So shall you ask, so shall you receive.
"Welcome home," David lifted his right arm in the air as he opened up a space for Rachel on the bed. She looked at the space as if it were a cave, a cavern. In the end, all she saw were toned arms and a warm space to rest. Stripping off her jeans and shirt, she crawled into the area provided and turned her back to him. His arms wrapped around her, protecting her from the cold of the room and creating a pleasant sensation that spread throughout her being.
There were more than a few things about herself that Rachel kept hidden, but she simply could not deny that she loved to be held at night. David had clearly been in bed for some time because everything around him was perfect snuggling temperature. When he moved his head to press his lips to her neck, she allowed herself to relax and fall into the touch. She knew he wouldn't go further than that tonight, seeing as they both had an early morning the next day, and she was thankful for it. They were good together physically—they had good chemistry. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the physical contact, it was just that she'd had such a stressful day that the last thing she wanted was to worry about that.
"I missed you," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. The inescapable goose bumps she knew would come made an appearance and she pushed farther back into him for more warmth. "I'm sorry I missed dinner." She had already explained to him what had happened over the phone, and he had accepted it easily enough. His only noticeable reaction was asking if the whole drama would be on the news tomorrow. The sigh she had released had told him enough and she was dreading the possible headlines.
"Broadway Bitch Actually Benign?" Those papers, how they loved alliteration.
It didn't really matter, in the end. Rachel would ignore any questions she was asked and wouldn't allow herself to think of Beth or her mother ever again. In fact, she denied herself the girl's name; she was the blonde kid in the elevator to her as of… now.
"Don't worry about it. Let's just sleep." It wasn't fair, though, because Rachel couldn't sleep. She was exhausted, her day had been absolutely despicable, and she should be so wiped that unconsciousness should have taken over her the moment her head hit the pillow. There she was, however, wide awake and unable to find any comfort in David other than his magnificent body heat. His even breaths were felt as his chest was tight up against her back, but she found herself at a loss as to why the easy pattern didn't lull her into sleep as it usually did.
She hated her day, she hated every moment. It was this sentiment that she repeated over and over again to herself, and she would continue repeating it until it was true. She hated children with blonde halos of hair, she hated holding a crying child in an effort to comfort her, and she hated singing to said child. She hated it all, especially seeing the girl's mother as utter relief took over her features at the sight of Be—her daughter. She hated watching the sickening amount of love that the woman clearly felt for the girl.
She had to convince herself of this; it was a necessity. If she failed in doing so, it would eat her alive to know that those feelings that had stirred inside of her weren't of hatred. They had to be, they just had to be.
It wasn't hatred, though. Rachel couldn't possibly hate Beth, because the girl had a name. She had a mother and a family and a life. She could envy the fuck out of her future life, because it was sure to be amazing in every way. The girl would grow to be a heartbreaker, surely, and would tell tales of being trapped in an elevator with a Broadway star when she was only five. No one would believe her until they saw the pictures—and there would be pictures, if the crowd was anything to go by.
It felt odd to envy the little girl for having a family, especially since she had her own. While she had spurned them, her fathers were still very much alive. The lack of contact was solely due to her; while they disapproved of her relationship with David, they still very much loved her. They had called every now and then, only Rachel hadn't the courage to answer the phone. She was a coward; that's what Broadway had made her.
She wondered how her fathers felt. She had never entertained the thoughts before because she simply hadn't wanted to. Now, it wasn't about whether or not she wanted to; she needed to, dammit.
She imagined Beth being her child, growing up with love and smiles and laughter. She imagined singing to her every night until she fell asleep, and maybe continuing even after she had, just to milk the moment. Then, she imagined Beth leaving her and never looking back. The image alone scratched her heart and forced her to cringe from her position in bed. Her hand flew to the one around her waist and she squeezed, needing the comfort of knowing that, while she had envisioned it, she wasn't actually alone. David was passed out, so she was fortunate enough not to have to worry about bothering him.
Back to Beth. She was pretty sure she'd be broken, shattered; she'd be torn to pieces if that child came to love her and then walked away. She would find herself sitting in the girl's childhood room and singing to herself. It was alarming how well Rachel could picture it all; it was as if it had actually happened.
She would lie on the bed and cry into the blankets that her daug—Beth had once used to protect herself from the monsters of the night.
