Just a Few Days
K.L.
A/N: I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading this. What do you think? One maybe two more chapters? Or should I leave it as I have?
Quinn was right which Rachel found comically ironic; the chuckle that followed however was without consent.
"Welcome aboard the wings of US Airways. My name is Jeremiah and I'll be your lovely pilot this evening. If you're not tuned into the broad array of films or dozing away than might I recommend a peek at the beautiful night sky all around us. I hope you have a wonderful night folks and enjoy your time on US Airways." The speaker cut off with a crackle.
"Stupid US Airways," Muttered the brunette as she sought comfort in the airline's first class seat, her movements drawing the attention of the stewardess.
"Is there something I can help you with Ms. Berry?"
Rachel flinched; those eyes reminded her so very much of that which she had lost. The pain in her chest and silver band burning into the tender flesh of her palm was too much, "No, I don't want any help. I don't need any help," It came out with more malice than ever intended, "Why don't you go cling to your other patrons in hopes that the tip they toss your way will be enough to satisfy your filthy lifestyle and just leave me the hell alone." Had it been any other day Rachel would never have snapped – her reputation far too important – but this day, no this night, had left her confused and hurt opening the door to mistakes. With hesitance the brunette let her fist lax; she was Pandora and her closed fist the box teeming with ills. The silver band shone in the dim overhead light a mockery of what was and what may have been. Shoulders slumped; all will fleeting, "Why…" The tears welled but Rachel urged them aside, "Why do you do this to me?"
After returning to New York Rachel was confronted with the unsettling reality. Favourite pictures, mementoes, and all articles of belonging were gone. If it weren't for the few remaining photographs no one would have ever believed the blonde had even stepped foot into the residence let alone lived there. Dark brown eyes wavered. The space no longer held its welcoming warmth: no soothing laughter, no glimmers of gold, no inviting smells, and certainly no emotion. So she packed and an hour later, two suitcases in tow, Rachel set forth not once glancing back. If Quinn had been so willing to walk out on what was than so was she. The remaining items could be gathered at a later time and by another but for the time being Rachel closed the door on their old apartment and with it any chance at rekindling that which had been lost.
Six months in all respects is a blink of an eye.
Rachel moved in with her dear friend and fellow Broadway sensation Jesse St. James. They spent the first month together under the same roof and it could have been longer if Rachel hadn't felt the need for the independence she had once had – had before Quinn came along and weighed her down – and so the pair set out to scour the parks and avenues. Within days the paper work was signed; the deed done. Movers were sent to retrieve all items from their apartment. The only instruction: all furniture, accessory décor and photographs of any and all forms are to remain on the premise.
The next month was spent dealing with press. Quinn's disappearance from Rachel's life – no matter how hard she willed it – had not gone unnoticed. The bloodhounds were everywhere never once giving her a moments rest just one question after another with no space to recover from the accusations or flashing lights. The official statement released by her agent couldn't be any more blunt: Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray are no longer in a relationship. It felt… like Facebook. A week after the statement was released Rachel found the doorsteps to her apartment free of pesky paparazzi – better dirt had been found.
The remaining four months – or well rather the entire six – had been spent buried in work. Rachel left unnecessary time alone to think off her list of To Do's and ignored the pleas from her fathers to return home. She was Rachel Berry and she would be damned if she let something so trivial as her relationship with Quinn Fabray get in the way of her dreams. Quinn was a piece of the past someone who had wronged her in more ways than one. Quinn was a mistake.
And yet Rachel refused to remove the silver band that hung over the empty space of her heart.
It was a cloudy Saturday afternoon, the wind concealing the excruciating summer's heat nicely, when two objects in uniform motion were set to collide.
"Rachel darling I love you, you know I do but please for the love of all that is beautiful and right just drop it!"
All five foot two of Rachel Berry came to an abrupt halt inevitably, through linked arms, bringing Jesse to a halt as well, "Jesse St. James!" The tone of her voice rolling off as indignation (half hearted he hoped), "You of all people should know that by broaching the subject with me this result was to be exp-"
As much as he enjoyed the banter they shared today was off par for Jesse and his dark orbs darting about anxiously in a hopes to find something – anything – that could draw her attention long enough for the subject to be changed or an apology made. Then as if God had heard his prayers a light shown down illuminating a lone figure seated on the outdoor patio of a quaint café across the street, "Hey isn't that that gay kid you went to High School with? What was his name Kim… Clam… K-"
"Kurt," Rachel said briskly peeved for the interruption but intrigued. Her dark eyes followed the other's line of sight to the establishment not far from them. Sure enough there sat Kurt Hummel (though slightly older and much more mature in his features than she had last recalled) delicately sipping at what she presumed to be tea, "What is he doing here…" As she spoke a lump took form in her throat any prior needs to prove her counterpart wrong were gone. There not more than a dozen yards away sat thee Kurt Hummel the filtered light casing a pale glow on his complexion. Nothing good could come of an encounter with the boy – correction man – nothing good at all.
