for a diversion when Rachel opened the door, and she waited.

She heard Rachel squeal of delight but made no attempts to turn around. Before the accident, Rachel had been gushing and hinting about a music box she wanted for Christmas—she wasn't very subtle about it either. The copper plated box studded with shards of silver and gold-raised lettering inscription which said: In Greek mythology, it's said that humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them apart and condemned them to spend their whole lives searching for their missing halves.

It was Rachel's favorite quote.

"Quinn, this is beautiful." She was examining the music box, opening and shutting the lid, the tiny oriental music box kept starting and stopping. "I don't recognize the song though."

She was forcing herself to be cool, unaffected by Rachel's words. But she wished Rachel hadn't said anything, not yet, not when they had finally come to an agreement about something. It had made everything more of a reality—the accident, the memory loss, the lack of physical contact, the limited emotional connection—there was no way she could ever awake from this dream.

"It's our song." That was all she could manage to say before she quickly left the room to find solace in an empty room and let her tears fall.

•••

August 30th, 2011

Quinn lay in the setting sun, her eyes shut, listening to the thud-thud of the ball being kicked around by Nicholas—her neighbor's son. She didn't mind baby-sitting the little rascal, he enjoyed playing by himself most of the time. Today was the first time since she arrived at her grandmother's that she had been outside in the garden, feeling the cool breeze of the summer sun. She wondered if this was what it would be like once she was married and had children. Of course, the determination of her future partner was unknown. She thought of Rachel, with curvy brown hair, shining eyes, pearly white teeth. She couldn't imagine a husband, not when all she thought about was Rachel.

She shook the thought out of her head instantly. The summer had turned into something she wasn't sure she was ready to admit to herself. Rachel had come out of nowhere and elicited feelings inside of her she never thought she was capable of. Not only that, but she hadn't met the girl, she knew next to nothing about Rachel. Where she lived, what her favorite food was, what school she went to, what she did on her weekends, how they were going to make this relationship work, would she be able to handle a long distance relationship, how often would they see each other, where would Rachel stay if she came to Lima and where would Quinn stay if she visited Rachel.

Okay, those last few questions were unnecessary. They weren't in a relationship. She didn't even know Rachel. The girl might not even be gay.

They have been chatting idly back and forth for the past few days sending tumblr messages to one another. It was only yesterday that the messages were constant. Quinn looked forward every morning to Rachel's replies and she found herself spending the whole day either on her laptop or attached to her phone. Whenever she got a notification that she had a new message, a wide smile would spread across her lips.

i'm currently baby sitting my neighbor's son, Nicholas. he's such a cute little rascal. and soaking in the sun as best I could. you? She typed quickly on her phone and hit sent. She thanked whoever it was for inventing 3G on cell phones. It made things much simpler than having to carry her laptop everywhere.

I, too, am also basking in the evening sun. How old is Nicholas? You are taking great care of him, aren't you? Lol.

An image of Rachel Berry suddenly appeared in her head. She thought of her sitting in front of her bedazzled laptop and typing out long emails using her dialect wisely. This girl certainly did type the same way Rachel spoke, but it couldn't be. As far as Quinn knew, Rachel was away with her fathers on a secluded trip to connect with the wild. Something had happened between her and Finn and she wanted to get away from Lima on a "no technology trip"—according to Kurt.

Before she replied to Rachel's message, she typed a quick text to Santana: Just wondering, do you know where Rachel's been this summer? Kurt said she was on a trip to the wild. Have you heard from her? Do you know if she has a tumblr?

Then, she messaged Rachel. i am a very good baby sitter, thank you very much. Nicholas loves me! he's 5. he comes to me when he wants to eat and drink and then goes and plays by himself haha. which state you live in, Rach?

When her phone chimed a few minutes later, she was disappointed to see Santana's name: How would I know where the midget is? Does it look like I associate with her? Why do u care anyway? If she does have a tumblr and she's not following me then she's one dead dwarf when I get a hold of her!

I was just wondering. Geez, chill a little will you! She wanted to elaborate more in her text but thought it be wiser to ask Kurt. Hey Kurt, do you know if Rachel has a tumblr?

Next, she opened the tumblr message and read Rachel's reply. You mean, which state do I live in? Lol. Sorry, I have a bad habit of correcting grammar. I'm currently in Colorado. What about you, Quinn? Where are you from? Do you go to school? Which school?

is that so? hmm.. i'm surprised you haven't said anything about my incorrect use of the singular first person pronoun "I" and how i don't capitalize my letters after a full stop lol. i'm from lima, ohio. i'm currently staying with my grandmother at her lake house in columbus and i attend william mckinley high. yourself?

A text message from Kurt was the next thing she read. I don't think Rachel has a tumblr. I haven't heard her mention anything of the kind. She's rather computer illiterate so I doubt she'll know how to use one. Why the sudden interest Quinn?

I was just wondering. Quinn was rather annoyed that any question she asked about Rachel Berry was returned with the question, Why the sudden interest? Is she not allowed to ask about a fellow glee club member? Kurt's text left her a little disappointed without knowing why. Rachel was officially the only member in glee club that didn't have a tumblr, but it somehow put her mind at ease that this Rachel she was talking to was not one she knew.

Quinn heard Nicholas laugh and there was a sharp pain in her side as the ball slammed into her. It stung.

"You little rut."

