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.

4. Chapter 4

There is Finchel in this chapter. You have been warned. Again, thank you for all the reviews.

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I've been beaten down, I've been kicked around
But she takes it all for me
And I lost my faith in my darkest days
But she makes me want to believe
They call her love, love, love, love, love
She is love
And she is all I need

—Parachute: She Is Love

•••

September 15th, 2011

"Kurt, I'm in love with Quinn."

Rachel paused her movements and stared at the bulletin board in front of her. Her back was towards her friend, and there was a delay in his response. Perhaps he hadn't heard her over the racket from the television?

"I'm in love with Quinn."

Kurt hadn't turned off the television, nor did he make any audible sounds to signify that he had heard her. She tried one last time,

"I'm in love with Quinn Fabray."

He must have heard her that time? Yes, she was certain of it.

Still, instead of an audible sound she recognized as Kurt's, she heard the resonated blaring from the television.

Frustrated with her friend's lack of response—and that roaring, piercing sound from the television that had covered her perfect voice as she mustered all her courage to finally tell him her deepest, darkest secret—she threw her pen angrily onto the table, swiveled around in her chair to face him, only to find him staring wide-eyed and mouth agape at her. She could see smudges of saliva dripping from the side of his mouth. He must have forgotten how to swallow.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" She recoiled and fidgeted in her seat, glancing at the clock above the door. Three and a half more hours to go.

The last time she had seen that expression on Kurt's face was, well, never. This look was much worse than the time he discovered she had several more animal sweaters hidden at the back of her closet, along with her rainbow collection of Mary Janes. His acknowledgement of such absurdity came right out of a Friends line the moment he opened her closet: Oh! My eyes, my eyes!

Minutes ticked by without so much a movement from him. What worried her was the fact that he hadn't blinked for a long period of time and the trepidation that her friend's eyes were becoming susceptible to infection and damage were heightening. Rachel pushed her chair forward until her knees touched the edge of the bed and reached for the remote control to turn off the television. When the silence of the room filled her ears, she waved a hand in front of Kurt's face and sighed in relief when he blinked several times to put the moisture back into his dry eyes, and then locked onto her chocolate ones.

She gave a small smile and steadily placed both her hands on top of his. "I have to tell you something. Before I begin, I want you to know that this is extremely difficult for me. Needless to say, I'm uncertain how or when this happened. Actually, I'm quite accurate as to how this happened, nevertheless, still uncertain of the moment it happened. Therefore, I cannot correctly justify that. In a few weeks I may be able to clarify that to you after I've analyzed and over-analyzed this further, but for the time being I'm still wavering the situation. However, I do know how it happened, and I fully intend to explain—"

"You're in love with Quinn." His voice was croaky and a little higher pitched than usual. He closed his mouth and swallowed several times before repeating that statement. "You're in love with Quinn. Ex-cheerleader Quinn Fabray?"

"So you did hear me," she said softly.

"How could I not, Rachel? You said it three times so loud the neighbors might have even heard you,"

"You didn't say anything!" She crossed her arms and pouted. "You could have said something!"

"I was in shock," he protested. "Couldn't you tell by my expression?"

"That was shock?" She was slightly perplexed. In her sixteen years of existence and extensive knowledge of facial expressions due to her ability to master every one of them for her Broadway career, she had not witnessed that before. A first time for everything.

Kurt shuffled closer toward his friend, who was clearly in a world of her own again and he bought her back to reality. "How? When? Why? I didn't even know you two were friends."

Thus began her thorough, all-encompassing tale of how she fell in love with her nemesis Quinn Fabray just before the start of senior year. Anonymously at first, of course, because clickhereforquinn did not register with her that this person was the Quinn Fabray. There were a lot of pictures of Lea Michele and Dianna Agron on the girl's blog, so many that if looked at for the first time it was clear this girl was attracted to women even if she didn't state so. Sure, there were moments when Quinn had posted pictures of male movie stars and other films, but ninety times out of a hundred, it was the two women Quinn posted about. It was certainly a coincidence that she had stumbled across Quinn's tumblr and began to follow her.

On the momentous day she had uncovered the mysterious person behind clickhereforquinn, her heart had felt like a drumbeat beneath her skin. At that moment she could have taken off running for Mount Everest and been there in minutes—no, seconds—but she had fallen, and she wanted Quinn that badly. However, the tie between them was fragile; they were connected only by wires linked to a circuit board and an unspoken promise to meet. That was all Rachel could have, because the moment Quinn was to find out the mysterious person was her, Quinn wasn't going to stay. Especially not for her.

Even being connected through the circuit board seemed miraculous now, as she spoke of how she fell in love. Quinn had professed her love to her within days of talking, and that alone gave Rachel the tiniest bit of hope, escalating into a huge amount of faith.

After the rush of exhilaration had passed, Kurt spoke, "You have a tumblr and you're not following me?"

Rachel's mouth twisted into a scowl. "Kurt, please stay on topic."

"Right," he crossed his legs and straightened himself on the bed. "This is the best piece of news I've heard all my life. Who would have known? Quinn Fabray, gay?"

"She's not—I mean, I don't think she likes labels."

"Sshh," Kurt waved his hand in the air to silence her. "I should have known! All the amounts of girls she posts on her blog, why did I not see this coming?"

They sat on her enormous, very pink, comfortable bed covered with an extremely soft comforter. Now that she had said those words out loud to another human, she was at a loss to begin. She had so many thoughts running through her head, but now she couldn't think of one. She could feel Kurt's contemptuous gaze, but she was tired of the incoherent thoughts running through her mind. She wanted it to stop just for a second, so she could bathe in the relaxed luxury of it.

To get Rachel's attention once more, Kurt asked, "When are you going to meet up with her?"

"In three and a half hours."

"Today? And you tell me this now?"

"Is this really necessary?" She said, bringing them back to topic once more.

Kurt gave an apologetic smile. Rachel was surprised that he was being extremely submissiveness today. "Have you thought about just telling her the truth?" He stroked down a wrinkle on her comforter with his well-manicured hand.

He gazed at her curiously and she wondered if he'd been able to sense her distress. She stared out the window, unwilling to acknowledge to him what she wasn't ready to admit to herself. How well did she and Quinn know each other, really? They had hardly ever spoken outside of glee club and when they did it mostly involved a quarrel and vicious words, mainly on Quinn's behalf. She didn't know Quinn as an individual, just through earfuls of whispered rumors around the school. The first time she remembered meeting Quinn was in Freshmen year, but that first slushie Quinn threw at her reminded her of how different they were.

Then she remembered the first night she spoke to Quinn on the phone. She had successfully managed to conceal her real voice and the other girl was unable to recognize her. Quinn told stories of how alone she felt during her childhood, that the only time things were good for her were the times she spent with her grandfather before he passed away. She remembered Quinn's ramblings when she was nervous. Rachel had always had discussions prepared for every occasion, whether awkward or dexterous. But it was Quinn who had spoken the most that night, while all Rachel did was listen to the sweet sound of her voice, the way she giggled and trembled.

This wasn't infatuation. This was love. If she knew nothing else, she knew that for sure.

Kurt sat closer to her when he didn't get an answer, an arm across the back of the chair. "She'll forgive you." She liked hearing those words, though it made her nervous. Kurt seemed to know exactly the effect the sentence had on her. "She will, Rachel. If I know Quinn Fabray, and I'm sure I know her pretty well, she would never say something like that unless it was the honest truth."

"She told Finn she loved him."

"So?"

"I don't know, she loved him too."

"Loved." Kurt emphasized. "And so did you. So tell me, what's the difference?" The boy had an impish quality up close. Rachel was afraid he was going to bring that up, but here he was, waiting for her to articulate further.

That was when her heart began pounding in earnest. "The way I feel for Quinn is unlike anything I've ever felt. Finn was a childish love, the kind of love you grasp onto because that person is giving you attention and declaring all these sweet things you've never heard before." Those words reverberated in her throat and her fingertips. "I felt the connection the moment I sent her that message on tumblr and I couldn't not talk to her. It felt equivalent to finishing a puzzle but that one, tiny piece is missing and it's agonizing staring at the empty space. When Quinn came along it gave me a sense of completion. When I stare at the puzzle from a distance, I think, finally, where have you been all this time?"

Kurt looked at her up close, probably examining the planes of her face, Rachel thought. He picked up her hand and held it in his. His hands were more delicate than she had thought, a bit larger than hers, warm and surprisingly soft, but a bit rough. "If she loves you, this won't matter, Rach. At first, she will be surprised of course, but I think once she has time to process everything she will come to her senses and realize how could it not be you? I mean, how differently did you act towards her?"

"Not so much," Rachel answered honestly. "I only lied about my last name and which school I went to. I told her the truth about my dreams and passions, what I did each day, my likes and dislikes."

"She will understand, but she will need time to process the information."

"What if I lose her?"

