I have no excuses as to why this is late. I'm terribly, terribly sorry. Writer's block is a horrible disease! But here, enjoy 14,000 words of Faberry goodness as a way of me to ask for your forgiveness. I promise to not make you wait as long in the future.
Also, there's a two month time jump.
Happiness, hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with a drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink
—Florence + The Machine: Dog Days Are Over
•••
April 28th, 2016
It had taken Rachel fifty days to return home to Lima. It was late afternoon when her flight touched down, and pressing her face to the window she watched the land clarify from a white-washed blur into houses and roads, turquoise fingers of water. She called her fathers as soon as the seat belt sign was disabled whilst the other passengers rushed about retrieving their overhead luggage.
They had sounded ecstatic.
She was struck with uncertainty once she stepped from the plane into the pool of bright light flooding the thick airport glass, until her fathers' arms were around her. She hadn't recognized them. Side by side they walked to the baggage claim; they picked up all five of Rachel's luggage. Both her fathers carried two each while Rachel hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder—Rachel Berry never did learn how to travel light.
"I can't believe you left with one luggage and came back with five." Leroy teased with a huge smile.
"I can't help it, daddy!" Rachel said breathlessly. "I don't know how long I'll be here so I bought everything."
Riding home, she squinted in awe at the sherbet-colored houses, the familiar brown hill leading toward the city of Ohio. The city seemed vast, metallic and glassy, so different from the city of New York. By the time they reached Lima, conversation had flagged. Rachel had only been away for fifty days but felt as though she hadn't seen her fathers in years, it all left her confused and she had no idea why. For the first time in weeks the memory of their last conversation reared up again in her: their disappointment at hearing she wanted to stay in New York, her abrupt and outrageous departure—one day she was visiting L.A. to meet Quinn, Santana and Brittany for lunch, the next, she was throwing her belongings in a luggage, leaving them nothing but a note stating that she would be living in New York with an uncertainty of her return to Lima.
"So. You had fun over there." Leroy finally said. It wasn't a question.
"I guess." She answered. "It was okay."
Leroy's brows rose, he said nothing.
"It was hard."
"Hard in what way?" Hiram asked.
"Scary."
A tender look passed Hiram's face. Only when it had passed did he turn to her. "We were scared, too."
"I'm sorry." Rachel protested. "I'm sorry for just leaving like that and not calling you for forty-eight days." It struck her now how little comfort she had provided in aiding her fathers' distress.
They spent the remainder of the ride—as well as the rest of the day—in silence.
That night as Rachel lay in her bed, she was racked by an intolerable sorrow. She had betrayed her fathers' trust. Once she had arrived in New York, it wasn't until two days later and after receiving three-hundred and seventy missed calls on her fathers' part did she finally return the gesture. Yes, staying in the apartment where she and Quinn had called home for three years was another way to continue the torment, but it was as if she had been driven by a passionate ghost. The moment she stepped through those doors into the apartment, she expected it to be gathering dust; to look like something lost in its past, but another memory had come alive.
"Rachel, you cannot stay there alone." Hiram had told her through the phone. "What if Quinn finds out?"
"She won't because neither you, daddy nor I will tell her. Besides, this is my place too."
"And what are you going to do there, in New York, alone?" Leroy asked.
"I don't know. Find myself again. I thought this was what you wanted?"
"Of course we do, honey—"
"Then what is the big deal?"
"Because it's scary, Rachel." Leroy argued. "You've lost five years of your life—"
"All the more reason for me to venture on my own and discover what I've missed. It might even trigger a memory. This is no different to the time I left for college."
"There is a huge difference." Leroy said again. "Back then you were going to college, you were doing something with yourself. What will you be doing there now? Where will you work? You don't know anyone."
"I have lots of friends, daddy. I'll reconnect with them. Please, let me do this. "
That signaled the end of the conversation. She didn't call them again until forty-eight days later when she landed in Lima.
It was different being alone in the apartment. When she looked at everything more carefully, she sensed something else. This was the place that had been the warm and comfortable setting for their love and promises. It wasn't just frozen in time; it was also alive in the present. The living room was neatly kept, the kitchen was well stocked with food, fresh food, the bathroom had been well scrubbed. On the wall the clock struck the hour and the blue music box that was shaped like a cottage opened its front door and the two tiny figurines within emerged and then retreated to the sweet and haunting melody. At closer examination a few days later, Rachel noticed that the two figurines were of herself and Quinn. Whenever she heard the chime of the clock it seemed an echo of Quinn's voice, reminding Rachel that Quinn was somewhere, waiting for her.
She spent most of her time staying indoors, having little contact with her friends, wandering around the apartment or lying on the bed she had shared with Quinn staring out the window, unaware of the passage of time. She slept and slept and when she wasn't asleep she daydreamed about the journey ahead. Sometimes she'd take to reading the newspaper, particularly the entertainment sections. Meryl Streep won an Academy Award for best Actress (her now fifth win). Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone made peace after a two year bitter argument over a cookie. Justin Beiber grabs a fan's breast in a photo. Kate Beckinsale hired a stripper for a friend's son's fourteenth birthday party. Dianna Agron and Lea Michele have finally admitted their true love for one another (who was surprised, really?).
That was the world in entertainment. The more she knew about it the less painful was its absence from her life. Everything Rachel read she hung upon their words and deeds as if she might be called to respond.
Rachel's first week home with her fathers was blessed with a certain novelty despite its disappointments, but as the second week passed, a numbing depression settled over her. Nothing had changed, and against the sameness of this city, her life within it—her time away in New York—seemed reduced to a brief hallucinatory flash. It had been a lost cause to go to New York, triggering no memories of the past five years. The subject of her memories seemed another person altogether. It was as if they are to be admired and envied by anyone other than herself. Strangely, being in the apartment was as though it was part of her heart and not her head. Everything seemed like it was in the right place, just the way she had locked it in her heart.
On her sixty-fourth day in Lima at 9:17 a.m., Rachel sat in her father's car and stared at the text message on her phone. Berry, the rehearsal is at 10 am sharp. You better be here or I will haul your ass here myself. After five years, Santana still scared the living daylights out of her. It was at this exact moment as her eyes scanned the road trying to navigate her way around Lima to reach the rehearsal that she realized Quinn would be there. She began to panic frantically—a jittery pulse that seemed to flutter.
The rehearsal was located in a vast estate in the heart of Lima, an all-in-one marriage compound complete with its own chapel (for the wedding day), banqueting hall (where the rehearsal would take place) and a privet maze (surrounded by a high wall topped with razor wire). Outside featured a bouncy castle for the children (an upmarket marital Disneyland).
To be here in celebration of her friends' wedding filled Rachel with an excitement almost impossible to contain.
Brittany was the first to run to her, her arms outstretched to pull Rachel into a tight and smouldering hug. Suddenly, she felt the weight of a hundred pairs of arms knocking the breath out of her. They were all speaking at once: it's so good to see you; we've missed you; oh my god you look so pretty; is it possible that you've shrunk a little since the last time. When she could finally breathe again, she glanced around at all her friends. It was hard to believe that a moment ago they had clung to her like a monkey. She could not for the life of her comprehend how blessed she was for their friendship.
"Come on, Rachel, I'll show you to your seat," Brittany pulled her away from the group. "We're just about to get started."
Rachel noticed that Brittany had developed a fuller figure, her gold hair flamed out about her small oval face, highlight by a pair of turquoise eyes so soft and vulnerable they could turn the hardest most cynical person into blubbering mess.
Santana looked stunning on her part. Her hair auburn under the light of the room, her brown eyes bright, she looked tanned, rich and graceful. "I'm glad you can make it." She said and gave Rachel a small hug. "Don't look so shocked, Berry, we've hugged before." She laughed at the stunned expression on Rachel's face.
"Congratulations." Rachel grinned widely. "I'm so happy for the both of you. I knew you would marry some day."
"Whoa, hold up, Berry," Santana said, a slight smirk on her face. "We're not married yet. Save your congratulations for the actual wedding."
Rachel felt a breeze to her right and turned just as she saw the face walking through the crowd. She lingered on even after the person had disappeared but they were eyes she would know instantly and forever. Rachel stood simply gaping, her heart was pounding so hard in her ears that all other sound was drowned out. She didn't hear the laughter, the music, or the conversations. It took her a moment to realize that Quinn was at her side.