So come home
Rachel realized with regret that the song would likely haunt her for the rest of her life. Beth's hazel eyes, the ones that matched her mother's so very well, would be there to look at her with such openness every time she'd hear, or even think of, that song.
When her body frankly could no longer take the strain of staying awake, Rachel felt her mind slow and was unable to prevent the images of blonde hair and childish smiles that filled her dreams.
The night should have ended quietly. Everything should have slowed down and Quinn should have been allowed to sleep in peace knowing that Beth was safe and sound. She should have been able to lay down with her daughter and just hold her as they both gave away the day to slumber.
Nothing of the sort happened.
Instead, Quinn was forced to deal with all the questions by herself because the brunette, Rachel Berry, had walked away. Time had slowed only for everything around her to speed up so that everything felt twice as long as it actually lasted. Beth was okay, she was unharmed. She repeated the mantra not only for herself, but in order to get through the night.
At one point, Santana had separated the blonde from the onlookers and had somehow taken Quinn to the room they would be staying at for the night. The next day, Quinn and Beth would return to their apartment and things would go back to normal. Well, they'd go back to normal minus the fact that Beth would probably be on a magazine cover that that didn't care about the privacy of a child.
Quinn honestly couldn't tell what on Earth had happened in the last hour or so. Everything was a blur, and not a sad blur like it had been without Beth. Oh no, this blur was one that left Quinn feeling unsure and anxious. To say that Quinn was apprehensive of what was to come would be down-playing it. In fact, the first bit of trouble came the moment she brought a warm cloth to Beth's cheek—she needed to wipe the evidence of fear from her daughter's face. It wasn't the cloth or the temperature that had Beth shrieking, but the memory behind the tears.
It was the strangest thing, but Beth had immediately looked up to her mother and met her eyes. What she saw was a pretty green that melted into a golden hue and burned softly at the edges, as if there was too much emotion in the woman for the colors to stay still. She saw those eyes surrounded by a shade of skin similar to her own, if a little lighter. Her mother's face was smooth and kind and there was not a sight in the world she loved more than her mother's smile. The problem wasn't what she saw; it was what she didn't see.
What she didn't see was a pair of gentle eyes that matched the brown of the chocolate she was sometimes permitted to enjoy. She remembered looking into them and searching for her mommy. When Rachel hadn't been her mom, Beth had felt devastated because Emily had left and now so would her mommy and she'd be left alone in the world and she would have no one. So she had cried because she just wanted to see her mommy.
And then Rachel had sung to her and she saw her mommy's face, with the gold and the green there to comfort her. She had stopped panicking and had even pulled tighter to Rachel. She had squeezed her eyes as tight as they could go and then had given up on fighting to stay awake because boy was she tired. She was always tired after she cried. The part that made her feel the most secure out of the whole ordeal, unusually enough, was taking a last peek up at the woman and seeing the look on Rachel's face that her mommy made all the time. Beth wished she had told Rachel not to cry, because she wasn't scared no more, but her body had taken over control and her eyelids had shut against her will.
She didn't see Rachel's eyes looking back at her and she was tired. She wanted to hear that song again.
"Whewe's Wachel?" Her mother's eyes closed and, when they opened, the green seemed to be a lot smaller and the gold was definitely darker.
"She's probably sleeping right now, baby. Like we should be."
"But I wanna see Wachel, mommy." Her mother pinched her lips tight and Beth knew that look; she wasn't going to get to see Rachel before she slept. She pulled her head away from the cloth and stuck her lower lip out. "I wanna see Wachel!"
"Beth, it would be rude to wake her up if she's sleeping isn't it? Besides, you don't know where she lives, do you?" Beth shook her head but refused to believe reason; she just wanted Rachel because she would make Beth feel all better. She would hold her and sing, and her mommy could join in and it could be like it was with Emily. And her mommy would smile like she used to and hold Beth and everything would be like how it used to be.
"I want Wachel!" she collapsed onto the floor in a fit and covered her head with her hands and arms.
"Beth," her mommy used her firm tone, but Beth didn't want to hear her mother's voice, she wanted Rachel to sing to her and, and…
Beth started to kick out her legs when her mother tried to peel her arms away. "Beth!" she cried out as her daughter's heel connected with her shin. "I want Wachel, I want Wachel," new tears came and sobs were released.