The boy cracked up, laughing hysterically at her outrage. She ran to him, grabbed him, all writhing arms and legs and carried him over to the pond. A large goldfish was lazily gulping at the surface of the water. At their shadow, it flicked into the murky deep and vanished from sight.

"I'm going to drop you," she said.

"No." Screamed the boy, his legs thrashing furiously.

"Say sorry."

"No!"

"Say it,"

"It was an accident,"

"Say sorry."

"No!"

"In you go."

She then held him tight and kissed him, and he placed his arms around her neck. He put his lips to her ear and whispered, "I'm sorry." His skin was warm and sweaty, the sweetness of his baby powder coupled with a faint trace of earth. She rubbed her face in his hair.

"It looks like someone's had a great afternoon."

Nicholas released his grip, Quinn lowered him to the ground and he rushed over to his mother, who scooped him into her arms. Rosie sat on one of the abandoned kitchen chairs that were scattered across the backyard, their once bright red vinyl now faded to light pink.

"Time to go, little guy. Say thank you to Quinn for taking care of you,"

"Thank you, Quinn." He said sweetly and hugged his mother again.

Quinn walked them both out and then headed into the kitchen, switched on the light and then turned on the kettle. Her grandmother was out with her bingo friends and had said she would be home no later than eight. She slipped into the living room and walked over to the book shelf. The selection of books intrigued her. There were art books, biographies of writers and artists, stained dog-eared copies of books on philosophy and eastern religious.

"What are you looking at?"

She turned around in shock. "Oh, hey grandma. Don't scare me like that!"

She laughed gleefully. "Sorry, dear. Have you eaten dinner?"

"Not yet. I made myself a cup of tea. Do you want one?"

Her grandmother took off her jacket and placed her keys on the hook. "I'm beat, dear. Might head to bed,"

"It's only eight o'clock." She stated mother-of-factly.

"That's what happens with old age," she said calmly and laughed. "Goodnight, Quinn. Have a good sleep."

"Night, grandma." She watched her head upstairs and heard the door close before she took out her phone. It had been two hours since Rachel last sent her a message.

She ignored the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach and placed the frozen lasagna in the oven and took a sip of her cup of tea. She could hear the light footsteps of her grandmother upstairs, the creaking of the bed once she made herself comfortable and the sound of the television. The walls in this house were paper-thin.

By ten-thirty after having finished her dinner and watching some television, she got ready for bed. Quinn stood on the railing in her room and watched the lights of the houses glitter around her. The light from the moon and from the houses nearby cast a faint tangerine aura around the lake.

Her phone chimed with an email notifying her that she had a message on tumblr. Her heart quickened at the sight of Rachel's tumblr name. I'm terribly sorry for the late reply. I had some matters I needed to attend to. Believe me, Quinn, I had to hold all restraint when reading your messages the first few times because it was too soon to correct your grammar. And in light of your previous message, I know that you're purposefully not capitalizing your proper nouns to provoke me :-( that's very unfair of you, by the way! To answer your question, I go to school in Stanley Lake High, located in Westminster. I know my reply is rather late, but if you have a SmileyChat account by any chance could we chat on that instead? It's far easier than sending messages on tumblr. If you wish to add me, my chat name is everlyluminiscent. Can't wait to hear from you, Quinn :-) Goodnight.

Rather than heading to bed for an early night, it was more exciting to turn on her laptop and add Rachel's name to her chat list of friends. She had just sent a request to everlyluminiscent when a notification popped up on her screen alerting her that Rachel had accepted her request. everlyluminiscent was online.

A flash of excitement ran through her, like a jolt of electric current surging from her feet to the tips of her hair. Her eyes stayed glued to the name on her screen. They would be talking. An actual conversation.

hey, she typed, opening the conversation. Rach...?

Yeah. Hi, Quinn :-) Nice to finally speak to you. How are you?

great, thanks. yourself?

I'm lovely!

Quinn didn't know what to say. She was entirely surprised that she had been looking forward to this moment and as it happens she was speechless. A new message popped up.

I sense that you're a little shy? Lol

yeah... lol. i've never done this before

Talking to people online? =/

lol no. meeting someone online and having a conversation with them

Well, if it makes you feel any better, I come in peace and am not here to seduce you in any way like men usually do over the internet.

are you really a girl? Lol

If you could see me, I would be rolling my eyes at you right now :-P I am a girl. Perfectly healthy girl to be correct!

Quinn was searching her brain for something clever to say but Rachel had beaten her to it. How is spending time with your grandmother?

*shrug* not bad. i've baked cookies and cakes, drank lots of tea (which i never do) and lay around the house

Sounds like you've had a blast. Lol

it's peaceful here which is why I like it

You capitalised your "I". Let me just point out that this is a milestone in our relationship haha.

Relationship.

Rachel said relationship.

What kind of a relationship was this? Did she want more? Was she hinting that she wanted more?

Quinn? I'm sorry.

She shook her head and rattled her brain with words to lighten the mood. it's ok, i was just shocked i guess. The "I" was a fluke, btw!

Shocked about what?

you said relationship. i didn't know what you meant. She quickly typed another message before Rachel could respond. what did you mean?

I'm not sure, to be honest. This may come as a shock to you but it's not often that I meet someone online – let alone on tumblr – and want to continue talking to them. You're actually my first internet friend.

you're mine too! i feel like i can tell you things. its weird

My ears are always open if you ever need a friendly chat!

tell me about yourself

My name is Rachel and I attend Stanley Lake High :-)

i meant something more about yourself, smart ass

Oh, well, why did you just say so ;-)

Quinn looked intently at the sentence: everlyluminiscent is typing a message... and judging by the long time she waited, she knew Rachel had a lengthy response.

