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.

3. Chapter 3

For you, I've waited all these years
For you, I'd wait 'til kingdom come
Until my day, my day is done
And say you'll come, and set me free
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me

—Coldplay: 'Til Kingdom Come

•••

September 6th, 2011

She awoke to a too-bright room, the light hurt; she had to close her eyes and it seemed to take an eternity to open them again. She felt woozy, and dropped her head to the side. It took a few minutes but she gradually broke through the punishing, sluggish after-effects of her hangover. Quinn gratefully slurped at the glass of water on the bedside table, not minding the liquid sliding down her lips and chin. She took in the room again, this time aware of the two people on the bed across from her, under the comforter, making the inappropriate noises.

Once she took in the room more carefully, Quinn forced herself to sit against the headboard.

"Gross." Her mouth was dry, tasting like awful chemicals. "Can you two not do that in here?"

Santana shrieked when Quinn's words reached her ears and she fell off the bed. Quinn had to cover her eyes to shield herself from Santana's naked body.

Brittany, however, was more accommodating to Quinn's sudden wakefulness. "Hi, Quinn! Did you have a good sleep?"

"I thought you guys were dropping me home?" Her voice sounded croaky, almost like it wasn't hers.

"We did, but you fell asleep in the car and you wouldn't wake up and we couldn't find your house keys and we didn't want to wake your mom so we bought you back to my house." Brittany slid across the bed to allow Santana some room.

"You've put on some weight, Tubbers." Santana wailed, trying not to scream at Quinn for interrupting their morning sex session. "What do you eat?"

"Shut up, Santana." Quinn lost her composure and threw a pillow across the room, slightly missing Santana's head.

Brittany gave her girlfriend a hasty peck on the lips and retrieved her clothes. "We have to continue this when Quinn goes home, S," she slid on her underwear and t-shirt and before leaving the room, she said, "Who wants breakfast?"

Quinn heard Santana grunt under her breath before answering, "Yeah," she got up to put on her clothes. "I hate you right now." She said directly in Quinn's direction.

Quinn ignored her and dropped back down on the bed. Her head was throbbing, too painful to care about Santana's feelings. She needed an aspirin, stat! Quinn took deep breaths to pump some air into her lungs hoping it'll cure her hangover, her eyes firmly on the ceiling above. I wonder what Rachel's doing, was all she should think of in the midst of her throbbing headache. She did not look up when she heard footsteps thudding into the room until a hard, metal object was dropped on her head by Santana who was now beside her bed.

"Your phone kept going off. I had to hide it." She left in the same manner she had entered the room—thundering away.

"Why didn't you just put it on silent?" She whispered to herself as she checked her messages. Some were from Sam, another was from her sister and two from her mother. She ignored them and opened the email she received from Rachel.

Hello, I hope that you're awake and not passed out from exhaustion haha. Did you have a good night?

The email was sent at 6:28 a.m. Quinn checked the time and it was now 8:21 a.m. Rachel sure did wake up early.

I feel dead! Haha. I had a good night because I was talking to you :-) what are you doing now?

She lay back on her pillow and allowed the sounds that echoed gently through the house to bring her to complete wakefulness. Santana and Brittany's voices were just audible from the kitchen. Last summer when she was at Brittany's house, the three of them stripped the room bare of her posters, all images of movie stars, celebrities and pop stars; the only poster Brittany couldn't bring herself to part with was a black and white poster of Justin Beiber holding a cat—which hadn't amused Santana. Across from the single bed Quinn lay on—Brittany's queen bed—are photos of real people; people they knew. Cheerios, the glee kids, high school, even one of Mr. Shue.

Her phone vibrated and she tore her eyes away from a photo of Rachel Berry in a blue raincoat holding an over-sized black umbrella.

I don't have any plans as yet. I'm possibly just going to stay home and get ready for a wonderful semester of the new school year :-) What about you, Quinn? Any plans today?

Quinn's mood lifted immediately, but not for the right reasons. She tried to think of the new semester ahead, of glee, she tried to think of the movie she had seen last week, she even tried thinking of college—but she couldn't stop thinking of Rachel Berry, worse, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the photo of Rachel in the blue raincoat stuck on Brittany's wall. Memories from Puck's party came rushing back into her mind, the way Rachel kept staring at her with wide, shining eyes. Rachel's cheeky smile every time Quinn looked her way, as if she knew something Quinn didn't.

I'm at my friend's house so after breakfast I'll most likely go home, take a nice shower and sleep for the rest of the day to get rid of this hangover! :-( you need to come and take care of me.

Without waiting for a reply, she went to wash up in the bathroom and then downstairs to join her friends in the clothes she had worn the previous day. Brittany was breaking eggs over the frying pan, while Santana sat on the stool not bothering to peer up from her newspaper—she was most likely only pretending to read—when Quinn got herself a cup of coffee and pulled out a stool beside her. Quinn concluded that Santana was bitter with her for interrupting their sexy times.

"So, you're not going to talk to me at all?"

Santana licked her finger and flipped over a page from the newspaper, took a sip of her coffee—a loud slurp—and resumed reading. "We should get going if you want to buy your rabbit, B."

Brittany gave Quinn a surprised long, hard hug. That didn't earn her any brownie points with Santana because she grunted loudly. "Don't be like that, San! We have heaps of time, anyway. Right now we're having breakfast with Quinn and then we'll take her home."

"I ain't driving her home," Santana said defensively. "She lives like five blocks away."

"Five blocks is a long way," said Brittany. "We can't let Quinn walk home while she has a hangover,"

Santana snorted, almost choking on her coffee. "I doubt she'll care. Berry's house is on the way."

Quinn stiffened. As she looked at Santana she felt her stomach clench in fear and her hands grow cold. Santana returned her gaze, staring at Quinn with her bright, brown eyes, an almost inhumane stare. Suddenly, her mind was clear. She had to figure out a way to get out of this situation, now. Then Santana shifted her eyes to look at Brittany, and the tension shattered into nervous laughter.

Quinn didn't hear any kindness in Santana's voice when she spoke. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"San, don't..." Brittany said pleasantly.

"What?" Her voice was soft, but Quinn could still hear the amusement and she found it disconcerting. "I'm just supposed to ignore the fact that you two were basically eye-sexing each other all night? I might have had plenty of shots, Q, but I have an eye like an eagle and a hearing like the wolf. I see and hear everything under any circumstances."

"If you're going to compare your—lack thereof—vision and hearing to any animal, I suggest the hawk and bat—"

"Geez, you're even starting to sound like, Berry. All that eye-sexing must have been contagious."

"Nothing is going on." Quinn said flatly, cutting a piece of bacon and bringing it to her mouth.

Santana raised her eyebrow and smiled. "Oh, really? What was all that—" she spoke in a squeakier, lighter tone, mimicking Quinn's. "Oh, Rachel, are you having a good time? You look bored roaming around and doing nothing. Do you want to go to the bathroom and make out with me?"

Quinn felt another quiver of fear, hairs lifting on the back of her neck. "You're an asshole. Is your life not dramatic enough that you want to make up shit about my life?" She said in the coldest voice she could manage.

"You're angry. Which just proves something is going on," Santana said gravely. "You never get defensive unless it's serious."

"There's nothing going on!" She snapped. She felt foolish in front of Santana, like a child being humored by someone much older and more knowledgeable. It made her even angrier. "I was being nice. Is that not allowed? Besides, I had a few too many drinks thanks my stupid, alcoholic friend."

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it," Santana was still laughing at her; Quinn could tell by her eyes. "The drinks, by the way. Not the staring at Rachel Berry's boobies—if you were a little confused at what I meant."

She swallowed, her nostrils flared as she breathed hard. She tried to keep her voice steady and dignified. "I'm going to leave now," she said. "Thanks for breakfast, B."

"But you hardly ate anything." Brittany pleaded.

"Let the unpressed lemon go, B. She obviously wants to get out of here as soon as possible to get naked with Rachel Berry." Santana shrugged mockingly and resumed reading her newspaper.

Santana's words had indeed found their target. Quinn was looking at her like she wanted to explode. There was a split second of silence, and then a scream as Quinn pushed Santana of off her stool and fell to the ground with a loud crash. Santana's words were jumbled together with curses, while Quinn was backed against the wall and appeared to be in shock herself. Before neither girls could grab one another, Brittany ran in-between her two enraged friends.

"Stop it you two! We're friends."

Santana turned to Brittany now. Her face was contorted. "No, we're fucking not!"

Brittany touched Santana's shoulder to calm her. "S, you started it,"

"The bitch didn't have to push me." She hissed.

Quinn's shock turned to outrage. "That's what you get for being a bitch yourself."

"Walk home, bitch."

"Quinn, please stay. We'll sort this out." Brittany's voice was shaking.

Brittany's quiet words calmed her. "No, I'm gonna go. Thanks for breakfast again. I'll see you at school."

A humid wind whipped her hair back and stung her face when she stepped outside. Oak leaves were flying around her, swirling in the air. She knew now what a towering rage meant; she didn't know what had made her push Santana off her seat. When she was with Santana a sort of instinct took over her. And at that moment, Quinn did feel that she'd rather risk anything than let Santana win this time. She had noticed, with half her mind, that Santana had been sitting back and feeling relaxed, enjoying the turn her game was taking. The other half of Quinn's mind was calculating how far Santana would continue to play the game.