His lips parted in a quick breath and he looked away. "I'll be here for you. We've had our differences and what-not, but we're friends. And that speech you just gave—" He said, and almost speaking to himself, he continued. "I know the feeling, sister. It's almost like a dizziness or a weakness takes hold of you, and you can't control it. You succumb to it, you continue to fall because it's harder to stop than to not fall at all."

Rachel laughed, drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them, gazing at Kurt in a way she could have bottled and stored like a great wine. At the end of the bed, the boy sighed, unfolding his legs and smiled nostalgically.

It wasn't exactly happiness that she felt as Kurt helped—no, hindered—her choices of the perfect outfit for the evening and selected one for her himself without her assistance. He ridiculed her wardrobe and made a mental note to take her shopping to purchase improved, sophisticated clothing which will impress Quinn in the near future. There was still sadness lodged deep within her, still shame, and a humbling, keen emotion that Rachel imagined might have been regret about the way she handled things with Quinn. She did not feel happy, exactly. But she did feel a lightness, was glad that she had finally had the courage to open up to her friend, she was glad he did not judge her in the slightest, didn't ask about her sexuality. She was glad for his understanding.

The period after twelve noon was her favorite part of the day; it looked as though the sun was setting. She sent out a text to Quinn as soon as she closed her front door: Just left the house :-). The sky was a milky blue-grey as she walked to the far end of the grounds and made her way towards the riverbank to meet Quinn. Her ears prickled up in response to the sounds and voices around her, the clicking of her heels on the concrete, the loud beating of her heart in her chest.

Quinn replied moments later, I'm on my way. She continued on her walking, realizing as she went how much she wanted to run back into the confines of her bedroom and hide away forever, perhaps she and Quinn could have a relationship where they wouldn't have to meet. Ever. She found herself wondering if this was all they would have: a deceptive meeting, weeks of divulged letters, written moments of passion amid weeks and weeks of blessedness.

Rachel shook her head, refusing to get ahead of herself. Instead, she kept going until she reached the road, then it was a short stroll to the lone intersection in the area, a four-way stop. She took her place on the road that led to the riverbank and inhaled a deep breath at the sight of Quinn. It wasn't that she looked so dissimilar from the Quinn she had seen in school, but the way Quinn stood in the middle of the crowded riverbank, was as brilliant as a bonfire. At that moment she felt too happy to worry about anything—the lies she had told, Quinn's reaction to seeing her, or consequences that might follow. All that mattered was that Quinn was right in front of her as beautiful as ever.

Now, here they were. Rachel had spoken passionately, carefully choosing her words about her feelings for Quinn. They were as true as her dreams of New York and Broadway.

"Rachel Heroy? Where did you get that from?" Quinn asked.

Rachel wasn't quite expecting that question. Especially after she had poured her heart and soul into possibly the best speech of her existence. "It's a portmanteau of my fathers' names, Hiram and Leory. Heroy. Some may argue it's a neologism, I however, prefer portmanteau."

"Cute." She said flatly.

"It was all I could come up with at such short notice."

Quinn stared at her for a few heartbeats and then spoke in the same flat manner. "When did you know it was me?"

"The email you sent me stating that you live in Lima and you go to Mckinley," she said simply. The way she saw Quinn slouch slightly, Rachel knew she was thinking that should have been obvious. Rachel continued, "I asked Jacob to investigate further for me so I could be sure."

"Which is why now you owe him because this was the important project you gave him," Quinn finished. "Which is also why you've been staring at me oddly every time I've seen you."

"I wouldn't call it odd," Rachel corrected. "I'd say it was quaint, as I didn't realize there was another more positive and affectionate side to you."

Quinn raised her eye-brow and Rachel braced herself for a remark. "You do know that you're talking to me and not Finn, right? You basically rephrased my statement so that it would sound smart."

"Even so," Rachel argued. "My quaint glances at you—"

"They were not glances, or glimpses or brief looks, or whatever other synonyms you have. You were staring."

"Quinn, must be discuss this? It's not import—"

"Yes, it is!" Quinn's hands clenched violently, reflexively and she jerked out of Rachel's reach. "You lied to me! You knew for weeks who I was and you never told me. I basically made a fool out of myself."

"No, you didn't," Rachel said softly. "I'm sorry, Quinn. Please believe me. I wanted to tell you but I was scared you might not understand."

"Might not understand?" Quinn repeated angrily. "You're really going to use that line on me?"

Rachel felt her flesh creep at those words. "I don't know what you want me to say," she said shakily. She remembered the Quinn she met online, the girl who occupied her thoughts every day and night, and she forced herself not to recoil at the sight of this Quinn. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm not very proud at the way I handled the situation, but I was scared. I didn't want to lose you."

Quinn ignored her protestations, just went on staring through her, into some incomprehensible distance. "Meeting like this never crossed your mind that you would lose me anyway?"

Rachel wouldn't let the tears fall from her eyes, she wouldn't cry now. She caught her breath hoping to stop the sob that seemed impossible to ignore. She stood still, her emotions filled with sorrow and dread. But she did not run; she refused to run away from Quinn. "It did, but I was hoping we could discuss this in further detail and you can understand why I did what I did."

Quinn faltered and gave a short, humorless laugh. "Whatever explanations you have won't make me understand,"

"You're not giving me a chance."

"How can I? You lied to me!"

"Is that all there is?" Rachel was breathing rapidly but shallowly. "Is this really all because I lied to you and not because you found out it was me?"

There was a chill running through her body watching Quinn stare at her. Quinn's face softened, only slightly. Rachel's skin rose in goose-flesh and she tried to speak but couldn't. She noticed Quinn's jaw clenching and then opened and closed a few times but she couldn't speak either. It was like the silence had answered her question. The chill she had felt turned into ice in her chest and flooded out through her body and trapped her.

"That was what I was afraid of." Rachel managed to get out, and the tears fell from her eyes, small droplets that dripped down her chin.

Rachel felt her hand taken, and when she looked she saw Quinn's fingers closed around it, giving her warmth and a little strength. Their eyes locked onto each other. "Rach, it's not that," she whispered. "But I can't do this." Rachel's fingers were numb within her grasp, and Quinn tried to tighten them to send her reassurance. She had no trouble speaking now, she seemed to have forgotten Rachel's presence. "I just—can't. I'm sorry. It's never going to work out."

Quinn could feel the tremors in Rachel's body, communicating to her through her tightly gripped fingers. It took Rachel a moment to find her voice. "How do you know that? We haven't tried,"

"I know," she said sternly. "I just know. It'll never work out. You and I? It's a disaster waiting to happen."

"Did all of those weeks of talking mean nothing to you? You were so keen on trying to figure out a way to make this work," Rachel said, almost pleading. Quinn held her, stroking her quivering shoulders. Passer-bys stared in wonder, and both girls ignored them. Neither wanted to move from their position to a disclosed area.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I know what I said and I'm sorry, but I can't."

"I deserve an explanation, Quinn." Rachel held tightly onto the front of Quinn's shirt, refusing to let go. If this was the last time she was going to be this close to the other girl, she was going to take advantage of this situation.

Quinn didn't answer her and began to murmur nonsense meant to soothe her, pushing away her anger and sadness. And, presently, Rachel quieted and lifted her head. "I deserve that much if you're not going to want to continue this beyond today."

"Rach, please don't.," Quinn tried to escape Rachel's grasp but the girl was surprisingly strong and refused to let her go. "I can't."

Rachel searched hazel eyes for any uncertainty, and then said, almost dreamily. "You can't leave it at that, Quinn. If you care about me at all, I need to know why."

Quinn leaned back away from her and shut her eyes. Her face was pinched with weary. "I'm going to hurt you." Then in a stronger voice, she said. "I'm only going to hurt you, Rach. You deserve so much better than me."

"You don't know that. You don't know what's going to happen," Rachel said forcefully. "We haven't given this a chance."

Quinn moved away from the shorter girl, they were a good foot or two apart. She didn't deserve to have Rachel in her arms. "I've tortured you for so long, why would you still want to be with me after everything?"

Those words filled Rachel with horror and pity... and fear too. She admitted that. But there was one thing she was sure about, all of Quinn's façades have no significance towards the way she felt. None of it mattered. "I don't care about that."

"I do!" She said bleakly. "The reason I was so willing to make this work before I knew it was you is because I could start over with someone new. They didn't know that side to me, the mean, bitchy side. All the horrible things I've done," she looked down directly at Rachel. "With you, I've done so many horrible things. You've witnessed it all because it was mostly targeted at you. I can't believe that it was you all along. You were right in front of me!,I couldn't even see it! It had to take the internet to make me see you. To actually see you." She was breathing quickly again, staring down at Rachel's hands as if wanting to reach out. "You deserve someone who didn't put you through all that, someone so much better than me, Rachel."