Quinn kissed her cheek and hugged Rachel to her tightly, too tightly. She inhaled the sweet aroma of Quinn's perfume and there was a sudden vision of herself and Quinn standing in the middle of the hallway between her living room and kitchen, her fathers standing across from them looking baffled. In this vision Rachel was looking up at Quinn. Quinn's face was filled with happiness, her cheeks crimson, her eyes lit, her mouth opened in utter awe. Rachel squeezed her hand to bring her back to reality, then dropped it when Leroy said,
"Well, this is awkward."
"I'm so sorry," Quinn said apologetically. "It's been one crazy afternoon." She paused for a moment, a smile appearing, "Hi, I'm Quinn."
"Nice to meet you, Quinn." Hiram brought her in for a hug. "You smell nice. What is that? Chanel No. 5?"
Rachel didn't gather the rest of the conversation, her mind was clouded by a happiness so overwhelming. In the brief moment she had stared into Quinn's blazing, hazel eyes, she saw the start of a new life, the promise of a perfect future.
Quinn's fingers pressed against Rachel's back and she blinked rapidly to regain her composure and to those present around her. Quinn's lips grazed her cheek again, and for a moment, only a moment, a chilling sense of intimacy knifed through her heart.
"You still have that perfume." Rachel whispered.
"I'm sorry?" Quinn asked.
"You wore that same perfume the first time you met my dads."
Quinn didn't respond. She was still holding Rachel so closely and tightly. Rachel stared into the swirl of brown and green and gold in Quinn's eyes. She could feel this need to have Quinn with her always, a need that made her claustrophobic, a need so great it frightened her.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a man's voice boomed in the microphone. "It is my pleasure to welcome you all to this wondrous wedding rehearsal of Miss Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez." His eyes scanned the clipboard in his hand and he proceeded to say, "Before we begin this rehearsal, I would like to congratulate the lovely couple on their impending nuptials."
Neither Rachel nor Quinn moved until Santana whispered something in Quinn's ear and she released Rachel to follow Santana to the stage. Brittany tugged Rachel's arm and she took a seat beside the bride-to-be. The crowd of well-wishers cheered again and the rehearsal was underway. The band they hired played a mixture of music from rock and roll to classics and easy listening, the melodies were upbeat and created the right atmosphere. Brittany and Santana only invited their closest friends and family to the rehearsal, their friends from high school were sitting at a small table huddle together. A few people Rachel had never recalled meeting came up to speak to her personally. They asked how she was feeling, said they were scared for her life during the time of the accident, and wished her well for the future.
From her position at the front of the room Rachel watched Quinn counting off on her fingers, and wondered what she was doing. In profile, there was the beginning of puffiness under her eyes (most likely due to the ungodly hours of filming), but Quinn still looked stunning. Marvellously stunning, actually, far less pasty and deflated from the last time Rachel had seen her.
The man on the stage went on to explain both the brides' fathers and best female will be delivering there speeches at the reception. Afterward, there will be a performance by a special guest, as well as the couple's first dance. Brittany's face was beaming so bright it nearly bought Rachel to tears. Rachel glanced across in time to see Puck standing beside Quinn and squeezing her hand. He whispered in her ear, and Quinn looked up at him, smiling broadly and a little dopily. She mouthed something back, and though not a practiced lip-reader, Rachel thought that there was a good chance it was, I've missed you too. Self-consciously, Quinn glanced around and caught Rachel's eye, grinning as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't.
The rehearsal was coming to an end. The band on stage sung an uncertain rendition of All You Need Is Love, before the guests held up their glasses in unison, toasting to Brittany and Santana's happiness and future together. Rachel watched as Brittany and Santana kissed, almost oblivious to everyone and everything around them. The eruption of cheers broke them apart and the guests dispersed to congratulate the happy couple once again. Through the crowd of people hugging, whooping and shaking hands, Rachel and Quinn sought out each other and suddenly here they were.
Sixty-four days. Rachel repeated in her head. She hadn't seen Quinn in sixty-four days.
"Well." Quinn started.
"Well."
"I didn't get to properly greet you before Santana rudely pulled me away."
"It's okay. I'm quite familiar with who you are." Rachel said, lightening the mood.
"Yes, I'm the only woman here who's drenched in sweat." Quinn began plucking at the fabric beneath her arms.
"You mean perspiration."
"Actually, no. This is sweat. I look like I've been dragged from a lake."
Rachel glanced across to where Brittany and Santana were posing for the photographers. Quinn followed Rachel's trail and sighed heavily, but didn't say anything else. Rachel imagined Quinn reminiscing about their wedding, their happy smiles, their vows to each other, their promise of a happily ever after.
"Do you want to go for a walk?" Quinn asked.
The overcast morning had settled into a beautiful afternoon, high clouds rolling across huge blue sky. It was warm outside, birds were swooping overhead in the inky spring air as they walked side by side through the rose garden toward the maze.
"So, was I right about the perfume?" Rachel finally asked.
Quinn winced, nodding slowly.
"What date was that?"
"November third." Quinn didn't elaborate further. "How have you been? What's been happening in your life?"
Rachel shouldn't have been surprised by the sudden change in topic. They entered the maze and her legs began feeling wobbly. She shivered and her expression of pain and confusion must have troubled Quinn.
They stopped and Quinn rested her back on the hedge. For a long moment she simply stared at Rachel, sighing deeply, before raking her fingers through her mass of waving hair. Quinn's skin was glowing in the sunlight, but it looked as though she had been shut from life for ages. Rachel's heart cried out for Quinn and had the urge to embrace her.
"I don't know what else you want me to say to that." Quinn muttered.
"Tell me the significance of that day." She pleaded.
"I don't really want to talk about this, Rachel."
Rachel lifted her heavy, troubled eyes only to see Quinn's cloudy with foreboding. "I've been spending two months in our apartment hoping it would provoke something, only to wake up every day with blank memories. I see you for five minutes and it's as if the neurons and cells in my membrane let off a spark of recognition at your perfume. So, please don't tell me that you don't want to talk about this because being with you elicits something in me, Quinn."
Quinn resumed walking as if that had explained it all. They walked a little way in silence listening to the muffled thump of the band playing to Dog Days Are Over.
"You've changed." Quinn finally said. "You've grown older, wiser looking. Your beauty has matured. It makes me tremble to be this close to you, to actually hear your voice now." Quinn reached out to touch Rachel's hand only to retrieve back before it touched her skin. A momentary pause before Quinn spoke again, "November third is our anniversary. It was the first time I met your fathers and also the first time we slept together. Not slept slept together." Quinn laughed at Rachel's wide eyes. "I stayed over that night because there was a Friday the thirteenth ritual that you had to uphold."
They stopped at a junction. "Left or right?" Quinn asked.
"Right." Rachel answered making the turn. She covered her face with her hands and giggled into it. "Oh my god, I can't believe I did that. I was thinking about it the other day just as the thirteenth had passed. Left?"
"Left." Quinn said.
"Did it rain any time during those ten days leading up to the thirteenth?"
Quinn nodded. "The very next day, actually."
"And I bet you teased me relentlessly?"
"That is my utmost superb talent."
A moment passed, perhaps half a second when their faces said what they felt and then Rachel was smiling, laughing. "I'm so embarrassed."
"It was adorable." Quinn said honestly.
Rachel shrugged sheepishly, bumping her shoulder against Quinn's. "I have my moments."
"What else did you do in New York?"
"I spent a lot of time in doors, to be honest. It was scary being in the Big Apple, not knowing where to go, what to do. I had no sense of direction."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"I wanted to do something on my own. I thought I could accomplish something." They stopped and Quinn made a right turn, Rachel following close by. "You don't mind me being there, do you?"
Quinn's eyes flashed with life and light for the first time. "Of course not, Rach."
"How about you, Quinn? How's filming?"
"Tiring." Her tone conveyed her emotions. "There have been a lot of night shoots, by the time I finish it's usually five a.m. With any luck I'd get a good four hours sleep and I'm back on set again."
"Have you done any scenes with your male leads?"
Quinn raised her eye-brow. "Rach, how old are you?"
A pause. "Twenty-two..."
"And you can't say sex because it's a difficult word to say at age twenty-two?"
Rachel bumped Quinn's shoulder a little harder this time and pouted. "I am sixteen at heart."
"You don't say." Then, "Yes, I have done a few scenes with my leads."
"How is that?"
"Let's just say faking it isn't as hard as I thought. Right or left?"
They peered in either direction. "No idea."