Quinn strode past the purple beeches, the weeping willows and then the graveyard. Above, the clouds were flowing along like a lead-grey river. The limbs of the oaks and beeches lashed together wildly. A gust threw handfuls of leaves into her face.

Thoughts of her Rachel filled her mind, they were delightful and satisfying. Quinn smiled, letting her mind wander. The transition into dreaming was so smooth and gradual that she scarcely noticed it. But she knew, somehow, that she was dreaming. It was as if a little part of her was standing aside and watching the dream like a play.

Then she saw a flicker of movement and Rachel Berry appeared as she turned a corner onto the street—almost as if on cue. Her hair fell in tendrils around her face, her t-shirt was cut low and her shorts were tight, revealing far too much of her legs than was strictly decorous. If looked at quickly, she could be mistaken for a child. It was then Quinn noticed the light freckles on her clavicle and the fullness of her lips.

"Good morning, Quinn," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. She was clutching her iPod between her fingers. "Lovely day."

Quinn nodded. Until she had stepped out into the sunlight, she hadn't realized it was a lush summer morning, even though the skies weren't a clear blue. The last weeks of summer were beginning to dawn on her. During her short walk she was unable to escape Santana's wicked words, and was very, very aware of the thrumming of angry blood coursing through her veins.

"Did you have a nice time last night? Noah was being overly douchey once Brittany, Santana and yourself left. He slipped on some water and fell into a puddle of mud in his alcohol-induced state." Rachel gave a rich laugh, her head tilting back into the sky.

The laughter sang through Quinn but as soon as those chocolate eyes locked onto her hazel ones, her anger was replaced by a happiness so great that she thought it would shatter her.

"Are you feeling alright, Quinn?"

Quinn composed and cleared her throat, feeling irritated with herself. "Yeah, fine. Just, slightly hungover."

"Oh, I suggest that's normal considering you drank quite a fair amount last night."

She shrugged and waited a few seconds before speaking. "I wasn't that drunk. I still knew what I was doing."

"I'm glad you got home safe."

They stared awkwardly at one another—well, Quinn felt awkward anyway. The same force that was terrifying her was holding her there. This was out of control, she thought suddenly. Whatever was happening here was beyond her understanding, was nothing normal or sane. Quinn shook her head in bewilderment. None of it made sense, the way they were acting towards one another, the way Rachel would stare at her, the eerie politeness that was hanging in the air. It was only a few weeks ago when there used to be a fury, a sort of violence whenever she was breathing the same air as Rachel. Now, nothing made sense. Desperately, she searched her mind for something that would offset the experience and would allow her to find peace and hold onto her calmness.

"This is weird." She said.

"What is?" Rachel feigned nonchalance.

"This," Quinn gestured her hand back and forth between herself and Rachel. "Is weird."

"We're exchanging pleasantries. What's so weird about that?" Rachel was looking at her oddly, with an expression she couldn't understand. It was a mixture of annoyance, and grudging respect—and something else.

Quinn sniggered. "That's what's weird. We're exchanging pleasantries. Pleasantries. Do you not understand anything, Berry?"

"I am utterly confused at this moment. Are you still drunk, Quinn?"

Frustrated with Rachel, she grunted loudly. "No, I'm not drunk!"

"No need to yell. I have perfect hearing."

"You're insane."

Rachel shifted from foot to foot, unable to comprehend Quinn's interrogations. "I have heard that once or twice before, therefore I suggest you attempt a bit more effort into offending me."

"I wasn't trying to offend you. I was simply pointing out that you're insane."

"Oh. May I ask why?"

"Because you keep staring at me like that!" From the smirk on Rachel's face, Quinn knew that she hasn't been imagining it, that those stares meant something and she demanded to know what. "Alright, spill it, Berry! What is it? Do I have something on my face? Did Santana tell you some lie about me? What is it?"

Rachel turned her head towards her house and didn't look at Quinn when she replied, "I assure you that none of your suggestions are true. In fact, I have absolutely no idea what you're—"

"Bull. Shit,"

"—talking about. If you wish, I may look elsewhere when engaging in conversations with you." She continued.

Quinn's mouth went dry. If there had been any color left in her face, it would have faded from view that instant. "Are you seriously going to take that route?"

"What would you suggest then, Quinn?" Rachel glanced quickly at her, and then back to the house. "You said I keep staring at you but you don't classify how I stare at you, as a result I've come to the conclusion that I shouldn't stare at you at all."

Quinn's mouth hung agape and her breath caught in her throat.

"Why do you look so shocked?" Rachel's eyes did another quick glance.

"I finally know how insane you are." Quinn said tersely. "Will you just tell me what I did for you to keep staring at me like that?"

"Like what?" Rachel shouted, a hint of humor in her voice.

"Like you know something I don't! Like I did something to you. What did I do? Did I hurt you at Puck's party when I was drunk?" Quinn snapped back, gritting her teeth.

"If I may correct you, this all started before you got drunk at Noah's party." She replied just as quickly as Quinn had snapped, and as soon as she realized what she had said, Rachel gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth.

"A-ha!" Quinn pointed at her accusingly. "So it does mean something!"

Rachel shook her head vigorously, hand still clasped around her mouth. Her eyes guiltily looking away from Quinn's frustrated and angry ones.

"Berry. Look. At. Me," she said coldly. "Tell me, now."

Rachel refused to meet her eyes.

"You look guilty." She studied Rachel's trembling hands and her voice softened. "Why are you trembling? I couldn't have done anything that bad to you... could I?" She breathed in deeply, trying to swallow the huge lump in her throat. "Did I accidentally hit you in my sleep? Drunk texted you? Drunk email? Did I forget to reply to a text you sent me? Oh, did I not follow you on tumblr?"

Rachel dropped her hand at the mention of tumblr and Quinn racked her brain for a coherent thought to stop her from spiraling out of control. "It has something to do with tumblr, doesn't it?"

Rachel's eyes flickered with recognition and Quinn felt a faint spell coming over her, but fortunately, she was able to resist. The thought of tumblr made her feel guilty because she hasn't yet replied to her Rachel's messages, and nauseated at the thought that Rachel Berry was her mysterious internet—girlfriend(?). A sharp twinge hit the pit of her gut, and another bone-chilling gust whipped through the walls of her heart.

"Rach..." The name tumbling out. She'd be lying if she said she didn't like the way it sounded. "You're not... I mean, you can't be—"

Rachel took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I don't have a tumblr, Quinn."

Quinn missed the fact that Rachel answered without knowing the question.

Quinn ran a hand through her hair, forcing her fear to dissipate at hearing those words. Somehow, she didn't entirely believe the girl in front of her. "Don't lie, Rach," she whispered. "Please."

Suddenly, Quinn couldn't breathe. Rachel was standing so close. Close enough to touch. She could smell the faint hint of daisies. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rachel's hand lift, and for a second her heart was beating faster than ever at the thought that Rachel was about to touch her. But the beats subsided when instead, Rachel's hand tugged at the sleeve of her jacket.

"There was a bug on your jacket," she smiled. "I should really go inside and shower. My morning run has left me with a bad stench."

Quinn reached out to grab onto Rachel's wrist as she was about to turn and leave, her skin ravaged by chills. She ignored them as best she could. "You didn't answer my question."

"Rachel!" A booming voice echoed from within the house and a moment later, a tall African-American man opened the front door, peering down at the two girls. "Your breakfast is getting cold."

Quinn stumbled back a bit, completely stunned by the abrupt interruption.

"Coming, daddy," Rachel slumped her shoulders in what seemed like relief. "I'll see you at school, Quinn." She beamed brightly.

"Aren't you going to invite your friend in for breakfast, Rachel?" He took the few steps down towards the girls and extended his hand out to Quinn. "Leroy Berry. Nice to meet you, Quinn."

Quinn returned his gesture, smiling politely. What she wouldn't give to fall into a hole at this moment. "Nice to meet you, sir,"

"Sir? No one's called me that in years. I like this one." He winked at Rachel and the same uneasy feeling she had been feeling for what seemed like forever, returned. "Would you like to have breakfast with us?"

"Daddy," Rachel said. "Quinn has to go home and shower and rest and prepare for school,"

Quinn nodded without voicing her agreement while Leroy spoke, "She can shower and rest after breakfast,"

"She's got a terrible hangover," Rachel said.

"All the more reason to have breakfast,"

"And she smells." Rachel stated matter-of-factly.

"Hey!" That certainly got Quinn to speak. "I do not!"

"You do, Quinn." Rachel protested. "Please," she said with both her eyes and mouth. The brown glow of her dark eyes were dimmer. "Go home and shower appropriately. I wish to see you hygienically flawless at school."

Quinn raised an eyebrow and couldn't help the snigger that escaped her lips.

"She's such a charmer, isn't she?" Leroy pulled Rachel into a light hug, giving Quinn a sheepish smile. "Very well, we'll have you over next time. When you smell appropriate enough for Rachel's standards." He kissed a stunned Quinn on the cheek and went back into the house leaving the girls alone once again.

"Do you talk about me?" Quinn asked.

"No," she replied instantly. "Why would I?"

"It seems like you do, Berry."

Rachel straightened herself, wiping a few strands of hairs away from her face. Her eyes twinkling with optimism. "I'm going to go inside now. See you at school, Quinn."

"Yeah..."

Quinn watched Rachel enter her house, and she stood composing herself for a few minutes, trying to clear her mind of the exchange between them. She didn't receive a proper answer to anything and it left her at an even more confused state. She ran passed the traffic lights at the end of the street, she turned the corner pass the children's playground, passed the local library and a few steps later when she was in the comfort of her own home, she read the emails she received from Rachel.