My favourite color is green, I love musical theater and I plan to become an actress/singer/Broadway sensation/EGOT winner. Scratch that, I INTEND to be an actress/singer/Broadway sensation/EGOT winner :-). In my spare time I enjoy reading, watching movies, listening to music. I have many favorite movies but if I had to choose it would most likely be Funny Girl, I enjoy many romantic comedies. Barbra Streisand is my favorite singer/actress. I also enjoy the music of Madonna, Lady Gaga, Michael Jackson, and Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros.
Enough about me. What about yourself, Quinn?

That was a lot of information to take in. Rachel sure did like talking about herself. There was also another Rachel Quinn knew who enjoyed doing just that.

do you have a boyfriend?

There was a pause on Rachel's end. Quinn counted the whole of ten minutes before another message popped up.

No, I do not. Unfortunately, my boyfriend and I went our separate ways a few weeks ago.

what happened?

Whether or not Rachel was uncomfortable talking about her private life to a stranger, she didn't show it.

We weren't compatible for one another. He said some rather mean things to me and I disliked his immaturity. It's for the best. I have come to the realization that I deserve someone who can keep up with me mentally, emotionally and verbally. I possessed a lot of self-control on my vocabulary when speaking to him.

what things did he say?

He never appreciated the fact that I like to spend time with my parents and I never took pleasure in watching him constantly play video games. He took me to the same restaurant every week knowing that I am vegan, he didn't like the movies I chose for us to watch, he never made an effort to meet my parents, whenever he would pick me up for our date he'd honk his horn, he didn't like to hold my hand in public, he made me pay on our first date because he forgot his wallet at home but had no problem driving without his license, he forgets my birthday and our anniversary, he forgets a lot of things that I say.

Quinn frowned at Rachel's rant, not because she didn't enjoy reading it.

it seems like he didn't appreciate you for who you are. you deserve much better than that, Rach! i'm glad you dumped his ass!

Lol. Well, yes. He wasn't too happy about that. He asked me to give him another chance a week after we broke up but I refused and decided to head out of the state to get some fresh air.

Quinn read the response a couple of times before replying. She decided to take a chance and follow her heart.

I'd treat you right ;-) haha.

The capitalisation of 'I'd' was done on purpose to please Rachel. She waited patiently for the other girl's reply. I'd never thought of another woman the way I've thought about you. It's so strange. I mean, I've always told myself that if I ever fell for a woman I'd embrace it. I just never thought it would happen this way.

A little warily, Quinn typed, You're falling for me?

Yes.

If Quinn wasn't sure before, she was definitely sure now: she was falling for Rachel. What surprised her was how quickly she began to fall. The tension hung in the air and her stomach was in knots. She could barely think straight (oh, the irony), so the only thing left to do was once again, listen to her heart.

i think i might be in love with you

She felt as if her whole body was weightless and that any moment now, she'd float into the clouds. She declared her love to someone she had met days ago. She didn't even care that she had never seen Rachel before; she just knew that these feelings don't just happen everyday.

Where do we go from here, Quinn?

i have absolutely no idea...

Tell me about yourself.

i'm not very interesting, tbh

Tbh?

Quinn laughed at Rachel's unfamiliarity of chat abbreviations. to be honest

Oh.
You underestimate yourself too much, Quinn. Let me be the judge of your "uninteresting life".

She exhaled the breath she held and began typing.

where do i start? i had a daughter when i was sixteen. my parents kicked me out of home but after the baby was born my mom left my dad and i moved back home. it wasn't an easy adjutsment. we're still not on very good terms i feel like she's watching me all the time, making sure i don't rebel again. but at the same time i feel as if i have to pull my weight around the house to get her pay the bills and what not

She re-read her response again and corrected her mistakes.

*adjustment
*help

Have you spoken to your dad since then?

no,and i don't want to. he wasn't there when i needed him the most, instead he threw me out of home to fend for myself

Who did you stay with?

the baby's father...

Was he supportive of you?

he's in high school. i hurt him a lot

Quinn stared into the darkness, awaiting Rachel's reply. When a few minutes passed without a message, Quinn began typing again.

the father of Beth is my ex-boyfriend's best friend. i cheated on my ex-boyfriend with his best friend and fell pregnant. ironic, isn't it? the first time i have sex with someone, i get punished for cheating on my boyfriend. the universe was probably trying to tell me something

She was certain that every bone, muscle and vein in her body had awakened the moment she opened up to Rachel.

ever since then i've just been trying to get my life back together

Do you see Beth often?

Quinn shut her eyes and realized she had not said a word about giving Beth up for adoption. The image of Rachel Berry filled her mind—it was as if her brain concluded that Rachel Berry had been this mysterious girl she met online all this time and that spoke to some part of her that was screaming 'danger'.

i never said i gave her up for adoption

Ten minutes passed. The message: everlyluminiscent is typing a message... did not appear on the screen. She felt a numbness in her body and a fullness in her throat. Terror washed through her, sweeping away her self-consciousness and any trace of amusement. Her heart contracted and she felt she had been plunged, without warning. Oh, God, her Rachel could not be Rachel Berry. No, she did not just show her vulnerability to her enemy.