•••

January, 16th, 2016

In the days that followed Rachel was reminded that her life in Lima was very small; that her memory had its limits and that five years is a long and weary stretch. What passed through the years is time, and all the bitterness between Quinn and herself. The warmth she remembered along the way is almost incidental. Her memories seemed bleached into stories which are bleached into myth and bleached of all color into ashes of myth. In other words, her life didn't seem real anymore. Nothing should come as a surprise yet everything is astonishing. When she would hear her fathers and Quinn talk about love and family and friends, all she can see are images lumped together to form something that isn't really there—at least not in her mind—and she cries, not so much for what might have been, but for what had been. She had been happy, sad, angry, fearful, yet none of it mattered because all she felt was emptiness. These were all just empty recollections of memories through someone else's words. She was looking at her life and all she saw was a blank canvas waiting for paint to be smudged across it, it's telling the artist to paint me, I need something to make me feel whole.

She hadn't been alone with Quinn for days, sometimes Quinn would leave the house in the morning and come home hours later and although it made her wonder, she never asked where Quinn had been. She no longer worked, her father's had arranged a meeting with her manager and she was currently taking temporary leave. To say that she was astonished at the fan base created in her honor was an understatement. She had over one million followers on Twitter, each day they would send her pleasant messages, or asking her when she would return to Broadway, but understood her decision to take a leave of absence.

Sometimes she witnessed her fathers cry for the woman she had been, and a wrenching anguish tore at her heart, and at night she would begin to sob with that oxygen-depleted heaving felt in deep dreams. Late at night, funerals were all she dreamt about. Everyone was gathered around her coffin in that heady mixture of grief, her body had grew smaller—a situation she never thought was possible—a shrinkage that seemed to signal not just the bones becoming brittle, but the soul's attempt to condense those bones in preparation for an easier return to dust; the soul's attempt for discarding, in some bizarre physics brought on by death's approach. In the dream she began to cry, profusely, just as she would in reality. Her crying woke her up each night and seamlessly continued.

She would sob herself into calmness and a while later would fall back asleep. When she woke it was always just before dawn and a terrifying sense of insubstantiality consumed her; the absence of a warm body from her life. Her daily routine of a rigorous and exercise regime were stalled for the time being, instead she would snuggle into the sheets and look around the walls of her bedroom. They were simply white, too white. The pink, the posters, the color was all gone. Just like her memories.

Quinn came into her room this particular morning, Rachel sensed her coming before she opened her eyes. They were at peace with one another. But it was an uncomfortable peace, they were walking on egg shells, tip toeing around intimate topics. She herself deliberately avoided being alone with Quinn. In part she avoided it because everything was so provocatively dangerous and intense. Quinn's smile, her gentle eyes, her gentle attentions made her light-headed and girlish, an altogether astonishing sensation she had never expected to feel for this woman.

"Hey, I knocked but I guess you didn't hear me," Quinn said coming to a stop at the end of her bed. "Sorry to have just walked in."

It was that kind of peace that made her nervous. Quinn apologized for a lot of things, little things Rachel thought were unnecessary. "It's quite alright, Quinn, I've been awake for a while."

Quinn stood with her arms behind her back, her eyes glancing anywhere but at the girl in front of her. It hit Rachel then, like a punch in the stomach. They could go on for years like this and be awkward and nervous towards each other. Two people who were married but were at a loss for words on a daily basis, their hands slipping loose in a crowd. My Jewish Gods, she thought, how could I have avoided this all this time? Her throat felt like there were two hands wrapped around it, squeezing. She refused to let the water fall from her eyes.

Quinn sat on the bed the instant she saw Rachel's expression change, her arms wanting to reach out but she remained settled at the foot of the bed. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I was just... thinking,"

"About?"

"Jewish Gods." It wasn't exactly a lie, but she didn't feel the need to tell Quinn the truth.

Quinn smiled a little, her eyes were so sad and kind. "You're sad because you were thinking about Jewish Gods?"

Rachel wiped her nose on the short of her sleeve t-shirt and smiled. "It's nothing, really. I'll be okay,"

"Are you sure, Rach?"

This time, Quinn reached out to place her hand on top of hers and the sensation made her go dizzy, like she wanted to grab hold of something and hang on. "I'm sure," Rachel said softly, then immediately changed the topic. "What brings you into my room so early in the day?"

"Oh," Quinn snatched her hand back as if realizing for the first time she was touching Rachel. She felt the loss of that warmth running through her. "I got a call from my agent. I—um, I have to go back to New York,"

"Oh."

"It'll only be for a few days,"

"What will you have to do?"

"Rach, I haven't worked in two months since the accident."

"And now they're worried you no longer intend to work?"

"Something like that," Quinn said, her eyes examining Rachel's profile. It made her flush red at watching Quinn stare at her intently. "There's just some paperwork I have to do. My agent said she could find some acting work for me here. Something temporary so that I still had some form of income."

"In Lima?"

"Yeah, is that a problem?"

"No, it's just. You would stay here with me?"

"Why wouldn't I, Rach?"

It was not just Quinn's nervousness and ability to make their relationship work, there was something about this new commitment that accentuated every contentment and delight she felt about her—wife(?). What they had together over the last few days was interrupted time and that was something they hadn't had in years. Again she wondered, is this really my life from now on?

"New York has so many opportunities for actors. What kind of work could you undertake that would further your career from working in Lima?" She eyed Quinn suspiciously.

"You're here."

Rachel's stomach felt tight, her head was throbbing. Those words were refreshing and she basked in the moment greedily. "You would... move here for me?"

When Quinn spoke again her tone was quieter, more measured. "I would. I know you're not ready to go back. Probably not for a long time and I'm okay with that. I just want to be with you."

At that moment Rachel experienced a delicious wave of euphoria. She was gratified that someone like Quinn, someone who had been so popular back in high school, so attractive had made a play for her. "I want to go back to New York with you, Quinn..."

She raised her hand to stop Rachel from talking. "You're not ready and that's okay. We'll go when you're ready. For the time being I just want to be with you."

Quinn's purpose, Quinn's determination, Quinn's reassurance convinced her. "When will you be leaving?"

"I've already booked my flight for this afternoon. I came to ask if you wanted to have breakfast with me?"

"You cooked? I'm amazed you managed you conceal the smell. Daddy hates it when the house has a sort of cooking stench."

"No," she giggled. "I want to take you out."

Rachel nodded in affirmation. "Oh right, okay. Give me half an hour to get ready."

True to her word, Rachel was ready in half an hour and they began to walk the few blocks in the soft, cold morning. In winter, the day always starts white, then the light turns pale yellow before darkening gradually into the greeny-blue of the morning. The streets of Lima are eerily empty. She felt warm in her boots but she can see that the asphalt is iron cold. Rachel slipped her hands into her pockets and from the corner of her eye, she saw Quinn slowly slipping her arm through her own. For an instant, Rachel's breathing was a shallow panicked panting the best her miniature lungs can muster, her tiny heart ready to explode.

They stop in front of a little corner restaurant and before Quinn could pull Rachel in with her, she's confused at the worried expression on Rachel's face. "What's wrong?" She asked. "You don't want to go here?"

"That's not it," she exclaimed trying to ease the worry in Quinn's voice. "I thought we were going to Breadstix,"

Quinn raised her eyebrow. "But you hate Breadstix,"

"I guess I'm not used to going to a different place since Finn had always taken me to Breadstix." Immediately Rachel knew she had said the wrong thing. Their peace, in a sense, had been shattered. "Quinn, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Quinn shrugged off the comment, releasing Rachel's arm from her grip and walked in to take a table overlooking the street. They both sit absolutely still in the somewhat comfortable silence after ordering their food, a hot pot of tea in front of them. The wide expanse of the concertina window acts as a frame on the street scene being swished into whiteness. Rachel sunk into a reverie of acute awareness brought on by the lowering of heartbeat and pulse.

When their food arrived, Rachel could no longer sit in silence. "Quinn, I'm sorry I said that. Please say something,"

"I'm not angry," she said softly cutting through her omelette. "I understand."

"You don't have to lie to me. I'm trying to make this work,"

Across from her, Quinn looked more gorgeous than usual, enraged in the sunlight. "I know. I didn't say that you're not trying."

"But you think that I'm not trying. You think that because I won't be alone with you for more than five minutes I'm not trying. It's not that. I need time to adjust to things and to adjust to us."

"I have to stop you there," Quinn said, her voice heavy with scorn. "That's not what I think at all. Rachel, we've been together for five years, I'm pretty sure I know you more than you make it out to be."

Rachel, defeated, looked away from her, a white snowflake fluttered to the ground in slow motion. For a moment she thought it was a piece of fluff or feather-down from someone shaking a quilt out a window. Then more flakes were falling and she recognized it as snow falling. Suddenly the intersection was draped in this soft downwardness of white.

"We can go and walk in the snow for a bit after breakfast," Quinn said, seeing the excitement in those chocolate eyes. "I know how much you love it."