It broke Quinn's heart that her daughter was on the floor begging for a woman she had just met. It wasn't that Beth barely even knew Rachel or that Quinn didn't know her at all, it was that Beth had only ever acted this way twice before; once calling out for her and the second time for Emily.
It took a few tries but, eventually, Quinn managed to wrap her arms around Beth in a manner that prevented the girl from lashing out. After a few more attempts on the girl's part, Beth let the defeat wash over her and she broke down like Quinn knew she would.
"I just want Wachel, Mommy," she whispered in the tiniest voice possible, sniffling as she did so. Quinn rubbed her hand in large circles on her daughter's back and pressed her lips to Beth's warm temple; her face was overheated from the increased blood flow from struggling for so long.
"I know, baby, I know. But I'm here and I've got you, okay?" A weak nod was her only response as she carried her daughter, the only thing in life she had going for her, to the bed and pulled her close. Beth practically dug herself into her mother and continued to shake until drowsiness took her over for the second time that day.
The last thing she remembered was clenching her small fists over her mother's sleep shirt and pushing her nose into the heat of her mother's belly.
When it came to publicity, Rachel could have hoped for far worse. So far, the only mentions of yesterday's events were on the internet. Though the writing for the most popular article was sarcastic, and Rachel could tell the author was not a fan of her, even that story made her out to be less of a bitch than she was known to be.
She sighed—her status as head bitch on Broadway was something she took as a comfort. It wasn't that Rachel was in reality some monstrous human being out to ruin the lives of everyone around her – she could never be that horrible – she just liked having barrier around her. That title was what kept people shying away from any contact with Rachel Berry. If people came to the realization that she wasn't truly a shrew of a woman, she would have to deal with, well, people. She didn't want to deal with people because people asked questions. Questions were what Rachel wanted to avoid.
The highlight of the article, for Rachel, was the picture attached. The elevator doors had just barely opened enough for her to walk through and she was looking down at Beth. She knew the look on her face; it was a feeling she'd suppressed for most of her career. Unless the emotion was needed in a show, of course. Beth, while not looking at Rachel, was grasping at Rachel's neck as if she would die if she let go. Her eyes were wide and she had clearly just found her mother with them. The blonde woman was not in that picture and Rachel slammed down her laptop before she could find any photos that had captured her.
Silently, Rachel clambered into the car as Josh arrived to take her to see whoever it was she needed to see that day. There was about two minutes left in the drive when Rachel decided it was time to speak up.
"Josh, when we get out I want you to schedule me a flight to Cincinnati, Ohio as soon as is possible with my schedule." The boy looked acceptably surprised by the request but wasn't foolish enough to ask why, for once.
"I, uh, I think the soonest time available for more than a day or two is a little bit over a month, Ms. Berry."
"I figured as much," she removed the sunglasses from her face and looked at him in the eyes. "Just be sure to double-check for me, please." The word came out of its own volition and Rachel was sure the Josh was probably just as weirded out by the sound as she was. When was the last time she had said please? "It's not a big deal when, just as soon as possible. I plan on being there for a few days." With that, she exited the car as they had arrived at their destination.
Sunglasses back on, Rachel prepared herself for another shitty day.
There had been a tiny prickle of hope that no pictures of Beth would show up but, alas, that hope was in vain. The moment she woke up, Quinn scuttled out of bed, slowly as she tried not to wake her daughter, and shoved her laptop open and turned it on. The wait for everything to load was killing the blonde and she hadn't realized that she was holding her breath until she released it and took another one as she felt slightly lightheaded.
Google. 'Rachel Berry', 'Elevator'.
Bam.
There the woman was, holding her child. Admittedly, Quinn was reluctant to believe that the brunette was actually Rachel Berry. Sure, she had an amazing voice, but that hadn't guaranteed that it was the Broadway diva.
She read the first article that popped up and pulled back a little at the evident sarcasm she found. While the piece didn't condemn Rachel, the admittance that the singer wasn't a completely terrible person came along almost begrudgingly. It was painfully obvious that the writer showed no love for Rachel Berry. Quinn was unable to stop herself from skimming through the rest of the photos; some of Rachel and Beth, some of Beth in her own arms, and an array of all three of them. There were so many pictures that it actually set Quinn on edge—what she saw felt more like a choppy movie than a picture slideshow.