"Amazing, isn't it, how quickly this stopped being fun."
"Let's go right." Rachel tugged on the sleeve of Quinn's cardigan. "When do you wrap up?"
"Hopefully not much longer. I can't wait to be home. L.A. is hot."
"You have developed a very radiant tan."
"Are you serious?" Quinn almost toppled over with laughter. "I don't tan, Rach. I burn."
"That is true. But I've noticed there is a light, golden glow on your skin. Especially in the sunlight."
"Uh—thanks. I think. Turn right, Rach."
A mood was lifted while they walked silently. Rachel was feeling sentimental and nostalgic, she could only hope that Quinn felt the same.
"I knew you would be there."
"Hmm?
"In the apartment," Quinn emphasized. "I knew you would be there."
"How?"
Quinn stared at her, this time reaching out to caress her fingertips across Rachel's hand. "You're very predictable."
"Is that why you left fresh food in the cabinets?"
"Uh huh."
"Cleaned the kitchen, scrubbed the bathroom—"
"Left this time."
"—neatly made the bed?"
"Yes, yes and yes."
Rachel gave a low chuckle. "You know me more than I know myself."
"Well," Quinn dragged out the word. "I guess it wasn't the sex that made me stay with you for four years."
Quinn's eyes remained on Rachel's face to see how it might change when she said that. Rachel smiled up at her, lovely and warm, her heart in her eyes. "It must have been great considering you married me."
Quinn was smiling at her, it made Rachel dizzy for a moment, then Quinn started to laugh. "Sixty-four days apart has made you very witty, Rachel Berry."
The world seemed to fade away beneath her at that point. It was like she was fainting, but wonderful instead of scary. Sixty-four days. That's what Rachel couldn't stop thinking about. At first she thought it came from her own voice, but when she repeated it in her head it was Quinn's. Rachel leaned up to pull Quinn into a surprise hug. She was full of affection and a certain sadness too, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was coming to an end. Rachel wanted to say something along these lines but thought it best to not do this through a joke.
"I must have unconsciously picked up on your wittiness along the way."
Quinn twisted her head to look at Rachel and suddenly something was moving between them, something alive and vibrating in Rachel's chest.
"Is that your heart?"
"It's my phone."
Rachel stepped back and retrieved her phone from inside her blazer pocket. Glancing at the display, she wrinkled her brow at the unrecognizable number. She gave her head a little sobering shake and answered, "Hello?"
"Rachel Berry? It's Russell Fabray."
The wind crackled a dangerous whip in the air. She was trembling, her nerves shot. She turned away from Quinn. "Yes?"
"I'm calling to ask whether you have received the divorce documents my assistant sent over two months ago?
"I did. Yes." She remained as calm as possible.
"As you may know, the documents states that you had thirty days. Will I be expecting them signed and sent back to me?"
Rachel glanced at Quinn, pretending to be captivated by the hedge in front of her. She thought for a moment, then turned away again. "No, I will not be sending them back to you."
Russell was silent for a long time. If it weren't for his heavy breathing, she would've thought the call had ended. Finally, his voice came through, "You do know what this means, don't you? You're delaying the inevitable."
Rachel felt a flash of despair. She lowered her voice. "I'll see you in court."
"Who was that?" Quinn eyed the phone suspiciously when Rachel put it back in her pocket.
"We should get out of here."
"Are you okay?"
Rachel took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah." She looked in both directions, hopeless. "We should have left a trail of bread crumbs."
The band was playing It's Raining Men and they listened to the muffled sounds as if it held a clue to their whereabouts. "We should get back before it starts raining men." Rachel said again.
Quinn cocked her head, studying Rachel with sad eyes. She didn't press further. "Good idea."
Rachel walked quickly, trying to hold the fragile emptiness in her mind. She kept thinking about the past sixty-four days. Most nights before she went to sleep, she thought about Quinn—trying to conjure some kind of memory, sometimes fantasizing about their times together, or sometimes simply wondering where Quinn was or hoping she was happy and well. The last time they had seen each other, exhaustion overwhelmed her, as well as the depression of not knowing when she'll be able to see Quinn again.
The fingertips of her left hand passed across the surface of a statue that seemed familiar, and now Rachel knew where exactly they were. Turning right, and then left would bring them out into the rose garden, back to the party, back to their friends, and there would be no more time to talk. And Rachel saw, with a dreadful clarity, that this signaled the end of her relationship with Quinn. Once the divorce was final, there would be awkward glances across the rooms, separate meetings with friends, they would no longer see each other. It wouldn't be sixty-four that she would be counting to; it could be one-hundred, five-hundred, possibly even three-thousand. Three-thousand days until she saw Quinn again. She stopped on a corner, a numb, dizzy sensation over taking her as if her heart was squeezing all the blood to her head.
"Rachel, what's wrong?" Quinn ran her hand up the length of Rachel's spine.
Rachel turned and took both Quinn's hands in her own. "Can I say something? Before we go back to the party?"
"Go on."
"It's—I—I missed you. And before you argue that fact and say that I don't—"
"I missed you, too."
"But so, so much, Quinn. There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about, and you weren't there—"
"I'm sorry."
"And I feel a little guilty, like it's my fault. I've failed and now our life is like this—"
"None of this is your fault, Rachel. Fate is trying to torment us."
"Even so, I just wish there was some way for me to get—"
"I should have stuck it out a bit. I shouldn't have left. I should have tried harder. I should have kept in touch with you. Take the blow."
"Quinn, you need to stop interrupting me!" To her embarrassment, Rachel found there were tears in her eyes.
Quinn smiled. "Come here." She put her arms around Rachel. Rachel breathed in the smell of shampoo and damp silk into Quinn's neck, her perfume, the smell of Quinn's dress, and they stood like this for a while until Rachel caught her breath and spoke.
"I'll tell you what it is. This isn't me missing you because we've been a part of each other's life for four years. It's—when I don't see you, I think about you every day. I mean every day in some way or another—"
"I do, too."
An annoyance flashed across Rachel's eyes at the interruption but she continued, "—Even if it was just, 'I wish Quinn could see this' or 'where's Quinn now' or 'damn that Quinn Fabray how dare she leave me'. Do you understand what I'm saying? Seeing you today has made me realize how much I want you in my life, whether I have those memories or not. And you're right, Quinn, I'm not in love with you, not yet, but I don't doubt that I won't be in the future. And now the divorce is just around the corner and I feel as though I'm going to lose you forever. Forever as in we'll never see each other again. Ever."
"I don't—how, why?"
"Once the divorce is final you'll go your separate way. You'll return to acting or whatever you're doing. You won't have the burden of—"
"That's not—"
"Quinn, shut up and let me speak!" Quinn's jaw clamped immediately. Rachel continued as though nothing happened. "You won't have the burden of taking care of me, you'll have your own responsibilities. Your priorities will change, you'll find a new lover. You'll start a family with said lover, a baby, which will then lead to new friends, nice young couples that you meet at ante-natal classes who'll have babies too and they'll also understand. You'll be too tired because you've been up all night with your child—"
"Are you predicting my future for me?" Rachel laughed along with Quinn, and at that moment she thought that there was no better feeling than seeing Quinn Fabray laugh. "It won't be like that."
"Your future or us drifting apart?"
"Both."
Rachel stepped back to look at her. "Do you promise? No more disappearing?"
"I promise."
This time, Quinn caught Rachel by surprise and wrapped her arms around her waist, putting her face in Rachel's hair and breathing her smell. They separated and Rachel went to kiss her cheek just as Quinn turned her head, their mouths glancing for a moment so that they tasted each other's lipstick. The moment held a kind of glorious confusion.
"What's the time?" Rachel said, twisting her face away. The walls of her heart quivered.
Quinn tugged up her sleeve and looked at her watch. "Almost three."
"Well! We should go. Everyone is probably worried about our disappearance."
"Doubtful." Quinn rolled her eyes.
They walked in silence, unsure about what would happen next. Two more turnings brought them to the exit of the maze, and back to the party, back to their friends. Rachel was about to open the heavy oak door when Quinn took her hand.
"Rachel?"
"Yes, Quinn."
Rachel waited anxiously, anticipating that Quinn would take her hand and lead them back into the maze. She would turn off her phone, and they would stay there until everything was over, get lost and talk about all that had happened. Fall in love over again.
"Friends?" Quinn said eventually.
"Friends."