Rachel beamed and it wasn't long before they finished their foods, she had eaten her salad sandwich in quick speed and while she waited for Quinn to finish, she watched the snow continue to steadily fall as if ready now to take its time and fall forever. Quinn paid the bill and they walked side by side. It was hard for Rachel to understand that if she hadn't been in the accident she may not have been able to enjoy this moment like as if it were for the first time. The first snowflakes she felt since the accident brushed against her face and she tried to focus on individual snowdrops; then she tried to take in the whole scene. She realized that snowflakes do not flutter like leaves or feathers. Rather, they seem to fall to earth with a gentle and resigned heaviness.

They walked towards what Rachel recognized as the riverbank and she felt a sense of familiarity. Quinn wasn't walking as close to her as she had previously and Rachel yearned for her touch. She yearned again for that richer love: the mutual desire, opened armed and unencumbered. Across the river to her right the flakes of snow are pure white as they fall into the dark steel emptiness of the river; the flowing water, matte liquid, sponging up all the day's meager supplies of available color and reflecting.

"Why are we here?" Rachel asked, watching the falling snow curve towards the bow of the boat.

"Do you recognize this place?"

There was a glimpse of the tiniest of memory in the back of her mind etching its way to the front, a voice saying to her, remember me, remember this particular moment. "It feels familiar. I kind of recognize it, like it's in the back of my mind wanting to get out."

There was the faintest of smiles on Quinn's lips and her hazel eyes shone. "You led me here. I simply followed you."

"Is this place significant to us?"

"Yes, it is."

She waited for Quinn to continue but it was clear that she wanted Rachel to figure it out herself. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

Quinn sighed and faced her, her smile disappeared. "I've learnt not to get my hopes up. When I recognized where you were going I didn't want to stop you in case maybe you remember something, but sometimes I realized that it's not always the case."

"I want to remember," she said, while watching the hundreds of snowflakes drop listlessly from the sky and make their tiny dimples on the surface of the water. "It feels warm and safe here. I can't explain it."

"It's like you're in a new world, somewhere richer than any dream."

"We met here, didn't we?"

Quinn nodded once and turned away from her.

"I thought we met in Freshmen year in front of the lockers?"

"Well, we did. But this place holds a different significance. It's the riverbank where we agreed to meet after having talked to each other on tumblr. We come here whenever we're back in Lima."

Rachel pressed her front to Quinn's side and she turned to look down at her. Her hazel eyes glistening. "Quinn, the fact that I came here on my own accord is a good sign. I may not remember the specifics of our relationship, but I believe this is a good sign. Don't you agree?"

"I guess," she said slowly.

"It's a great sign," Rachel stressed the importance of it. "You're important to me, Quinn. Why else would my subconscious take me to the one place that holds the most meaning to us?"

Quinn didn't reply to her, but Rachel knew she was internally agreeing with her. After a few more minutes they started off down the street and made their way back to the house. They walked back in silence, listening to the light breeze of the trees and the muted street noises, their footsteps echoing together. When they reached the house, Quinn walked up the steps leading to the front door and as she turned, Rachel, who was two steps down walked into the taller girl's elbow and clipped herself hard over the eye, knocking herself enough off balance that she tripped back, grabbed the railing for support and sat down on the step.

"Oh, shit," Quinn said. "I'm so sorry," Quinn sat beside her to brush her hand over Rachel's eye. Rachel felt her skin start to tingle at the contact. Quinn's face flushed with concern, and she was so close that Rachel's heart pounded. Her blood surged and she felt a light rush to her head. "Are you okay, Rach?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Let me see," she said, trying to look into Rachel's eyes. She put her hand gently on the side of Rachel's face to tip her chin up.

"Really, I'm fine, Quinn."

At that moment, the front door jerked opened and Hiram stared down at them oblivious to the small incident which had occurred—and oblivious to his daughter's bruised eye. "Oh good, you're back. Quinn, we should get going. Your plane leaves in three hours. It'll most likely take an hour and a half to get to the airport with this horrible snow and traffic, and then you have to wait in line to check in. You don't want to be late." He finally recognized that both girls were sitting on the step. "Why are you two sitting here? It's freezing."

"My eye is bruised, but you shouldn't be too concerned that your daughter has a bruised eye, dad." Rachel teased with a huge smile.

"Oh dear, what happened?" He bent over her to examine her eye, but she brushed his hand away.

"I accidentally hit her with my elbow," Quinn said.

"Well, if you're fine we should get going. I don't want Quinn to miss her flight. This meeting with her agent is extremely important for her career." He said with laughter in his tone.

"Clearly, Quinn is more important," Rachel rolled her eyes but stood up from her position. "Let me put some cream on it and I'll be right down."

"Wait, Rach," Quinn stood two steps down from her so that they were at eye level. "You should stay home and rest."

"It's only my eye, Quinn. I was in a car accident and I survived that."

"It's not that," she hesitated. "I don't want you to come."

"Why?"

"It's too hard."

"I should... go inside..." Hiram said awkwardly.

"No, Hiram, it's fine." Quinn said before he could leave. "Please, Rach. I don't want you to see me off. It'll be too hard."

"But you're coming back," Rachel said, trying to understand Quinn's point of view. "You're not planning on leaving me for good, are you?"

Quinn stared at her in awe for a moment and Rachel realized the desperation in her voice. Their encounter at the riverbank—although it hadn't brought back any memories—it gave her a sense of protection when in Quinn's presence. The brief time she had with Quinn looped into her mind like some bizarre and joyful segment of super 8. She was immensely interested in exploring the possibility of falling in love with Quinn—again.

Quinn held Rachel's hand in hers and the gesture made her heart lurch. "I'm coming back. It's just hard for me to walk away from you at the airport, even though it's only for a few days."

The breeze fluttered a few strands of hair in her face and Quinn brushed it away for her. "Does this have something to do with our past? Something else that I can't remember?"

"Sort of." She replied softly.

Hiram cleared his throat getting the girls' attentions. "I'll leave you two to it. I'll get your luggage, Quinn."

Quinn was about to thank him but Rachel spoke, "I want to know," she held her gaze, challenging Quinn to break the contact.

Quinn could never refuse her whenever Rachel pouted. "When we were in college we'd come back to Lima whenever we could, but sometimes we wouldn't be here at the same time so I'd fly back to New York and vice versa. There were lots of forlorn trips to the airport."

"Why didn't I just go back with you?"

"Money was tight back then, and don't tell my mom this but I missed her a lot in college. She was alone here and I tried to visit as much as possible. Sometimes with school, deadlines and exams, we couldn't be here at the same time."

Rachel exhaled in deeply, Quinn's perfume wafted toward her, very faint, a whisper of a scent that made her dizzy. "You promise you're coming back, right?" Rachel was certain that she barely knew this Quinn Fabray, but everything smelled of the possibility of love.

Rachel watched thoughts pass across Quinn's face like slowly moving clouds. Then the bright sun shone as her enthusiasm rose. "I'll always come back for you." Quinn reached into her coat jacket and held out her hand, revealing a sparkling gold ring, made up of three perfect diamonds in a circle. "This is yours. I wanted to give it to you sooner but wasn't sure when the right time was."

"Were you afraid I would throw it away?" She joked, but it didn't settle too well with Quinn. "I was joking. I wouldn't—"

"I know." Quinn cracked a small smile.

Rachel held the ring in her hand, her heart swelled with blissfulness; she could swear it twinkled at her. There was the tiniest of letters engraved on the inner rim and she held it close to her eyes, squinting to read it: Tell me you love me.

•••

January 18th, 2016

After Quinn left, the blankness of it all, the dividing of the worldly goods, the awful sadness was evident in the way Rachel carried herself. She became aware that Quinn was the bringer of light and all the tingling nerves she had felt. Quinn of the future, with eyes so green they hurt you, all that dazzling reflection. Her book shelf consisted of a small collection of Quinn's books, she knew this because there was a bookend labelled, Quinn's books on one side of the shelf. Rachel knew without a doubt that it was her idea to label the section. She wondered whether Quinn had protested, which in turn would have led to an argument and in the end she relented because Quinn loved her unconditionally? Rachel smiled at the false memory she had created and sensed the excitement of finding out how well she and Quinn had gotten along.

She didn't know what had possessed her to pick up the book titled, The Time Travellers Wife and she opened the first page to read in her handwriting that she had written, rawr. The book next to it was, One Day and inside was the word rawr written in Quinn's handwriting. In some obscure way she knew that rawr meant I love you in dinosaur.

In her heart she was aware of an emotion that can be sensed only by some animal instinct, of a psychic rumbling not even the most delicate seismograph could trace. She experienced for the second time since having woken from the accident a free fall into a silence that enveloped her like a blanket. As if controlled by a switch, all the ordinary sounds of the day dropped away instantly and there was nothing but the beat of her heart.

The music from her cell phone made her jump and with a fluster and she picked it up knowing that it would be Quinn, but was extremely surprised to see Finn's name glaring back at her on the screen.

"Hello?" She answered with a swipe of her finger.

"Uh, Rach? Hey," she could hardly recognize the sound of his voice. It was deeper, somehow. "It's me, Finn."

