A/N: So this is the end of the road for Collide, the final chapter. A huge thank you to anyone who has taken time to read even a chapter of this story or anyone who has alerted/favourited it. Thank you for all of your reviews, they've been so great to read and I'm really sorry if I didn't get back to you, but I definitely read them all! It's taken me nearly a year to put this monster together, but now it's time to come to an end. For the last time, enjoy!

(Oh and this chapter was named after Led Zeppelin's That's The Way. Check it!)

30. That's The Way

The rain pounded down, bouncing off the sidewalk and the sea of swiftly passing umbrellas. Rachel stepped off the sidewalk, avoiding the large puddle flooding from a nearby drain.

She darted under the stone awning of the theatre. That's one thing she hadn't missed about New York – the rain. She shook out her small black umbrella quickly onto the street. Thankfully her new black Louboutin high heels were virtually untouched by the rain. Her black skinny jeans hugged her legs, shrunken a little thanks to the damp air. She unbuttoned her blazer, breathing a small sigh of relief to be out of the oppressive rain. She smiled a little to herself as the song April Showers from Bambi popped into her head. She hummed the tune faintly as she approached the small ticket kiosk.

The sandy blonde-haired girl behind the glass looked bored, leaning her chin into the palm of her hand. People streamed past on the street, chatting animatedly onto phones, ducking for cover against the elements; but the theatre remained relatively quiet. Rachel half shrugged, Tuesday afternoons at the theatre never seemed too busy in the summer. Most people were too busy out having fun in the sun in Central Park.

She shook herself out of her little daydream. 'Hello.' She smiled pleasantly at the girl behind the counter.

The girl behind the glass sat up straight but didn't look any less bored by the whole thing. Rachel could see her badge read: I'm Henrietta, how can I help?

She was pretty glad she didn't need any help, as she was sure Henrietta probably wouldn't give her much.

'One ticket for Alice Through The Looking Glass please.'

The blonde typed a few things into her small computer, her fingers hap-hazardly hitting the keys. The machine whirred and Rachel's ticket popped up from the little gold rimmed slot.

Henrietta tugged the ticket from the slot swiftly and posted it through the tray between them both, next to the few dollar bills Rachel had deposited into the same clear tray. She looked up and Rachel saw a small glimmer of recognition in the girl's eye. However her expression stayed the same.

New York was different to L.A. In L.A., Rachel's star had rocketed. She couldn't even leave the house to get simple groceries without the paparazzi stalking her, documenting her every move with a series of photographs. Of course she was thankful for every single one of her fans, but some days she couldn't get a single moment of peace. She always appreciated her fans and their undying loyal support, but some days her hand ached signing countless autographs and her jaw felt heavy from smiling for so many photographs and chatting so much.

That's the difference with New York; Rachel mused to herself as she thanked Henrietta and retrieved her ticket. In New York, of course she was recognised, but true New Yorkers didn't give a shit. They just kept going about their business as if Rachel Berry wasn't a Tony and Emmy Award winning actress, but just another girl in New York.

She gave a small nostalgic sigh as she heard the beep-beep of the ticket machine scanning her barcode. Television and movies were great and they certainly paid the bills, but the theatre always was, as always will be her home.

The tall balding man smiled at her and returned her ticket. 'Enjoy the show.'

Rachel smiled gratefully. 'Thank you, I'm sure I will.'

Rachel pulled back the long gold handle on the black double doors leading into the dark auditorium. She was running a little uncharacteristically late. She was able to just slink into her seat before the music blared from the speakers mounted high up beside the stage, giving her a small shock.

She and Quinn hadn't spoken since Quinn had been having her treatment at the rehab centre. She had wanted to support Quinn, first and foremost because the blonde had meant so much to her. Truthfully, also because Rachel felt somewhat responsible for what had happened. Puck had tried to convince her time and time again that she wasn't too blame for any of it, but she suspected he was just trying to convince himself that he too wasn't to blame.

She wasn't sure what had made Quinn pull away, and she knew that she probably never would know. It was Quinn's first show back after everything that had happened and Rachel just wanted to be in the audience cheering her on, just like Quinn had always done for her.

Quinn quickly climbed the stairs, taking two at a time. Rachel had tried to call her while she was still in class, but she left no message. Worried something awful had happened, Quinn jammed her key in the lock. Rachel never called her while she was in class; she'd always been on the receiving end of rambling lectures by the small brunette berating other students for using their cellphones when they were meant to be concentrating.

