"Quinn, wait!" Rachel called again, speeding up the stairs in her wake.
But Quinn had no choice. On the door a sign had been placed, Undergoing Maintenance, the lock bolted tight. She sat down on the top step, cornered, nowhere to go. By the time she had processed her lack of escape, Rachel was already hounding her up the stairs.
The only fact Quinn could take solace in was that Finn was not following his girlfriend up the stairs too. It was one sset of footsteps, gracious and light. Quinn heard her stumble, gasp, and then right herself, turning sharp to come face-to-face with Quinn.
There was some space between them, and Rachel was panting lightly. It wasn't a long way - either she was unfit, or her body was trying to cope with the sudden information it was given simultaneously. "Oh." Rachel took in the sign above Quinn's head, and a look of relief flitted across her face. "Listen, I'm sorry for what happened in there. I didn't - I mean, how could I know? Quinn isn't that common a name, but I never really made the connection before..."
And why would she? Plenty of reasons for her boyfriend to have an ex-girlfriend named Quinn, and sure, some details Finn had told her must have lined up to the story last night, but the names should have thrown Rachel right off. "Some of the stuff you said sounded familiar, like the boyfriend and the baby, but I..." Rachel stared down at her hands, knotted together. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault." Quinn mumbled. If anything, it was hers - then Finn's. Rachel's last of all, because she'd done nothing but open up her home to Quinn. "Just go back downstairs. Finn will be waiting."
"I sent him home." Rachel said, smiling encouragingly. "I wanted to talk to you..." Again, she let her sentence hang in the air, this time pointing downstairs.
Quinn licked her lips slowly. "Here is fine." She breathed. She wasn't getting cornered by Rachel again. She was a lovely girl, but Quinn was going to wait until the door was open again. Briefly she wondered what maintenance was being done - were they repairing the railing? It had felt flimsy in her grip last night, but even if they heightened it, she'd make it over. Quinn had been on the cheerleading squad most of her high school life. No matter what gap there was between railings, she'd make it - Quinn could slide into the splits at a seconds notice. She was - or had been - an athlete. An expert in her field. Letting something like a railing ruin her plans would only be another shame to bear.
"Right." Rachel sat herself down on the stairs, looking most uncomfortable as she tried to face Quinn. Eventually she gave up on that, standing and brushing off the dust from the old step she'd been occupying. "Finn told me a lot about you. And I... I know it's weird, but... I used you as an assignment for one of my classes at NYADA."
Quinn felt her eyebrows go up in surprise, before pulling them back down. Rachel's words did not promise a good assessment on her character, especially if what she knew was strictly through Finn.
"We were doing character development in script. I thought you sounded so sweet and lonely, despite all the shortcomings Finn listed... you were my inspiration for that. Before I submit it, could I run some of it by you?" Rachel smiled hopefully, coming and offering Quinn a hand. "I don't want to ruin your character, since you'd know it best. I just hope I've done you justice."
This day was slowly becoming weirder and weirder. First Finn showing up, and now Quinn found out that Rachel had written a whole play on her life? Or her character at least, but she must have included some real events. What happened to a person shaped their character - action and introspection went hand in hand. "I'd hate to disrupt the happy couple." Quinn said, trying to tone down the venom on her words. Finn was an old wound, but rub some salt in it and it stung all the same.
"I've sent Finn home. He won't be around as long as you are." Rachel was lying - that was Quinn's first thought. What woman would give up time with their boyfriend for time with his ex from high school? His suicidal, not to mention somewhat crass, ex-girlfriend. "I promise, Quinn."
But there was something in her body language that invited Quinn back. Rachel was open, arm out, offering Quinn whatever she wanted. She had tried to stop Quinn with words, but had never shown any inclination to physically restrain her. Quinn knew that if it came down to it, she could fight past Rachel. That, or wrench her window open. Quinn didn't want to hurt her one helping hand - a legacy of hatred and sadness echoed in her mind - but if it came down to it, Quinn had options. She wasn't cornered this time.
Freedom of choice swayed Quinn into a better mindset. With Rachel she had options. She could come or she could go - anything she wanted. "I'll look over it with you." Quinn's smile was watery, nothing at all like Rachel's broadening one, but it was something.
–––
Like their Glee club discussion last night, Rachel took the lead, filling up most of the lapses in conversation. Quinn was seated on her couch, having changed back into the bra and belt she had held in hand earlier. Rachel read out the script elaborately, pausing every few lines to ask Quinn how she was doing - was the emotion right? The actions realistic? Her reactions true to life?
Even if Quinn had been able to get a word in with Rachel talking so hurriedly, nothing would have come. All she could do was sit by and nod, numb, trying to take in all of what Rachel said. She portrayed several characters in her play - particularly Puck and Finn, with differing masculine voices, though Shelby and Santana made appearances. What struck most was the monologues. In plays, they were vital to convey internal thoughts of a character. Rachel had been liberal with them, but it was to good use.
Every word rang through Quinn with déjà vu. "Why would my father not understand, that in my greatest hour of need, he is the one I turn to?" Rachel said, turning around suddenly and clasping her hands to her chest. Quinn's mouth hung slightly ajar as she watched the girl perform. "And now I am left with nothing. The child I spent months nurturing is gone, and my reputation ruined." The brunette before Quinn dropped her head, manipulating her voice to channel sorrow. Quinn felt her heart climb into her throat as she kept going, talk of Beth and the complete breakdown of her social and personal life on stage, as if it were a show.