Vaguely, she wondered how Rachel felt about the whole ordeal. Being stuck in an elevator with a child was bad enough, but Beth had outright broken down. Sighing, the blonde figured that Beth was exactly the reason Rachel had practically ran away from the situation. She'd thanked Rachel, but not nearly enough. Then again, maybe Rachel hadn't wanted a 'thanks'; maybe she'd wanted an apology. Who knew how celebrities worked?
Exiting the website, Quinn closed her laptop and looked over to the bed where her daughter was sleeping. There was nothing she was more thankful than to see the worry gone from the girl's face. Hopefully, today would be a better day.
Rachel wanted to rip her own eyes out, stab herself in the ears with barbed tips of steel, and slam her head against something hard until she either died or fell unconscious from loss of blood. She preferred dying because she feared the sight before her would follow her to the hospital if she were to wake. Then again, if the rumors were true and she was going to Hell, surely what lay in front of her would accompany her.
"So?"
Rachel wondered what words would be the best for this situation.
For some reason "I'd say I want to vomit, but I'm pretty sure I already did about ten seconds in," felt a little too harsh. Her fathers always told her that if she didn't have anything nice to say…
For the first time in her life, when it came to her job, Rachel remained completely silent. Instead, she waited for the others' inputs. It was awkwardly silent as none came.
"You may leave now," was all that was said. Knowing exactly what was implied by the short phrase, the girl deflated instantly and turned around as she headed for the door. Rachel couldn't help but shake her head at the act; the girl didn't even know how to put on a fake smile and she expected to be an actress? If she wasn't too busy being disgusted, she would actually feel sorry for the girl.
"Please, god, let the next one not be so painful to watch," the woman next to Rachel groaned. Her name was Hailey and Rachel found her to be tolerable enough. In fact, Rachel figured that, if she were to take down her own bitchy persona, she'd probably even like Hailey. The woman was the casting director of the short film that Rachel was taking part in; the one that led to an argument between Rachel and David.
It had been an… uncomfortable conversation with David, explaining her reasons for taking the part. Both of their first points were that she hadn't needed to audition.
Rachel's point was that she already had the part, so why not take it? She wouldn't allow anything she took part of to suck so what was there to lose? Plus, it could ease her into working an on-screen career.
David's point had been, "Exactly! You didn't even need to audition because they gave you the part, Rachel! You're going to be their only decent actress and you'll be surrounded by amateurs! It won't help your career, it will destroy it."
Rachel's second point had been that she accepted the role on one condition—that she have final say over the cast. Her will was granted with minimal refusal.
David's second point was that she was given the power because she was being paid practically nothing.
Rachel's third point had been that she had been offered more and had refused it so that they could spend more on the actual production versus her employment.
David's third point was that she was making a stupid decision and the movie would make her look like a fool when it came out.
There were no forth points and they hadn't talked about it since— a détente had been called in.
The singer hadn't understood at the time why she had taken on the role. Now, she wondered if maybe it was because some part within her had known something that the rest of her hadn't.
The remaining members of the group grumbled in agreement with Hailey as the next girl walked in and the introductions, the same as with every new girl, began. Once they were done, the girl proceeded to read through the lines.
Rachel immediately corrected herself.
No, to say that she was simply reading through the lines would be an insult. This girl was clearly somewhere else, speaking the lines as if she were speaking to someone without script. Rachel discreetly put a line next to the girl's name and leaned back in her chair. She was pretty sure she'd just found her co-lead.
Quinn figured that the best thing about being back at home was the fact that nothing here could possibly remind Beth of Rachel. She desperately hoped that there would be no more fits thrown over the woman and no more tears. Beth needed something happy in her life, something that would never leave. She didn't need any more people walking into her life that could simply walk out.
Yes, being home would be the perfect solution for Beth.
Quinn couldn't have been more naïve or unaware; the building their apartment was in had an elevator. How she had forgotten such an obvious fact, Quinn had no idea. She wanted to smack herself in the forehead repeatedly as she saw the flood building behind her daughter's eyes. She grabbed the girl, picked her up before she could do anything rash, and made her way to the stairs. It seemed as if it wasn't going to be such an easy battle after all.
Although a few select girls had been chosen to come back and read through lines with Rachel in order to see if they worked well together, Rachel knew exactly who would be chosen in the end. She didn't even spend a second thought on it, she was so sure.