You didn't have to, Quinn. You told me that you attend William McKinley High, therefore I assumed that you have decided to give Beth up for adoption as to continue with the remaining high school years. If I have assumed wrong, I apologize. I, in no way want you to think that you're an unfit parent.

By the time she finished reading, the numbness was wearing off and the tightness in her throat was trying to dissolve into relief. Her heart subsided to normal beats.

i'm sorry, i didn't mean to sound angry or anything. it's just... you remind me of someone sometimes

Who?

this girl Rachel Berry in my year. the way you type is like the way she talks. although i've never texted or chatted with her I can only assume that she types the way she talks

And that scares you?

kind of, yeah. We've never exactly gotten along and… well, i guess the thought of her seeing me vulnerable scares me in some way

There's nothing wrong with showing your emotions. She's not going to use that against you, is she?

Rachel? no way! Lol. i think she's scared of me

So I assume you're mean to her?

i don't mean to be! she's just so goddamn talented it makes me seem so little next to her, even though she's shorter than me. she's just really talented and i know that if anyone would get out of lima and make it big it'll be her

Without waiting for Rachel's reply, she continued.

from the beginning of high school i was put on a pedestal and she was at the bottom. i didn't take pleasure in tormenting her but i did it because i despised her a lot of the times. So i continued to do it to remain on said pedestal. Now i just feel ridiculous that i ever did that because she's not so bad. most of the time anyway when she isn't being her annoying little self

I'm sure when you're ready to apologize she'll forgive you.

i highly doubt that. Ive been nothing but torture her since freshman year
*done

What I've learned in the past week is that people can surprise you.

•••

January 7th, 2016

Rachel rang in the New Year with consistent, steady progress, there was little more improvement every week. Her mood swings were still wild and unpredictable, and she complained regularly about the way her physical therapist was pressuring her to excel in therapy. However, she was stronger and more independent every day. She had started going on short walks with staff members in the neighborhood. She loved those outings, especially when she was allowed to go to the nearby shopping center. A near-fatal brain injury had not affected her love of looking for a good deal on DVDs and music albums.

Quinn looked everywhere for indications of the old Rachel. She just knew that if she could only help her embrace the rehab program with every ounce of her being, Quinn could get her back. If she couldn't reach to her as a wife, she thought maybe she could break through to her as a friend. But somehow, she couldn't seem to build more than a casual friendship with Rachel no matter what she did or how hard she tried. One minute Rachel would be friendly and smiling, then Quinn would do or say something she didn't like, and in a heartbeat she would yell, "Leave me alone! I don't even know why you're here!"

A few days into the New Year, Quinn showed Rachel how to play Wiffle ball to help with her recovery. Quinn tossed the ball underhanded, and Rachel swung and missed time and again.

"Come on, Rach," Quinn prodded, "I know you can hit it. Let's try again,"

"I'm tired." She answered with a pout. Quinn could suddenly see what her wife had been like as a six-year old.

"Let's do this a few more times," Quinn encouraged her again.

"I don't want to." There was that first grader again.

"Please?" As Quinn said it, she tossed her the ball one more time. Pressing her lips together Rachel gave a mighty swing and connected with the ball. They both watched it sail over the nearby volleyball net.

"That's it, Rach! Way to go!"

"You're mean to me."

"Not mean," Quinn answered back. "Just trying to help."

For the thousandth time Quinn looked hard for the woman she had fallen so incredibly in love with. She knew that woman was in that slowly recovering body, struggling to get out. She just had to be. Quinn didn't want to consider the alternative.

The daily therapy sessions became a challenge for Rachel. It's not that they were physically difficult, she was just bored and distracted most of the time. The only reason she was doing it was because people kept making her do it, not because she wanted to get better. She would do or say anything to get out of doing her therapy. A session would be going along well and she'd stop all of a sudden and say, "I'm tired. I want to go sit down."

"Let's just do a few more reps of this." Quinn refused to give in.

"I don't want to! Stop bossing me around! You don't play fair!" She tossed the ball at Quinn, slightly missing her head. "I'm going to the hot tub."

Quinn let out a deep sigh and watched Rachel walk away; she imagined Rachel walking away from her for good. Would Quinn stop her if that were to happen? Rachel turned around halfway towards the entrance and raised her eyebrows as if to question whether Quinn was going to stop her. Quinn shook her head apologetically, mouthing, I'll see you later and Rachel resumed her walk towards the hot tub.

Before she could comprehend anything else, an intense nausea seemed to emanate from the center of her abdomen. Her first thought was that she was going to be sick, but knew that was ridiculous because she hadn't eaten all day. She sat on the bench and intoned a yoga mantra. It's just nerves, she repeated softly, and took several deep breaths. She wrapped her jacket tightly around herself and walked around the garden. There was no wind, but it was bitterly cold, a true Ohio late winter morning, where the night denied the world any hint of the coming fall season.

She turned around when she heard footsteps and for that instant she hoped it was Rachel, but it was Puck.

"Hey, Q! I came to check up on Rachel. The nurse said she was out here with you." He tossed a ball towards her but she didn't raise her hand to catch it. He caught the worry expression in her eyes and asked, "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

"Do you have a cigarette?" She asked suddenly. "I could really use one right now."

Puck was frowning. "I don't smoke,"

"You should take it up so I can have one."