The first email was sent at 9:01 a.m. I want more than anything to take care of you :-( Sadly, the universe doesn't like us very much and has decided to keep us apart!

The second was only a few minutes ago. I hope you have a good sleep once you're at home. I have experienced a hangover once myself and it is not pleasant! Get plenty of rest and drink lots of water! Let me know when you wake up and maybe we can chat? xo

Quinn walked around in circles in the confines of her bedroom, her hands were sweaty and her stomach was full of an unsettling feeling she couldn't place. Her pulse was racing even faster than when she had done laps during Cheerios practice. She tried to release the tension in her neck by tilting her head to the right and left, but it didn't work. She attempted to console herself with the thought that she had finally found someone who was a challenge—and that made Rachel different, she was interesting and exotic and exciting—but that bought her no comfort either. There was something eerily familiar with her Rachel and Rachel Berry—it was slowly torturing her trying to figure it out.

Sorry for the extremely late reply, I've had a crazy morning. Are you free in about half an hour? Can we chat?

She took off her clothes and slumped deliriously beneath the spray of water in her shower. She slowly allowed her body to slacken in the enveloping heat, sighing deeply and closing her eyes to the world. As the water released its delicious heat, Quinn allowed herself a small smile remembering what Rachel had said to her in the emails. A flood of emotions briefly resurfaced—emotions she knew she had towards her Rachel; the excitement of that first message Rachel had sent her on tumblr, the eagerness she felt every time she saw a 1 New Message notification, the fondness of the way they flirted with each other in the early stages, and the indescribable titillation of her heart when they spoke about their feelings for one another.

The realization that she was falling in love was slowly and deeply sinking in.

Her internet girlfriend (yes, girlfriend) could not be Rachel Berry. So, the way her Rachel typed was similar to the way Rachel Berry talked, so what? It proves that her Rachel is extremely verbose and brilliant. It was much better than dating someone like, Finn Hudson—who was completely dull and tedious. Or Sam, who bore her with his dorkiness. And Puck was, well, Puck. He couldn't compare to Rachel. No one could. She needed clarification, like a picture, or to hear Rachel's voice. It had been almost a month since they've been talking, Quinn knew they were ready to discuss this relationship. Where it would lead to, what the future held, how serious they were about one another.

She let the water wash off the shampoo and soap on her body, then she flattened her damp hair against her scalp, wrapped a towel around her torso, another around her hair and stepped out onto the bath mat. She examined herself in the mirror. It was funny how she heard from guys how nervous they felt before going out on a date with her, how their palms got sweaty and their stomach were full of butterflies. Quinn had always found such stories amusing. Until, of course, it happens to her. Yet, Quinn hadn't even met Rachel and the thought of seeing her, touching her, speaking to her, filled her stomach with butterflies, and it wasn't her hands that were sweaty, it was her whole body.

The early onset of sweat began to happen when Quinn logged onto her account and everlyluminiscent was online. If the sweating continued on a regular basis, she may die from dehydration before she got the chance to meet this mysterious girl.

hey!

Hello, Quinn :-)

did you wait long?

Not overly long. But decently long enough.

what does that even mean? haha. you're so cute!

It means that you said half an hour. It has now been approximately fifty minutes! I'm mad at you!

Aww Rach, don't be mad! How about for the rest of the day I use correct grammar? Would that make you happy? :-)

The rest of the week!

Quinn pondered this, fascinated by this view of Rachel. The other girl was extremely passionate about correct grammar and spelling.

Alright, just for you! the rest of the week.

*The, Quinn. A capital after the exclamation mark! Your first mistake, I'm very disappointed in you.

Will today's conversation only consist of you correcting my grammatical errors? Where is the: "how have you been, Quinn?" or "I've missed you heaps and heaps?" :-(

I was going to say I missed you, but I've been waiting for so long I kinda don't anymore...

Lies! I'm very missable! Besides, you only waited an extra 20 minutes. At least ask me how I've been

Is something the matter? You did say in your email you've had a crazy morning.

She wanted to demand that Rachel send proof that she wasn't Rachel Berry, she wanted to do a skype session right away, a phone call, anything, just to ease the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. But just as quickly, she wanted to say sorry for even doubting that Rachel would lie to her and she felt terrible now that these thoughts crossed her mind. But she didn't know how to begin. Finally, she settled on,

Santana was being annoying

You best friend, Santana?

not exactly my best friend

What happened?

What I'm about to tell you please don't be mad at me after you've read it

O... kay?

Quinn mustered all her energy to begin typing. Rachel deserved the truth.

It's just that... there's this girl, Rachel Berry. I've told you about her. Yesterday at Puck's party I had a few drinks and in my intoxicated state I might have been staring at her for longer than I should. And Santana noticed and she used that against me this morning. But nothing's going on, I swear! Santana just wouldn't let it go

And with baited breath she waited a whole of five minutes for a reply. When she got none, she typed,

Rach? Are you still there?

Another five minutes passed and still no response. Her heart was beating so fast she knew it couldn't be good for her health.

You're mad, I understand. But please say something. I wanted to tell you because we're so far apart and you're not here to know what I'm doing and I want to let you know that I'm devoted to you 100% and I felt so bad when Santana pointed it out this morning

Finally, a message popped up,

Do you like her?

No! of course not. No way!

Quinn's fingers hoovered over eight certain letters, a should I, should I not, battle happening in her head. The, screw it I can't deny this anymore won in the end.

I love you

If she listened close enough, she could probably hear a pin drop somewhere in her house, or even in her neighborhood. Quinn even thought her heart had stopped beating.

We've never said that to each other before.

I mean it

I've been kind of curious. How drunk were you last night?

Quinn wasn't in any state to ask where this change in topic was going. At the same time, she hadn't expected a rejection after she said I love you to someone she hadn't met and had known for just under a month.

I guess, a lot? But I still knew what I was doing

I wasn't sure when you told me you've decided you were going to marry me whether it was serious or not.

I didn't say it because I was drunk

That didn't sound right, so she rephrased it,

What I'm trying to say is, I was drunk which was why I said it. But if you think I regret saying it, then I don't

I was scared when I started to get feelings for you. We've never met and I didn't know where this would lead to, but curiosity took the better of me and the more we talked the more I fell for you and although we don't know a lot about each other, I can honestly say that I love you too.

Quinn heard fireworks, a cheer erupt, an orchestra playing the most cheesy love song possible. She did a little dance. Her cheeks hurt from the wide smile on her face. She was shaking. She knew that she had died and went to heaven because she had never been this happy on Earth.

Thank you for telling me about you and Rachel Berry.

I don't want to hide anything from you. I feel like I can finally be myself and it's such a relief, like a weight has been lifted. It's all because of you
I feel like I've been talking to you forever, but then I think that doesn't make sense cause then it'll seem like I've been waiting for you forever.

Quinn Fabray, I didn't know you could be such a romantic.

Quinn read the sentence again. Her mind refused to make sense of what her eyes were seeing. No, she hadn't told Rachel her last name. The name on her email account only read 'Quinn F'. She didn't even know Rachel's last name. She couldn't look away from the sentence, even if she could have shut her eyes, every detail was etched upon her memory.

Her small bedroom filled with chaos. Some great wind had torn through, leaving destruction in its path. The seat she was sitting on shook violently, the contents of her chair strewn about the floor. One window was shattering. All of her possessions, all the things she had kept so carefully and prized, were scattered like rubbish.

Rach, how did you know my last name?

With a quick swivel around her chair, she saw the remnants of her room were neatly intact, she was still sitting in the chair, her things and prized possessions remained as they were. The shattering chaos that occurred in her mind had felt so real.

I found you on Facebook.

Quinn typed slowly, dazedly,

How did you know it was me? We've never seen each other, and my profile's on provate
*priovite
Dammit! PRIVATE

Quinn imagined Rachel giggling at her mistakes.

Yes, that is true. But you listed William McKinley High as the school you're attending and that wasn't private. It's rather a funny story. I only typed in your name on the search bar and your one was the first on the list. I thought this Quinn Fabray is extremely pretty, she must be Quinn because your email says Quinn F. So I clicked on it and I knew right away. Quinn is such a unique name, how many could there really be who reside in Ohio and is studying at McKinley?

Quickly, she opened her Facebook page, clicked into edit my profile, then she clicked into education and work on the tab located on the left, and to the right of where she had listed William McKinley High as the school she's attending was a little privacy symbol. She hoovered her mouse over it and the setting was set to public.

She felt a rush of shame and laughed humorlessly at her stupidity. She really needed to stop doubting Rachel, she needed to let go of this fear that this girl was Rachel Berry.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so accusing

I understand.

No, I shouldn't doubt you

You have insecurities, it's understandable. Everyone does.

Do you?

Of course I do.

About what?

That you won't like me once you find out who I am.

Without a thought, Quinn typed quickly, feeling passionate intensity rise within her.

You're being ridiculous. Why wouldn't I like you? nothing could make me not like you. do you think I said "I love you" and told you that cheesy speech just so I could make you insecure about my feelings towards you? I've never cared about anything until I met you

It's hard to explain. I just hope you'll understand once we meet.

You're scaring me a little, rach

I don't mean to. I never meant any of this to happen.

Are you regretting it now?

Quinn hoped Rachel could sense the anger she felt in that one sentence.