•••
January 3rd, 2012
Rachel has dreamt of this moment: her two month anniversary with Quinn. Their love was full of yearning and anguish and passion, there was a steady pulse of pleasure and occasional (Santana would argue frequent) irritation; if there had been moments in her life when she had been more elated, there had never been a time when things have been more constant. There was a deep intensity, not just in their romance, but in their friendship as well.
She would leave love notes, song lyrics, letters in Quinn's locker, in her books, around her room; romantic (Santana would argue insane) things full of Rachel's witty sentiment and barely hidden meanings, exclamation marks and underlining. For a long while she wrote love letters to Quinn, on top of the hour-long phone calls before bed. On the eve of their fourteenth day romance, they stayed up talking and listening to music, only stopping when the sun had began to rise. Another time they spent an afternoon swimming by the river when it had been unseasonably warm. They created a new Chrismukkah tradition whereby they spend quality time in the confines of their rooms and simply (for lack of a better word) make-out for seven days of Hanukah and one day of Christmas. Rachel recorded all of these moments and more in notebooks and letters and photographs. She wanted to remember every moment she spent with Quinn.
At times her mind wonders into the future, if someone asked her—as they sometimes do at parties—how she and Quinn had met, she would tell them: we grew up together. And that smallest act left her with a kind of sensory overload.
It wasn't a secret that sporadically they bickered (Santana would say regularly), it was what separated Rachel and Quinn from other couples, and this seemed to be their regular exchange; but it was times like these that Rachel could sense something bigger than a bicker, something that neither she nor Quinn would be able to control.
They sat in the car in the small town of Lima where (remarkably) all the restaurants were identical. The air hung smoky with burning, rich cuisine. The heavy snowfall had lightened considerably over the past few days, sunlight even peeped through some thin clouds. Madonna's Get into the Groove perfumed in one of the restaurants closest to which they were located. Quinn was joyfully eating a bread roll as her eyes roamed across the harbor where they sat (again, in the car). She then proceeded to pick up the plastic knife and fork and picked at the salad on her lap (held in a take-out container), all of which Rachel assumed must have tasted delicious because she let out a soft moan.
Quinn turned and looked at her, the cool breeze (from the car) blew a few strands of hair away from her face. Rachel's eyes roamed to the smoothness of her neck, following the curve to her sternum but she couldn't enjoy the sensuousness it evoked. The sun's rays gave Quinn's eyes a sparkling, emerald green color and Rachel wondered why she had never noticed until now.
"Is there something on your mind?" Quinn asked through a mouthful of bacon.
Rachel smiled, but her manner was stiff. She put on (what she knew) was a good performance: remain nonchalance, do not flare your nostrils, smile brightly and not the kind that flickers at the mouth, and then she spoke (calmly), "Remember when you said that we were going some place special for our anniversary?"
"Yeah."
"Well," she glanced around the restaurants, buildings the color of coconut. "Was this the special place that you had in mind?" Her hands signaling the inside of the car.
Quinn broke off another piece of bread and placed it in her mouth. "Uh huh. Why?"
"Oh, no reason, no reason," she blubbered. "I just—I just wanted to make sure."
Rachel shifted uneasily in her position (she could not stress this enough, they were in the car). Quinn was acting so aloof she had wondered whether this was all part of the arrangement of wanting to test Rachel's patience before serenading her in front of the crowd, declare her love to Rachel by the harbor, two aeroplanes will fly by with a sign saying, I love you, Rachel Berry, marry me.
At first she thought, okay, Quinn will finish eating and then she'll serenade me. But an hour passed and they remained in the same position. It was a comfortable silence while she watched Quinn eat her bacon with salad. Quinn had an endless supply of bacon. It was quite endearing. The way her lips were a little greased, the corners of her mouth trickling with a tiny amount of dressing, her tongue occasionally darting forth. An hour later and Quinn wasn't showing any signs of acting upon anything on Rachel's wish list.
Quinn licked her lips and made her eyes sultry along with other tiny adjustments. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and when Rachel looked up again, she was struck with how attractive Quinn had become in the span was two seconds (not that she was never attractive, just more than usual). "Did you have somewhere else in mind?"
Rachel sat dumbstruck. The fork in her hand snapped in two. Quinn didn't even flinch. "To be honest, I didn't think we'll be having lunch out of a container in the parking lot."
A frown crinkled Quinn's brow and her eyes flickered, catching sight (as if for the first time) to the sights around them. Whether Quinn was shocked or disappointed, she didn't show it. In fact when she spoke her voice was delightful. "Rach, I think you're missing the big picture."
"Am I?" Now she was really confused and Rachel Berry was rarely confused but Quinn Fabray was always the reason behind said confusion. "Humor me, Quinn."
"I mean, we're alone, right?"
Rachel paused for a whole five seconds. "Yes."
"Correct, we're alone in the car." Quinn said it in a way as though Rachel would be getting a gold star beside her name. "You've been saying we should experience new things as a couple and eating in the car is a new experience. Part of the whole retro drive in thing. Minus the actual Drive-In because Lima doesn't have one."
Rachel pressed her lips together and agreed for the sake of agreeing, although there was a loathing in her tone. "Okay, Quinn, I understand your point. But all I'm saying is, that sometimes, a table—"
Quinn reached over and sipped on her straw from the plastic cup. She ordered a large so that they could share.
"—waiters too, maybe even a romantic setting."
Before speaking, she chewed on more bacon. "How is this not romantic? We're sharing a drink—"
"You drink diet coke."
"We have delicious food, great romantic music—" She turned up the volume on the stereo and Queen's, Stone Cold Crazy blasted through the speakers.
Rachel reached out to turn it down. She wasn't angry to be exact (more like enraged and on the verge of being psychotic). "First of, eighties retro bands is not romantic. And secondly, you parked the car in the middle of a parking lot surrounded by restaurants, a lot of romantic restaurants to be exact, and instead you buy me food in which I did not order and call this a romantic celebration of our love."
Quinn remained undeterred by Rachel's outburst. She continued to smile, looking somewhat ethereal. Rachel wanted to give her a shock treatment so she could come crashing back into reality. "Is a picnic romantic?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" She folded her arms and refused to look at Quinn.
"Picnics. They're romantic, right?"
"Yes."
"There's no waiters in a picnic. I bought you the food when we last had one. How is this any different? Is it the donuts, Rach?" Quinn's smile widened, eyes teasing. "Are you mad that I'm not feeding you Krispy Kreme donuts this time?"
Rachel bumped her head on the dashboard, not once, but twice, and slumped back onto her seat in a huff, like a child sent home from school. She said nothing and refused to look at Quinn. Quinn poked her several times, first on her arm, then her shoulder, then she moved to Rachel's stomach and that did the trick. Rachel squirmed, then shifted away as if Quinn's arm wouldn't be long enough to reach her.
"Quinn, stop—"
The moment Rachel turned to face her, Quinn took that pouting face between her hands and kissed her. She leaned so far across the middle, the gearshift was thrusting into her stomach. She let go of the anger (for now) that was building up inside of her and reached up for Quinn's neck, and Quinn shifted the pain on one part of her stomach to another. As Quinn's parted lips met hers, Rachel started to feel breathless in a new and fascinating way. This was what Quinn did best, aggravating and mocking her till she was broiling with anger and confusion and loathing and just like a puff of air Quinn would erase it all by giving her a kiss that consumed her until suffocation. This was one of their more sweeter kisses—sounds were foreign in her ears, the cars, a police siren in the distance, the wind. All she heard were the faintness of her own moans as it welled in her throat.
Quinn's fingertips feathered over Rachel's neck, stomach, her thighs, all of which increased the pool of liquid warmth in her body. Finally, Rachel relaxed and she felt Quinn's body fall into her. Rachel's hand rose to Quinn's breasts through the fabric of her shirt, teasing and arousing. They were spiraling down into an abyss of raw pleasure. Their lips broke apart when Quinn began to pant, their foreheads touching, their noses tip to tip. Rachel marvelled at the colors in Quinn's eyes, they were hooded and filled with passion she hadn't anticipated.
"Shit." Quinn said, reclining back into her seat. Rachel looked around at the splattered food on the floor mats. "Damnmit, look what you did, Berry."
And just like that, those emotions returned. "Me?! You—"
"I was joking."
Rachel wasn't impressed. "Take me home."
"You're not still mad, are you?" Quinn picked up the fallen container and placed it into a plastic bag. Then she picked up the fallen pieces of lettuce and bacon.
"This was not the celebration I had in mind."