However before Rachel could voice her inner monologue Jesse was crossing the street dragging her with one hand the other waving animatedly, "Kurt!" His voice, intentional or not, was obnoxiously loud drawing the attention of the other patrons.
"Jesse," Hissed Rachel from his side once she had regained her balance and was walking of her own accord, "Stop it you're making a scene."
"Oh posh," The curly haired brunette stated with a ghost of a smile, waving his hand dismissingly, "This is New York Rachel not Ohio when one stares it isn't always in passing judgement. Live a little will you?" For a fleeting moment a pained expression shimmered across his features, gone and replaced with a warm smile leaving Rachel to wonder if it had truly been there at all, "Kurt Hummel."
"Well well if it isn't Jesse St. James," Kurt sat back in his chair, one leg crossed daintily over the other, dark orbs scrutinizing the duo, "And Rachel Berry," The enthusiasm felt forced, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Hello Kurt," Rachel said with a faux smile, a mirror more or less to the one she had received, "I heard you landed something of a rather large scale out of State," The raised brow and silence indicated elaboration was needed, "Finn. He mentioned you had moved out of State."
The glass poised between pale digits was raised and a casual sip taken, "I have."
Rachel waited but nothing else came. If it wasn't for years of acting the shock would have stamped itself about her features. This was Kurt Hummel and sure she hadn't seen him since before the incident but the boy loved to tease, to know thing no one else knew. This wasn't a tease this… this was boredom mixed with something else. There was no sparkle in his glasz orbs, no playful smirk upon his lips.
"I heard it was an offer from abroad," Jesse ran his unoccupied hand through his dark locks, "Chloé (-1-) if I recall correctly."
Without batting a lash Kurt took another sip, nodding casually as he spoke, "That is correct."
If Rachel had never met Kurt prior to this day she would have taken the gesture to be that of a humbled man – a man who never dallied in the realm of gossip and who loved life for its simple pleasures. But Kurt was not that man – not to say he was overly conceited – and in many regards could never be that man. It was a trait he would always posses from dawn to dusk just as Rachel would. It was a feature that had allowed them an initial connection.
"Hey babe sorry I took so long there was this hot waitress and-" Two pairs of eyes turned to the approaching voice while the third pair, not recognizing the hoarse voice, were fixed on a passing figure.
With a wave of his hand Kurt dismissed the excuse offering instead a gentle smile, "I figured as much. Honestly I let you out of my sight for one minute; one minute! I knew I should have gone with you."
As he spoke Rachel found her jaw sinking downward, gravity taking its toll. Had the woman thought to leave her stupor and turn her gaze to the man seated before her she would have seen the flare return to his eyes, the familiar feeling, that sparkle, that had been missing moments ago. Instead her gaze was fixated on the set of dark eyes half a dozen feet away, "Noah," She whispered, as if anything of a grander scale might frighten the man away. Knots seemed to form not only within her stomach but within the chords of her voice; it was impossible she knew and yet it was all she could do to describe the feeling, "Wh-what are you doing here?"
A brow rose in disbelief, "What most people do when they're at a café Rach – enjoy food, drink and conversation."
Rachel felt a cold slap accompany his words. It wasn't as if they had been overly close – for Christ sake she hadn't spoken to the boy in nearly a year – but they were both Jewish, a fact Noah was always reminding her of, and as such they would always share a bond no other would understand, a loyalty of immeasurable bounds. And yet here he stood treating her no better than a bothersome telemarketer.
As if sensing her internal woes, Jesse cast a concerned glance her way before allowing his eyes to drift to the newest edition of their small group, his lips curled upright in a sneer, "Oh look it's the little Dino from Lima – what were you the Puckasaurus?" Head tossed back, Jesse scoffed, "Why don't you run along back to your Lima cage and leave us more evolved creatures to converse." (-2-)
Chair legs scrapped across the cement patio as both seated men rose to their feet, one with a ready fist the other to placate and prevent the forward momentum of the fist.
