I'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right, in all I've done
To think I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbyes
I nearly do
—Snow Patrol: Run
•••
January, 21st, 2016
The first night she performed Avenue Q was Rachel's biggest accomplishment of the year 2014. She had been terribly disappointed to learn that opening night clashed on her grandmother's birthday and her fathers' had booked their tickets and dinner plans months in advance and weren't able to see her perform. On top of that, her girlfriend of three years had a mid-term which also caused her to cease attendance. When she took to the stage, she saw Quinn sitting there, looking up at her with such an expression of pride and delight. She felt a rush of happiness such as she'd seldom known before because Quinn had come all the way from New Haven after staying up all night studying for her mid-terms, and her final exam was only two hours before Rachel's opening night. Quinn finished her exam in lightning speed in order to drive the seventy-point-eighty-three miles to see her.
"Did you really think I wouldn't come?" Quinn teased when they drove home that night, after the spectacular stage performance she had given. "Nothing could've kept me away, not even some stupid exam."
Rachel wanted to tell Quinn to pull over so she could devour her. That was when she realized that she could never stop falling in love with Quinn, she would never stop slipping and sliding down into that tunnel of affection, the walls of which were greased with sympathetic words, loving phrases and touches, soft, compassionate eyes, and hopeful promises.
She did devour Quinn that night; passionate and demanding. Rachel couldn't remember the last time it had been so intense and exciting as that moment, perhaps because it was the first time in four weeks they had been together like this due to all the stress of college, mid-terms and rehearsals. It was wonderful and bought tears of happiness to her eyes, tears Quinn eagerly kissed away. Over and over they reached an ecstasy from only the truest, deepest passion. After it was over, they laid in each other's arms, satisfied and spent, like two small boats caught in a hurricane after they've come home to harbor.
For hours she laid watching Quinn's sleeping figure, and finally when she was able to drift off she reached a state of trouble unconsciousness rather than the peaceful oblivion she had so desperately sought. She saw herself hanging from the edge of a sharp cliff, dangling hopelessly above the darkness. The jagged edges of the rock to which she clung cut painfully into her fingers until she had to let go. She felt herself endlessly falling and awoke with a start.
Rachel sat up quickly. The illusion of hanging from that cliff was so vivid that she actually felt pain in her fingers. She opened and closed her hands and looked around the room. Moonlight cast a thin white beam through the curtains. She took in her table, her laptop, her bed and empty, blank walls. It had been a dream, whether the happier moments with Quinn were realistic or not she couldn't be sure. Suddenly the silence around her was pierced by the silvery soft notes of a piano. She got out of bed, put on her slippers and went to the guestroom Quinn had occupied not long ago. Her fingers trembled as it turned the brass handle. When she looked through the door, all was dark and empty. The piano tune however, repeated itself: twinkle, twinkle, little star. But it wasn't complete, just five notes being played over and over again. She had always known that she had an active imagination, yet, this time it was lively. Was this her mind's way of mourning for a lost love, being called to Quinn through dreams and music?
For a moment she lingered at the door-frame and looked at the empty, messy, unmade bed. The house seemed to be holding its breath. She took one step and then another and then another, feeling as if she really hadn't awakened. This all seemed part of that tumultuous nightmare that had seized a hold of her. Reaching the bed, the piano music stopped and when she sat down on the mattress, all was still; all was quiet. She could smell Quinn's scent once her head reached the pillow, and she was crying at last.
The images of their argument played back in her head, the moment she saw Quinn's face close and she seemed to be looking far away at something, something terrible and heartbreaking that only she could see. Through the walls, through all of Quinn's trembling control, she could see the tortured look of unbearable guilt and loneliness. A look so lost and haunted that before Rachel knew to move to Quinn's side, the walls had completed its reconstruction.
She was crying with anger and humiliation and frustration. Most of all, she was crying for the emptiness left by Quinn's departure.
After the tears, she fell asleep soundlessly to the idea of Quinn being beside her, and when she awoke the sun had risen high into the morning sky. She was facing the window and watched as the morning light beat through the window and onto her skin, hoping it would lift away the veil of darkness within her. She had hoped that sleep would consume her and take away her nightmares, but morning had come, just as truth and reality had. Her heart felt like a brick in her chest. Her arms and legs ached like she had been pushing through soft, wet dirt with her fingers and dragging her body along with it. She ran a hand along Quinn's side of the bed. It was better for the both of them that they take time apart, but divorce had sounded so final.
There was a knock on the door and without turning, she heard her daddy say, "Rachel? Honey, Brittany's here to see you."
"Hey, Rach," she heard Brittany's low voice and then the door closed and the bed dipped. "Did you sleep well?"
Rachel snuggled deeper into the comforter and shook her head. Brittany lightly ran her hand up and down the length of Rachel's back. "I know you miss, Quinn. She misses you, too. She's just scared," Rachel didn't say anything, just continued watching the sun. Brittany continued, "I bought you some food. Your dads said you haven't eaten so we should eat together."
She heard the sound of tupperware lids being opened and food being scooped onto a plate, the bed rose, footsteps leading to her side, then Brittany sat in front of her and placed the plate on the table beside the bed. Rachel just lay there staring out the window. Sorrow had seized her and made her its own silent creature. Brittany rushed to hug her, and even though her own arms felt limp she welcomed the feel of Brittany's strong, comforting embrace and the rich scent of her perfume.
"Oh, Rach, please don't be like this. I don't know what to do when you're like this. You're always so happy and cheery and you laugh at everything I say and today I don't know how to make you laugh, so please just laugh for the sake of laughing."
Rachel didn't laugh, a small smile appeared instead and Brittany said, "I'll take that over your frown any day. Now, please eat. It's vegan."
"Why does it hurt?" Her throat was raw and dry.
Brittany handed her a glass of water and she mustered her strength to push herself up so her back was resting on the headboard. "Because you've lost something you love."
"I don't remember loving her."
"You might not remember it but you do, somewhere deep down that heart of yours," Brittany poked a finger to Rachel's chest, missing her sternum and hit her nipple instead. "Oops, sorry," she giggled. "Don't tell San I did that."
That elicited a small giggle from Rachel, only for a tiny moment, then she was serious again. "But why? I don't know if I love Quinn. I do feel something but I can't say it's love."
"You loved her before, and the feeling's still there you just can't remember it—yet." Brittany stroked her cheek, wiping the tear that slipped from Rachel's eye. "You still love her, Rachel. You believe that you don't because you don't remember anything, but I know that with time you will fall in love with Quinn over again."
Rachel lowered her head to Brittany's shoulder, taking in everything she had said. Brittany; optimistic, energetic and determined. She seemed incapable of being depressed or diminished. Her sapphire eyes were full of hope and life. At a time like this, Rachel welcomed her sunshine like the grass and the wild flowers welcomed the sun's rays that shone every day.
"How's Quinn?" Rachel asked stiffly and she braced herself for the answer.
"Quinn is... Quinn's Quinn, you know?" She put her arm around Rachel's shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "She'll come around when she's ready."
Rachel didn't know what Quinn was like. She knew the high school Quinn, and last night she had seen glimpses of that up until the moment Quinn kissed her. "Is she okay?"
"Rachel, you should eat."
"No," Rachel held onto Brittany's arm when she was about to pull away. "I want to know. Is she okay?"
"No, she's not," Brittany explained not wanting to look into her chocolate eyes. "She's burying her feelings. Her walls—"
"—Have completed its reconstruction." Rachel finished with a sigh.
"Well, I wasn't going to say it like that, but yes, it has."
She pressed her face against Brittany's shoulder and chest and began to weep. She was weeping for Quinn and her fathers who have loved the woman she once was, she was weeping for herself and all that she has lost. She was weeping for that innocent child who didn't know what her life would become and who she was going to hurt, because all she saw in her future was stardom, musicals, Broadway, fans wanting her signature. She thought that she would have all the love and tenderness she'd ever need, and now she was so confused as to why she was mourning the loss of something she couldn't remember having. Most of all, she was weeping for Quinn, for the love she should have been able to reclaim as hers forever.