Quinn shrugged, not paying much attention to Rachel. "I have to get the minions to clean this car on Monday."
"Minions?"
"Cheerios." She said casually. "Rachel, pick up your mess."
Rachel's eyes were detested as she glanced at the mess on her side of the car. "You did this, Quinn. I didn't ask you to kiss me."
"But you looked so cute over there, pouting and all. Your lips were begging me to kiss you."
"My lips do no such thing!"
"It does from my perspective. Pick it up, will you?" Quinn nudged Rachel once more to get her attention.
After a moment, Rachel abruptly picked up the empty box and threw it at Quinn's head. Quinn was quick with her reflexes and it flew out the window. "Hey!"
"Quinn, take me home."
Quinn let her head fall backwards and let out a long, low groan. Within minutes, they were on the road again. Rachel turned her head to stare out the window, letting the breeze take over her. Her body released something into itself. She was flooded with a substance that might have been adrenalin. It was deeply unpleasant. She shouldn't have given Quinn such a hard time; it was only two months, after all, and it was being with the woman she loves on this joyous occasion that mattered.
At the traffic light, Quinn turned on the radio to a contemporary station, keeping the volume low. She drove with intense concentration and Rachel assumed that Quinn was trying her best to control her temper. It was best not to disturb her.
When they passed Rachel's house, she instantly sat up, taking her chin away from the window sill. "Uh, Quinn, it seems as though you've passed my house. You're not trying to kidnap me, are you?"
Quinn eyed her warily as she turned a corner into another street. She looked bitter. "You're not going home."
Now, it was time to face the consequences.
"Quinn, I'm sorry." Rachel said loudly while a huge semi-truck blew past. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I know you love me and I know you're romantic and although today wasn't as romantic as I had hoped I loved the idea behind it, only you could think of something like that..." She trailed off having no idea of what she was meant to say, and this time, Quinn sighed.
Rachel followed Quinn inside her house and crossed over to the fridge, opened it and took out a bottle of sparkling water. She could feel the blood pumping to her chest, though perhaps this was from the glare Quinn was no doubt drilling into the back of her head (Rachel was psychic, after all). She had begun to drink, taking great gulps, when Quinn's hand was on her shoulder, then she was in front of Rachel somehow, and kissing her, clumsily pressing too hard. Rachel leaned backwards over the kitchen table, which suddenly juddered noisily across the floor, so that she had to twist away at the waist to stop the vase of roses from falling.
"Oops."
"Quinn, I'm—"
"I'm not angry, Rach. I mean, I'm a little annoyed that all my hard work went unappreciated—"
"And I'm sorry I didn't show more appreciation toward it. You know how much I enjoy—"
"Can we just make-out?"
"Will you listen—"
Rachel couldn't get another word in when Quinn's lips were on her own. As much as it frustrated her at Quinn's inept ability to let her finish a sentence, she let herself sink into the kiss. It was irritating how often Quinn would interrupt, but it's as though everything about them was in unison and they understood what the other was saying without actually having to say it. They kissed for a long while, using a little tongue. When Rachel noticed Quinn's breathing become uneven, she deepened the kiss, biting her gently on the lips.
Quinn's arms lowered and gathered Rachel in tightly until the shorter girl was on the table with Quinn between her legs. Quinn started the kiss but Rachel took over, nibbling on her lower lip as they nuzzled their noses together, lost in each other's dreamy intimacy. Quinn's hand gently massaged the skin underneath Rachel's sweater. Rachel shifted to a more comfortable position and her knee accidentally pressed against Quinn's center, eliciting a soft moan from somewhere in Quinn's throat.
Rachel knew in the back of her mind they should stop (and take this to the bedroom), but the decision to stop was harder than any decision she had ever faced. They were like two magnets drawn to each other without the slightest knowledge of how it happens. Sometimes Rachel would sit a foot or two away from Quinn in glee, only to realize by the end of the lesson, they would be tightly pressed together, shoulder to shoulder and fingers intertwined. Rachel could never figure out at which moment she had moved closer to Quinn.
At the base of Quinn's throat, her pulse beat and Rachel found her pulse with her fingertips. Then her fingers drifted lower between them, grazing downward. The side of Rachel's thumb brushed against Quinn's nibbles, the touched caused a shudder to pass through her. Quinn let out a sigh, their wildly beating hearts the only audible sound.
"Rach—I want to take this fur—"
"Me too."
Quinn actually took a step back. "This is a big step. I have no experience in—"
"I don't either."
Quinn watched the rise and fall of Rachel's chest. "Do you have any idea," Quinn leaned close to her mouth. "How hard it is for me to keep my hands off you?"
"I never want you to keep your hands off me." She pressed her thighs together to help ease the pain between her legs.
"Do you know how many fantasies I've had?"
"Pervert." Rachel said, closing her eyes as she felt Quinn's tongue on her.
Quinn straightened enough to look into her chocolate eyes. "If we do this, please don't ask me to stop." Quinn's hand slithered under Rachel's breast, her thumb moving across to the edge of the lace.
"Consider this my two month anniversary gift to you."
"How will you top that in the future?" Quinn's tongue was trickling down a spot under her ear.
"You'll be surprised, Fabray."
Rachel arched against her, and Quinn pushed her back, her breath coming faster, tilting upward to suck on Rachel's pulse point. She was pushing her palms on the table for support. The sensation of Quinn's teeth on her neck caused every nerve in her body to flare in relief. Quinn pulled back to lift Rachel's sweater over her head and just as she felt the breeze, she realized that Quinn had stripped her so that she was naked to the waist. She moved instinctively to cover herself but Quinn had seen it all.
"God, you're beautiful." Quinn said, staring at her in fascination.
"Should we continue this in your—"
"No, not yet."
Rachel tugged at Quinn's belt, torn between embarrassment and lust, she groaned at the feeling of their tongues meeting, and lust won. She felt herself tighten and shudder, and pressed further into Quinn, praying that she would never stop. Rachel's hands yanked at Quinn's shirt, and they parted so Quinn could lift it above her head and just as quickly Quinn trailed her tongue along Rachel's neck, down her breasts, she pulled Rachel's nipple into her mouth, her free hand teased the other into a peak. It felt like a newfound discovery of intense pleasure. Quinn sucked on her for a long time and she was being pulled toward a heady direction of complete surrender.
A coffee mug fell onto the floor, jumped, and rolled again and again on its side before coming to a stop, unbroken, to the left of Quinn's foot. Rachel, not daring to breathe, casted her eyes over to Quinn's mom standing in the middle of the arch that led to the kitchen. The groceries in the bags tilting forward, but not enough for all its contents to be emptied. Rachel didn't register the tub of vegan ice cream that had fallen until Quinn was in front of her, covering her half naked body.
Judy glanced over at both of them, then looked away immediately, shocked, embarrassed, but not before Rachel had caught that look somewhere between distress and confusion in the older woman's eyes. Judy made a sound, a grunt, a mumbled indecipherable bible quote. Rachel burned red. She wanted to cry. She mustn't cry. Frantically, she slid off the table and found her clothes, tugging them on impatiently. When she finished, Judy dropped the grocery bag on the floor and her footsteps could be heard walking down the hallway and then the soft click of a lock.
"Oh, god." Quinn fumbled to put on her shirt and fell to the ground, her forehead resting on her knees.
Rachel didn't dare speak. She would squeak, sound like a boy who was going through puberty, she just knew it. Quinn was stricken, her body was shaking. Her face was scarlet, as though she couldn't breathe. Fear and shame flooded through Rachel's body. She knelt down and put her arms around Quinn. Quinn clung to her, not letting her go. Rachel held onto her, waited for the shaking to subside. Soon, Quinn's sobs were intermittent but she hadn't loosened her hold on Rachel. She gently pulled away and began to wipe at Quinn's face.
Rachel didn't know how to make it better, to stop the confusion of shame and fear and sadness that overwhelmed both Quinn and herself. She wanted to take back those last few minutes. She wanted to be back in Quinn's car having lunch at the parking lot, listening to the regular laughter and chatter that was around, be comfortable in the silence she and Quinn created for themselves. She gulped and then she started to really cry. She wanted to make it better, she wanted to make Quinn feel okay again.
"Rachel, I don't know what to do."
Rachel drew a shuddering breath, her sobbing calmed. "I'll be here for you, you know that, right?"