I regret the way I've handled this.

What are you talking about?

While waiting for the other girl to finish typing, she got up to put on new and comfortable clothes and removed the towel that was wrapped around her hair. She finished just as a new message popped up.

This whole time we've been talking and I've realized how amazing you are, Quinn. From the very first moment I've been intrigued. You let people see a side of you that isn't really you, but with me – right now – you're different and I couldn't help being pulled in. I thought that overtime maybe these feelings would pass or I had mistaken them for something else, but it's been building and building everyday to the point I can't deny the way I feel about you anymore. I wished more than anything I had the courage to tell you from the beginning but I've been so scared of how you'd react that I just – for lack of a better word – fluked it. And now I'm so worried you won't understand why I did what I did.

Quinn was too stunned to move, let alone process her thoughts. She had melted at Rachel's every word, but there was something wounded within her. Was it pride? Anger? Regret? Hurt? It was probably all of the above.

What did you have to do, Rach?

I think we should meet. I'm going to be in Lima the week coming. We should meet somewhere.

But don't you have school?

Well, I meant on the weekend.

What will you be doing here?

Meeting you, I hope :-)

Id dyou just decide to come up here out of the blue? Who will you be staying with? What are you plans for the weekend?
*did you
*your

This was happening faster than she had expected.

I've thought about it for a while. Unless you don't want to meet me?

Of course I do, I didn't think it'll happen this way, is all. One miunute you were talking about being sorry about something and now you want us to meet. It's all very confusing
*minute

You're making a lot of mistakes lol.

I'm literally shaking!

I'm sorry if I surprised you. What I want to tell you I want to do it in person, and since I'll be in town I just figured you'd want to see me too.

I don't even know how you look like yet, rach. I don't even have your number, we've never spoken on the phone. After you say something like that how am I supposed to let it go?

Would you like my phone number? We could start talking on the phone for the next few days to get better acquainted.

Quinn continued to stare at the screen, her eyes burned like the ice at the bottom of a glacier. She kept staring in hopes that she could see right through her laptop and see Rachel sitting on her end, typing away, giggling.

I would like that, yes.
But you could also send me a photo of you. it seems unfair that you know what I look like and I have no clue what you look like

It's a surprise, Quinn ;-)

:-( you're not playing fair

Well, if you be good I'll send you a picture.

I've been extremely good!

You've made heaps of grammatical errors. That's not being good haha

:-P you're lucky that I find your obsessive-compulsiveness adorable. If it were anyone else I'll tell them to shove it!
Will you at least tell me your last name? I'll find you on Facebook lol

Rachel Heroy.

•••

January, 11th, 2016

Lima Daily News, November 25th, 2015
BROADWAY SENSATION INVOLVED IN HIGHWAY ACCIDENT

Broadway sensation Rachel Barbra Berry was involved in a car accident last night at approximately 11:30 p.m. east of the Massachusetts state line, when her car and a truck collided. East bound traffic was delayed for more than two hours. Miss Berry, 22, and her wife of six months, Miss Quinn Fabray, 23, were heading home to Lima, Ohio for Thanksgiving. Both are currently fighting for their lives in Massachusetts hospital where it is believed that Miss Berry has suffered severe brain damage and several major bruises.

Police have interviewed a 45-year old truck driver from Alabama who was transporting goods from a manufacturing plant to a distribution center in Brewster, Massachusetts. Police have examined the scene. The driver had driven under the speed limit but due to the ice and snow on the roads, he was unable to brake accurately, however, it's been reported that the truck driver was a victim of negligent driving, having failed to stop at a give-way sign before his truck hit into Miss Berry's. A police spokesperson said that Miss Fabray has declined to lay any charges against the driver.

For a long time Quinn carried this clipping in her purse, as if it were the thing that made their relationship immortal. When she realized the folly of such a bearing while she read it for the umpteenth time, she crumpled it and threw it away. It was a decisive moment in establishing a forward momentum. There were brief moments in the past two months when she felt that there might come a time when everything will fit into place and she will accept the accident as part of her life. That Rachel's memory loss was part of her life, for some bizarre reason ordained by the greater forces. Imperceptibly, more time passes when she's not remembering their past moments together, not recreating their every conversation, re-imagining the smiles and laughter and banter. Her consciousness of these moments of relief from the thought of her wife Rachel—as opposed to the Rachel who had awoken from a coma—usually comes to her as a shock. She will think, with some delight, she just spent four minutes enjoying herself. How did that happen?

The emotional roller-coaster was constant. One day she'd be riding on a high because Rachel simply smiled at her with a little bit of twinkle in her eyes. The next day she would drop down to the depths of despair because Rachel had lashed out at her again for something she wasn't sure she had done or because one more potential memory jogger—a picture, a name, a letter, a memento—had failed to bring back any resemblance of their life together.

When Rachel was released from the hospital many things had changed; indeed, most days Quinn felt nothing but the future, a violent wind slamming into her face. The past was beginning to seem like a town across a river whose bridge had been destroyed, but there was a dreadful sense of anticlimax and a painful choking of emotions at Rachel's return.

Hiram swung the car into a small street and Quinn was suddenly reminded of her childhood. Her father had once taken her for a walk down these streets. The neighborhood had been bare of trees back then, the sun had scorched the asphalt streets and Quinn remembered being mesmerized by the shimmering heat that seemed to rise in opaque waves from the concrete. Quinn glanced at Rachel who was looking out of the window to a newly renovated red-brick house sitting desolately between two small weatherboard houses.

Kurt and Mercedes immediately ran from the garage. Tina, Mike, Artie and Sam emerging triumphantly behind them. Santana, Brittany and Puck came out into the veranda and watched their six friends hug Rachel, holding her in a firm grip, grinning widely. A flush of pure pleasure ran through Quinn. She wanted to shout and sing and grab everyone—including the whole house—and hold onto this moment forever.

Her friends whipped around realizing for the first time she was there. She wanted to laugh; their shining faces, their bright expectant eyes.

"Hello to you, too." Quinn was overjoyed.

"You look great, Rach," Kurt said. "A bit thin and pale, but nothing makeup and a new outfit can't fix."

Rachel pouted, examining herself. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

"Besides the fact that you're back to wearing an animal sweater, Mary Janes with white stockings? Nothing much," he said sarcastically. "I mean, I've spent the last two years taking you shopping and re-arranging your wardrobe and for what, so you can go back to wearing animal sweaters? No, thanks. You're twenty-one and you look like a twelve year old."

Mercedes linked her arm with Rachel's. "Ignore him, Rach. Mr. Hot Shot Fashionista here wants to brag about how he got an internship with Louis Vuitton but didn't want to rain on your home-coming parade."

Rachel jumped towards Kurt, almost knocking him to the ground and kissing his cheeks several times. "That's amazing, Kurt! Wow, I have missed out on so much."

"Well, actually, the internship only happened yesterday when no other than Mr. Louis Vuitton rang me himself and said he loved the fashion project I did for my final—"

From the veranda, Santana could be heard shouting. "Alright, alright people! I'm starving! Can we take the parade inside?"

Quinn stifled an urge to laugh. She looked across to where the others were, all keenly awaiting Rachel's return.

"Coming Santana," Mercedes shouted. "Not all of us are self-centered like you."

While the rest of her friends walked inside the house with Rachel, Quinn helped Hiram unpack the groceries. Leroy had laid out a feast on the kitchen table: a lentil dahl, samosas and eggplant, a potato salad and a salad of dill and black beans. Judy was standing in front of the stove waiting to throw calamari into the sizzling pan. Quinn put the groceries onto the kitchen bench and gave her mother a small peck on the cheek.

"How are you holding up, Quinn?" She asked softly.

"Okay, mom. I'm just glad she's home."

The laughter from the living room slowly enticed her away from the woman in the kitchen and she eventually, quietly, went to sit next to Santana. Leroy placed a tray of vegetable pies on the table and everyone instantaneously swooped in. Puck appeared a few seconds later holding a bottle of beer.

"Where did you get that, Noah?" Leroy asked incredulously.

He immediately froze and hid the bottle behind his back as if hoping it would magically disappear. "Uh... I—"

"I thought I hid those," Leroy interrupted.

"You did, Mr. B," Puck answered. "Just not good enough."

"I need to find a new hiding place. Somehow you always get your hands on my liquor when you come over here." He sighed heavily and Puck grinned with pride.

"There is so much food, Mr. B, we are never going to finish all this." Artie said triumphantly.

Leroy opened his mouth to respond but Rachel broke him off. "Wait, since when you do guys call my daddy, Mr. B?"

Brittany placed an arm around her and squeezed her hand. "Since a long time, Rachel. Mr. B always invites us over for lunch and sometimes dinner."

"Then what do you call my dad?"

"Mr. B-2." Santana laughed and everyone else followed.

"Yes?" Hiram answered at being called. "What are we laughing at?"

"We were just explaining to Rachel that we call you Mr. B-2 and Leroy Mr. B." Tina explained.

"Oh," he nodded in acceptance. "Apparently, Mr. Berry is hard to say."

"Not to mention we get confused," Leroy added. "This way it's much easier."