"Hi, Finn," she beamed. "What do I owe this pleasure?"

"Are you home?" He asked suddenly.

"Yes, I am. Is something the matter?"

She heard a shuffle on his end of the line and then his voice again. "No, nothing's wrong. I'm actually outside your house. I rang the doorbell a few times but there was no answer."

Immediately she made her way down the stairs. "Oh, I'm sorry. My dad must have forgotten to change the batteries. I didn't hear anything." She reached for the handle of the front door and opened it with a light pull. The image was something out of a romantic film: she, the gracious female lead holding a phone in one hand and looking into the eyes of her male lead, with a cell phone in his hand, as though completely surprised that the mysterious person they were talking to was on the other side of the door.

Finn's eyes brightened when he saw her. She could see a lean-muscled body hidden behind faded jeans and a loose t-shirt. Her heart picked up at the sight of him as it used to. He was good-looking. Not in the stunning, almost disturbing way that some people were, but in a healthy American way. Five years hadn't done much change to his appearance, except maybe he had grown a little taller and his skin was sunburnt from working outdoors. As he held out his arms to hug her gently, she saw a little sadness in his eyes.

"Do you want to come inside?" She asked.

"Is Quinn here?" He scanned over the top of her head.

"No, she's in New York for a few days. Were you looking for Quinn?"

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck and spoke almost in a whisper. "Uh, no. I was looking for you. I just didn't want to see her." Before she could answer him, he said, "Would you like to go for a walk?"

She didn't see the harm in a simple walk, and she could certainly use the fresh air. Since Quinn left two days prior she had removed herself from her fathers and took refuge in her room, scanning through photo albums and letters Quinn had written to her in hopes of triggering a memory—any memory. She grabbed her jacket and they walked side by side without touching. Maples and black walnut trees lined the street and the air still had a morning hush. Rachel watched her feet on the wet sidewalk, feeling suddenly uncertain. She didn't know how to start after all.

"So, how have you been? I'm sorry I didn't come by to see you sooner. You know, with Quinn and everything," he said.

"Oh, you don't need to apologize Finn," she glanced sideways at him. He was looking at the sidewalk, too. "I've been adjusting to this new life." She continued, trying to put some enthusiasm into her voice. "It has been an arduous few weeks, and a complete bewilderment on my behalf to discover that Quinn Fabray is my wife. It's very..." Her voice trailed off and she laughed nervously.

"Shocking. I know, I thought it was shocking, too." He finished for her. He stopped and stood looking down at his scuffed tennis shoes. She looked up to find those steady brown eyes on her face.

"You know, you look pretty great now," he said. Rachel opened her mouth in dismay, but he was speaking again. "I want to get straight to the point, Rach. No more games. So here goes." He took a long, deep breath. When he exhaled she could see the smoke escape his lips. "I've missed you, and I know you're with Quinn and whatever, that's fine. But we've always had a connection. You know that, don't you?" She stared at him, and he smiled, a crooked, rueful smile. "I want to give us another try."

"Finn, I'm with Quinn. We're married."

"But you don't remember any of it. How can you be with someone you don't remember?"

"I made a commitment to Quinn and I intend to keep that commitment. I've seen photos of us, read the letters she wrote to me. I was in love with her and I can't abandon her just because I don't remember anything. She was there for me the moment I woke up and she's been by my side ever since."

"I would have been there for you if someone had told me," he started walking again. "And if Quinn wasn't so possessive of you."

Rachel punched him lightly in the arm. "She's protective."

"She's possessive," he stopped, looking at her again. "I've missed you a lot. These past few years haven't been the same without you. I was an idiot to let you go. I was an idiot full stop. But things can change, Rach. They'll be different." As Rachel's face fell, he added. "Tell me that you don't feel anything for me."

"I don't." She said after a moment of hesitation, and then added quickly. "I don't know. I have these feelings for Quinn that are new and invigorating—in a sense—and when I think of you old emotions resurface and they both collide like the Titanic impacting with the iceberg. It's complicated, and I'm extremely baffled to feel these things all at once."

"Have you thought about me since you've been back?"

The question startled her, but she answered him truthfully. "At first, yes. But over the past few days I've found that my thoughts have been more and more occupied with Quinn."

Finn's smile disappeared. He said distantly, "I wish I had been here for you,"

"You're here now."

The next instant Finn's smile returned, his eyes were dancing. "Can we be friends then?"

"Of course, we've always been friends."

Rachel missed the wicked gleam in Finn's eyes as he held out his arms and she hugged him hard. He didn't release her when he asked, "So, are you free tonight for a friendly dinner?"

She stepped back to look into his face. "Yes, that would be lovely."

•••

September 23rd, 2011

Seeing Quinn at school since that uneventful day they met at the riverbank was like watching the ice crack. She had tried to reach out to Quinn but her text messages and phone calls went unanswered and she sat each night for hours in front of her laptop waiting for Quinn to come online but she never did. She was terrified but in a numb kind of way—she couldn't scream or run or do anything but shiver and try to accept what had happened. Despite her fright, Rachel couldn't help noticing that Quinn looked more beautiful everyday—delicate and ethereal.

Kurt remained the only person who knew about her situation with Quinn. He sat with her for hours the day she came home from the riverbank, eyes swollen and red, tears streaming down her face as she recalled every detail of her encounter with Quinn. He spent the next day in her company and watching DVDs while eating vegan sweets he had bought. He spent the next day after that with her the moment school finished to the moment she went to sleep, while she acknowledged that she had lost Quinn due to the unethical way she handled the situation. Quinn was elegant and brilliant and gracious when she was in her Head B—In Charge mode (she was not going to say that word); Rachel had witnessed this on a number of occasions, but what she hadn't realized was that Quinn had never completely ignored her when they were in each other's presence. That is, until a few days previous when Quinn wouldn't glance her way. Not in glee, not down the hallway, not by the lockers, not in class. Quinn averted her gaze on every occasion.

The next day after that Kurt grumbled at her in frustration. He was especially appalled at the fact that she had completely given up on Quinn. He had come barging through her front door and spoke to her in a very accusing tone,

"Rachel, so you lied to her, it wasn't even a very bad lie if I'm being honest. That doesn't mean you should give up on trying to win her back. The girl thinks that she's not good enough for you not because she doesn't love you."

His frustration increased when she asked, "What am I supposed to do? I don't know what else to do."

"For God's sakes! Would you give up on Broadway if you got rejected from one audition? Would you just say to yourself, oh well, my life is basically over because the casting director rejected me for this role?"

"I feel as if the answer is no."

"Of course, its no!" His eyes were wide, and his breath was coming fast. "Pick yourself up, Rach. Do something spectacular to win her over."

"I'm not quite sure declaring my love to her in front of the whole school is the direction I should be taking. It would only upset her." Rachel hoped that that was the right response, but Kurt had stomped his feet around her living room and stepped closer, placing his hand on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length.

"Listen to me. I'm only going to say this once," he started. "You're dumb." She gasped and he cut her off. "You're the queen of drama. I thought you were romantic?" Opening her mouth to speak once again, she was cut off. "Choose a song and serenade her in glee, not the whole school. I swear, even I thought you would be the one to come up with that idea."

She had practiced and practiced and practiced for days—hours on end—and was ready to make her serenading debut to one Quinn Fabray, but the adrenaline rush that started in the auditorium that morning expended in the middle of AP English the moment she saw Quinn. She kept herself distracted by taking notes the entire class, and at times she felt like she was about to dive face-first onto her desk. Her hand was exhausted of writing, she wasn't entirely sure what she was writing. By the time class was over she trudged out of there so quickly she pushed passed two of her classmates to reach the door. Jostling pass by sweater clad students down the hallway, she glimpsed a friendly face.

"Hi, Finn." She meant simply to wave at him as she went.

He smiled at her more warmly than he ever had before. "Hey, you." He murmured as he changed direction and slung his arm possessively around her shoulders. Only then did she remember that if Quinn saw this, she may get a little jealous and it could work out in her favor. However, Quinn had a possessive nature herself and she thought better of it. She tried to shrug Finn's arm off of her shoulder, but he whispered in her ear, "How have you been?"

She shivered, and not in the tingly sense she was used to. "I'm good, thanks."

Finn led her through the hallway and down the stairs to the ground level of the school toward the choir room. Several people saw them along the way and she noticed a few raised eyebrows and some whispering. But as luck would have it, Quinn stood by her locker talking to Santana and Brittany as they walked passed. Quinn's ever-present smile faded when she saw Finn's arm around Rachel, and her heart sank. Neither girls said a word when they passed, Quinn just glanced down and pretended to be incredibly interested in her shoes.

Together they wandered into the choir room and she saw Kurt's smile turn into a frown when he saw Finn's arm around her. He was talking to Brad and pointing at the music sheet in front of the piano, no doubt discussing the song Rachel was prepared to sing. Bless Kurt, she thought, and his uncontrollable need to play match-maker. He strolled over, pulling her away from the taller boy and sat her down on the seat between himself and Blaine.