"Why you little…" Nostrils flaring it took all of Noah's willpower, and Kurt's strength, not to wipe that smirk off the face of Jesse St. James in any physical manner possible.
Hand upon Noah's chest, Kurt turned to face the Broadway duo his eyes narrowing, "I'm not sure where you get off thinking it is acceptable to speak to people in such a manner but let me inform you Noah is more "evolved" than you will ever be St. James. Not only does he have the manner you appear to lack but he is also graduating this spring from NYU with a degree in Law."
"And a certificate with his name engraved upon it elevates him how exactly?" It was Jesse's turn to narrow his eyes, "So he's in Law, big deal, it will never change what he is."
The heated words were once again drawing the attention of fellow patrons.
"What he is?" At this point Kurt was glowering, fists clenched by his sides, "And pray tell what is he?"
"A liar," Seethed Jesse, removing any distance that may have remained between him and the café's boarder hedge, "Someone who abandons the one person he promised never to leave the moment some piece of meat came along and offered him a free bite!" Turning his gaze to Noah Jesse released a growl, "You promised her just the same as I did."
The tension in Noah's broad frame fell and his eyes cast downward no longer able to meet the Broadway's. It seemed his words had struck a chord within the young man.
However if Kurt had noticed he paid no heed, "He is? Well if he is that than what is she?" An accusing finger was trust in the direction of the petite brunette, "She has done far worse than what you accuse Noah of. She broke someone – literally destroyed them!"
Before Jesse could reply Rachel stepped forward, "Broke?" Her voice rang out in shock, "I've done nothing but love her and provide for her and what does she repay me with? A slap in the face." Kurt's lips went to part, the words ready to tumble from them, but Rachel would have none of it, "No you don't get to talk Kurt. I put my career and my heart on the line for her – after everything she ever did to me, every venomous word she ever spewed, every Slushie she ever threw – and what did she do? She threw it back in my face."
Disbelief was the only feature Kurt wore, "Threw it back in your face? There was nothing left for her to even throw Rachel! You were never around. You never asked for her opinion doing whatever you so pleased. Outside of public events that required a date you barely saw her; barely spoke to her. You called twice a week when you were out of town and when you were in town did you even sleep in your own bed? In your own apartment? You spent all your time worrying about you that you didn't even think to ask her how she was! Did you know she was in the hospital while you were in Detroit on your promotion of Azure? Of course not!"
Chocolate orbs widened a fraction, mouth gaping ever so, "She was in the hospital?" The idea seemed so foreign. Quinn had always been the emblem of perfect health. Never once in all their year together (even daring to go so far back as high school) had Rachel once seen Quinn fall victim to any ailment. Pregnancy was no ailment. Of course there were other reasons for trips to the hospital… Rachel shoved the thoughts to the corner of her mind. If Quinn hadn't told her clearly it hadn't been that important, right? "If it had been anything of concern she would have contacted me. Regardless it doesn't matter now, she's got up and walked away and frankly I don't see her walking back anytime soon. Why should I bother-"
The brunette was silenced as Kurt's open palm made contact with her left cheek.
"How dare you! She could have died that night and you… you just shrug it off as though it means nothing more to you than the dirt you walk upon. Have you even shed a tear over this ordeal Rachel? Hmm? Tried to find her, to see if you couldn't mend that which broke?" By this point his eyes shimmered, the tears threatening to fall, "Did you even love her Rachel? Did you?"
"Of course I loved her!" Cradling her reddening skin, Rachel felt her own tears pricking at the edges of her eyes, "I loved her well before she even knew I existed and I will continue to love her until time itself ceases!"
"Then how can you just walk away, how can you not fight! Tell me Rachel because I don't understand how you claim to love her so much yet you're willing to just give up without so much as a word?" The crowd behind them and on the streets around were still, a single female was edging her way through her destination the small group on the terrace. If they had noticed none of the four paid heed, Kurt pacing the length of the hedge hands running frantically through his dark locks, "She's like a fallen glass figurine Rachel; the shards are so small, so numerous… I don't even know if she'll ever be whole again." The man's features paled, "Sh-she doesn't eat unless you practically shove food down her throat and even then she's retching it up not even an hour later. You'd swear she's a ghost by how pale her completion is or perhaps a zombie by the way her bones are prominently visible and her cheeks are somewhat sunken. I can't fathom how she has any tears left yet because every night – every single God damn night – as I wrap my arms about her, her body is wracked by sobs and the tears seep through my night clothes. Her body won't let her succumb to sleep until she has berated herself to a level lower than scum. Repeatedly she whispers to me of how you no longer love her, she asks of where she went wrong, and informs me of how ugly she must have become, how worthless. There is no sparkle in her eyes no warmth in her laughter – she hasn't taken a single picture since she left and yet still she struggles to let go, staring longingly at the images of you upon the viewfinder."