Most of the conversations focused on the re-telling of what Rachel has missed out on in the past five years. Mercedes and Sam are living together in Los Angeles and she's a vocal teacher at a local high school while he is still in college studying Sports Physiotherapy. Artie bought a small recording studio—also in L.A.—and is currently doing some final touches of advertisement. Puck opened his own pool cleaning business in Lima. Business has started to boom and he sings at local clubs on weekends. Tina is teaching English in West Hollywood, Mike is working for a company called Hollywood Dance but is planning on buying his own studio once he has enough money. Tina and Mike are still going strong. Kurt found his passion in fashion, leaving NYADA in his second year to pursue that path. Santana is in her final year of Law School at Boston University while working at a law firm to make ends meet, while Brittany is now a member of a touring dance crew with multiple famous artists. This requires her to be on the road for several long periods, but she and Santana commute back and forth between Boston and California.

"Santana, Boston... wow," Rachel told her with a bright smile. "If I remember correctly, that's ranked number twenty-second on the best Law Schools in the country."

Santana shrugged. "I'm not just a pretty face you know, Berry. I could've gotten into Harvard, but you know, they didn't accept me because I'm too glorious for them."

"You're all very successful," Rachel gushes. "I'm so proud of all of you."

"Well," Sam said. "I think we have you to thank for that,"

"Me? Why?"

"Because you were our captain in high school. You were so ambitious I think it made all of us ambitious." He adds with a huge smile.

Rachel smiles widely at the compliment. "Co-captain. If you haven't forgotten—I know I haven't—Finn was also captain."

At the mention of his name, Quinn frozed and she almost thought she dreamt Rachel asking, "Where is Finn today? Was he not invited?"

Her friends glanced at each other warily, speaking in silence with their eyes. Rachel's body slumped and Quinn was the one to answer. "No, he wasn't invited."

There were silences during the lunch. The foreboding of things to come. Rachel seemed to have trouble concentrating. Quinn noticed this new habit of staring at salt shakers, glasses, walls. A small furrow, like an arrow pointing downwards to the bridge of her nose would appear every time she concentrated too hard on anything.

"Blaine's working today and sends his apologies that he wasn't able to fly out to see you," Kurt reassured. "He said he'll try and make it this week."

"What does Blaine do?" she asked.

"He's in marketing. A product manager, in fact," Kurt beamed. "A long shot away from his high school years of singing and dancing but you know, he does all the boring stuff like planning, forecasting and marketing products for sale. He likes to boss people around so it suits him." He chuckled lightly.

Judy brought a jug of water from the kitchen and stood behind Rachel, stroking her hair lightly. She wrapped her arms around her neck and leaned in close to squeeze her. "It's so wonderful to have you back." Rachel gave a tense smile but didn't reply to Judy's gesture. Quinn heard Hiram grunt a little when Rachel pulled away.

Between the main course and dessert there was a lull. Mercedes rabbited on about the unseen creatures that have been attacking her garden in the dead of the night and Kurt informed her that she wasn't using the proper insect repellents.

"How would you know, Kurt?" Mike chimed in. "One time you called me over to take care of a snail because you didn't want the acids that were contained in the snail repellent to dry your skin," Mike then sniggered at the memory. "It was so funny when you squealed."

"When was this?" Santana asked.

"Two months ago, I think." He answered.

Santana broke off a piece of bread and threw it at Kurt. "You called me a few weeks back and asked me to do the same thing. You said this was the first time it's happened."

Kurt put his hands up in defeat when Santana continued to throw pieces of bread at him. "Hijo de puta!"

"You don't understand," Kurt defended. "There are acids contained in those repellents that corrode your skin and could possibly thin out your hair."

"What about my hair?" Santana teased. "That day I hadn't been to New York in ages and instead I spend my day at your apartment trying to kill a snail."

When the laughter subsided, Tina asked Rachel, "So what's the last thing you remember?"

"Everything is rather blurred. I remember it being Christmas, and I cheated on Finn with Noah and he still hadn't forgiven me. Oh," she pointed at Brittany and Artie. "You two are still dating and you still believed in Santa Claus."

"Santa is real, Rach. Did you forget that too when you woke up from the accident?" Brittany asked in confusion, examining her closely.

Rachel, not wanting to see any hurt on her face, said, "Umm... Oh yeah, I forgot."

Brittany sighed in relief and hugged her friend. "Thank God you haven't forgotten him. He might not bring you presents next year."

Quinn placed both hands on the table and stumbled to her feet. "I'm gonna get some fresh air,"

Judy poked her head around from the kitchen. "Are you okay, Quinn?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna be outside if anyone needs me."

Outside, she tried to piece together all that she knew about this Rachel. It bought her back to when she was seventeen and Rachel was sixteen. Finn had been in their lives then, Finn had been Rachel's world. Every song, every glance, every touch—was all for him. She didn't know much about their relationship. All she knew was once it began, it could continue. She wished she knew what to expect: would it continue on a daily/weekly basis, or would it continue in one deposit?

Quinn's eyes followed Rachel, watched her fill her plate, observed the fine ripples on her throat as she took a sip of water. She ate delicately, slowly, but with obvious relish, enjoying the rich food. She wiped at her mouth, casually, unconcerned.

When Rachel's eyes meet hers they're murky, serious and tired. She waited for the tears to come, ten seconds, thirty seconds, a minute, and suddenly she can no longer cry. She groaned a few times through the slits that are her eyes. She stared at her shoes, at the grey swirls of the concrete floor and she realized it's kind of a horror—that things might end.

"Quinn?" Judy stepped out onto the veranda and Quinn looked back out into the distance. "Rachel will come around,"

"Everyone keeps telling me that. But I don't feel it,"

Judy's expression was unamused. "Listen here, young lady. I watched how hard the both of you struggled to keep this relationship together when you were in high school," she put one hand on her hip and the other was pointing a finger at Quinn. "I watched how hard you both made it work during college. I don't want to hear any of this nonsense about losing faith or thinking Rachel doesn't love you anymore."

"She doesn't, mom,"

"How is she supposed to love you when all you've done is force her into remembering the past, or seeing you mope around the hospital with eyes that look like you're angry at the world?" Quinn did not blink and let her mother continue talking. "She doesn't know you, Quinn. She knows the high school, Quinn. That's not you. She needs to fall in love with you."

Quinn, who believed the world was spiraling out of control, that it had dislodged from its axis, that the ether could not expand fast enough to contain the implosion—was certain of two things in her life. One, that her mother was the best mother on the planet. And two, regardless of how her wife felt about her, she still loved Rachel unconditionally. Everything else did not matter.

"Thanks, mom." Her voice was full of admiration.

Judy wrapped her daughter around her arms. She gripped hold of her so tightly, with such desperate force, that Quinn thought she might squeeze the very life out of her. "You have to have faith. Isn't that what Rachel used to say to you?"

"Yeah," Quinn mumbled, her voice a little shaky. "I should probably go and apologize to her."

Quinn found Rachel in her room, crouched in front of the bookcase. Unlike the one in their New York apartment, this bookshelf was high, almost reaching the ceiling, with deep recesses; you'd need a chair to reach the books at the top. Rachel touched the stained dark wood and eyed the film of dust on her finger. Quinn wondered whether she was trying to remember when she was last in her room. The bottom half of the shelf was filled with DVDs and other old movies. She watched as Rachel took out the thick biography of the German playwright, Bertolt Brecht. On the lowest shelf there were two photo albums—Rachel retrieved one of them and sat with her legs crossed.

"That's when we started dating," Quinn recognized the contents of the album before Rachel could examine the picture carefully. "Officially."

"You did this?"

"No," Quinn sat next to her, carefully tracing her finger over a photo Quinn had taken while Rachel was asleep on her bed. "You did. You said—and I quote—This photo album will contain substantial moments in our relationship."

"That does sound like something I'd say."

Quinn giggled. She actually giggled. The sound was so foreign when it left her lips.

Rachel turned the pages and there were photos of younger versions of herself and Quinn. The next few pages established their remaining high school years. Rachel's cheeks were fuller, there were no heavy shadows under her eyes, she seemed... happy. There was another of her in a sunflower bikini, her tan skin was a rich copper. Rachel had a camera in her hands and took a photo of Quinn, who was taking a photo of Rachel with her iPhone. Both photos were placed next to each other, wide smiles on their faces.

"When was this?" Rachel asked indicating to the photo of her in a sunflower bikini. "I have that bikini?"

"Santana's house, the summer after graduation. You have a lot of those bikinis." She said with a wink.

There were dozens of photos taken at the beach with the glee kids. The sky and water were an intense seductive blue, the light was the glare of a hot Ohio summer. She turned another sleeve and Quinn heard her gasp.

There were two photos; one of them on Quinn's bed, lips together. It was a rough and difficult kiss because Rachel couldn't stop laughing and Quinn mashed their lips together and quickly snapped the photo. The second was of them at a park, it was their eighth month anniversary and Quinn had planned a picnic at the local park. They sat under a tree, watching passer-bys, the greenness of the day and fed ducks. The kiss was much sweeter in the second photo; it was a soft peck, both with content smiles as their lips touched. Beneath it Quinn scrolled in her handwriting,

You are possibly the most adorable thing on the planet, and I just want to say that I love you. But I don't just love you, I'm in love with you. Like ridiculously so.

Rachel snapped the album shut and Quinn felt her heart was going to splinter. Quinn remained quiet hoping Rachel might start talking, but she continued to pace around her bed.

"Rach, I'm sorry. For forcing you to remember everything. It should come naturally," she started and she felt her head go light at watching Rachel pace endlessly. "And I'm going to be here to support you no matter what. I love you, and even though you might not feel the same—"

"We loved each other a lot, didn't we?"