The sound of footsteps down the hallway pulled them apart. Quinn was the first to stand, and Rachel made a note to stand two feet away from her. Judy entered from the dim hallway, her face aglow with awkwardness, lethargy and dissatisfaction. The first time Rachel met Judy, she welcomed Rachel into her home with open arms. Now, Rachel can sense the regret. Judy half smiles, half scowls.
"Rachel, would you please leave. I wish to talk to Quinn alone."
"Mom, she's—"
"Don't say it, Quinn."
"She's my girlfriend."
They all freeze. Rachel's mind is not so addled that she can't recognize the insult behind Judy's simple words, but she ignored the remark and reached out for Quinn's hand. "I'll leave."
"No." Quinn said quickly and turning back to Judy. "Mom, we can talk about this together."
Judy's nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath. Her voice remains calm. "Rachel, please leave. I have some matters I wish to discuss with Quinn."
Rachel had a sudden urge to cry again. She wants to curl up like a child and feel her fathers' arms around her, and she also wants to run as fast as she can but neither were possible without making her seem like a coward, so instead she said,
"It was a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Fabray. Even under the circumstances."
She walked slowly toward the door, retrieving her coat along the way. Quinn behind her. "I'm sorry I can't take you home. Will you be okay?"
All Rachel can do is nod. Her eyes scanning the road ahead. The winter weather numbing all her senses. She heared Quinn's voice again,
"I'll take you home. I'll tell her—"
"Quinn, it's okay."
"It's freezing—"
"It'll help me process what happened."
Quinn rubbed her hand along the back of her neck, peeking inside to determine whether Judy was able to hear them. "What if she kicks me out?"
The words were muffled and Quinn had to repeat them. Rachel bought her arm back up again to comfort her. She didn't want to say anything. She had no answers. She wasn't anticipating any questions.
Rachel's hand—hot, sweaty—covered over Quinn's. "I love you. We'll get through this together."
Rachel was suddenly afraid Quinn wasn't going to say it back. The longest duration—she timed one day—it took Quinn to respond was exactly seven-point-four seconds, and that was because she had toothpaste in her mouth. This was profound. It was a powerful thing, this fear. She was scared for Quinn's safety. She was scared for Quinn's future. On top of it all, and it was selfish, Rachel knew it the moment it crossed her mind, she was scared Quinn was going to leave her.
And then she felt Quinn's soft lips on her temple and she relaxed for the first time. "I love you. You're stuck with me, Berry."
•••
May 14th, 2016
Santana's face was pale and her eyes darted back and forth between Rachel and Quinn. The Reverend smiled reassuringly at her and she returned his smile gratefully. She fiddled with her hands in the pockets of her pants, then took it out to straighten the collar of her suit, she frowned a question at Quinn who only shrugged. It was like some form of secret cheerleading code.
They stood at the front of the church, two hundred pairs of eyes on them. Rachel's fathers were sitting with Judy in the second row, tissues in hand. The pianist started the music, everyone stood and turned toward the chapel doors. Quinn gave Santana one final reassurance nod, Santana's smile ramained rigid and unconvinced. Everyone had opted for this wedding to break into a song and dance, but Brittany mentioned to Rachel that she was not the most ordinary human being on the planet, therefore, her wedding was the one thing she needed to be ordinary.
The doors opened, Brittany started down the aisle with her father by her side. Brittany waved at the guests as she walked by. Her face was hidden behind the veil but it was clear she plastered a broad cheerleader smile. When her eyes finally settled on Santana, Rachel could tell that she had to remind herself to breathe. Santana was no different (maybe even worse). She looked as though she was going to faint.
"A wedding is a new beginning," Reverend Wise raised his eyes toward the ceiling and began. "A beginning of a new life. This could not be more true than it is for Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce."
Standing across directly from Rachel, Quinn smiled the gentlest of smiles, and her heart skipped a beat and her eyes teared when she thought about her tragic memories and not being able to remember their wedding day.
"Santana Lopez," the Reverend intoned. "Do you take this woman, Brittany Pierce, to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, till death do you part?"
Santana turned to Brittany, her face and eyes adoring. "I do with all my heart." She declared.
"Brittany Pierce," Reverend Wise's gaze shifted. "Do you take this woman, Santana Lopez, to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, till death do you part?"
Brittany locked her eyes onto Santana's and whispered, "I do."
"Who has the rings?" Reverend Wise asked.
Rachel sashayed forward—Quinn's eyes never leaving her sight—and lifted her hand, palm up, each held a ring. When Rachel retook her position, her eyes locked onto Quinn's once more. All the sadness and memories were lifted away. It was like a cloudy day that suddenly turned bright.
Santana slipped the diamond-encrusted wedding band on Brittany's finger. "With this ring I wed thee." She said.
Brittany did the same.
"I now pronounce you wife and wife." Reverend Wise said with a loud cheer. "You may now kiss your bride, Santana."
"Hell yes." She said and kissed Brittany with more passion than Rachel had ever seen before. Then they walked arm in arm back up the aisle. When they reached the door, the Reverend called out,
"Ladies and gentlemen, come and join me in congratulating this wonderful marriage."
Everyone was around them at once, especially the glee kids. Outside the church the band had started playing a lilting waltz. After everyone had greeted them in the receiving line, Brittany was standing on the running board of the Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost that would take them the hundred yards to the reception, the bouquet held low in both hands, ready to be tossed.
"Want to try your chances, Rach?" Quinn's voice was beside her ear.
"I'm a married woman." She said, placing her hands behind her back just as the bouquet was lobbed into the crowd and caught by Kurt Hummel who squealed in delight, which seemed to anger some of the younger women as if one of their chances for future happiness had been squandered. Rachel nodded towards Kurt and Blaine who were locked in a tight embrace, the bouquet high above his head when they kissed. "We have a lot of gay friends."
Quinn chuckled softly. Rachel's pointed shoes tapped against the toes of Quinn's and it gave her a little rush of happiness. Over her shoulder she could see Brittany looking around for her. "I better go. Santana has me on strict orders to take care of the dress."
"Hopefully we'll be able to sneak away from them." Quinn held up her crossed fingers, and Rachel crossed hers back.
How wonderful a wedding of two people who were sincerely in love with each other could be, Rachel thought. It was sacred and precious. The time between the rehearsal dinner and the wedding day seemed like ages. Minutes were more like hours and hours more like days, because the anticipation built up Brittany's excitement and it was contagious. Brittany stayed in Lima planning the wedding with Rachel while Santana flew back and forth between Lima and L.A. so as to spend some time with Quinn.
Rachel had spent most of the morning between trying to calm Brittany's nerves to running around and checking items off her list: food, alcohol, songs, band, guests. At times she would look towards the gates and whenever she saw a blonde she'd feel a flush of excitement run through her, like a jolt of electric current surging from her feet to the tips of her hair. Her mind racing with a hundred questions: where was she? She should be here by now. I hope she's okay. I wonder what she's wearing.
She didn't see Quinn until the ceremony begun; her head cleared instantly and a warm rush swept through her body.
The sky was a deep cerulean blue and the little candy cotton puff clouds stretched and curled in delicious shapes. Rachel took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fresh perfume of blossoming flowers and watched the guests follow the Silver Ghost in procession to the Great Lawn for champagne and canapés. There, with a great whoop, Kurt finally found Rachel, and he hugged her with a tight grip.
"I'm getting married." Kurt said delighted.
"Getting married first requires a proposal." Mercedes pulled Rachel into a hug and they laughed.
"Blaine will propose. I caught the bouquet, didn't I?"
"How accurate can that possibly be?" Rachel asked.
A waiter walked by carrying a tray of champagne glasses and Rachel quickly grabbed one. Kurt did the same and they clinked it together. "I'll let you know once it undoubtedly happens." He smiled into the glass.
The champagne flowed on and a sense of nostalgia spread across the Great Lawn as old friends met and conversation turned into how much people earned now, how much weight they gained. Rachel heard someone yell from the other side of the Great Lawn and glanced across to see Puck hugging Quinn and Santana tightly. Rachel smiled and turned her full attention back to Brittany.
"I can't believe this has happened." Brittany said. "I'm married, Rachel."
She took a sip of her champagne. Her head becoming light. "You two are meant for each other."
There was a moment's silence, comfortable and affectionate, as they looked around the lawn at old friends talking and laughing in the later afternoon sun.
"Thanks for taking care of me today, Rachel. You're the best maid of honor."
Rachel took her eyes away from her group of high school friends singing to Don't Stop Believing. "Of course, Brittany. Thank you for making me your maid of honor."