"What are you thinking?" He whispered just loud enough for her to hear. "Quinn could have seen you."

"Well—"

"No!" His mouth was wide in shock, his eyes almost bulging out from their sockets. "You better put on a damn good performance, Rachel Berry."

At this, she beamed. "Don't I ever?"

Soon, the classroom was filled and Mr. Schue began discussing the week's assignment. Rachel tried to control her nerves and focus her attention on the assignment he was explaining; but she found it hard to concentrate with Quinn's blonde silky hair in front of her. She saw herself on her bed, with Quinn on top of her, her hazel eyes burning into Rachel's soul. Her hand running through said blonde silky hair. Quinn's soft lips on hers, on her neck, nibbling on her pulse point. The feel of Quinn's soft, smooth skin against her own. Quinn whispering her name, the sound of Rachel leaving those plump lips. Rachel. Rachel—

"Rachel!" Kurt smacked his friend with desperation and impossible force on her ribs. "Tell him you want to sing before he starts going on about something boring again,"

"Oh, right." Rachel raised her hand to get Mr. Schue's attention.

"Yes, Rachel?"

"I have a song I would like to perform." She cleared her throat to control the croaky voice that had escaped.

"Oh, good," he clapped and there were a few sniggers from the other students. Namely, Santana. "The floor's all yours." He said.

She bounced down the bleachers and took her position at the front. Quinn was staring at her and she returned the gaze. Her eyes were the same hot, dark depths they were the last time they saw each other at the riverbank, and Rachel fell into them again, growing breathless. "This song is for... someone special," she said softly. "You know who you are."

Kurt gave her a friendly smile of confidence, eliciting a confused expression from Blaine beside him, and she was thankful for having such a great friend in him. She gave a little extra bow to him and nodded to the band—and Brad—in the corner. The notes of the piano started, and music swelled behind her as she began her first song dedicated to Quinn Fabray, singing her little heart out.

I've been beaten down
I've been kicked around
But she takes it all for me

Rachel kept her eyes on Quinn, watching the flutter of the ends of her blouse and her tousled hair. The fluorescent light above backlit her hair and she looked like an angel again.

And I lost my faith, in my darkest days
She makes me want to believe

Rachel breathed deeper, and she looked down at the beautiful strong bones of Quinn's face, her lashes batted at her every time she blinked. With Quinn watching her, she felt lightheaded with possibility. She swayed slowly in rhythm to the music, singing with pitch perfection.

They call her love, love, love, love, love
They call her love, love, love, love, love
She is love, and she is all I need
She is all I need

All Rachel could think about was home. Quinn was home. The thought chilled her, she had fallen so fast, she was in so much danger of getting her heart broken. Quinn looked solid sitting there, broad and strong and real and infinitely desirable.

Well, I had my ways
They were all in vain, and she waited patiently
It was all the same, all my pride and shame
She put me on my feet

She noticed the smallest grin on Quinn's lips and she almost lost her breath, it was riveting what Quinn could do to her. She felt her heart ache, felt it clench in her chest and became very aware for the first time how much she loved Quinn. A wave of heat rolled over her and she gathered her energy and collected her voice to sing out the last few notes.

They call her love, love, love, love, love
They call her love, love, love, love, love

She finished, perfectly on key, looking into Quinn's eyes and telling her, She is love, and she is all I need. Rachel's grin faded and all sound seemed to have stopped and there was just the two of them in the room, she felt dizzy because she meant those words and hoped that Quinn knew it too. Whatever else was going on, whatever else was happening between them, this was real. Even if it was just for this moment, it was real and she loved Quinn and it was better than anything she had ever dreamed of. The silence around them was deafening and when she came back to reality she saw the same surprise in Quinn's eyes, but there was no regret, no confusion. Quinn knew it was real.

Then Puck said, "Wow," and Tina said, "Alright, I am impressed," and Kurt stood up to clap vigorously, lifting Blaine up off his feet to do the same. The whole room soon filled with claps and whispers and whistles. Rachel sent up a prayer of thanksgiving to her wonderful friends for distracting her. She almost lost her composure, the blood was rushing to her head and was utterly close to announcing, I love you, Quinn Fabray.

"That was great, Rachel," Mr. Schue placed his hand on her shoulder to get her attention. "Although, it didn't have anything to do with this week's assignment, but it's definitely a contender for Sectionals."

Santana sniggered. "So Hobbit here gets to sing a song that wasn't part of the assignment and it's a contender for Sectionals? Are you sleeping with her, Mr. Schue?"

"Santana!" He shouted. "Every song is a contender,"

"You didn't consider Trouty Mouth." She argued.

Brittany rubbed soothing strokes on her back. "I liked that song, S. You can sing that to me any time. But I don't have a trouty mouth so I hope you're not sad about that."

Mr. Schue seemingly ignored Santana and dismissed the class. Rachel was relieved to get out of there quickly, her throat was dry and she was in need of hydration. She had already drawn more attention to herself than she should from Finn, and she didn't want to have to look at Quinn any longer. If Quinn was going to reject her, she needed to gulp down a nice, cool bottle of water to put her body back into equilibrium. All she could feel was heat radiating from within her.

As she reached the door a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks. "Rach, can we talk?" Finn always appeared at the worst of times.

Quinn walked passed her with the same beauty and allure, Rachel couldn't keep her eyes off of her. There was a terrible sharpness that hit her mentally when she noticed the glare directed at Finn. Was Quinn jealous?

Finn taped her lightly on the shoulder and she turned her attention toward him. "Actually, Finn. I have a busy afternoon. Can this wait—"

"That song, what did you mean by it?" He interrupted. "Do you want to try again?"

And of course he was going to interpret the song as being about him. "Umm, that song... It wasn't about you. Or us."

"But you said it was for someone special."

"It is." Quinn is special. She bit her tongue to stop it from slipping out.

They made their way through the front doors and she saw Quinn talking with Santana and Brittany from her car, but she feared that Quinn was watching her and Finn engaging in conversations more than listening to her friends. She was terrified that if she made a sound Quinn would stride over towards her. Words were spilling out of Finn's mouth and she nodded as she watched him speak, her mind elsewhere. There was real danger in the way Quinn was looking at her; her muscles were frozen too, held motionless by her terror—and by some nameless force. Quinn really could kill with her looks.

"So I'll pick you to tonight?" Finn lightly caressed her arm, and smiled the cruel smile of triumph.

Her mouth opened to answer, but someone else beat her to it. "No, she can't," Quinn's voice was soft and cold and light, and it made Rachel lightheaded again. She couldn't stop looking at Quinn as the girl made her way toward them. "You can go now, Finn."

Finn moved in front of Rachel, easy and precisely controlled like he had dealt with this Quinn before. "I'm not leaving. We were just talking."

"You asked her out on a date!"

"You did?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah, Rach. You said yes."

"I did?" She was overly confused.

"Quinn," Finn reasoned. "This has nothing to do with you. We're getting back together and we're going to talk about it tonight."

"We are?" Rachel asked again, overly-overly confused. She couldn't even think of proper synonyms to replace overly. Her internal thesaurus was missing.

Quinn didn't seem to have registered what he had said. "Listen, I have to talk to Rachel. Will you just leave?"

"I'm not leaving," he said loudly. "We were in the middle of talking."

"Fine, you know what? We'll leave." Quinn grabbed her arm and her feet moved involuntarily in accordance with Quinn's steps.

Rachel heard Finn yell out something but her attention was focused on Quinn's hand on her bare arm; they were as delicate as she had imagined. She thought once again of Quinn's skin against her own, Quinn's muscles, her heat, her sweat. Her pulse began to race, her knees weak and she almost fell to the ground if it weren't for Quinn who held onto her tightly.

"What's happening? Are you okay?" Quinn asked, full of concern.

"Umm, I—think—so."

When she stood up straight she looked around and saw that she had been led to a secluded area in the edge of the grounds, behind the bus-stop. A few other couples whom she didn't recognize from school sat together in the shade under a thick carpet of still-soft fallen leaves, orange and red, while resting their back against the trunk of a maple tree. Quinn leaned her back against a light pole and Rachel took the position next to her. She gingerly stared up at Quinn waiting for her to say something.

"So, you and Finn are getting back together?" Quinn began in such an easy tone, as easily as if stating the stars were in the sky.

"No, that is definitely not happening!"

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "You didn't seem to be protesting when he asked you out on a date."

"That—well," she was at a loss for words. "I—"

For a moment Quinn looked at Rachel without recognition, her eyes dark in the sunlight, and she thought of some predator, a predator wanting their prey. Then some of the darkness faded from her gaze. "What were you concentrating on if not him?"

New possibilities crowded into her mind. "You." Rachel didn't want to be dishonest, she had lied enough.

Quinn stared at her, eyes wide, any previous thought she had was completely forgotten. She stared for quite some time before she was able to say, "That was unexpected."