"Excuse me," The woman had finally made her way to the group, "You have been causing a bit of a ruckus and it is bothering some of the other patrons. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
All eyes turned to the woman.
Noah tossed down a bundle of bills, enough to cover double the cost their afternoon meal, "I apologise for our disturbance," Slipping his hand into Kurt's the man offered a small smile and tug, "Come on."
Dark eyes shifted about the small group, "I don't understand Rachel…" It was barely above a whisper and his shoulders sunk in defeat, "I don't… What you've done, you don't do that to those you love most. You act as though you were the one wronged; like you could never do any harm. You broke her Rachel, you completely and utterly destroyed her and you get to sit here and pretend it was you? Perhaps you should re-evaluate your definition of love Rachel."
And with that the pair were gone leaving Rachel to her thoughts.
"Rach…" A warm hand fell atop her shoulders, "Hey, listen to me what Kurt sai-"
The woman stumbled back, brown locks tumbling back and forth, "I… I need to go." And before Jesse's outstretched hand could contact her Rachel had spun on her heels, stalking down the pavement with alarming speed. In what direction she knew not, it was as though her legs had development a mind of their own and pulled her in whatever direction it was they so willed her to go.
Had she been wrong?
The ring about her neck burned against her flesh and her chocolate eyes widened, before her stood their apartment. Without thought Rachel drew the glass doors open, rode the evaluator to the ninth floor and stopped before the one door she had never expected to see again. Hesitantly the key slipped into its hold, the lock clicked and the door swinging open. Images bombarded the brunette; images of when they had first purchased the space, of when they had moved in, of their first Hanukah and Christmas. Lining the hallway were frame photos – the ones Rachel had demanded stay. Pale fingers traced the faces within the frame; they seemed so happy as though there wasn't a wrong in the World as though none of this had ever happened.
It was her fault; it was Quinn who had abandoned her and in turn everything they had ever had.
Fingers moved to the next frame; she remembered that day vividly. They had taken a trip out to the coast, just to get away from the hum of the city. Along the shore they walked hand in hand, the waves creeping up to encompass their feet before slipping back into the dark depths. The sun was setting casting hues of reds, oranges and purples across the sky. It was breath-taking and Rachel couldn't help but stop to admire its beauty. As she stood basking in the fading rays Quinn had snapped the shot, capturing the serene expression that encompassed her feature.
What had gone wrong? When had it stopped?
Moving along to the next picture Rachel was hit by an overwhelming wave of emotion. Knees weak she stumbled back crashing into the opposing wall with a force that stole the already lacking air from her lungs and her body gave sending her plummeting.
No matter how much she wished she could blame blonde for their current state of affairs, Rachel knew better and up until this moment had repressed that knowledge. It had been her who pushed the boundaries - not Quinn – wondering if or when the Quinn of their past would resurface. It was her who wondered when Quinn would leave her, drawing back from the blonde to lessen the pain of the inevitable fall. The memories, the emotions that had coursed through her at the time all came rushing back. When had her love for Quinn become so buried – so tainted - beneath her own fears that they had ultimately become their undoing? When had her mind become so confused, so twisted, that she had abused the one person she swore never to hurt? And for what? A last cheap thrill? Shits and giggles? She had never wanted to hurt Quinn; she loved the woman more than life itself. And yet everything had gone so wrong.
When had fear become so powerful?
(-1-) Chloé is (according to my source Wikipedia) a French fashion house featuring the first "house of luxury ready-to-wear" lines. The headquarters is on Avenue Percier in Paris with network boutiques in London, Tokyo, HK, Shanghai, LA, NY and Dubai. Regional offices are located in NY, Tokyo, HK, Shanghai and Dubai.
(-2-) I toyed with the idea of Jesse being, to be quite frank, an ass. Initially I had written up the part with him acting as the most self centered human being ever known, who cared little for Rachel and her feelings and was merely there because the pair had shared history and in many respects similar characteristics. But in the end I decided against it. There is always someone who will understand you better than you yourself do. One who will stand beside you regardless of the path you choose. I realise the scene depicts him an ass but he is protecting Rachel the only way he knows how: turning the attention to himself.