Brittany placed her hand on top of Rachel's. "I know these past few months have been difficult for you, and I know you don't remember how we became so close or friends, but I love you and you're one of my favorite people."
Rachel felt her hand tighten around the champagne glass. She was blinking back tears but one managed to escape and Brittany reached out to wipe it away. "Don't cry, Rach. You have a lot of people who care about you."
Rachel didn't have a chance to reply when her fathers came over to congratulate Brittany personally and they smiled down at her. "You okay, Rachel?" Hiram asked.
"Yes, I'm okay." Her eyes drifted over to Quinn, a wary expression on her face while they stared at one another. Quinn was the first to look away the moment Tina shook her on the shoulder.
"You look lovely, Brittany. The ceremony was beautiful." Leroy said.
"Thank you, Mr. B. Rachel did most of the work. All Santana and I had to do was show up."
"Rachel," Judy wrapped her arms around the smaller girl. "It's so good to see you again. How are you feeling?"
"A lot better, thank you." Rachel was slightly alarmed at the gesture but didn't step away from Judy's embrace. "Are you enjoying the wedding?"
"It's lovely. You've done a wonderful job."
As the sun began to set, the guests were gathering at the marquee, huddling eagerly around the seating plan as if getting their exam results. Puck and Sam were sitting behind the long table, asking for their names and showing them the seating arrangements. Rachel was surprised to find Quinn amongst the crowd.
"What are the chances that you and I are sitting on the same table but won't be able to talk?" Quinn said.
"At least you're not near the speakers, they'll be right behind me."
"You mustn't take it personally."
"Santana did it on purpose."
"She does it out of love." Quinn winked.
"I find that hard to believe."
"Come and find me afterwards?"
"Or you come and find me."
As punishment for some past slight, Rachel was placed between Brittany's elderly, hearing-impaired grandmother and the speakers. The bride and bride seating arrangement was the only one Santana organized and now Rachel understood why. They had a front view of the large stage, their table long, decorated with lillies and roses. Occasionally, she would be distracted by the laughter on the end of the table (where Quinn was located) and on table five, Kurt, Blaine, Mercedes, Sam, Tina, Mike and Artie and his girlfriend. Her heart dropped at not seeing Finn and for the first time in what seemed like a while, she wondered when the falling out had begun.
Song followed sketch followed song until Rachel found her mind beginning to drift. She was extremely happy for her friends, and extremely happy to be in the company of her friends, but with each glass of champagne, the energy was leeching out of her, not to mention her ears were beginning to ring. As if to make it worse, the band were turning it up louder, the bassist playing the riff from Another One Bites the Dust, and Rachel wondered whether anyone would notice if she put her head down and slept on the table.
But the glasses were being tapped with knives. The speeches. Santana's father was extremely proud of his daughter, bringing a few guests to tears with his speech. Brittany's father lightened the mood and laughter erupted from the room. It was as though two different world's had collided.
Quinn was next to deliver her speech and she stumbled to the stage. Rachel giggled at the way she fumbled with the microphone and tugged at the hem of her dress that had ridden up to halfway along her thigh, and there followed a fleeting but vivid memory of Quinn sitting in the car on a winter's day eating bacon from a take-out container. Quinn's features weren't dissimilar, she had grown into a beautiful, young woman, the same lines formed around her mouth when she laughed, they were etched just deeper now. She still had the same eyes, and when she laughed her whole body shook just as it had when she was seventeen. In many ways, Quinn was far more attractive than her seventeen year-old self.
Santana embraced Quinn just as Quinn was walking back to her seat, and Santana took center stage. "I want to thank everyone for coming today. I've been ordered to remain polite and courteous." She glanced behind and smiled at Brittany, speaking right through to her heart. "You are the most dangerous kind of female the world can ever know. You're beautiful, you're funny, you're seductive, you're intelligent and I'm so proud that you have chosen me to be yours."
Brittany blew Santana what seemed like a hundred air kisses.
"I love you. I think I loved you the moment I saw your face in that locker room and you smiled shyly back at me. You're wildly hopeful and willing to challenge any obstacles in our love. I'll never be able to stop loving you."
Suddenly, an applause broke out, everyone beamed their happy smiles at the newly-weds. Santana turned as red as a tomato and Brittany took the microphone out of her hand to say, "I love Santana with all my heart. She's my lobster. And, we would like to thank Rachel for being the best maid of honor and organizing this amazing wedding. Rachel," Brittany said a little nervously, handing her the microphone. "We would like you to perform Songbird while Santana and I have our first dance."
Rachel stared at it, her eyes blank and absent. Her stomach was clenched into a knot and her hands trembled. There was a distinct applause on table five, her friends cheering for her to take the stage.
Strangely enough, Santana gently put her hand on Rachel's shoulder. "You can do this, Rachel. There's no one else we want to sing this song."
"I—can't. I haven't sung in front of an audience in months."
"You have to start somewhere." Santana smiled.
"Come on, Rachel." She heard somewhere from table five. "Sing your little Jewish butt off for us."
Rachel didn't say anything. Instead she stood, wiped her face and walked to the stage where she struggled to put the microphone on the stand. Quinn's hand were over hers now, her other one rubbing along Rachel's back, willing her to stop shaking. Quinn's lips lingered beside her ear and her insides melted like a candle.
"You can do this, Rach."
The pianist strummed harmoniously on the ivory chords, Santana wrapped an arm around Brittany's waist, their bodies swaying in unison to the harmony. At the first wave of the melody Rachel's body released unto itself, it made her shiver, thinking she might be sick but then she concentrated on Santana and Brittany's blissful smiles, the music around her seemingly to be coming from somewhere far away, the cold and the fear deserting her and she submitted to the warm and lush it created inside her body. Kurt was standing and holding his two thumbs to give her encouragement and suddenly she found herself standing in the middle of the choir room. Her eyes fell on Quinn sitting on one of the bleachers playing with the hem of her blouse, refusing to meet Rachel's eyes. The fluorescent light above backlit her hair and she looked like an angel again. She was exquisitely beautiful. It took Rachel's breath away.
When she opened her mouth to finally sing the words to Songbird, it wasn't the lyrics she had anticipated. I've been beating down, I've been kicked around, she takes me all for me.
The pianist stopped. Santana and Brittany's movements halted. The crowd was silent, but there was no anger, no hate. She realized her mistake and her limbs weren't capable of moving, she just wanted to sink into unconsciousness. Sink back to that memory standing in front of the club and serenade to Quinn. It lasted only a moment but it tasted of all the longing and fear and desire she was feeling.
"I'm sorry." Rachel turned to the pianist. "Can we start again?"
He nodded and resumed from the beginning. The crowd cheered again, particularly table five. Rachel's voice and the music exploding throughout the hall.
For you, there'll be no more crying
For you, the sun will be shining
And I feel that when I'm with you
Hearing her own voice, distinct, clear, rising about the melodies, above the crowd, above the music, she began to feel weightless, beyond gravity, beyond her body. It is her soul singing. She hadn't felt this free for so long. A kind of sweet surrender. And she told herself as she drew out the last few notes that she will never stop singing again.
And I love you, I love you, I love you
Like never before, like never before
Whistles and cheers and screams erupted, she had the breath knocked out of her once again when a hundred pairs of arms wrapped around her tiny body. Rachel scanned her eyes around for Quinn but she was nowhere to be found. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard Santana say,
"Let's have some cake!"
The cake was placed at the center of the stage. It was a five-tiered white confection bedecked with garlands and flowers. It was almost as tall as Rachel (Santana would argue that she was just short). Beaming, Brittany took Santana's hand and, holding the knife together, they cut a slice from the bottom of the tier of the cake. Brittany opened her mouth to allow Santana to pop a piece of the cake into her mouth but instead, Santana bumped it on Brittany's nose and they both laughed.
After everyone had been served cake and ice cream, Rachel was beginning to feel the exhaustion of the celebration (perhaps it was the large amount of champagne she had drunk). With a last sip of her champagne, she began to contemplate that it was time to call it a night and retreat back to her room to sleep off the wedding.
"Excuse me, but don't I know you from somewhere?"
A hand on her arm, a voice behind her. Quinn was crouching by her side, grinning woozily, a bottle of champagne in her hand.
"It's possible, I suppose. I am quite famous." Rachel held up her champagne glass.