"I thought it would be quite obvious. I sang that song specifically for you, so it's quite expected that you are the one that—"

"I meant that I didn't expect you to say it."

"Oh, right. Well, I thought there should be no reason to hide my romantic nature."

Quinn considered that response, then pushed it aside to deal with the matter at hand. "Rach, I meant what I said at the riverbank. I'm only going to hurt you—"

"You won't."

"You don't know that."

"You don't know that you will."

Quinn's light eyes narrowed slightly. "I have before, many times. Whose to say it won't happen?"

"We're embarking on a relationship, Quinn. It's different." Rachel clutched at her cardigan to stop her from moving away. "We'll figure it out together. This is new to me, too—" I love you, she wanted to say. No, this wasn't the right time, they still had a lot to learn about one another. "I know you feel the same way." And it was as if Quinn knew what she was referring to.

Quinn brushed her fingertip along Rachel's hairline, a caress so intimate that it made Rachel's cheeks flush. "I can't believe it was you." She whispered.

"I find it hard to believe that you're entirely surprised. You did mention several times that Rachel reminded you of me."

"Yes, but to find out it was you. You were right in front of me all this time. I couldn't see it."

Warmth coursed through her hearing those words. This time, they were much more affectionate. Quinn was shy and loving, her voice was mellow. "I couldn't believe it was you either. Who would have known that Quinn Fabray had a very endearing, but reserved, personality hidden under the H.B.I.C façade?"

"You don't you have to abbreviate it, Rach. You can actually say it."

"I refuse to say the B word." Quinn sniggered and rolled her eyes, and Rachel said, ever so gently, "I guess it was just waiting for the right person to bring out that side to you."

"I was waiting for you."

Five words. That was all it took to shake the protective wall around her heart down to its very foundation. A simple statement, yet, at the same time, the most glorious thing she had ever heard anybody say to her. It was the you that stuck with her.

•••

January 20th, 2016

Rachel glanced down at her watch again, took a deep breath, and made her calculations. Quinn's plane departed New York two hours ago and Quinn had sent her a text informing her that she had taken her seat and was waiting for the plane to depart. She had done her research, from New York to Ohio the flight approximately took an hour and forty-five minutes. Three hours later and Quinn had yet to send her a text stating that she had landed safely and was going through customs. Around her bored, frustrated men and women were mutinously watching the information desk and arrival gates ready to spring into action at an announcement or the appearance of a loved one. Curious, she pondered whether in their eyes she appeared like them: tensed, panicky, anxious.

The steady stream of bland, bloodless oriental music from the loudspeakers was interrupted by an effeminate, almost vixenish male voice asking the travelers on the next United Airlines flight to San Francisco to proceed immediately to their gate for further security check. Not being able to sit still any longer Rachel got up from her seat and walked toward the gate, then back again several times. She felt as though she was under the influence of some drug; her skin was unnaturally flushed and she was sweating profusely, even in the chill of the airport. What if something had happened to Quinn during the flight? What if she never made it? What if she was currently lost on an island surviving on nothing but raw fish and sea water?

"Rachel, please stop pacing around. You're giving your father and I a headache," Leroy stopped her in her tracks. "Sit down."

"I can't," she stomped her foot. "What if something happened to her?"

"Nothing could have happened, sweetie. You've been watching too much dramatic television," he reasoned.

"The flight was probably just delayed due to the weather and the snow." Hiram added.

Oh yeah, she forgot about the snow. Being inside for three hours did that to a person, especially a person who was extremely worried about her significant other. Wait, significant other? Her body over-heated at the thought that she had referred to Quinn as her significant other and she turned away from her fathers to cover the blush that had rose in her cheeks.

Unfortunately, Hiram noticed. He wrapped his daughter in his arms. "You miss her, don't you?"

She nodded against his chest. "I have come to miss her dearly."

"She'll be here, Rach. Nothing's going to happen to Quinn."

They had spoken on the phone every day since Quinn left, short but meaningful conversations. Quinn called her to say good morning and once again to say good night. In-between, they would send each other texts and mention their day. She hadn't yet told Quinn about Finn, because well, she didn't want Quinn to be upset with her. She wanted Quinn to enjoy her time in New York as it had been her home away from home for five years. Quinn would have no doubt gone back to their apartment and perhaps been afflicted by their belongings and her desire to return to that life. Bringing up Finn would only cause harm to the recent development in their relationship, and there wasn't anything interesting to mention about Finn. He had taken her to a nice, friendly dinner once, and has been keeping her company ever since. They enjoyed short walks, he watched movies with her—sitting a good distance apart on her couch. He taught her how to play videos games, they sang together. He made her laugh and she enjoyed his company. It was refreshing to get to know Finn again and for the first time she wasn't upset that she had lost her memories in the accident.

"There she is." Rachel heard Leroy say enthusiastically.

She rolled up her magazine and forced it into her handbag, and looked up at arrivals to see Quinn making her way toward them. She was wearing plain denim jeans and a grey sweater under her black, thick winter coat, a scarf over her neck. Her blonde hair tied up messily, her green eyes were as clear as a note on a violin. She didn't even look like she had been sitting on a plane for hours, she looked like she could have just walked off the Venice boardwalk with a book under her arm, ready to settle in at the Oceanside café. Rachel stood up and then couldn't move, she waited trembling as Quinn came over and hugged Leroy and Hiram and then brought Rachel into her. Just to feel Quinn's touch, to hold her, after only a few days caused Rachel to feel a strange eccentric sensation. While she couldn't remember their past, she couldn't deny the magnetic pull that drew her towards Quinn.

"Your mom couldn't be here today," Hiram said. "Did you get her message? She asked me to pass it on in case you didn't receive it."

"Yes, I did. She left about fifty messages last night in my voicemail saying that she had to attend a conference." Quinn smiled at the memory. "Have you been waiting long?" She asked apologetically.

"A few good hours." Leroy shrugged good-naturedly. He grabbed her luggage and pulled it along to the car.

"The plane got delayed during take-off and had to make a layover at Columbus because of the weather."

"You should have sent out a warning. Rachel was worried." He winked at his daughter who was in a state of shock since seeing Quinn.

"Oh yeah, Rachel couldn't stop pacing around wondering whether you were alive or not." Hiram laughed.

Hearing their laughter, Rachel unconsciously linked her arm with Quinn's and felt her muscles twitch. "I must have you know, flying in this weather is extremely dangerous, not to mention that its peak season."

The pleasant, sterile warmth of the long hours they had spent in the sealed heated air-conditioned world of the airport was immediately shattered once they stepped through the doors into the damp, arctic air of Lima. She let Quinn guide her through the mob of people haggling diffidently and inexpertly with the cab drivers who formed shouting, gesticulating circles around them. She enjoyed her four days of independence, but she much preferred the security of Quinn by her side, the knowledge that there was someone there to protect her, someone there all the time. The four days alone, rummaging through old photos and letters and spending time with Finn, all that was evaporating.

Once they were in the car, Rachel asked, "Did you sort everything out?"

Quinn nodded expectantly, remembering the sole reason she took this trip. "Yeah, everything's good. Umm..." She reached into her handbag and pulled out a thick, yellow envelope. "These are all letters from your Broadway friends, they wanted to give you something to remember them, you know, hoping to trigger a memory or something."

"Wow," Rachel peeled it opened and peaked inside. "It's so bulky. I must really be popular."

"You don't say." Quinn laughed. Rachel loved the sound of her laughter.

"Did you bring me back a present?"

"That's your present."

"Quinn!" She pouted. "This is not a proper present. You promised."

"I gave you letters from your friends. You'll be enjoying that for a few weeks. Mind you, you have a lot of friends."

She folded her arms and looked out the window. The day was overcast, January gloom, the bitterness in the air beading on the windows. "I don't like you very much right now."

"Rach," she tugged at Rachel's coat to get her attention. "Don't be like that."

"I was eager to see you because I thought you had a present for me."

"That was why you were pacing around like your dad had said?" Quinn knew she was joking, but couldn't help the way her voice squeaked with shock.

"Yes, because I wanted a present."

"Rachel," Leroy looked at her through the rear-view mirror. "Don't lie, sweetie, you were genuinely worried for Quinn's safety."

"Daddy!" She did not return his smile. "Whose side are you on?"

Leroy focused his attention back to the freeway and Hiram hummed softly to the music on the radio beside his husband. It was extraordinary, the feeling of love in their little family. She knew nothing but safety and warmth. That seems all the more extraordinary now that she considers she may be falling in love with Quinn.

"I got you this," Quinn placed a rectangle box in front of her. "It's sort of a re-gift."

With sparkling eyes she opened the box, but not before brushing her fingertips against Quinn's. Inside revealed a star pendant necklace, identical to the one she has seen Quinn wearing on a number of occasions.

"You left it at our apartment when we left for Thanksgiving," Quinn explained. The way Quinn said our apartment set the fire in her soul. "If you haven't figured it out, which you probably have, I have the same one."