He hugged her tightly, wiping a tear from her eye. "What's wrong? You can tell the Puckerman anything." His attempt at humor didn't sit well with her.

"Rachel wants to live with her fathers when she leaves the hospital. I tried telling her she has to come and stay with me but she won't hear any of it. It's like she doesn't want to try giving us a chance at all." Sad, fatigue, frightened. That pretty much summed up her feelings in three words.

She quickly glanced up at Puck who wore another expression. Tense; as if telling her that their life was a challenge that she should be prepared to take on. "You can't force her, Quinn. And I've been with Rachel a few times these past few weeks, she's young and confused. She's like—"

"A child. I know."

"She's sixteen,"

"No! She's twenty-one and married! She has a job, responsibilities, a life with me!"

"She thinks she's sixteen; high school student, the ignorant, fierce, passionate and extremely intelligent glee club member who fought everyone for solos each week. Her only responsibilities now include getting into an amazing college and becoming a star," he added. "Also, finishing high school."

Quinn saw no trace of the arrogant boy that Noah Puckerman once was. He looked afraid. "I want to help her but it's as if she won't let me. It's like she doesn't understand the fact that we really are married and willing to give this a chance."

Puck clucked sadly on hearing the sadness in Quinn's voice. "Maybe you should talk to her fathers? Tell them to get her to stay with you?"

"I can't do that to her. She'll hate me."

Quinn looked at the two old men smoking silently in the corner, and she smiled to herself. They seemed content, confident, virile, strong. Just as her relationship with Rachel's once was. And then she heard Puck say,

"She doesn't have to know."

•••

September 5th, 2011

Walking to Puck's house was a task in her high heels, she had to walk slowly, deliberately so as to not stumble. The night air was sharp and there were goosebumps all over her arms. Brittany had wanted Santana to park her car a good few miles away in order for them to walk off the alcohol in their system at the end of the night. Next to her, Santana's tight-fitting boob tube and Brittany's tight-skin jeans and scarlet halter seemed elegant compared to her black skirt with buttons down one side and a carefully embroidered, sapphire top.

She had been back home for a day and was already being dragged out by Santana who refused to hear her complains about being tired and her mother didn't help in that department either. She had told Santana that for the last week all Quinn did while at her grandmother's was spend time on her computer, so she couldn't possibly be tired. Santana smirked, knowing what Quinn had been doing on the laptop.

Most of all, she wanted to stay home and talk to Rachel. Both girls have been chatting non-stop for the past few days. Whenever it weren't possible for them to chat—either Rachel was out with her parents or Quinn was doing something (the truth was, Quinn never really did anything)—they would send each other emails. Their relationship had progressed from tumblr messages, to online chatting and finally, emailing. They hadn't yet touched on the topic of how they would meet each other nor how this relationship was going to work.

"Hurry up, Q, I want to get my drinks on!" Santana bellowed. "Why are you dawdling?"

Quinn let out a low, slow breath. "Okay, okay!"

"Come on, Quinn," Brittany grabbed her hand to pull her along. "Ignore Santana, she hasn't been drunk in a month."

Puck's house was a small, double-storey on the crest of a hill. They walked up the driveway, which was steep and long, and the shoes pinched at Quinn's heels. Fairy lights decorated the veranda and loud music could be heard booming from the back of the house. Puck really went all out on what he calls, The best last week of summer holidays party party. The girls stopped at the front door and looked at the town below them. Lima was lit up and the night sky was a deep, satiny purple.

Puck screamed when he opened the door. Brittany—behind Quinn—let out a series of gasps. Santana pushed Quinn down the long corridor into the living room where their peers were scattered around. Through the glass doors Quinn could see Mike turning sausages and steaks on the barbecue. There were already fifteen or so kids outside, and with a quick glance around the house, she noticed all the Glee kids were present—including Rachel Berry.

She racked her brain for coherent thoughts at the sight of Rachel Berry in a short pleated skirt and a simple white top that hugged her chest and showed a little cleavage. She cursed herself for roaming her eyes to that area. When she lifted her eyes, Rachel was staring right back at her. There was a spark in her eyes that shot a jolt of heat through Quinn.

Puck walked up to the girls with three beers in his hand and attempted to kiss them on the cheek. Quinn and Santana declined but Brittany was happy to oblige and Quinn saw fire in Santana's eyes.

"I don't want no beer," Santana said. "Where's your vodka and Jack Daniels?"

Puck looked at Santana appreciatively. "Follow me, Lopez." He put his arm around her shoulder and led her to the backyard. Quinn heard him say, "Let's get your drink on." Before they were out of ear shot.

"Quinn, let's go say hi to Rachel. She looks lonely." Brittany led the way and Quinn noticed Rachel halt instantly when they reached her. Quinn thought Rachel was scared, but with a closer examination, she seemed surprised. She thought she heard Rachel say "Hello" but couldn't be sure due to the music pumping through the outdoor speakers.

While Brittany was talking to Rachel above all the chatter and music, Quinn looked outside to where Finn was now standing over the barbecue. Mike was laughing over something Finn was saying. Something stupid, no doubt. Finn Hudson only made dumb jokes. Then she remembered Rachel's situation with Finn. Judging by the way Finn kept glancing over Rachel's way with sad eyes, she guessed it was Rachel who couldn't be in the same room as him. That or because Finn was around meat and Rachel didn't want to see animals being sizzled.