Rachel's voice stopped her mid-sentence and she sighed heavily at the word loved. "Yes. I still love you."

"Even after everything?"

Slowly, Quinn moved forward, her hand rising towards Rachel's face. Her fingers brushed over her cheek. "Even after everything."

"But why? I've put you through so much since I woke up. I haven't given you a chance to explain anything. In fact, I haven't given you a chance at all."

"I love you." Quinn emphasized again.

And just like that, standing barefoot and alone in the room that she had once called home with the woman she loves, Quinn felt the world tilt. Hope existed. She wanted to proclaim her love for Rachel again and again, but common sense reeled her back. Here she was, enamored and heartsick and consumed by the desire to kiss her wife and hold her and never let her go, but couldn't. Not until she knew with absolute certainty that Rachel was ready to be intimate, that Rachel wouldn't recoil every time Quinn touched her.

There was a sudden noise downstairs—plates or bowls splattering on the floor—but Rachel ignored it, too lost in her thoughts. "I don't know how we're going to make this work."

Quinn felt her throat was going to close. She could not bring herself to make another sound.

Rachel inhaled deeply, like she was about to dive underwater. "I want to try and make this work... With you—with us."

Quinn was in such awe that she was rendered speechless.

"You can speak now, Quinn." Rachel muttered.

Quinn's pulse was racing uncontrollably.

"Or—not. I mean," Rachel said again in the silence of the room. "I'll wait till you say something."

When Rachel took a step back out of their bubble, Quinn was quick to say, "I was surprised, that's all."

"Oh," she was confused. "About what?"

"That you want to try and make this work."

Rachel shifted her gaze away from Quinn to the photo album on her bed. "We look extremely happy in those photos. I owe you this for having put you through so much. The least I could do is give this a chance and maybe I will remember our past, maybe I won't. But we have to have faith, right? We have to have faith that everything will work out in our favor."

Rachel's words made Quinn's whole body sing, the world brightened. Rachel had said this to her countless times during the past five years. It was possible to believe, not just hope. She gazed deep into the chocolate, flaming eyes and saw no doubt or fear or futility reflected back at her. All that existed was the sparkle of unadulterated happiness. In that moment, she didn't feel human. She was an angelic spirit, soaring on the wings of love. Did Rachel remember something, or was this another 'flash memory'?

As Quinn stared down at her, her worries about their future began to dissolve. She only had one thing on her mind, and she achieved it when in two swift steps her lips connected with Rachel's for the first time in two months. Screw the promise she had made to herself to wait until Rachel was ready to be intimate, this was her wife and she will damn well kiss her if she wanted to. Rachel's lips tasted like the finest powdered sugar, they were also unbelievably soft, just like tulip petals in spring. The feeling that was stirring inside of her was like nothing she had ever known. It was as though her soul had been asleep for hundreds of years and was now slowly waking to a world that was made entirely out of sunlight.

With every ounce of her energy, Quinn pulled herself away from the kiss. "I'm sorry. I just—I've missed you."

Rachel's expression was neither angry nor fearful. "I—I'm—Okay."

"You're okay?"

"I meant—Okay." She sighed.

"Okay." Quinn echoed.

Rachel cleared her throat but didn't withdraw away from Quinn. "I wish to stay here for the time being,"

"Of course,"

"And you? Will you be here too?"

"Home is wherever I'm with you." Quinn's stomach tied up in hundreds of knots as she said those words.

"Edward Sharpe."

"Yes."

She replied softly. "Did I sing that to you?"

Quinn smiled brightly. "Not exactly. You did write me a few notes with those lyrics."

She saw Rachel compose herself and noticed the way her eyes brightened and her cheeks flushed pink. "Just give me a few weeks and when I'm comfortable enough I'll go back to New York. To... our apartment."

Rachel squeezed her hand and left it in her grip for a minute or two. Quinn thought progress was a wonderful word. Possibly the best word in the dictionary.

•••

September 8th, 2011

Quinn felt strange but strong when she strode into school on that first day of a new semester. It was a late summer day and everything was in bloom, giving off a perfusion of musky perfumes and a sense that the air was beginning to become heavy, as if preparing for the long, cold months ahead. It was the kind of day in which she had always felt as light as air. She was surrounded the instant she stepped into the halls of William McKinley. Everyone was there, the whole crowd she hadn't seen since late May, plus four or five hanger-ons who hoped to gain popularity by association. One by one she accepted the welcoming glances from her peers, none of whom she cared enough to stop and talk to.

She saw Santana and Brittany approaching her from the distance in their Cheerios uniform. Santana seemed to have grown at least an inch from the last time Quinn had seen her—which was only a week ago—and more like a Vogue model than ever. She greeted Quinn with a cold wave and stepped back when she realized she was standing a little too close, her brown eyes narrowed like a cat's. The hug she received from Brittany was warm and welcoming.

"Hi, Quinn. How have you been?"

Quinn didn't have time to answer when a camera appeared in her face and the voice of none other than Jacob Ben Israel roared through her ear drums. "Here we have the Three Musketeers. Or should I say the Unholy Trinity?"

"I like the Three Musketeers better," Brittany chimed, interrupting whatever he was going to say next. "Unholy Trinity makes us seem so unholy. We're not unholy are we, San?"

Jacob had his microphone in front of Santana's face and the girl slapped his hand away. "No, B, we're not unholy. Jewfro here needs to get his camera and that disgusting nest he calls his hair out of my way or so help him—"

"I see the holidays have done nothing to replenish Santana Lopez and her mouth of insults," he turned to Quinn, holding the microphone to his mouth. "It seems Quinn Fabray isn't going to be part of the Cheerios this year. To my readers who stalk my blog, my predictions are once again correct."

"Quinn can come back if she wants to," Brittany informed him triumphantly. "Coach Sylvester wants her to come back. She told me herself but she doesn't want to say it to Quinn's face. Something about her pride being hurt when she left."

"When did she say this?" Jacob asked, the microphone now in front of Brittany.

"At practice two days ago. I gave her a shoulder massage 'cause she was tensed and she blurted it out because I gave such great massages. But she told me not to tell anyone." Her eyes widened when she realized it wasn't just Jacob she had said this to, but possibly the whole school.

Jacob grabbed the camera and pulled it in front of him. "The first big gossip of McKinley for two-thousand and eleven. You heard it here first, eager bloggers! Sue Sylvester wants Quinn Fabray back on..."

Quinn followed Jacob's gaze as it landed on a petite brunette wearing black low-cut Mary Jane's with one strap across the instep, white stockings, a grey and pink patterned argyle skirt with a creamy long sleeve cotton shirt. She looked like a rainbow, and this coming from the girl who color co-ordinates her wardrobe but can't seem to color co-ordinate her clothing. Not to mention, it was summer.

"...the Cheerios." He finished quickly and pushed passed the camera man to stand beside Rachel's locker.

Quinn guessed that he was trying to be seductive with the wicked smile that showed his uneven teeth, but judging by the disgust on Rachel's face, he failed to achieve it.

"I trust that your summer has been well, Jacob?" It never seized to amaze Quinn how polite Rachel was to everyone, even to those she didn't like. It made her wonder whether Rachel was only nice to her out of courtesy.

"Very well indeed, Rachel. You left me waiting at our park two days ago. I think you owe me,"

Rachel gasped. "It is not our park. And I did not agree to meet you."

"Yes, you did. You said if I helped you figure who this person on tumblr was—"

Rachel's eyes shot to Quinn from across the lockers. There was a worry so all-encompassing that filled those brown eyes Quinn missed the last words that came out of Jacob's mouth. Rachel broke their potent stare and chewed on her bottom lip while looking into the camera, Jacob was eagerly waiting her reply.

"I want you to sit with me at lunch," he said.

"I will be in the auditorium at lunch time. If you wish to join me, you may,"

"No," he protested. "In the cafeteria."

"I have already planned out my events for the remainder of the day and my schedule is filled with a list of things I must do. I may book you in for tomorrow evening."

Quinn chuckled at the way Rachel took out her daily planner and was waiting for him to reply to her statement, but she was shocked by the hostility Rachel showed towards Jacob; since when did Rachel Berry ever want to be alone with him? He had been trying to get into her pants since Freshmen year, why would she all of a sudden want to interact with him at a crucial moment in her life? She was graduating in a few months, possibly going to one of the best colleges in the country, she didn't need someone like him to bring her down. And yet she wanted to be alone with Jacob? Something was definitely suspicious.

Santana's hushed tone in her ear startled her. "You need to get your lemon pressed, Quinn. Your gay is showing."

She took a moment to straighten herself and took a breath, relief sweeping through her like sunlight. It was a beautiful day, full of promise, and nothing was going to ruin it for her. Not even Santana and her snide remarks about basically anything.

She calmly closed her locker and flashed Santana a wide grin, who almost fell as she stumbled back; if it weren't for Brittany who caught her. "I'm going to class. See you guys later."

There was no escaping the stereotypical bitchy cheerleader that Santana Lopez was. "What, no comeback? That's all you've got for me? You're making this too easy, Q. You're not even denying it anymore."

"What's the point?" She said as she walked to AP History. A quick glance behind and she saw that she was now alone with Santana. Brittany must have gone in the opposite direction. "I come up with a comeback and you're just going to sarcastically come up with something in return," she halted suddenly right in front of a classroom. The students wiggled their way around the two girls in order to step in. "I would rather save my breath to talk to someone worthwhile."