"Rachel," Brittany finally said. "It's not over. Quinn's not thinking clearly, and she cares about you so much that she doesn't care about anything except your happiness and she's doing this because she thinks you need it. You need to reach out to her, you need to tell her."
After a long pause, Rachel said, "I don't know how. I don't know how to deal with this Quinn. I don't know anything about her."
"It doesn't matter," Brittany said urgently. "You love her, don't you realize that? You've been crying for Quinn even though you don't remember her or anything about the past. You've lost something so significant to you that it hurts. If you feel this strongly about something you claim to not remember, you shouldn't give up." They were staring at one another now, Brittany's eyes were so fierce and she couldn't tear her own eyes away. "People have insects that make us feel things—"
"Instincts."
"—for a reason. We get instincts to tell us to do this and that and that doing this will be good for us or doing this is bad. What are your instincts telling you, Rachel?"
"I don't know—"
"What are they telling you?" She said slowly, almost yelling.
Rachel looked away from Brittany and said, "That I shouldn't give up on Quinn."
Brittany relaxed and in turn it made Rachel relax and then she was able to say, "I don't understand why. Quinn said goodbye, she left. I wanted this to work, I've tried so hard."
"It doesn't matter," she repeated, raising her voice a notch. "Why aren't you listening to me, Rachel? You don't feel strongly about something unless it's for a reason. You knew from a young age that you were going to be famous and be a star and you felt so strong about it that you didn't give up on your dreams. Why is this any different? Why should you give up just because Quinn left and she said goodbye? Why should you give up on anything you believe in? If everyone gave up in life when things get hard we wouldn't have Edison who invented light or those scientists who created the computer and the internet." Brittany inhaled deeply and continued in one swift breath. "I'm pretty sure making a computer isn't easy with all that stuff inside of it and I'm sure the internet wasn't easy to come up with either with all the wires and whatever they use to connect things together. If people just gave up we wouldn't have anything, and if you give up on Quinn right now it'll be over, Rachel, because Quinn won't be coming back. As harsh as it sounds, that's Quinn for you. If she sees that your life is better without her, she's not coming back."
Rachel placed her hands on either side of Brittany's arms to try and calm her. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were burning into Rachel at every word. "Okay, okay. Relax, Britt, breathe. I won't give up on Quinn. I'll try and reach out to her, I'll do anything until she understands that I'll always be here."
"You shouldn't give up on yourself either, Rach. You love music and Broadway, don't give up on that just because you were in an accident and can't remember five years of your life. Make new memories."
Rachel took her hand and they embraced again. Once she pulled away, Rachel said, "I feel like I've had this conversation before."
"With who?"
"I don't know. Are you going to tell me to serenade to Quinn?"
Brittany looked at her quizzically. "Do you want me to?"
She shook her head and slumped back onto the headboard. "Never mind, I'm probably just imagining things." With another heavy sigh, she said, "Where's Quinn now? Can I see her?"
"Umm—" Brittany turned her head to look out the window for a few long seconds and then back to Rachel, who had a little bit of spark in her eyes. "Quinn's..."
Just like that, the spark was gone. "What? What happened?"
"Quinn left, Rachel."
"Left? What do you mean?"
"She's gone back to New York." Brittany offered.
Rachel was up off the bed in a matter of seconds. "Is she at the airport? Which airport did she go to? Can I still catch her? We can still catch her."
"No, Rach, listen," Brittany held onto her hands and her face saddened. "She left this morning, she's probably on the plane now. But you should text her or even call her later today."
Rachel remained quiet but nodded her acquiescence, staring far into the distance until Brittany bought her back. "Now, you need to eat and then Santana and Puck are coming. They have something big planned for you."
Rachel went to the bathroom to wash herself quickly, and when she came back they both sat opposite each other eating on the bed. Brittany was chatting idly about all the things Rachel had missed out in the past five years, and she tried to enjoy the rich cuisine but it all tasted of pebbles; bland and hard. Brittany made three valid points as she spoke about her life and Rachel tried to blend it into her own: life is short; sometimes you can't turn back; everything happens for a reason. The awful thing was she could finally understand how a direction, a momentum, could grow into something nobody could have expected. The events of the accident changed both Quinn and herself and their relationship. She can see how Quinn just sent everything deep inside, she tried to remain as positive as possible until it was too much for her to handle and she had to remove herself from the situation. For every gain there is a sacrifice; Quinn sacrificed herself in order for Rachel to gain happiness.
"...And that is how Lord Tubbington got pregnant. As for—"
Rachel turned her head towards the bedroom door when she heard footsteps ascending closer and Santana poked her head through cautiously and raised her eyebrows as if to ask if it were all right to enter. Puck, however, pushed passed her and flopped himself onto the bed holding a six pack of beers. He opened a bottle for himself and took a sip before noticing the three pairs of repulsive glances directed at him.
"Oh, did you guys want one? Should have said something." He laughed and proceeded to open another one but Rachel stopped him.
"Noah, must you always have a beer in your hands?"
"Beer keeps me energized," he winked seductively. "If you know what I mean."
Rachel wiped at her eyes as she said, "I don't need the visual, thank you."
"Anyway," Santana gave Brittany a small peek and grabbed a board game out of the bag she was holding. She turned to Rachel, "Let's play Scrabble."
"That's the big thing you have planned for me?" She was expecting a big party in her honor perhaps her fans might have wanted to visit. Or maybe a reporter from a famous magazine had wanted to interview her. She shook her head at the ridiculous thoughts and heard Santana say,
"What did you expect? A big party? I'm in no shape or form to throw you a party. That's Quinn's—"
At hearing Quinn's name, Rachel was at a loss for air. That would also account for the dizziness. The air was smothering her, it felt like there was a crushing weight all around her.
"Sorry," Santana mumbled a moment later. "Let's play—"
"How is she?" Rachel took in a deep breath, needing the air to help her talk and stay alive. "Did she get to the airport alright?"
Santana sounded as breathless as Rachel felt. "She'll be okay."
It wasn't quite the answer she was expecting, but then she didn't know what she was expecting. All she knew was that she needed to see Quinn, to hear her voice. The thought scared her. She had no memory of falling in love with Quinn or being with her, yet being away from Quinn was like being separated from her own flesh.
Santana reached over to take her hand. "It'll be okay, Rach. Quinn just needs time."
Ignoring the crushing fear inside of her, she looked into Santana's eyes. "When did you become so nice?"
Santana retracted her hand immediately and muttered through her teeth with a small laugh, "Shut up."
"No, seriously," Rachel was desperate to know when everything had changed. "When did we all become friends? Why are you guys so nice to me?"
Puck spoke flatly, "We've always been friends, Rach. You couldn't have forgotten that."
"I meant, when did we become this close?" She turned to Brittany and Santana. "You both live in Boston and you drove all the way down here to keep me company? And Noah, don't you work? I don't recall any of you doing that for me in high school when I was feeling down about not getting a solo or even that time I had laryngitis."
Puck put his arm around her and drew her in for a hug. "A lot of things have changed, Rach. We're not in high school anymore—"
"We've matured a lot since then," Brittany added.
"And when you and Q started dating she didn't want to go anywhere without you," Santana said with a tiny gag. "She was kind of whipped and it was utterly sickening watching how in love you two were."
"It was cute," Brittany argued. "Don't say mean things, San."
Santana paused for a moment and then rolled her eyes. "Hobbit knows I'm only kidding."
"Why do you insist on making fun of my stature?" Rachel said, straightening. "As I stated before, I'm not that much shorter than you."
"Quinn used to tease you about it. It's just caught on." Santana shrugged and then pulled out a chair sitting at the end of the bed. Rachel hadn't realized that she had been standing for a good half an hour. "Are we gonna play Scrabble or what? I'm going to kick your ass, Shorty." She then proceeded to lay out the tiles onto the bed.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. There was a coldness in Rachel's approach at playing the game and watching her friends interact so effortlessly with one another. It was odd, Rachel realized, like two different worlds colliding. Rachel looked around everything with new eyes, Puck would smile at her in delight, Brittany laughed at everything she said, and Santana approved of her word choices, even though Rachel was sure she had no idea what half of them meant. Without seemingly to concentrate, she won the game and found herself enjoying the pout and whinge from Santana.