The teenagers had formed into three groups. There was a bunch of boys around the barbecue, a cluster of girls were sitting around the patio table. Puck, the only boy among them was laughing to himself. He was no doubt drunk. Steps led down the patio to the garden area where most of the glee kids were seated. From the distance Quinn was sitting, she could see Santana's clumsy movements and pouring another shot and then gulping it down along with Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Artie.

Quinn took out her phone and typed a quick email to Rachel. Her Rachel. Not Rachel Berry. Hope you're having a better time than me :-( I wish I was at home talking to you. Her cell phone keyboard was enabled to allow auto-capitalization and auto-correct, which she knew would please the other girl.

Brittany excused herself a moment later and Quinn wanted to reach out and beg her to not leave, but she didn't know how to make it look subtle. Brittany walked pass the boys down to the kids in glee and joined them in drinking shots.

Quinn felt Rachel move closer, and her breath hitched in her throat when Rachel spoke ever so closely in her ear. "You don't have to stay with me."

Quinn jumped slightly, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "I—I don't... mind."

Rachel had a smirk on her lips, probably laughing at Quinn's sudden stutter. "Really, you can go and join the other kids. I'm content right here. I'm having a perfectly good time." Quinn noticed the way Rachel said the last few words in a teasing tone. As if to answer a certain question.

"Why are you here alone?"

"I'm not alone. I'm surrounded by plenty of people."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I meant, why aren't you outside?"

"Oh," Rachel wiped her lips with a napkin. "Why didn't you just say so." Again with the smirk. "It's too cold outside."

"Then why did you come?"

"I wanted to see someone."

"Finn?"

Rachel didn't answer her. Instead, her eyes drifted over to the clock in the kitchen. What could she possibly be looking at? Counting down the minutes of how long they had sat here for? How bored she was that she was talking to Quinn? She felt foolish and furious at herself. Why was she feeling so intimidated? And especially around Rachel Berry?

"I'll see you later, Berry."

Quinn turned on her heels to leave but Rachel grabbed onto her arm. At the contact, she felt the prickling sting of tingles that ran from her finger tips through the blood vessels in her hand and hit a spot in the center of her rib-cage. Quinn clutched her chest to come in contact with the unmistakable beating of her heart. The lub-dub sounds were so foreign to her ears.

And just as suddenly, Rachel released her grip. "I didn't mean to ignore you. I was just thinking,"

"About Finn." She hadn't meant to sound accusing.

Rachel shook her head no. "Finn and I are no longer an item and I have come to the conclusion that we would never be more than just friends."

"And you're happy with that?"

"Certainly."

Quinn raised her eyebrow, searching for any hint that Rachel was lying. When she found none, she resumed her position. Rachel's eyes, swirling with a delicate chocolate brown, were glistening, mischievous. Quinn was beginning to wonder why she ever questioned Rachel's happiness without Finn in the first place. She seemed... jubilant. It was contagious watching her smile.

"Have you enjoyed your holidays thus far, Quinn?" Rachel raised her voice to ask.

"Yes." She replied without thought. Yes, this summer had definitely been the best she ever had. She met someone she connected with online, felt things she only ever read about, it changed the way she saw the world, everything was brighter and clearer. She was able to see why she went through all the hard times in her life because it had led her to Rachel.

Rachel was watching her with clear fascination. Quinn saw pride in the way she smiled. When she realized she had been staring for longer than she should have, she cleared her throat and said, "I'm glad you're happy."

They fell into silence. Quinn wondered whether she should speak but she didn't care to. She checked her phone and was disappointed when she didn't receive a reply from Rachel. The party was rocked by the thundering drums and guitar of the White Stripes' Seven Nation Army. Quinn had missed Santana coming, somehow. She was beside her suddenly, and Quinn whirled quickly to face her. Rachel tensed—or at least, there was something about her that seemed wary all at once.

"We're going to get drunk," she grabbed Quinn's wrist and pulled her up. "You too, Berry, get your ass up off the seat!"

"I will be out in a minute. I need to use the ladies."

As soon as they stepped outside everyone turned to look at them. Quinn was acutely embarrassed. She felt ridiculously under-dressed. She waved at the glee kids and others she recognized as the Cheerios and went to sit next to Mercedes. Her teeth were chattering now, her spine felt like it couldn't support her frame and she felt a little queasy.

"Drink!" Santana ordered, shoving a shot glass in her face.

She grunted at the Latina but gulped it down without question. She quivered at the burning sensation it left in her mouth.

"This is great alcohol, Puckerman," Kurt managed to say through his slurred speech. "Only if Blaine were here."

"Here we go again," Mercedes rolled her eyes. She moved closer to Quinn. "Ever since he's had some alcohol in him, its Blaine this and Blaine that."

Mercedes continued talking and Quinn tried to give her her attention, but couldn't help the smile that spread across her face whilst reading Rachel's message. I am having fun, and I'm sure your party isn't as boring as you're making it seem. You might just need a little alcohol in you ;-)

What are you up to tonight, anyway? I've had a feel drinks, if I start to make any grammatical errors you know that I'm drunk haha! I miss you...

She downed another shot and listened to the conversation around her.

"We took Tina shopping last weekend and she didn't know that Ugg boots were so two-thousand and eight." Kurt laughed hysterically, which made Mercedes laugh, which made everyone else laugh.

"It was funny when you asked the sales person when they came out," Kurt said again.

"Shut up, Kurt," Tina snapped but there was no menace in her words. "It's not that funny."