She covered her mouth with her hand, a cough that sounded like, "Berry."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "You're not going to ruin this day for me, Santana."

"What's so special about today?" Santana asked curiously. "Don't tell me..." She crossed her arms and leaned against the door-frame. "You didn't."

Quinn raised an eyebrow in question. Santana continued, "You did the dirty with Berry, didn't you? That's why you're not uptight, bitchy and yelling at everyone anymore."

Quinn was taken aback. She and Santana had been friends since kindergarten, and they always had competed with each other good-naturedly. But lately Santana had begun to take the rivalry more and more seriously. Quinn was surprised at the bitterness in the other girl's voice.

"I think you want to do the dirty with Berry, Santana," she said lightly.

"Oh, 'cause she's so attractive I want to bang her." She turned to face Quinn fully. Two boys smiled uneasily at them and edged away.

"How do you know she stares at me unless you're staring at her too? And why the sudden curiosity with my love life? Why the sudden shock that we slept together? Are you jealous?"

Santana flushed; Quinn could see it. She struggled to keep her voice steady. "Jealous? Get real, Blondie! Berry would only drag down my reputation. Besides, I'm too smokin' hot for her. If anything, she's the one who would want to sleep with me."

The bell rang overhead and the chatter of the students in the hallway slowly subsided. Quinn and Santana were locked in a battle to see who would be the first to retrieve from the door-frame. It was Rachel's voice that interrupted their staring contest.

"Hello, may I get inside?"

"Walk around, Berry!" Santana snapped, frustrated. "We're having a conversation,"

"A conversation consists of words being spoken. All I see is the two of you staring at one another,"

"What are you, the conversation police?" Santana twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. "We're having a conversation with our eyes."

"How is that classified as a conversation?" Rachel argued. "That's known as a staring contest."

Santana huffed. "It's a staring contest then!"

"Oh, why didn't you just say so?" Santana opened her mouth but Rachel didn't let her get a word in. "You know, Santana, I much like you better when you've had alcohol in you. You're a rather nicer person. Perhaps you could show up to glee this afternoon under the influence?"

Santana's usually plain face, brightened. "Are you, the ethical Rachel Berry, suggesting that I show up to glee drunk?"

"Not drunk. Tipsy," she corrected. "It would certainly make my afternoon pleasant and I'm sure the other glee kids will agree."

Santana's dark eyes barely flickered toward Quinn. "Berry, I just might. Because I like you better when I'm drunk." She threw a grin over her shoulder when she sauntered away from them.

They simultaneously stepped into the doorway and Quinn's arm brushed against Rachel's, a nerve prickled along the back of her neck. They both jerked back and when she turned, Rachel's gaze was fixed on her like never before, the look in her eyes confused her. But the next moment, Rachel's face hardened, closing her out. Just as quickly, Rachel bent down to fix the strap on her shoes. Quinn watched as her sweater slightly lifted to review the supple brown curve of her waist, her back... She turned away and found a seat at the back of the classroom. She watched Rachel take a seat at the front. She was glad that her view of Rachel was obstructed by a scruffy headed boy whom she didn't recognize.

The teacher entered the classroom and began pacing around like a ferret, asking questions. Quinn didn't listen too much of what he was saying, her mind drifted dreamily back to the previous day when she had first spoken to her online friend Rachel on the phone. Her voice was possibly the sweetest thing she had ever heard in her life, her laughter was contagious and heart-warming. They spoke about their favorite things: movies, songs, bands, tv shows. They told each other stories about their childhood, snippets of their lives. Quinn had never been much of a talker—but with Rachel, she was extremely nervous and that apparently made her very chatty.

Her attempt at trying to find Rachel on Facebook failed miserably, there was no Rachel Heroy, and when she mentioned this to Rachel, the girl had giggled and said she didn't have a Facebook account so Quinn just had to be patient and wait until they saw each other. The conversation lasted deep into the night and they both fell asleep on the phone. When she woke this morning, Rachel had sent her a text, I think the network connection must have been bad therefore the call ended. Unless you hung up on me? :-( Have a great first day at school, Quinn. I'll talk to you tonight? xo

Something had caught in her throat as she read the text, something so alien it took her a moment to recognise it as happiness. I would never hang up on you. She had typed. Even the network wants to keep us apart! Haha. Yes, I can't wait to speak to you again soon.

The cool breeze that blew up her dress that morning on her way to school and a few teenagers who drove by and laughed, did not register with her. When she stepped into a tiny puddle of mud and it ruined her new pair of shoes, it did nothing to distress her. Even Santana's bitchy, hellion attitude, did nothing to swipe the delighted look across her face. Quinn wondered, surely it couldn't be right to show this much happiness.

She wasn't sure how long she had been daydreaming for—or where she was staring at, even who—but she noticed Rachel turn, her eyes flickered towards Quinn with a despairing hunger, and a sickening surge of memory flooded through her mind: all those times she had provoked Rachel Berry, bullied her for no reason at all (besides the fact that she was jealous of Rachel's talent and her ability to get out of Lima), and her nasty name calling and pornographic pictures. Everything faded in her hazel eyes and turned into her Rachel. If Rachel found out her past, what she was capable of or the way she treated other people, the girl possibly wouldn't want anything to do with her. She had to make this right, and fix all the wrongs she had done.

So when glee rolled around at 4 p.m. that afternoon, she told herself that she will fix her mistakes the moment glee was over. She had attempted to do it during the day but she wasn't able to find Rachel Berry anywhere, also the fact that she was still in a mild daydream and her only thoughts consisted of her Rachel.

Her opportunity to fix her wrongs came quicker than she had thought when Rachel stepped out of the bathroom and was making her way in the opposite direction of the choir room.

"Berry, where are you going?" She shouted when the girl hadn't noticed her.

Rachel stopped in her tracks and turned to see Quinn running towards her. "Hello, Quinn. Shouldn't you be in glee?"

"Shouldn't you?" She checked her watch. "You're ten minutes late,"

"So are you."

"Yes, but you're never late," she defended. "What's up, Berry?"

"Nothing is up, Quinn. I have other matters to attend to." She clutched her books closer to her chest.

Quinn wasn't letting this go. "Like what?"

"Why are you so interested?"

Quinn shrugged as if it were nothing. "Just wondering,"

Rachel glanced around the empty hallway, nervously. "I have to get going."

Quinn grabbed her arm with surprising agility. "What's wrong?"

"Quinn, please get to glee. I will see you there in a bit."

She sucked in a deep breath. It was now or never. "Listen, Rachel. I know we've had our differences, and I haven't exactly been the nicest person to you all these years, but if you're in trouble I want to help you."

"Why?" Confusion was evident on her face.

"Because I'm sorry for everything I've done to you," Quinn slid her hand slowly up along Rachel's shivering arm and stepped closer. "I'm really sorry for everything."

"Thank you," Rachel said gently. "I forgive you."

Quinn sighed in relief. However, not bothering to question about the easy way Rachel had forgiven her. "So will you tell me what's up? I want to help you. I know it won't make up for all the horrible things I've done to you, but it's a start and it'll definitely make me feel better."

Rachel dropped her books to her side and turned to walk towards the auditorium. Quinn followed close to her side. "I'm meeting Jacob,"

"Jacob who?"

"Jacob Ben Israel."

"Jewfro?" Quinn halted and so did Rachel. "Oh my God, are you... dating him—"

"What? No!" She said quickly. "I—owe him."

"For what?"

Rachel resumed walking, Quinn fell into step beside her. The sound of Rachel's footfalls matching the click of her heels in a nice rhythm. "I needed his help on a little project, and in return I promised to repay him with whatever he wished."

Quinn raised her all-famous questioning eyebrow. "You didn't stop to think that maybe he would want you to repay him with kissing? Or sex? Or worse—what's worse than sex with Jewfro?"

"Quinn!" Rachel gasped. "Don't make jokes! I wasn't thinking clearly,"

"This project must have been important,"

"Yes, quite," Rachel peeked her head through the auditorium, then she turned back to Quinn with her bottom lip between her teeth. "I have managed to escape him thus far. But now that we're back at school, I fear he will not leave me alone until I do this for him."

"Alright," Quinn straightened and pushed the shorter girl away from the large doors. "Forget this, Rach. You don't need to do what he tells you to. You have me, and eleven other people who will protect you from Jewfro."

"But—"

Quinn dragged her away from the auditorium and they both made their way towards the choir room. "No, buts, Rach. You do this for him today, and he's just going to tell you to do something else until he has you right where he wants you—" Quinn clenched her fist in the air. "—His bitch, and you're no one's bitch. People like him will be working for you when you're a superstar."

Rachel smiled; a swift, brilliant smile. "I like this new you. May I ask what the reason behind this sudden change is?"

Quinn mimicked her bright smile, her heart stilled at the reason behind her change. "Can I tell you something?"

"Certainly."

"I met someone,"

"Would you tell me who if I were to ask?"

"Ask me again in a week and I probably will."

Quinn twisted the knob to the choir room but waited for a response from Rachel before she opened the door. "They must be very special to you,"

"Yeah. I want to be a better person. Someone they can be proud of and not have to fear."

Rachel nodded and looked at her. Flickers of unknown expressions crossed her eyes. "They are, Quinn. I know they are proud of you."

•••

September 15th, 2011

The music faded into a low melody that slipped coolly through the torpid of Quinn's bedroom, she heard it echo through the phone into Rachel's room. The last words of Parachute's She is Love freshened the damp, congealed air.