"How did you do that?" Santana asked her incredulously. "You looked like you weren't even trying half the time."
Rachel blinked a few times and then gave her a huge smile. "I'm just that good."
Puck opened a bottle of beer and handed the girls one each. "Have a beer, Rach."
"No, thanks, Noah. I don't enjoy beer."
There was stunned silence and they eyed each other until Brittany said, "We should watch a movie. What do you want to watch, Rach?"
"I know what you guys are trying to do," Rachel said. "You don't have to keep me company. I'm not going to hurt myself or attempt suicide."
Rachel knew that this meant the conversation was finished. Whatever opinion her friends might have—if they did, in fact, have any opinions—they would keep it to themselves. With a heavy sigh, she pulled the blanket off of her, took the empty plates and cutlery and walked out the door into the kitchen. She could hear the sound of her dads watching television from the living but chose to ignore them and began washing the dishes. Her friends didn't follow her into the kitchen, instead they were chatting quietly with her dads in the other room. No doubt the main topic was her well-being and possible divorce from Quinn.
She put the kettle on and stared out the window. The suburb stretched out flat and monotonous around the house, all grey and muted, functional and drab. Sometimes when the culmination of life's responsibilities made her anxious and stressed, she wished she could teleport herself to the sparkling emerald stretch of sea that lay just outside her grandmother's cabin in Colorado. Remembering Colorado made her heart flutter and her mind betrayed her once again. Instead of remembering the wonderful days she spent with her fathers and grandma Berry baking cookies and playing board games, she recalled talking to Quinn every day and the excitement she felt every time she received—a letter? An email? A text?—from Quinn. Such memories warmed the loneliness in her heart and turned her eyes into gleeful ones. They were happy memories, ones that made you aware of life's thrilling moments.
As if they were a protective cape, she wrapped the memories of those days around herself and rushed into the living room. "How did Quinn and I meet?"
"What are you talking about, honey?" Leroy asked moving towards her.
Rachel said hurriedly, "How did we meet? Was it on the phone? On the internet? What?"
"You met on tumblr," Santana said softly, her eyes lingering on Rachel's flushed form. "Why?"
"Colorado. I remember something about Colorado," she said and leaned against the wall. "I feel so... strong about it. I'm... happy, extremely happy."
"Rachel," Brittany said straightening up quickly from the couch, a childlike excitement returning to her voice. "Are you getting your memories back?"
"I don't—know," she gasped out. "There's just something about Colorado."
"You were in Colorado the year you and Quinn began talking." Hiram's low, soft voice was unfamiliar. "I remember you being holed up in your room and you refused to participate in any activities for two weeks and when we came back home you were attached to your laptop. I'm not joking, Rachel, you carried it everywhere."
Leroy laughed at the memory. "When we lectured you about it you told us that it was our fault for not upgrading your phone to a newer model so you could use the internet on it."
Puck tugged her away from the wall and helped her sit on the couch. "Are you okay, Rach?"
Relaxed now, she licked her lips, realizing her mouth felt dry and cottony. Her tongue flicked out moistening her parched lips. "Thirsty," she croaked out. "I need a drink."
A minute later, Leroy handed her a glass and she drank deeply, the cool, sweet liquid flowing down her throat. Never had anything tasted so wondrous.
Brittany rubbed light circles on her back. "This is good, Rach. It's something."
She closed her eyes and partial thoughts drifted through her mind. She could hear the rush of waves from the beach. She could see glimmering lights on the dark water of the bay. The moon's rays sparkled in the water and she could smell the sea. She filled her lungs with the sea and the moon and the night and the cleansing air. From the balcony she heard a ding from her computer and she rushed over to witness: starcheerio sent you a friend request.
Rachel let out a huge breath that left her completely weak, and she settled back onto the couch, her spine stiff with panic. She couldn't seem to remember anything else, just the thought of Colorado left her tingling and sent thrilling electricity up and down her body.
There was worry etched across everyone's face when Rachel narrowed her eyes at them, every line was withered with concern, from piercing eyes to unsmiling mouths. "I have to talk to Quinn," she said. "I'm going to call Quinn. Do you think she's home now?"
"Probably," Santana said. "She's definitely landed already, that's for sure."
Rachel walked up to her room; the electric hum of the television, the air, the traffic outside her house was all a fog around her. Her hands were shaking as she fumbled for her phone, shut the door behind her and rested her head on the dark wood of her bookshelf. She looked up at the clock hanging on the wall and she shamelessly indulged in a little girl's fantasy that she could turn back the time, to before the argument with Quinn, to before the accident. She had been happy, she knew that for sure. She lifted her head, and shook away the world.
When Quinn didn't answer her phone three times in a row, Rachel contemplated leaving a voicemail. Then she thought better of it and sent out a text: Quinn, please call me back. We need to talk.
She waited half an hour and rang again, four more times and all her patience vanished when Quinn shut off her phone and the call went straight to voicemail. The conflagration in her heart was searing hot and burned away the cold air. Quinn didn't want to talk to her, that much she could wrap her head around, but there was no need for Quinn to ignore her completely. Her heart was enveloped in a cloud of despair.
She called again, and left a message, "Quinn, I know you don't want to talk, which is fine because I understand you need space. But please don't shut me out completely. I remembered something from Colorado, I know it's not much but I think it's still something and I have a good feeling we can get through this. Please, call me back."
•••
February 1st, 2016
By nature, Rachel had never been adventurous—even though she wasn't timid—but according to her fathers her situation had become desperate. She had resumed the use of her elliptical and it left her muscles tense and rigid. She needed stability to help pass the time, without it she found herself scrubbing the floors, cleaning the windows, rearranging the furniture. A few days ago she gave away most of her clothes to Goodwill. The past two weeks passed like a dream; the constant urge to sleep, logic fled, and memory drained away like motor oil. Her only thoughts consisted of Quinn and wanting to call Quinn and hoping that Quinn would call her and waiting by the phone and jumping eagerly whenever the phone rang only to have it end in disappointment because it was never Quinn. Quinn had somehow disappeared from the face of the planet, no one had heard from her and she turned her phone off completely.
Her dad, Hiram, suggested a little hike in the forests a few miles from Lima and although she had protested, he hadn't relented and he picked her up by the waist and carried her to the car.
The sun was glaring a yellow orb suspended over the distant mountains, casting long black shadows over the uneven terrain. A hawk soared lazily overhead, its wide wingspan catching the unseen wind currents. The coolness of the mountain morning lingered, turning their warm breath to smoky puffs.
Rachel's hands were shoved deep into the pockets of her jackets as she stared at the strange landscape. She glanced down at her shiny brown shoes, the toes were already showing a covering of pale dust. Her dad could have waited a few minutes until she picked out the proper hiking boots, instead he grabbed her new casual outing boots and shoved them on her feet while in the car.
"Having fun, sweetie?" Leroy patted her on the back. "It's a beautiful scenery."
"No." She huffed, but something like a smile came to her lips realizing how at ease she felt in this rugged, little forest.
"Oh, hush, sweetie," Hiram said a few feet in front of her. "I can see that smile on your lips."
"Do you have eyes at the back of your head now, dad?"
He chuckled loudly. "Of course, I do. How do you think I found out that you were dating Quinn back in the day?"
Rachel's heart jerked and she caught up to him, linking their arms. "Tell me?"
"It was an accident, actually. I don't know if you want to hear it." He paused waiting for a confirmation from Rachel. When she nodded, he glanced back at his husband with the intention of asking a question, but Leroy was busy examining plants and was too far behind them. He turned back to Rachel and said, "Okay. Brace yourself."