"It's beautiful," she said, closing the box and placed her hand on top of Quinn's. "Thank you."

They drove a long way to a real country, along roads with no signals, just dairies and fields. They came passed nice suburbs, then the not-so-nice ones, then the brand new subdivisions alternating with lumberyards and farm equipment rentals. Finally, they turned off the freeway and drove south and exited onto a street that sloped downward like a ramp, clusters of lavender jacarandas emerged from the ranks of trees as the car stitched along the grey and white streets. Rachel watched the houses grow larger and larger until she recognized their house in the distance, and the closer they reached it, the sharper she recognized the man standing in front of the house as Finn.

Quinn's fingers gripped tightly onto her own, but it wasn't out of protection, it was out of anger. Finn looked amused when he saw her, he was unaffected by Quinn's appearance. He brushed his hair back with his hand, his cheeks were rosier than usual.

"Hey, Rach." Everything about him was smooth, calm, underplayed. It made Rachel anxious. She was enjoying the routine they had settled into in the car, and now it was being thrown off by the part she didn't know yet, the part that could change everything. "How are you, Quinn?"

Quinn's smile was gone, her face deflated, mask-like. The vigor returned to her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Rachel."

"Why?"

"Because we've been hanging out for the past few days and had planned something for today."

Quinn glanced over at Rachel, questioning why she had been hanging out with Finn. She thought quickly, "Finn, I told you I had plans today."

"I know, but I thought that after Quinn came home we could do something together."

Quinn's hand closed around hers, tugging her towards the door. "Let's go."

Finn held her back. "Hey, we were just talking."

Rachel looked from one to another, they were both shifting into battle mode, ready to fight. "Stop it, both of you." She took one step towards Quinn, hoping to put some light back into her now clouded eyes. She wanted to look at Quinn and feel like diving into a sun-warmed pool, filled with light, the way she had felt in the past week. "Can we talk about this, please?"

However, Quinn wasn't looking at Rachel. She was looking passed her—at Finn—eyes blank as a doll's. "I'm going inside. Stay, leave, I don't care." She edged passed Finn shoving him to one side and the next thing Rachel heard was the slam of the front door.

"Hey, Mr. Berrys." Finn smiled graciously at her dads, they returned his greeting but it was void of any interest.

"Rachel, we'll see you inside." Hiram patted her on the shoulder and she watched her dads walk away.

When her fathers were out of sight, Finn said, "So, how about we do something?"

The answer came to her almost immediately, terrifying but inevitable. "I have to talk to Quinn."

"Wait, Rach," he stepped in front of her. "You don't have to talk to Quinn if you don't want to, just because she's angry doesn't mean you should comfort—"

"It's a matter of I want to."

"Because she's your wife? She should understand that we're friends. She can't stop you from seeing your friends."

She took a deep breath. A pressure had risen inside of her, a feeling of anger. "I hadn't told Quinn that we were hanging out. I was going to tell her today. I should have been the one to tell her, not you," she could tell it startled him to hear her say that. "Why are you here? You knew I had plans."

He put one hand on her shoulder and leaned closer. "I'm sorry, I just really enjoyed hanging out with you."

She brushed the tear that rolled down her cheek with the back of her hand. "I'm still coping with everything and Quinn and I are still in the early reconciliation phase of our relationship, so I hope you can understand that I won't be able to see you as often. I want to make things work between us."

"Okay, I understand. I'll be here for you if you need me," he embraced her softly and she wrapped her arms around him, sighing into the hug. When they parted, he kissed her on the cheek. "Call me if you need anything."

She walked inside the house not wanting to delay her confrontation with Quinn any further. Her fathers hugged her, said reassurances, and told her that Quinn was in the guest bedroom. She loved them with all her heart: their understanding, easy-going nature, the independence they bestowed upon her, their love for her was the one thing she knew that would always remain constant.

She knocked three times on Quinn's bedroom door before walking in to see her laying on the bed. This is it, Rachel thought to herself. A ringing filled her ears. And so, a small event had turned into a gigantic catastrophe. It was like déjà vu, something in the back of her mind was telling her that she had done this before, had lied to Quinn and had to face the consequences. She walked slowly into the room—heart pounding—the distance from the door to the bed seemed longer than a marathon. When Quinn turned her head to look at her, she saw the damage clearly now, Quinn watched her with that odd remoteness, as if her mind had switched off or simply fled, as if the pressures upon it were too much.

At last Rachel reached the bed and sat beside Quinn. "I'm sorry," was all she could say.

"Did you have fun while I was gone?"

Rachel stared at her. The gap between them was increasing; there seemed no way for her to reach Quinn. "I had planned to tell you."

"When? All those times I called you while I was in New York? All those texts you sent telling me about your day?" Quinn said, sounding short of breath. "I must have misread the part in the marriage handbook where it was okay for your wife to not tell you for four days that she was hanging out with her ex-boyfriend."

The anguish and incredulity mingled in Rachel's face. "Finn was my ex-boyfriend in high school. That was five years ago. Let it go, Quinn!"

Quinn sat up abruptly. "You woke up from a coma and thought you were married to Finn Fucking Hudson, so no, you cannot tell me to let this go. You cannot tell me to let it go when our whole lives have been flipped upside down since the accident."

She began to protest, then stopped. Quinn's expression stopped her. Something had dropped away, laying bare a terrible knowledge she'd glimpsed in Quinn before but never seen directly. Rachel made a sound and moved away. "You hate me for it."

"I don't." Quinn said, making an effort to speak calmly.

"Yes, you do. You hate me for having lost any memory of the past five years. You hate me for causing your life to be flipped upside down—"

"For God sakes, Rachel, I don't hate you. I hate the situation that we're in! Are you happy? There, I said it. It's frustrating, waiting day in and day out wondering whether you're ever going to remember us or not, something, anything. I'm tired, literally, tired!"

Quinn's words made the certainty fall against her with brutal coherence, unyielding as earth. She felt buried in it. Some taboo had been broken. This kind of honesty just wasn't called for. They sat in silence and Rachel felt what seemed like indigestion. Then she thought she might be having a heart attack. Then she thought, don't be ridiculous. She hated her weakness, she hated herself. She hated what she was doing to Quinn. Her mind was going fast but none of her thoughts made sense.

After a while of silence, Quinn said, "I shouldn't have said that."

But Rachel knew their hearts were scarred and might never get better. Time seemed to be moving in lumbering jerks, each thing separate. It was painful to be alive.

"I love you. I love you so much. It hurts that you don't remember anything. It hurts that I can't tell you I love you, I can't kiss you or hold you, I can't even sleep in the same bed as you." These were the kind of words that locked you up for life. It was clear and terrifying. "I know you're adapting and that you need time. I have no problem living here with you until you're ready to go back to New York, but the fact that I can't do any of those things with you kills me."

Her body, her heart, her mind, her soul, her hands, her lips, every part of her felt brittle. Rachel was so scared that she couldn't even form rational thoughts. All she felt was fear, the terror that after this moment, everything would be changed. After this, things could never be the same.

"I had no idea you felt that way," Rachel finally managed, holding back a sob. "I didn't know I was putting you through all that. I know that the past two weeks have been difficult, but I was wrong to think we were at peace with one another. I was wrong to make you give up for life for me." She looked up to see that Quinn was crying, her heart died in her chest, the pain was unbearable. "I want you to be happy, Quinn."

"I never said I wasn't happy,"

"You're not happy." The conversation was getting emotional, it was a series of hidden meanings, one after another. "You don't have to say it," the tears silently climbed over Rachel's lids and began their descend down her cheeks. "You have a right to be tired and frustrated. It's been weeks and I haven't remembered anything—"

"You unconsciously walked to the riverbank the other day. You said it was a great sign—"

"But it wasn't a memory. As familiar as it was, I didn't remember anything. If you weren't there to tell me I probably would have never known the significance of the riverbank."

Quinn's expression became a pained one and she stared at Rachel a few moments before speaking. "Are you happy?"

"I think I am."

"Then I'm happy, too."

"You can't say that after you've told me how you felt. Everything you've said is contradicting itself," Rachel froze, choosing her words carefully. "I can't make you happy. Not like this. Can you honestly tell me that you're going to stop feeling this way now that we've stopped treading on egg shells? Can you honestly tell me you want this life?"

Quinn looked straight at her. "I don't know anything at the moment except that I love you and that you are the only thing I am sure of in my life."

Hearing those words made her body tingle. It sent a thrilling electricity up and down her spine until the very tips of her fingers sang. She also felt a pang of regret. She reached up to wipe Quinn's tears. "I care about you and for the past week I've been enamored about the possibility of falling in love with you." She took Quinn's hands in hers, flattening them and stroking her open palms. "I've never thought about how difficult this has been for you. I've been selfish and wanting you here with me because I've felt safe and loved. That's not right. Love isn't selfish. It's kind and gentle and bursting of life. If we are to do this, we need to be completely honest with our feelings as well as each other. We need to change."