"What song do you want me to play now?" There was silence and heavy breathing on Rachel's end of the phone. Quinn said, "Rach? Are you asleep?"

"No, I was just mesmerized by the song."

Quinn smiled to herself in the darkness. "It stopped playing two minutes ago." Quinn let her iTunes choose the next song, and let the music ease its way into her conversation with Rachel.

"I was just fantasizing when this song should be played at our wedding,"

Quinn was breathing quickly again, and she felt her heart beat step up. "Wedding?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like to pick the song?"

She could feel her pulse everywhere now; in her wrists and the inside of her elbows—and in her throat. "No, I like that song. I guess it's our song then."

Quinn lay on her left side, holding the phone to her right ear, whilst Rachel lay on her right side, holding the phone to her left ear—they were asymmetric images of one another. She thought of Rachel's soft blazing body through her night gown, hair a true auburn in the sun. Knotted muscles flowing like warm honey. A soft face, easy to look at, yet one that you would never forget. Cloud-colored eyes, gentle lips. Warm hands that gripped the phone, gracious when typing. They were pleasant to touch—a sort of serene feeling.

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

"I can't wait to see you tomorrow,"

"Me too, Rach."

Time passed, and gradually their breathing began to coincide with each other. Deep breaths, relaxed breaths and there was a moment when she dozed off, but was conscious of Rachel's soft mumblings flowing through the phone. They had discussed their arrangement to meet one another at the end of the school week, Quinn and Rachel were to wear certain colors so they would be able to recognize one another, although, Rachel did add: you will recognize me as soon as you see me. Quinn hadn't thought too much of it, just that Rachel was most likely being romantic.

Since that moment, she lacked concentration in school. She lacked concentration when she was at home. Sometimes she'd find herself staring off into the distance, thinking of God knows what, but the who she was thinking about was always Rachel. Rachel occupied her mind the moment she woke up, she was the last thought before Quinn went to sleep. Sanctuary, Quinn had thought one day. Rachel was sanctuary.

The next day, when it seemed to bright and glaring to believe that the previous night had happened at all, she sent Rachel a quick good morning text and began her morning ritual of washing and dressing, and she dawdled over it, sorting through her outfits. When she walked downstairs half an hour later, the sun was shining through the tall windows, the smell of coffee permeated the room, her mother waved to her from the kitchen table and Elvis Costello was singing The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes on the CD player. She poured herself a cup of coffee and pulled out a chair.

"Busy day, Quinn?" Judy asked, skeptical of the expression on her daughter's face.

"Yeah, I'm going to meet someone in about—" She glanced at the clock on the wall. "—Three and a half hours."

Judy placed Quinn's breakfast in front of her daughter and pulled out a chair for herself. "Who is this person?"

"Just a friend." She didn't look up from her breakfast. Did love really make the whole world a brighter, happier place?

"Will I get to meet them?"

"Maybe, mom,"

"Quinn, don't talk with your mouth full."

She quickly swallowed and took a sip of her coffee. "Sorry, I'm really hungry."

The hand that held her coffee froze mid-way in the air when Judy placed a hand on top of her daughter's. "I'm so glad you're happy. Are you happy? You look very happy these days."

"I'm very happy, mom. Thanks." Quinn said and they began to discuss about school, plans for the next few weeks ahead and any other safe topics for the rest of the meal.

When they were finished, Quinn helped Judy with the dishes while she got ready for work. She kissed her daughter good bye, adding a quick, Don't be out too late, before closing the door behind her. Time seemed to have ticked by slower than usual. She occupied herself with television, movies, reading, but every time she glanced at the clock, only a minute would pass since the last time she had checked. Rachel texted her during the day saying that she couldn't wait to meet Quinn and warned her to not reply as their time apart will make the evening suspenseful.

An hour and a half before the extreme leap in their relationship, Quinn unclipped the black skirt from the hanger and stepped into it, and sucked in her stomach to get it buttoned. Then she shrugged on the lavender chiffon blouse and buttoned the tiny buttons. She had just slipped her feet into pointy-toed silver shoes when there was chime on her phone. It was a text from Rachel, Just left the house :-)

A wave of nausea hit her. She felt like she'd just had the breath knocked out of her, and she couldn't quite tell which way was up or down anymore. Everything was sparkly and dark, the way it does sometimes when you stand up too quick. She clutched her phone more tightly, her palm was sweaty and shaking. This was going to happen within the next half an hour. She was going to meet Rachel. The girl she met over tumblr, the girl she had been talking to for a little under a month, the girl she couldn't stop thinking about.

Then, as swiftly as it had descended, the feeling passed. Sucking a deep breath, she looked around, trying to orient herself. I'm on my way, she replied.

She started walking—yes, walking, because Rachel had lectured her on the importance of physical exercise, and without the Cheerios to keep her in shape, she could really benefit from more physical activity—toward the movie theater, then passed the blinking lights of the marquee and kept walking. The sky overhead was not blue but milky and opaque, like a giant bowl turned upside down. The streets were packed with people doing their weekend shopping, taking their families for a nice stroll around town. A little wind made the leaves flutter, and Quinn took a deep breath. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

Almost there. Almost there, she said to herself. Her feet had begun to ache, but with every step, she felt it less, not more. Every second brought her closer to Rachel.

Within a few minutes she reached the riverbank. Instead of shops there were houses here, but not all that many. A sidewalk ran along the riverside, one that had been laid down a long time ago; the concrete squares had cracked, and weeds poked their way through the gaps. Here and there, tree roots had pushed the concrete slabs upward at odd angles, so it made for uncertain walking, especially in heels. She watched the sun reflecting on the water, light ripples moving east.

Then she heard footsteps in the sidewalk behind her. Her heart leapt and she spun around with a smile on her face to glimpse a shape coming closer.

All her hopes crushed.

"Hey," Rachel Berry emerged from behind a tree.

Quinn's disappointment vanished, replaced by fear. "Uh... hey. What—what are you doing here?"

"I'm—" She started but stopped abruptly.

"What?"

"I'm—meeting—someone." Rachel said slowly. Almost with extreme difficulty.

Rachel looked like a fairy tale come to life, in her unusually non-argyle clothing. Her dark hair fell from an artfully messy knot into pearl strewn tendrils around her face and her neck rose gracefully above the perfect expanse of skin revealed by a very low, ivory and satin shirt. Rachel's eyes had been a color Quinn had never seen before; darker than wooden brown. Quinn let her mind wonder to their previous conversation when her Rachel had specifically mentioned to her that she would be wearing an ivory and satin shirt, and a dark ocean blue rose, ribbon headband.

Quinn swallowed, and it was like the world flashed black, then light again. Neither one of them moved as they faced each other. Rachel hadn't said anything, her muscles seemed frozen and for a second Quinn thought Rachel was about to pass out. And then it was as if every foreboding and fear and nightmare she'd ever had were coming true all at once. It was beyond anything.

"Oh, God." Quinn whispered.

She went on whispering it, backing away, scarcely unaware of what she was doing. Her mind simply could not cope with this situation; her thoughts were running wild in panic, like mice trying to escape a cage. Her body was filled with unbearable tension, her heart was bursting, her head reeling.

"You—you're—it can't be."

"Quinn!" More terrible than anything was to see Rachel's smile changing into a look of shock and desperation. "Quinn, please. Please, don't..."

"You're Rachel... My Rachel?"

When she was ready, Rachel took a deep breath and smiled. "Yes. I'm the Rachel you met on tumblr."

The comment startled her and she looked at the girl before her with amazement in her eyes. Rachel took three steps toward her and the infinity of terror inside of her told her that she was falling off a bridge, with nothing to hold onto. But the terrible, shattering impact never came. Suddenly there was a hand placed on each side of her arm, Quinn felt the warmth of Rachel radiating through her cardigan. Then all was still. Her mind, her body, her blood, her pulse: numb.

She held herself motionless within the circle of those hands, trying to get her bearings. Trying to believe yet another unbelievable thing. The girl she had fallen for was Rachel Berry, and yet, as much as the outcome had surprised her, she didn't deny the situation. They were standing in the middle of the riverbank, in the utter silence between voices of passer-bys, and the sound of the wind blowing the leaves in the summer season.

Slowly, she lowered her gaze to the face of the girl that held her attention unconditionally since that very first message on tumblr. There was such sadness in her eyes. Those eyes which burned at Puck's end of summer party, were now dark and empty, hopeless. For now there was self-hatred mixed with sorrow, and bitter condemnation. Quinn couldn't bear it.

"Rachel," she whispered, feeling that sadness enter her own soul. "Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?"

There was no answer in those bleak, lost eyes. "I wanted to the moment I knew it was you. But I couldn't bear it if I ever lost you because you found out it was me." Rachel could barely force out the next few words. "I know that I've lied to you these past few weeks. But I meant everything I said about my feelings for you, everything was the absolute truth. I had fallen in love with you before I knew it was you... and by then it was too late for me to stop."

The silence that followed was absolute, like the silence after the world's end.

---

I've realized, while writing this chapter, that I have completely missed the point of this story. It's supposed to be about Rachel and Quinn trying to cope with Rachel's memory loss and somehow it's ended up being about how they met. This story will focus on that, I just never realized it was going to take this long! So if you're all a little confused, I will get to that within the next chapter or so. All this has a point to the story, but it will progress rather slowly.

Again, thanks for all the reviews :)