Rachel squeezed tighter to his side and listened intently. "It was the year two-thousand and twelve," Hiram began. "Thanksgiving and Christmas had passed. We had just celebrated the Jewish—"
"Dad, get to the point, please,"
"Alright, alright. I'm guessing you want the short version?" He asked and she nodded eagerly and he said, "Simply put, I walked in on you and Quinn having sex."
Rachel couldn't open her mouth to save her life. A hot sweat broke over her skin at the implication of his words. The image of a naked Quinn flashed through her mind, then another of Rachel writhing underneath her—or vice versa—and Quinn's fingers doing magical things to her body. Her cheeks flushed heavily at the thoughts. She should've let the subject drop, yes, but she was too curious now. "You're joking, right?"
Hiram's shoulders lifted in a rigid shrug. "I wish I was, honey. The image still haunts me till this day."
"I could not have been that careless." Her eyes wide, she shook her head vigorously.
"One does not think clearly when one is in love."
She could feel the beginning of her feet getting sore. Her shoes were flat-heeled, practical enough for walking long blocks on city sidewalks, but they were useless in this terrain. "Were we—" She swallowed with a gulp before saying, "—Naked?"
"Uh huh, very much so," he laughed at the horror plastered on her face. "I didn't see anything womanly, if that's what you're worried about. Quinn was very quick to act and covered you both with the blanket."
Rachel didn't know what else to say. There were so many questions she wanted to ask about Quinn, she desperately wanted to get to know the new Quinn. Somehow, that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Instead, she focused on something else. She had a childhood of privilege and the thought that her dads might have yelled at her was daunting. "What did you do?"
Hiram didn't speak for a moment. Just watched her, studied her. "We talked about boundaries and applied new house rules. Quinn wasn't allowed over unless one or both of us were home and you weren't allowed at her house unless Judy was home and your daddy made sure of that."
"Judy knew?" She asked shakily.
"Quinn came out to her long before we had known."
Rachel straightened her shoulders and felt the soles of her shoes stepping on rocks and thorny bushes. Well, there goes her new pair of shoes. "Really? Quinn would do that?"
"It was very much like you, Rach," his strong arms wrapped around her shoulder. "You were both caught in a compromising position and Quinn had to come out."
"What was it?"
Their quick pace carried them to the rise through the forest. A distant, spiky-leaved plant caught Hiram's eye and he walked toward it for a closer inspection.
"Dad!" Rachel followed him and cringed at the lifeless plant. There were no bell-shaped flowers on the stalk, only barely formed buds. "I want to know."
"I'm going to let Judy tell you about that." He said and returned to examining the plant.
"But—but," Rachel sputtered. "You can't say that and just leave it."
Leroy caught up to them and stood beside his husband. "What are you two talking about?"
"When Judy found out Quinn and I were dating," Rachel said quickly. "I would like to know how it came about."
"Oh, that moment," Leroy hummed in amusement. "We'll leave that one to Judy."
"Daddy," she stomped her foot and pouted. "This is so unfair."
"Come on, sweetie, let's go." Leroy grabbed onto her arm and they continued with the hike.
With a resigned sigh, Rachel dropped the subject. When they reached a new vintage point, Rachel gazed out over the expanse of wild land. Far, far away, she could see dark specks of slowly moving animals. Vaguely she remembered her daddy saying that cattle were pastured across the land and she assumed what she saw was part of a herd. Tiny against the vast landscape, the faraway cattle made her even more aware of what she had been missing in life since the accident, and a chill sent a shiver down her body despite the warmth of the sun.
They wandered through, reaching higher hill-tops and climbing over large rocks. Rachel made her way warily up the steep incline, following her fathers behind. She thought of hungry coyotes and even mountain lions, and startled herself when she reached the top and found herself staring at a white-faced cow. She took a hasty step back, nearly losing her balance before she stopped. The cow eyed her suspiciously for several seconds and then turned and trotted away. Not until it seemed there was no chance of it returning did she expel a breath she'd unknowingly been holding.
"Rachel, are you okay?" Her dad called from in front. "What happened?"
"I'm fine, dad, I just saw a cow."
"Well, come on," he waved for her to hurry. "It's beautiful up here."
The muscles in her calves were aching from climbing. To the right of where the cow had been standing was a jumble of rocks. One flat rock looked inviting, offering a relatively comfortable seat.
"I'm going to sit down over here for a minute." She called out. The sun beat down and warmed the stone, which made it doubly relaxing. Leaning back, Rachel closed her eyes and basked in the steady sunshine.
She felt something poke her ribs and opened her eyes to see her fathers standing above her. "Rachel, you can't sit down. We don't have long to go." Leroy said.
"But my feet hurt," she whined. "If you had let me chosen the correct shoes for hiking I wouldn't be in the position."
Hiram continued to poke her with the stick. "Come on, no rest for the wicked."
She grunted and whacked the stick away when he was about to poke her again. "Whose idea was this? My muscles are already aching from the elliptical. I can only handle so much pain."
A troubled, disbelieving expression creased Leroy's forehead. "Rachel, please," he said softly. "We haven't had family time for so long. It's so good to have you back."
Rachel's thudded heart sped up at seeing the hurt in her fathers' eyes and she pulled them both in for a group hug. "I'm sorry. I'll behave."
The path leading back down to the start was farther than she'd thought. The sun that had been over her shoulder during the first part of the hike was now shining in their eyes as they began to retrace their steps. Her legs were still a little stiff and she felt what could only be classified as a blister on her heel. If it wasn't for the sun shining reassuringly in front of her, Rachel would have been willing to believe that her dads had taken the wrong turn and that they were lost in the forest.
Farther on, the weathered houses and the buildings came into view. She paused once more to look back at the forest and breathed a sigh of contentment. She had missed this; family time. She missed her dads comforting embraces and happy smiles. A long-legged jackrabbit hopped away when Rachel came close to a thick stand of bush. His hasty departure made her think of her own wish to flee her unfriendly surroundings as soon as possible.
Rachel ran to the car the instant she saw it and said—"Finally, this is heaven,"—as soon as she sat down and took off her shoes. She examined the soles and she was right: the rocks, twigs, stone pavement and bushes had scratched and permanently marred them. "I spent thirty-five dollars on these. I would like a new pair."
In the passenger seat, Leroy chuckled. "Rachel, do you know how much you make? You could buy five pairs of those. Better ones."
She hadn't stopped to consider what she had accomplished over the past few years. Her life moved as if God had pressed a button and shifted it into fast forward. She was breaking out into a cold sweat of absolute panic. For a few moments she became almost catatonic, unable to swallow, her body trembling. She was, after all, no longer responsible only for herself.
"Well... um, Quinn, she took care of all the insurance papers and medical bills, and I guess since we're married we have belongs we purchased between us, right? She did give me my credit card but she never mentioned anything financially to me."
Even though she didn't see their expressions, she knew her fathers were glancing worriedly at each other when she mentioned Quinn. The silence in the car was magnified until Rachel said quietly, "What happens when Quinn and I get a divorce?"
"You won't, sweetie." Leroy said.
"What if, daddy?"
"Everything you both own will be divided, from furniture to any financial assets you have together."
"What if we don't agree on anything?" Rachel took a sip of water and waited patiently.
Leroy turned around in his position to look at her. "You'll have a lawyer, and you'll both meet and discuss what you want and what you don't want. If you both want the same things your lawyers will argue why you should get it instead of Quinn."
They drove for another fifteen minutes and her fathers were chatting nervously. Rachel looked out the windows and sucked a peppermint for carsickness. The idea of divorce sickened her. If she couldn't get through to Quinn in a few weeks' time they would be discussing the remnants of their shared belongings and arguing about who was more deserving of what. Gradually, the lumberyards and fields thinned out and replaced by suburbs. Hiram turned into their street and parked the car in the driveway. There was a rush of cold air when Rachel opened the door and she quickly ran into the house.
Once they were all inside, a loud rap on the door startled them and Rachel walked hesitantly to the door. It was with a mixture of excitement and curiosity when she opened it—they had just come home, after all. Had this person been waiting outside for hours until they arrived or did they just have impeccable timing? A man of medium height and build, dressed in a grey-striped suit, stood with his back to the door surveying the houses around the neighborhood.