He started laughing again, almost tumbling out of his chair. "Yes, it is! It's the funniest thing I've heard all summer."

I'm at a neighborhood party. No drinks involved though :-( haha. I hope you're not the designated driver! I forbid you to drive intoxicated! And... I miss you, too.

"What are you smiling at, Quinn?"

Brittany's voice snapped her head up from her phone and there was a knowing look in the her eyes. Quinn didn't hide her bashfulness. "Just a message,"

"From someone special?"

"Yes."

"Who is it?"

"Rachel Berry in da house!" Puck called from his seat near the bonfire. He leapt up the instant Rachel stepped off the patio and made her way towards them. He put his arm around her shoulder and something twisted in Quinn's stomach. She glanced at Finn who was staring at them from the barbecue. He looked like his face was caught on fire. "Want a drink my little Jewish princess?"

"No, thanks," she said softly. "I wish to sit and converse in conversations with my intoxicated friends."

Quinn wasn't sure whether it was the alcohol running through her blood or maybe she had hit her head while tipsy, but she found this version of Rachel adorable. Rachel chose a seat beside Quinn and their arms brushed when she sat down. Quinn gasped, muscles tightening around her heart. Did Rachel do that deliberately?

"What are we talking about?" Rachel asked.

"Boring jibberish," Kurt dismissed. "Tell us about you and Finn."

"Yes, Berry," Santana squeezed herself in-between Quinn and Rachel. "Tell us about you and Dumb-Hudson over there."

"There's nothing to tell," she stated. "We weren't compatible for one another."

Quinn froze at the statement. She had heard that before.

"And you have accepted it?" Kurt asked.

"Of course. I have moved on with my life."

Santana pushed herself of off Rachel, struggling to keep her balance and tousled her brown hair. She giggled when Rachel pouted. "Santana! I spent a lot of time on my hair!"

"You look cute when you pout." Santana was drunk. Only drunk Santana would talk like that.

Quinn felt a pang of jealousy watching the two of them argue. She took out her phone and responded to her Rachel. id din't drive tonight but I wished I did :( I wish you were here o drive me home! We could go home together !

The smoke was now steaming from the barbecue and Puck yelled at Finn—who had his eyes on Rachel—to keep an eye on the food. He then circulated around the group and poured more drinks for the glee kids. Quinn had noticed that Rachel walked away from the group and was examining the garden. Mercedes nudged Quinn to take her shot with the rest of the group and a burst of cheers erupted once everyone had chugged it down.

It's cute when you're drunk. Why haven't you shown me this side of you sooner? Lol. If you get the freedom of being a passenger what do I get for driving you around?

Quinn stared dreamily at her phone, grinning. She noticed something in the edge of her consciousness—a golden light, soft, yet vibrant. Rachel was engaging in a conversation with Santana and Brittany from the garden, and when Rachel turned to look in her direction, their eyes locked together and Quinn thought she might burn up with fever and die right there in that very spot. Rachel smiled at her and she felt her head becoming light.

What would you want me t repay you with? I've already decided that I'm going to be marrying you so it only seems fair that you get to choose XD

Quinn was falling hard and fast. It was unbelievable. The process was in some way inevitable, uncontrollable, risky, irreversible, and it left her in a state of vulnerability.

Abandoning the group of glee kids, she staggered towards Santana and Brittany. The distance she walked seemed substantially longer than it was supposed to. The swift scent of a sea of flowers hit her nose and staggered her brain until it was all she was able to focus on. She heard the secluded muffles of her peers around her over the loud music. It was a split of a second when her left foot collided with her right and she tripped forwards. Arms reached out to catch her before she realized she was falling, holding her up on her own two feet before she could sprawl across the hard stones. Quinn caught at the person's shoulder and the instant the whiff of daisies hit her nose, her mind wondered onto the one person she knew it belonged to. Rachel clutched at her awkwardly before she hastily dropped her and they stared at each other. Slowly, Quinn stiffened, her breath catching and she came face to face with brown eyes that were wide in shock, but they were warm and she wanted to stare at them for the rest of her life. Her mouth, Quinn thought, would taste cool and sweet.

"Are you okay, Quinn?"

The sound of her name on Rachel's lips provoked something within her and she pulled back. "Yeah, fine. Thanks." She noticed the affect her tone had on Rachel and said, "Are you having a good night?"

Rachel beamed brightly and a stab of joy rocked her to the soles of her feet. Quinn has had way too much to drink.

"I'm having a great night."

"Really? Why?" Quinn asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've just been roaming around and not really talking to anyone."

Those dark eyes were gazed at her, fixed on her in a way that would have made anybody else uncomfortable, but to Quinn, it was relaxing. She swallowed. Quinn realized she was staring, but it was the continuing silence that made her uneasy. Rachel was just standing there, unmoving, watching her. Why didn't she say something?

The interruption from Santana and Brittany overhead made them both look away, and it was then Quinn realized that neither of them had taken their eyes away from each other till now.

"Britt's gots to go, Q. You need a lift?" Santana asked, casually.

"You can't drive!" Rachel argued.

"'Course I can. I'm am an expert." Even Santana's speech didn't make sense.

Brittany slumped her body onto Santana's and kissed her cheek. "She really is. You have nothing to worry about, R."

"When did we go from giving her a first-name letter nickname?" Santana sneered.

"We call each other by our first letters, and Rachel is our friend so she should have a nickname, too," Brittany said drunkenly.