There was a squeal from the guests, the band began to play and all the attention turned to the dance floor, where their high school friends were dancing to their special song, Push It, twisting and jumping out of rhythm.
Quinn was the first to comment on their outrageous behaviour. "When did our friends turn into such hippies?"
"Since the introduction of alcohol."
"Speak for yourself." Quinn said, perching on a chair.
"I am not drunk."
"You look drunk."
"How can one look drunk?"
"Like this." Quinn pushed her lightly and Rachel slumped like spaghetti to the side. "You're drunk."
"That was not very nice, Quinn."
They were having to shout now. Quinn stood and tugged at her hand. "Let's go somewhere. Just you and me."
"Where?"
"The maze."
A moment, and Rachel stood. "We couldn't find our way out when we were sober, how do you think we'll do being intoxicated?"
"I guess we'll soon find out."
They took two glasses and discreetly stepped out of the marquee and into the night. Rachel felt kind of eucalyptic walking under the stars, and a little euphoric in her exhaustion. She was shocked by the number of stars in the night sky. When they arrived at the entrance to the maze, a neatly trimmed privet hedge affair, they took off their heels and Rachel paused, her hand on the iron handle.
"Is this a good idea?"
"How hard can it be?"
"We're drunk, Quinn."
"We'll use the stars or something."
"And you're so good with constellations."
"Wouldn't you be surprised, Berry."
They stepped into the maze. The high hedges were lit at ground level with different colored lights, and the air had that spring smell, thick and heady, almost oily from the warm leaves. They went left and Rachel grabbed a hold of Quinn's arm. The tingling sensations of their skins touching was either due to the alcohol or because that was just Quinn herself. Rachel wanted to believe it was the latter.
"Today was beautiful, wasn't it?" Rachel said dreamily.
"Yeah. It was perfect."
"Hey, so how is your movie going?"
Rachel felt Quinn sliding her palm up and down the length of her forearm. Her legs began to twitch. The space between Quinn and herself seemed constricted. "I wrap up in a week or two."
"What are you going to do after that?"
"I did want to go back to college to study English."
"That's wonderful, Quinn." Rachel beamed. Warmth spread through her stomach when Quinn's arm was around her shoulder. "We should celebrate. But first, let's turn right."
"Why?"
"Because we've been going left all this time."
"Maybe that's the trick. It's a mind game. They want you to think that you have to choose between right and left when really, it's left all along."
"That's a ridiculous theory."
"Is it, Rachel, is it?" Quinn turned her head just as Rachel turned hers and Rachel's forehead bumped Quinn's chin. "Ouch."
"That did not hurt."
"Yes, it did." Quinn rubbed it lightly with a pout. "You have to kiss it better now."
This was the moment she realized how drunk they were.
Rachel leaned up to kiss her chin, but Quinn bent further and Rachel was met with Quinn's sweet lips. They stood there, mouth to mouth, glitter flaring in her head, except this time Rachel wasn't fighting it and it went everywhere. Rachel clutched Quinn's waist, drunk on the knowledge of how wonderful this was.
"Why do you taste like strawberries?" Quinn asked.
Rachel had to catch her breath before she could speak. "The cake."
"Oh," Quinn's face fell. "Santana didn't give me any."
Rachel pulled Quinn along and they made a right turn at the junction. "It was like an orgasm."
"Do you remember what an orgasm is like, Rachel?"
They stopped but Rachel didn't release her arm around Quinn's waist. They stared at each other when Rachel said, "No, but I suspect it's amazing. Considering we had a lot of sex."
Their pace resumed. "How do you know that? For all you know we could've had sex once a month."
"I guess... I guess you'd have to tell me then, won't you?"
"Pervert."
It was quiet for a moment until Quinn spoke again. "Why did you start singing She Is Love when you were on stage?"
Rachel wondered whether it was the alcohol working their magic inside of her or the fact Quinn's face was buried into her hair that had bats flapping in her stomach. "I—I remembered I sang that song to you in glee."
"Are you getting your memories back?"
"I don't know." She answered honestly. "I haven't the slightest clue what triggers them. When I saw you tugging your dress on stage, there was a moment's flash of you eating bacon from a container in a car. Then when I was on stage I remember serenading to you. All I'm certain of is that these memory triggers involve you in some way or another."
"Do you want them back?" There was a strain in Quinn's voice.
"A part of me does. Another doesn't. I want to remember what it was like to be in love with you, but it's also troubling to know why we had a falling out with Finn."
"Oh." Quinn's arms tightened around Rachel's shoulder. "Have you been in contact with him?"
"Not exactly. He knows I'm in Lima and he knows about the wedding. I haven't had the time to spend with him." They stopped again, unsure of which direction to turn. "I think we're lost." Rachel said.
"I think so, too."
"Let's sit down."
Rachel went to rest her back against the hedge, but Quinn sprawled herself onto the grass, her face grinning up at Rachel. "Come here."
They regarded each other for a moment. Quinn shifted her gaze to the champagne bottle and Rachel mimicked Quinn's position. She jumped a little when Quinn slid her arm under her shoulders. There was a self-conscious moment of mutual discomfort before Rachel turned into her side and curled towards Quinn.
Tightening an arm around Rachel's waist, Quinn spoke into the top of her head. "I'm sorry for everything I've done—or haven't done. I'm sorry for walking out on you. I'm sorry my dad called and reminded you about the divorce. I know that it's too late for me to fix it—to fix anything. I'm just sorry, Rachel."
She pressed her head to Quinn's shoulder to make the other girl stop or else she felt she might cry. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning had cut the sky, Rachel sat up. "I want to propose something, Quinn." She stretched her torso and arms to reach the champagne and glasses. She poured half a glass each, handing one to Quinn. Taking her time to ponder her words, she spoke a few minutes later. "I want you to promise me to never blame yourself again."
Rachel clinked their glasses but Quinn was not convinced. "I can't do that."
"I didn't make it easy for you to stay with me."
"That's not the point, I should've stayed. We're married. I had no right to leave you like that. It contradicts everything I said in my vows."
"Quinn," Rachel brushed the tears away from her cheeks. "If you hadn't left, we wouldn't have been able to communicate the way that we have. Our relationship was strained. We couldn't be honest with each other, we couldn't talk to each other the way we do now. It was like the big bang theory—"
Quinn snorted. Rachel ignored it.
"—First there was nothing. Then the anger started, and if we stayed together it would've expanded outwards in all directions, and then it would be everything. We would have continued to fight."
"Again," Quinn sipped on her glass. "This is you predicting the future?"
Rachel pushed her shoulder lightly. "My point is, we wouldn't have been able to come to this wedding, we would've put our friends in a very difficult position. Our time apart has allowed us to grow and learn to live without one other."
Rachel didn't miss the way Quinn frowned and her eyes flashed with sadness at her last sentence. "I don't blame you. I don't want you to blame yourself. So, please, let us raise our glasses and toast to this new found friendship."
Quinn blinked once, very slowly. She raised her glass and clinked it with Rachel's. "I have a proposal, too."
"Okay." Rachel finished off the alcohol and placed her glass down. "Let's hear it, Fabray."
Quinn starting to speak with zeal now. "I want you to make it in Broadway. And not just small roles and off-Broadway shows. You have the talent to go so far, Rachel. Your health is stable, your voice was amazing tonight. You have a million fans that will support you no matter what. Promise me you won't give up."
Rachel made no response to this except to squeeze Quinn's arm and Quinn repeated, "Rach, you can't give up on it."
"I promise." She said, gradually. "I won't give up. When I was on stage tonight it reminded me of how thrilling it was to sing to an audience. I want that part of my life back."
Quinn poured more champagne into both their glasses. "Cheers to the future."
The next half hour is a blur. Rachel remembers uncontrollable laughter, delighted laughing, Quinn's arms bringing Rachel tightly to her, Rachel's head on Quinn's shoulder, their eyes never leaving each other, the feeling of Quinn's body pressed against her own, never wanting this moment to stop, not caring whether they find their way out of the maze or not, the feel of the grass beneath her palms, her heels digging into the ground, an apology that feels like forgiveness and acceptance; then they collapsed once again onto the ground.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rachel was staring at the stars. Her arms outstretched as if to gather them in (yeap, she was highly intoxicated). She heard Quinn say, Yeah, and when Rachel turned, Quinn's eyes are twinkling at her. A slight smile on her lips. Rachel wondered for a moment, only a moment because she did not want to come across as conceited, whether Quinn was referring to her or the stars.