"Can I help you?" Rachel asked. Her question brought the man around with a start.
He had a wide, friendly face and dancing brown eyes, in his later forties by her guess. "Rachel Berry, I presume?" The man drawled softly as his gaze roamed over her in respectful admiration. "My name is Ty Spalding and I have a delivery for you from Miss Quinn Fabray."
Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to think of some reply that wouldn't make her seem too eager or sound ignorant. Ty handed her a yellow envelope. She cast her eyes down, the knowledge of what she thought it was frightened her to the marrow. She ignored the thought and took the envelope with shaky hands. She signed the clipboard and handed it back to him, "Thank you."
"Please read over it carefully, Miss Berry," he explained. "It's extremely important that you read everything." She stood in the door until Ty Spalding got behind the wheel of his car and drove off.
Then she closed the door and hurried to the kitchen table to open the special-delivery mail. Her dads were watching her curiously. Surely it was just a letter because Quinn didn't know how to talk to Rachel after what happened between them. Perhaps it was a gift and there was a special surprise inside telling Rachel to meet her somewhere. She tore open the envelope and unfolded the papers within. What she read brought her heart down to earth like a balloon that had sprung a leak. She sat down slowly, her pitter-patter heart becoming a thumping, heavy lead drum in her chest. The happiness she had felt during the day with her fathers evaporated and tears filled her eyes, blurring the words on the page before her.
Dear: Miss Rachel Barbra Berry,
Enclosed are divorce documents inquired by Miss Quinn Fabray. From today onwards, you have thirty (30) days to serve upon Miss Fabray's answer to the claims of the petition. You may discuss this further with your lawyer and once all papers have been signed we will commence to the second phase of the divorce process known as the information gathering stage. During this phase, information is gathered and exchanged regarding such things as the assets and liabilities of both parties, incomes and monthly expenses.
Please read and sign all documents where appropriate. I look forward to settling this as discreetly as possible.
Russell Fabray.
"Rachel, what is it?" Leroy asked.
One of her tears fell on the letter and began a quick journey over the paper, distorting some of the words. Letting the papers fall to her lap, she sat back, tears now flowing freely over her cheeks and to the corners of her mouth, where she could taste their salty wetness. The world shuffled, arrange and rearranged itself around her like a bird puffing out its feathers. Sounds became indistinct; traffic, voices, airplanes, everything ran together into one larger sound like a crowd, hundreds and thousands of people assembling nearby.
"Rachel? Honey?"
After her initial astonishment, her first reaction was a blood-angry rage. She wanted to tear each and every paper in two and throw the pieces into the fireplace. A part of her had thought that given the time and space, Quinn would rethink this whole situation and realize that they could work through this. She had tried to reach out to Quinn, called and texted her beyond the necessary amount. She had no idea that Quinn would go to such lengths to seek out her father—who by the way had kicked her out of home—to send her such a message. This was totally unacceptable and inexcusable.
After her boiling anger receded, she flipped through the documents, she had a secondary reaction one based upon a more thoughtful and objective analysis. This wasn't just infuriating and annoying; it was somewhat frightening. To what would this mean? Would they ever see each other again? Would Quinn ever be able to be in the same room as her? Was Quinn going to throw away everything they shared because Rachel had lost her memories? Was Quinn trying to be the hero by putting Rachel's happiness before hers?
"Rachel!" Leroy yelled and she snapped her eyes toward him. "Let me see that."
No, she couldn't let her fathers see it. She couldn't stand being in this house. She pulled away from him and bolted to the street, heart beating wildly, pushing from her chest till she wanted to spit it out on the pavement and stop its freakish pounding. She walked, walked faster, a sick panic like nothing she'd felt in her life. Frantically she reasoned with herself: there's nothing to be afraid of, everything will be fine. She was running now, her mind scrambling for the right combination of thoughts, her heart pounding away like a machine gun-fire.
She leaned against a building and tried to swallow down her heart. She closed her eyes but no, it wasn't helping. Without being aware of a conscious decision to move, Rachel reached into her pocket and took out her phone. She dialed Quinn's number. She took a deep breath and then straightened her shoulders, holding her head up high even though her eyes were sore and burning. The call went straight to voicemail.
"Quinn, I got the papers." She wouldn't cry, Rachel told herself, she wouldn't. "You don't have to do this. You were the one that told me you were never going to leave. You told me that you were going to be by my side no matter what, so why aren't you? You can't leave just when things get hard, that's not fair. You can't throw everything away because you think my happiness is more precious than yours. I'm trying so hard and if you had wanted me to continue singing or return to Broadway you should've just told me that yourself." She took a deep breath, the air was like gravel travelling down her esophagus. "If you would have asked instead of assumed you'll know why I did what I did. I put you first because you're my wife regardless of whether I remember it or not. Quinn, please just call me back. We can talk about this before it's too late."
•••
October 17th, 2011
Rachel had kissed four boys in her short life.
Now as she sat in the choir room watching Finn perform, she realized it was one more than Quinn, but out of those four, Finn was her only true boyfriend. Jesse was manipulative, while Puck and Blaine were just for fun. Blaine; stylish and always well-dressed and passionate was a result of one drunken night playing a game of spin the bottle. She considers Blaine an experience; he is after all, very gay and very much dating one of her closest friends. For her future bibliography she's able to say: I kissed a gay man and it was a pleasant experience. She kissed Puck to spite Finn, twice, but the first time they were dating for a short while and she came to care for him, he was certainly not dull. Jesse; cocky, ambitious and manipulative. He was her male equivalent, and although she did love herself to extreme lengths, dating herself was a mistake on her part. She wanted to be the only star, with Jesse they would constantly be competing for the spotlight. Finn was her first boyfriend; she was in awe of his youth, it was almost overwhelming. It had definitely been love with Finn and he had definitely broken her heart. His abandonment made her feel so gutted that she believed she could never feel whole again.
Until she fell for Quinn.
With Quinn, she felt brighter and fresher than she had ever before. She had come full circle, erasing the pain of the past. She was filled with hope and happiness again, willing to believe, to be vulnerable, to open herself to someone and risk her fragile heart. Quinn was exciting, glamorous, and confident. There were so many dark areas in her that Rachel had yet to explore and understand that the idea was thrilling. It takes a long time to know someone, even someone you love very much and she wanted to know all about Quinn even if it took her a lifetime.
She moved her feet and body to Finn's rendition of Tom Jones' She's a Lady, her thoughts were drowned out by the mechanical, ferocious pulse of the music coming from the band. Rachel couldn't help abide to the rhythm and the tonality when his voice hit the correct notes. She was swaying and tapping, enjoying the music's frenzied single-minded dedication to movement and to dance. Quinn, beside her, wasn't too pleased that Rachel had been spending some time with Finn the previous day and Quinn's lack of enthusiasm and participation for his performance was the result of it.
Everyone cheered and clapped when Finn finished singing and Brittany almost let out a squeal of delight.
"Good job, Finn," Mr. Schue tapped him on his back. "That was a great song choice to end our seventy's week."
Finn had the same cheeky smile and said, "Thanks Mr. Schue. Rachel helped me with it." Rachel sunk low in her chair and refused to meet eyes with Quinn. "Without her I'd still think Tom Jones is the guy from Men in Black."
Mr. Schue frowned but gave Finn a triumphant grin. "That's it for the day, guys. Enjoy the rest of your week."
The room was empty by the time Rachel finished speaking to Mr. Schue about possible songs for Sectionals and after she gathered her music sheets, she turned to see Quinn waiting for her at door. Her back was leaning against the door-frame, her head scanning from side to side down the empty hallway. No one had ever waited for Rachel before, the image made her heart flutter. This was the sort of all-consuming love that made the world disappear. She met Quinn at the doorway and the warmth in that brief look made Rachel swallow hard. She saw the love and sweetness there.
"You waited."
Quinn smiled, the gentlest of smiles. "Yeah, I figured someone might kidnap you."