Santana glanced at Rachel up and down, no doubt insulting her outfit mentally. Then, in one step, Santana wrapped Rachel in her arms. Rachel looked to Quinn for assistance, but Quinn was in a state of shock.

"Yeah, we're all friends! R is pretty cool."

"I'm... cool?" Rachel questioned Santana's sanity. "How much did you have to drink, Santana?"

"Enough to know that I kind of like you when I'm drunk."

"Santana likes everyone when she's drunk," Brittany said and wrapped Rachel in a hug of her own. "I have to go home, San. Lord Tubbington is going to the vet tomorrow. You're welcomed to join us if you want, R."

"No... thanks." Rachel was still confused at the recent exchange.

"Okay. I'll send Lord Tubbington some love from you. He really likes it when people send him love,"

Rachel cleared her throat and stared at Brittany for a few seconds before speaking. "Sure."

"Let's go, Quinn. I'll drop you home."

Rachel was gazing at her, too, as if hypnotized, and she was gazing back, while energy shimmered between them like heat lightning. She saw those brown eyes go darker, and felt the wild leap of her own heart.

Quinn gave Rachel a small smile and forced her feet to follow Santana and Brittany out to the car. She did want to think about what had just happened, but now that she was trying to, her thoughts eluded her like ice running from a white owl. Her palms had been wet, and there hadn't been butterflies in her stomach—there had been bats.

A new message in her phone bought her back to reality. I hope that's not your way of proposing because I think you need to work on it haha. Be careful when you go home! I wouldn't be very happy if anything happened to you.

Don't worry, rach, nothing will happen to me. We only just found each other, the universe wouldn't be that cruel to heep us apart

She sent the message before she could proof-read it for drunken mistakes. She figured Rachel would like that. And a certain shorter, cuter, brunette appeared in her mind. Before she drifted off to sleep to the sound of Santana and Brittany's voices, she asked herself: Which Rachel was she really falling for?

•••

January 9th, 2016

Sometimes in the silence of the night, in the deep heart of the dark, Quinn could hear the distant trickling of her blood in her veins, pounding through her body. A weary world of rivers, hauling their pain through the dark heat. She'd lie there strangely alert, and feel the inside of her body, as a great sadness engulfed her. From the sadness, betrayal began to run through those veins, outrage, a desperate need to fix everything.

That night she dreamt of Rachel; her wife Rachel. She returned to Quinn so clearly in the dream that she could bring Rachel's features to sharp relief in her mind. The firm grip of her soft, warm hands, the wariness and occasional reproach in her dark brown eyes, the cool smooth texture of her skin. The dream narrative was less solid, it had almost completely evaporated on awakening in the morning—just fragments remained.

In the morning, Quinn made her way to the restaurant across the street from the hospital to meet with Rachel's fathers. It had taken her two days to get the courage to go through with what she had planned. As she sat down she glanced quickly at her reflection and willed her hands to stop shaking. She had to do this, it might be the only way to get Rachel back. Dear God, she prayed silently, please let this work. Please grant me victory.

Everything she was doing was wrong, Rachel had made her decision, after all.

Hiram and Leroy arrived a few minutes later, dressed in suits. They both looked tired with bags under their eyes. Neither Hiram nor Leroy's hair had been combed. They smiled at Quinn and pecked her on the cheek.

"To what do we owe this pleasure, Quinn?" Hiram said.

"Yes, it seems so formal of you to ask us to have breakfast," Leroy finished. "Is something the matter?"

She nodded appreciatively to the young waiter who had placed a bottle of water on their table and was now filling their glasses. "I have something I want to ask you,"

"Rachel's hand in marriage?" Hiram raised his glass. "I'm just joking, Quinn."

Considering the way she had proposed to Rachel, she was frightened for a moment that he wasn't joking. "No," she chuckled. "I will do it differently the next time if I ever have to propose to her again."

Leroy placed his hand on top of hers. "Don't be ridiculous, Quinn. You and Rachel are forever."

She looked down the street to the grey-green water at the fountain, gleaming in the fading morning sunlight. She said nothing to this and was overcome with the sensation that she was dirty; she felt like a layer of grease had magically coated her skin.

"What's wrong, Quinn?" Leroy asked, patting her hand.

"I don't know an easy way to say this, so I'm just going to blurt it out." They watched her intently and her confidence faded. "I want Rachel to stay with me."

The waiter chose that moment to return to their table and take their orders. When he was gone their attention returned to the young woman across the table from them. Quinn was gleeful seeing the understanding in their eyes, she loved knowing that they were looking out for her, that they understood exactly what this meant to her.

Leroy took a deep breath. "Believe me when I say this, Quinn. We have tried to convince Rachel to stay with you. We told her it's the best thing for her memories, and that it's the only way for her to return to her previous life."

"But she refused to listen?" Quinn asked even though she knew the answer.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," Leroy said apologetically. "We've said everything we can think of. And I'm not sure forcing Rachel to live with you is a good idea either. Some time apart may be good for your marriage."

"You can visit us any time," Hiram added. "We've made the guest bedroom for you in case you ever decide to stay longer."

Yes, it was true, a parent's first instinct is to protect their child. But Quinn wanted to stand up and shout, scream it out: Rachel is my wife. She has to live with me. She has a obligated duty to fulfill the vow we made to one another on that joyous occasion.

Afterwards, she realized she never had a chance.