The door flew back from the other side, Rachel standing there beaming at Quinn. The sight threw the blonde off slightly.

'What's wrong? What's happened…? Are you okay…?' Quinn asked quickly, and a little out of breath.

Rachel couldn't hide it anymore. She squealed loudly with a laugh and threw herself around the blonde. Quinn stumbled back a little from the unexpected ambush. Petite legs wrapped around her waist, small tanned arms crushing around her neck. Quinn's arms wrapped around the back of her ribcage, supporting her.

'Rach…?'

Her small face withdrew from the pale neck in front of her. Rachel stared straight at Quinn; almost nose to nose with a smile the Cheshire cat couldn't contend with.

'I did it.' she grinned. 'I'm going to be Eva Peron!'

Quinn cackled in triumph. 'You did it!' She briefly twirled them both around, before clashing their lips together, both smiling against each other. A slender pale finger swept messed up bangs away from tanned features. She peppered light kisses all over Rachel's face and held her tight.

'I knew you could do it. I'm so proud of you Peanut.' She beamed at the little excitable bundle in her arms.

The Red Eagle Company's production of Evita ran for four months in a small off-Broadway theatre. Rachel only missed two performances throughout the whole run when she was struck down with the flu. Quinn tried to keep the brunette home for longer so she could properly recover, but the stubborn little diva insisted that like the show, she must go on.

Quinn rehearsed every line and every song with Rachel, to the point that she almost knew the part as well as Rachel did. She lost count of how many times they'd rehearsed, but Quinn never failed to be speechless every single time Rachel sang Don't Cry For Me Argentina. It only got worse when she performed the iconic song live on stage. Tears sprung into her hazel eyes and her lip quivered at every note oozing effortlessly from the tiny brunette's body. Without fail, Quinn led the standing ovation that Rachel and the cast received after every performance. Quinn was like Rachel's lucky charm.

Rachel wanted desperately to be Quinn's lucky charm. She laughed, applauded, cheered and even teared up throughout the blonde's performance. She'd missed the sound of Quinn's voice and her breathy alto. Up until Quinn's return, Rachel had forgotten the details about the blonde. The things that irritated her, the things that almost drove her to commit a serious crime. But ultimately, those were the things that Rachel loved the most. It was frustrating, it was difficult, but at least Rachel knew what she once had with Quinn was real.

The two hour performance passed quickly. A little too quickly for Rachel's liking. Up until the final drop of the curtain, Rachel had felt as if she should be there, that she belonged there for Quinn's sake. But once the audience began to stir from their seats for the final time, Rachel's confidence began to dwindle.

She stayed seated for a minute or so after most people had vacated the premises, back out into the late grey New York afternoon. Just like it used to, Rachel felt a pulling deep inside her. She knew what it was, and what it meant. Lucy Quinn Fabray.

She left the auditorium and headed for the foyer, her senses positively tingling. She knew she had to try this time. She had to approach Quinn. She wasn't even sure if Quinn would want to see her, but she had to try.

She slipped through the red door peeling paint in the corner of the foyer. The small off-Broadway theatres never had good security. It wouldn't have mattered if they did to Rachel, as everyone knew who she was in the musical theatre circuit. She made her way down the cool, poorly lit white corridor. It smelled oddly of damp, and not the nice kind like rain. She passed red door after red door, the pulling sensation inside of her growing stronger and stronger.

She finally reached another red door, also peeling paint. A white laminated sign stared her square in the face. In black bold font the sign read: QUINN FABRAY with a smaller Alice printed directly underneath. Rachel smiled to herself. Quinn had finally made it.

She knocked politely against the peeling paint three times. She heard shuffling and a few whispered profanities coupled with the sound of the movement of objects on the other side of the door. She shook her head to herself smirking, almost being able to see what was behind that door. Quinn had to be the messiest person she'd ever met.

The door flew open. Quinn stood there, still in her Alice costume – a blue and white pinafore, white pulled up socks and black pumps. She'd removed her stage make up, but her black Alice headband was still fixed atop her head. Her choppy blonde bob stuck out at messy angles. The sight made Rachel smile, and the pulling deep inside finally began to settle.

'Hi Q…'