"I can defend myself, Quinn," she said sheepishly as they headed down the corridor. "I carry a rape whistle with me everywhere."
"You do not," Quinn quipped. "Where do you even get that from?"
"I do, too." She paused and tightened her fingers around Quinn's; the magnetism that bought their hands together was unmistakably strong. "They sell it at the drug store."
Then Quinn's grin faded and she turned to look at Rachel, serious for once. "I'm not too keen on you helping Finn with songs."
"Quinn, you were there. Finn was well behaved."
Quinn pouted and the look was enough to dissolve Rachel into a puddle. "That doesn't mean I like it."
"We're friends." Rachel clarified, focusing her attention on anything but Quinn's lips. "I can assure you that I'm completely over him."
Rachel glanced up and tried not to think of her mouth devouring Quinn's lean, muscled body, her moans of pleasure in Rachel's ears, her hands gripping Rachel's hair, the taste of Quinn's lips on her tongue. Unfortunately, she thought of little else and walked straight into the drinking fountain. Her foot slammed into the metal, knocking the air from her lungs, her knees knocked together, buckled, and she almost propelled onto her face. Her free hand grabbed onto the metal edge of the drinking fountain to balance herself and she pushed to her feet, Quinn's arm looped around her waist, helping her stand.
"Be careful!" Quinn barked, there was lack of menace, just worry. "Where were you looking?"
Quinn's breasts were meshed into her side, and her fingers slipped underneath Rachel's sweater, latching onto her bare midriff. When she felt the heat of Quinn's palm, she sucked in a breath. Quinn held onto her firmly, keeping her in place. Rachel may appear strong because of her intense workouts on the elliptical, but in this moment she was extremely dainty.
"You could've hurt yourself," Quinn whispered against her ear, her breath caressed Rachel's cheek. "Are you okay?" Quinn's desperate gaze sought her, and whatever she saw on Rachel's face made her relax. "You had me worried you were going to kill us both."
"I'm fine, thank you."
When they pulled apart, Rachel made the mistake of turning to speak and found herself eye level with Quinn's mouth. The soft, sensuous curve of her lower lip was awfully tempting and Rachel couldn't look away from it. Quinn's hand touched her cheek, the softness of her skin rasping in a satisfying caress against her own before Quinn's thumb lifted her chin. She hardly recognized the burning darkness in those hazel eyes. Rachel's eyelids fluttered shut while Quinn moved closer. An unspoken invitation for Quinn to kiss her was conveyed by her parted, glistening lips. Rachel felt Quinn's breath and the tiniest brush of contact with—
A sniggering laugh sounded from several feet away, followed by a female voice saying loudly, "You have no idea. I can't wait to be there tonight!"
Almost before whoever had stopped talking, Quinn pulled herself away from Rachel waiting for the person to appear. Her breath was ragged and her expression was filled with cold anger.
The voice came closer, "It's going to be so much fun, Britt." Santana strutted toward them plastering a huge smile on her lips, a phone in one hand and wriggling her eyebrows. "What are you nerds still doing here?" She shut off the phone stopping in front of Quinn.
Santana's eyes lowered to Quinn's arm that remained around Rachel's waist and steadying her, since she was still reeling from the effects of her fall. Quinn sprung it away the moment she noticed it and said, "We were just leaving."
Rachel's shaky legs were slow to obey. Her blood was pounding in her veins, heightening her senses until she was drowning in this new awareness, and forced her right leg to move forward.
She had almost caught up to Quinn when she heard Santana say, "See you lovebirds later."
Quinn turned around so quick Rachel almost stumbled backwards. "What did you say, Santana?"
Santana continued walking with her back toward them, her hand flung in the air in a waving motion. "You know what I said."
"Quinn," Rachel put a hand on her forearm, intense panic began to set in, rattling her bones. Already she felt Quinn's attention shift from Santana back to hers. "She was probably just joking."
Quinn padded down the hallway, her entire expression lit with amusement easing the frowns around her forehead. "You're right. It's been—what? Two weeks? Santana would've told everyone by now, she wouldn't have kept it for this long."
Rachel's mouth gaped opened and she clenched her fists. "Quinn, we've been together for twenty-three days."
Quinn stopped dead in her tracks, her shoulders sagged and tensed. She turned to look at Rachel with a teasing light in her eyes. "I knew that."
"No, you didn't." Rachel folded her arms, walking pompously pass her, pausing in front of a door to turn the knob.
Without hesitation, Quinn was beside her instantly. "Rach, you don't seriously expect me to remember that do you?"
"Not specifically. But I do expect you to know that it's been three weeks and not two."
There was something extremely desirable about an obeying and frightened Quinn. Rachel saw the hardness in her expression fade away like scenes briefly illuminated by flashes of lightning. Her eyes normally regarded the world with a nothing-can-hurt-me gleam, but when she showed her vulnerability she elicited an aura of lightness and warmth. Rachel had only witnessed this on a rare number of occasions, and to think that something as simple as the thought that she didn't want to hurt Rachel's feelings could elicit such an emotion had her extremely weak at the knees, her stomach was swimming with butterflies. She knew right then that Quinn would do everything to make her happy.
"Rach—" Her voice grew low and raspy, "—don't be mad."
"I'm not," she said cheerily, her hand twisting the door handle. "I'll see you tonight at my poetry reading?"
Quinn eyed the door suspiciously. "What are you doing? It's almost five."
"I told you last night, I have some matters to attend to."
"Now?"
Rachel nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did say after glee."
"How will you be getting to the library tonight?"
"I know how to take public transport."
Quinn refused to drop this argument and peaked inside the room to see Mike, Sam, Artie, Blaine and Kurt sitting next to each other in a straight row, looking extremely bored. "Why are you meeting them? What are you doing?"
Rachel maneuvered their positions until she was in front of the door and tried to block Quinn's view. Their gazes clashed and held. Some invisible force refused to let Rachel break the contact. Quinn's features were as granite-hard and unreadable as ever. Nothing about her expression or body language betrayed her thoughts.
"It's just a little project." Rachel said.
"What kind?"
Rachel glared at her, silently commanding her to took away. Quinn didn't though. In fact, her hazel eyes became more intently focused on Rachel's mouth. Such intense scrutiny unnerved her, but she was used to controlling her actions. Rachel forced her body to obey the will of her mind, not her lust. Quinn's lips looked so delicious. Was Quinn imagining the same thing? Their naked, sweaty bodies? Drugging kisses and pleasure?
Quinn snapped again. "What kind of project?"
Control yourself, Rachel. She told herself.
Rachel squirmed and moved away; fighting a rise of color in her cheeks. The urge to devour Quinn in the middle of the hallway was becoming contagious. She immediately relaxed. "Just a project, Quinn. Now, please, they're waiting for me."
Quinn raised her eyebrow. "Are we keeping secrets now?"
"This isn't a secret," she reasoned. "I—can't tell you—"
"Why not?"
"Because it's a secret?" Rachel played a look of reluctance across her face, as if she didn't want to keep this secret from Quinn but had no choice.
There was a long silence. Rachel felt her throat close, her lips compressed in fear. Quinn stood completely still. She bit her lip and then nodded hesitantly, "Fine. But I'm going to wait for you."
Rachel grasped her arm. "You don't have to do that, Quinn. I don't know how long I'm going to be,"
"I'm not letting you catch the bus."
A wave of excitement crashed through her. She reached up and brought Quinn into a light embrace, sweet and gentle, breathing in Quinn's scent. "I'll try not to make you wait too long." She whispered before pulling away and entering the room.
The boys stood up the instant she closed the door and were all speaking in frantic clusters, she had trouble making out their words. There was a lot of: what the hell; are you insane; what took you so long; I have better things to do. It soon came to an end when it was evident she wasn't going to answer their questions; their frantic voices faded into a dull, unvarying thud.
She began when they took their seats. "As you all know I summoned you here because I have some—"
"Very important business," Mike said. "We know, Rachel. You left a note in my locker saying it was urgent and about Tina and I shouldn't tell her."