Which Rachel had made it. But it was not a comedy, not something to laugh at. It was serious. Quinn was sure she could see tears glinting in Rachel's eyes, same as they were in her own. "Sometimes it seems to be easy, acting as if nothing at all had happened in the past year. But it was a year of mistakes, months spent on a child I will never hold as my own, a lover I will never get back, and a family I can never repair." Rachel stood simply, facing Quinn, an unbridled honesty in her eyes and her words. "If the pyramid is the last thing I rule in my life, then I'll rule it well."
Quinn didn't know the production was over - it was a short play, perhaps half an hour in length if acted out with the appropriate number of cast members.
"What did you think?" Rachel asked, reaching out one hand to set on Quinn's cheek, thumbing away a tear.
The time stretched out long. Quinn's mouth remained open, soundless. Rachel looked anxious. "It..." Quinn began, not sure how to explain it. How did you just tell someone that, without knowing you, they had been the most honest and understanding about your life? How could you tell one person that they'd defined her better than any friends or school psychologists or church counsellors could do? Even without knowing her, Rachel had given Quinn that chance. "It was great." Quinn said at last. She was not the sort to go lavishing praise around, and - for her - saying something was great was a lot.
"You think so?" Rachel asked, smiling ear to ear. "Is there anything I could change? Finn didn't tell me much, so a lot of this I made up. Maybe we could work through some of the action scenes?"
And Quinn let herself sit there and work with Rachel, distracted by the enthusiastic playwright sitting at her feet, pen in one hand and script in the other.
–––
Quinn never said why she stayed, and Rachel never asked.
The next morning she simply carted two bowls of breakfast in, set one in Quinn's awakening hands, and began to eat. There were no more accusations, no more firm words. Quinn got the feeling that Rachel said what had to be said, but found it hard to hold anything against a person. It was like any sour words between them had been forgotten.
Rachel dragged Quinn shopping. Neither girl had much money - Quinn had none, in fact. She had left all her belongings with Santana when she left Yale, promising to get in touch and pick them all up over the coming week. Her cell phone had met an unfortunate demise on train tracks, so contacting her was impossible. Quinn had nothing on her person to prove she was who she said she was. Santana had with her Quinn's passport, bank cards, and various other forms of ID.
Shopping was nice, though. Rachel bought Quinn some basics to get by in, assuming - as Rachel was prone to do - that her house-guest was now somewhat permanent. Quinn didn't have the heart to say no, watching as Rachel doted over her like she'd never had a friend like Quinn before in her life.
Sometimes, as Rachel went off into a little rant, Quinn would think about her. How many girls at her school had Quinn laughed at and ignored and shunned that might have been as sweet and endearing as Rachel? Quinn let herself laugh a few times as Rachel tried on dorky outfits - or forced them upon her. She helped Rachel pick out clothes for her graduation, which was to come up in the next few months.
They got frozen yoghurt on the way back to Rachel's place, bags hanging off their arms as they ate. "It's nice to go shopping with a girl for once." Rachel observed, licking a chunk of yoghurt off her plastic spoon. "Kurt is great with fashion, but it's different with a guy. Even if he is, you know..." Rachel waved one bag-clad arm around.
"Gay?" Quinn observed with one eyebrow raised in amusement. Santana possessed an impressive gaydar, and had taken Quinn through all the ways to find out which way someone swung. Not that Kurt was difficult, really. Heterosexual men did not normally wear one torn up glove, or buffed their nails whilst they were bored at work. He just gave off that vibe
Rachel laughed. "You can imagine how he gets when I pick up something last season or something."
As they walked they spoke and laughed, Rachel with less restraint than Quinn. Being around Rachel was easy. Forgetting why she was in that building was hard, but Quinn was coming to terms with it.
–––
The more time she spent with Rachel, the less she thought about the roof.
The less she thought about the roof, the more something else settled in her mind. Rachel.
She was an intriguing creature, beautiful in a vintage thrift store way. Passionate about what she loved, a firm hand and occasionally insensitive to the feeling of others. Trusting, to the point where the random suicidal girl she'd found had now become a regular addition in her household. As promised, Finn never set foot in the house when Quinn was around. And the trend of the past few days was that Quinn was wherever Rachel was. They called and texted, though Rachel tried to keep it painless and brief.
Those actions Quinn could not understand. But she was grateful for it. "Come and practice with me." Rachel insisted, poking her head into the spare room (now Quinn's room). As the date for her presentation drew closer - along with her finals for other classes - Rachel was getting more and more anxious. Practicing took her mind off of it, if the amount of times Rachel ran through the script with Quinn meant anything.
"Sure." Quinn set down Rachel's well-worn paperback copy of Wicked down on the bedside table and rolled to her feet.
Her affirmation drew some of the anxiety from Rachel's expression. "Would you like to be Quinn?" She asked, smiling at the ongoing joke that had formed between them as they picked parts.
Quinn never deliberated long. "Not Quinn." She said as she picked up her own photocopy of the script and tailed Rachel through to the lounge.
If Rachel noticed anything weird about Quinn not wanting to be herself when they rehearsed, she said nothing.
–––
author's notes: sorry, this went on hold for a bit over christmas. but i'm back now, and we're starting to get into the exciting part of the plot (at least in my opinion). :) as always, i'd love to hear from you! reviews are fantastic! :)