Sam was next to raise his voice. "You said Mercedes was in trouble."
Artie said, "You just told me to meet her here."
Blaine simply shrugged. "I came here because Kurt told me to."
Mike covered his mouth and coughed out, "Whipped." And laughed loudly.
Blaine ignored him. "So what is this about, Rachel?"
"Before I begin," she said. "Kurt, why are you here?"
He continued filing his nails and said without looking at her, "I fully intent to see how you go about doing this."
"Doing what?" Sam was growing impatient. "Is this about Mercedes? 'Cause if she's in trouble—"
Rachel held up her hand to stop him from lashing out. "I assure you, Sam, Mercedes is perfectly fine." She reached into her bag and handed the four boys—minus Kurt—sheets of papers and returned to the front of the room. "I called you here because I wish to conduct a survey with you. I will read out the questions and all you need to do is write—" She took out a marker and turned to the board to scribble. "—Question. Then the question number, like so." Facing the front again, she said, "This will be anonymous."
Mike raised his hand. "How is this anonymous? There are only four of us."
"It's very unlikely that I'll know who'll write what," she said. "Shall we begin?"
"Wait," Sam leaned forward, his blue eyes snapping like blue fire. "You mean to tell me that that whole thing you said about Mercedes being in trouble is a lie?"
"I'm sorry I had to do that," Rachel's dark eyes were shining. "I had to lure you here without anyone getting suspicious. And it had to be a secret." Seeing the scorn in Sam's eyes, Rachel added, "But now that you're here you might as well take this survey that would only take up five minutes of your time."
"We've been waiting here for fifteen minutes." Artie shuffled through his bag to retrieve a pen.
Memory engulfed her. It was bad enough that when she was with Quinn, Rachel could hear every soft breath Quinn took, felt her warmth, sensed each throb of her sweet pulse. But to be away from her and still feel Quinn's presence teasing at the edges of her consciousness, the smell of Quinn's heady fragrance all over her skin; it was a little too much for her to handle. "I apologize. Can we start?"
Artie interrupted her. "Where's Finn and Puck?"
"This survey doesn't concern them. Now, can we start?" Her voice was more commanding.
They mumbled reluctant acknowledgements. Rachel straightened, cleared her throat and read from the sheet in front of her. "Question one. If I were a girl, I would kiss Rachel Berry."
Kurt burst out into a fit of laughter and everyone stared at him suspiciously. "Oh my God, you did not just ask that question."
"Kurt!" She yelled. "Please, be quiet."
"What is the meaning of this?" Artie asked, tapping his pen on the paper.
"It's a survey, no questions allowed," she said.
"Rachel," Blaine chimed in. "I'm gay. And I've already kissed you. I shouldn't even be here,"
"Yes, but you were drunk. These questions are referring to you being sober."
"Do I have to do this?" Mike asked. "I have a girlfriend,"
Sam nodded in agreement. "Me too, this is weird. I can't picture myself as a girl either,"
"But it would be hot if you were a girl and you kissed her." Mike added, smiling sheepishly at Sam. Suddenly he sounded like Puck.
Rachel slammed her palm on the table, her patience and frustration rising. Boys were so hard to handle, no wonder she turned gay for Quinn. "Guys! This is important. Quinn won't—" She paused and rephrased. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm dating this person and they won't kiss me."
Artie's mouth flew open. "You're dating someone already? Who? Does Finn know?"
"No, he doesn't know," Rachel lifted herself onto the table. "And I don't intend on telling him yet." She addressed the rest of the boys. "Am I really not that kissable?"
"How long have you two been dating?" Mike asked.
"Twenty-three days, seventeen hours and right now—two minutes and five seconds."
The boys looked at each other and simultaneously bursting into laughter. Blaine and Kurt almost fell off their chairs. Sam had his head on the table and laughing into it. Mike and Artie high fived each other as if it was the best thing they had ever heard. Rachel huffed indignantly and waited until the laughter subsided.
Kurt was the first to speak, wiping a tear, a big grin on his face. "Of course you would know the exact length of your courtship."
"I don't understand," Rachel said, pacing back and forth. "I kissed Finn before we were even dating, it was the same with Puck and Jesse. Even you, Blaine."
"I'm sure he wants to kiss you, Rach," Sam offered, a big grin also on his face. "Maybe he's just shy."
Rachel didn't miss the snigger Kurt made when Sam said he. She ignored it nonetheless and said, "I guess..."
"Why don't you kiss him?" Artie said. Again, Kurt sniggered and she glared at him. He gave an apologetic smile. Artie continued talking, "He could be waiting for you to kiss him."
"That makes sense," she paced back and forth from the desk to the front door. "Yes, that makes a lot of sense. She—he is shy and is waiting for me to do something. He hasn't kissed a girl before."
"He hasn't kissed a girl before?" Blaine spoke and she realized he hadn't said anything for a long while. "How old is he? Is he really conservative?"
Rachel strolled over and retrieved her papers, shuffling them into her bag and before leaving she said, "Thank you, guys, you have been a big help. Meeting adjourned. See you all tomorrow."
The meeting had gone better than she had thought, although she didn't get a chance to ask all the questions she had spent an hour coming up with, their helpful responses lifted the dark cloud that has been circling her for the past few weeks. There had been a few instances when she thought Quinn was close to kissing her, but at the last minute there was always an interruption. She was frustrated with the lack of contact involving Quinn's lips, it was beyond frustration to think and dream about it but never connecting it with it. She had trouble wrapping it around her head, she had thought that by the second day, the most the third she would have finally locked her lips with Quinn's.
Overhead, the sky was dawning and the wind was rising. The breeze caught a lock of her hair and blew it across her face. She swept it behind her ear in a graceful gesture. Quinn's red beatle was in the parking lot and she beamed when Quinn looked up and waved at her. She sat in the passenger seat and Quinn wasted no time in starting the car and driving off. They had driven several blocks in what seemed to surprise Rachel like a freezing silence before Quinn turned to look at her.
"Did you have fun?" Quinn blew out a breath, her fingers clenched the steering wheel.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I don't mean to keep it a secret—"
"Rach, it's fine." She admitted, breaking to a stop in front of a traffic light. She turned only her face to Rachel and it was shadowed by the light flowing in behind her from the streetlight outside. "When you're ready. I know we've just started so it's irrational to expect you to tell me everything."
Rachel always recognized the wariness in Quinn's voice whenever she referred to their relationship. She had never once said the word dating. She was struck by a fear and sadness that Quinn's resistance and acceptance of being with her may never vanish. She felt confused; worse, rejected.
"Hey. Change of subject. What are you reading tonight?" Quinn asked when Rachel hadn't said anything.
"Just a few poems." She gave herself a mental shake to force herself back into the present.
Rachel pressed her face to the window and watched the pine trees whiz by as they approached the circular drive into the parking area. The great grey stone building loomed before them. The red roof rose high, a magnificent silhouette against the dark night. Quinn seemed full of excitement when she got out of the car; it reminded Rachel of a little girl about to be presented with a fabulous toy. Rachel emerged far more slowly, suddenly feeling a little terrified. This is the first time anyone had come to her readings, it was her private sanctuary. It was surreal; Quinn being here, Quinn holding her hand. Like a dream where she was naked and standing in front of the whole school in the hallway. She just forgot to get dressed. She was dreaming, she told herself, and she could wake up.
Quinn stopped suddenly and turned to her. "Are you okay?"
Inside Rachel felt torn up and confused. "I don't know."
"What's wrong?" The corner of Quinn's mouth lifted in an unwilling smile.
"It's just—no one's ever come to watch me read before."
Quinn tried to understand where she was coming from. "And that's a problem because...?"
Rachel turned to look at the elderly men and women seated in the corner of the library waiting for her. "It's intimate, to say the least. My dads are the only ones to come here and that took months of persuasion. You offered to be here. Willingly."
"I guess you're really special to me then."
Again, with the simple statements that made her melt. Rachel felt her chest swell up helplessly with love, overflowing her senses.
She bounced over to her faithful listeners while Quinn took a seat at the back. The moment they saw her, everyone smiled and greeted her happily. She sat calmly in her high-back chair at the front of the crowd, took out her notebook, gazing at Quinn. They were like two stars blinking at each other in the night sky, so bright, so eager to touch and become one.
"I have a poem I want to read to someone that is very special to me." Rachel started. Opening to the first page, then taking in a deep breath, she read, "Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue," she paused to glance at Quinn. From her position, her hazel eyes were glistening. "The flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots intertwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage."
•••
October 22nd, 2011
Rachel sat quietly watching Quinn's shoulders stiff, her cheeks glowed vivid red, her muscles were bunched and ready to spring into action. An aura of fury radiated from her. Miss Pillsbury—behind her desk—paled and blinked at Rachel as if she were insane. Maybe she was, but her reason for booking in an appointment with the school counselor was simple: desperation. She did, however, spend the better half of her night carefully typing out a counselor-student confidential contract to protect certain communications between herself, Quinn and Miss Pillsbury regarding their relationship. Mostly just to make sure Miss Pillsbury kept their relationship a secret. She was happy to oblige and signed it without asking any questions.
Miss Pillsbury squeezed a small amount of sanitary gel and rubbed it in her hands. She straightened, leaning slightly forward onto the desk and asked Quinn, "What are you thinking?"
"That this is insane." Rachel could tell that Quinn had to swallow a few curses and was trying hard not to lash out. "I could be doing something better than spend my independent study hour in here."
"You don't use it wisely anyway," Rachel said confidently. "It is a study period, yet I see you mostly using it to browse through tumblr."
Quinn's lips pressed together and she almost screamed, "Rachel, we don't need to see a counselor. We've been together for less than a month."
"That is, in fact, very true. However, the issue is that it's been twenty-eight days and we have yet to kiss."
Quinn jerked a hand through her hair, her agitation manifesting itself in the brisk way she moved. "Is this what it's about? Because of a kiss?"
"That has yet to happen." Rachel remained calm. One of them had to.
"I don't exactly have a pamphlet for this," Miss Pillsbury said, breaking their gazes. "I do have this one." She reached into her drawer and handed one to each girl: So you're a lesbian. Now what?
Quinn crumpled the pamphlet in her fists and sat back. "I'm not discussing this with the counselor when we haven't even talked."
Rachel slowly slipped the pamphlet across the table back to the teacher. "Miss Pillsbury, I know you mean well. I don't even know if I'm a lesbian, I'm sure Quinn feels the same way." She chanced a glance at Quinn from the corner of her eye. She had sunk lower into her chair. "Quinn's the first girl I've ever had extremely strong feelings for. The first person, period."
The teacher nodded in understanding, cupping her hands and resting it on the table. "Perhaps that's why it's difficult for the two of you to convey your feelings in a physical manner. This is the first time you have both been in a relationship with a girl; not having any idea what to do or how to act. New relationships require an amount of time for adjustment."
There didn't seem to be anything else to say, and the crazy heat that had goaded them for the better part of their almost four-week romance vanished like it had never existed. They both sat up, shifting slightly away from each other. Miss Pillsbury looked from one girl to the other. It wasn't an awkward silence, exactly; Rachel was preoccupied with her own concerns and could tell that Quinn was too. They had spent a month talking, how much time is an appropriate amount of time for adjustment?
To say that Rachel hadn't tried to kiss Quinn in the past few days is a lie. They couldn't seem to get the timing perfect. It was a series of interruptions one after another. Two days ago while in the school book depository behind the American History reference area, Rachel was so sure it was going to happen: there were shy glances and knowing smiles, and up until the instant Quinn accidentally knocked over some books to get closer to Rachel, it had been the perfect moment.
Had, being the key word. If it had have happened, if they had kissed, they wouldn't be in this position and Rachel wouldn't be fearing for her life at the thought of what Quinn was going to do to her. Again, her justification for this is desperation. Surely, they must be doing something wrong?
Finally, the teacher ventured, "Have you two been on a date?" They both shook their heads and Miss Pillsbury said, "Every relationship starts with a date and it blossoms from there."
Through those miraculous words, Rachel beamed. "You're right. We need to go on a date." She turned and placed both her hands on top of Quinn's surprisingly cold ones. "Quinn, this weekend?"
Snatching her hand from underneath Rachel's, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and stormed out of the room. Rachel gave Miss Pillsbury an apologetic smile and left the room. Quinn's pace quickened and she didn't turn around to see if Rachel had followed her. She entered an empty classroom a few seconds behind Quinn. Once inside Rachel jumped in fright the moment the door shut with a loud slam behind her. With every second that passed, something murderous grew in those hazel eyes, a gleam that belied her casual pose. Quinn's teeth grind together, she even thought she heard Quinn's jawbone crack. That murderous gleam had branched from her hazel eyes and now consumed her expression.
"Why would you put me in that position?" Quinn asked and Rachel's breath suspended. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? I don't want to talk to some counselor about our relationship, especially the topic being kissing."
"Quinn, I'm sorry. I should've asked for your—" She tried to ground out but Quinn interrupted.
"Yes, that would have been a good idea to ask." Quinn drew in a deep, shuddering breath. The beams of light that couched her face gave her a menacing yet angelic ambiance.
Rachel tried not to appear fearful. She began with the truth. "I want to kiss you. Like, really kiss you. I'm growing kind of impatient just thinking about it and how you haven't made any moves to do just that."
"You have got to be kidding?" Quinn sniggered. "I have been trying, something always just comes up. You don't think I'm getting frustrated? Your lips are practically teasing me every time I even glance at them."
"You seem so calm about it that I—"
"Rachel..." She whispered.
Then, Rachel saw it, the anguish shattering her gaze, as if Quinn simply couldn't fight it any longer. The defeat as the walls finally crumpled and she saw what was underneath. Rachel didn't know what she expected Quinn to do, but what she did wasn't it. Without warning, Quinn pulled Rachel into her chest and their lips came crashing together.
It was as simple as that. All fears put to rest, all doubts removed.
What Rachel felt was not merely passion, but a bruising tenderness and a love so strong it made her shake inside. It would have been frightening in its intensity, except that while she was with Quinn, she wasn't afraid of anything. This was where she belonged, and she had found it at last. Quinn was home.
Quinn pulled back slightly and Rachel could feel her trembling. "Happy?" She whispered against Rachel's lips.
"Extremely." And she drew Quinn back down again.
Her hands raised lightly on the back of Quinn's neck where her blonde hair waved over Rachel's fingers. Rachel was torn between conflicting emotions of tenderness and urgency. Her mouth was moving in response to Quinn's as a sensual warmth began spreading over her. Quinn's hands that had been holding her easily began slow, steady movements that bought Rachel closer to her. The melting of her soft curls against Quinn's lean, toned body made the tentative kiss much hotter. There was fiery demand in the kiss now. Rachel surrendered to it, enjoying every second of what was happening.
Rachel's fingers intertwined more tightly around Quinn's neck as she went on her tiptoes to get closer. Quinn's mouth began to press more kisses on her face and neck, and she responded to it with whispering gasps of pleasure. The growing heat of their bodies was intensely arousing; Rachel was bathing in it, both the joy she sensed in Quinn and the delicious answering surge in herself. Quinn's love shone through her, lighting every dark place in her soul like the sun. She trembled with pleasure, with love, and with longing.
Quinn drew back slowly as if she could not bear for them to be parted, and they looked into each other's eyes with wondering joy. Quinn stroked her hair with a touch so light she could scarcely feel it, she wondered whether Quinn was afraid she would break in her tight grip.
"You still owe me a date." Rachel said, finding her voice with some difficulty. It was odd to talk after being silent so long.
"Only if it involves lots of kissing."
Rachel grinned widely. "Kissing is all we'll be doing."
Thanks for taking the time to read this story and for all the reviews.
Also, does anyone know if Rachel can drive? I haven't kept up with glee this season, and from what I've seen Rachel's never actually been behind the wheel of a car. It's for a future plot!