Once the torture was finally over, Rachel had headed back to David's apartment to grab the clothes she left there. She had expected them to be where she had left them on the floor but, instead, they were folded and placed on the table nearest the door.
Rachel stood immobilized the moment she saw them. It wasn't the fact that they were folded, nor the fact that they were on the table. No, David usually did things like that since he liked to keep things neat.
It was the white flower resting on top of the pile, slightly crushed around the edges. It was attached to a hair clip.
No, an unanticipated bout of disbelief shocked through Rachel's system. No, she didn't want it to be real.
The girl was fucking haunting her if it was real.
She ran to her laptop and threw open the top, bringing up the page she had visited earlier. No, she cursed to herself and ran through the pictures, searching for something to tell her it was just happenstance.
Rachel was not granted her wish; not a single picture showed Beth with a flower still in her hair.
She slowly turned back to the pile, eyes stuck on the pin.
She could just throw it out and forget about it. How had it followed her anyway? Had it fallen out of Beth's hair while she was crying? No one would know that she still had it and it was likely that neither Beth nor her mother had even noticed the fact that it was gone. All she had to do was pick it up and throw it in the trash and it would vanish from her life for forever.
With her eyes still locked on the flower, Rachel stood up and walked towards it. It would be so easy to pretend that she never saw it. The memory of it in Beth's hair would fade as time passed by. The feeling of holding Beth would also disappear, eventually. Her fingertips came forward and grazed the petals. The whole day would diminish, its impact dwindling until it was as if it had never happened. Fingertips turned into fingers, which turned into a hand and engulfed the hair piece. It would be so easy.
Being unable to put Beth to sleep, as the girl wasn't tired, Quinn had been left with only one option; TV cartoons. Her daughter was currently being brainwashed by one of her favorite animated series and Quinn was leaning over the document she'd been working on for some time now. She'd read through it one more time and, upon finding not a single error, decided that it was finished. Dragging the document over to her drive icon, she exported the information to the device and pulled it out of the system. She could have just sent it digitally, but her boss had been strict in that it not be sent wirelessly. He didn't want some creepy, computer-savvy fan to get hold of it before it became a published piece.
As Quinn looked down at the small object, she knew she had to leave soon to drop it off. The one disadvantage to working at home rather than the office was that she couldn't simply walk down the hallway and hand the edited copy to her boss. No, she had to drive all the way there instead. She wasn't bitter about it, for there were many more pros than cons, she was just hesitant to bring Beth anywhere seeing as the girl had been acting up.
There were elevators everywhere. Quinn didn't need another frenzy today; she was too tired.
"Beth," she walked into the living room and watched as her daughter's head swiveled in her direction, her curls flopping in the air. With a smile, she noticed that the pajama pants Emily had bought her for Christmas still hung over Beth's feet as they were just a few inches too long.
"Mommy?"
"Time to get ready, okay? I have to drop something off." Blessedly, the girl jumped off the couch and ran past Quinn into her room. She came out all of half a minute later in a blue dress with a white cardigan and a worried expression on her face.
"What's wrong, babe?"
"Can't find my flowew. Fow my haiw," she pointed to the side of her head, pout forming. Quinn swallowed as she remembered Beth had worn it yesterday. Maybe she'd left it at the hotel in the room? She'd have to call later.
"We'll find it later, okay? You look just as pretty without it, I promise." She bent over to pick up Beth and balanced her on her hip. The girl didn't lose the pout, but she rested her head on Quinn's shoulder and sighed. That clip was her favorite.
"Josh, did you look up that information I asked you to?"
One day, Rachel promised herself, that boy would quit with the stuttering. Really, she wasn't Godzilla or anything.
"I, uh, w-which type? I managed to book your flight; it's in forty two days. I swear that was the fastest I could get one that worked for your schedule, Miss Berry."
"Never mind the flight, I meant the other information."
"O-oh, you meant… yea! I got that. It wasn't so hard, actually. I mean, once I—" Rachel put her hand in the air, silencing the boy.
"All I need is the information, Josh. I really don't care how you got it." She felt a stir in her stomach upon seeing air fly out of the boy like a deflating balloon. Maybe she was a big enough bitch to deserve his fear. At least he had a job.
"I sent it to your phone," he indicated by holding up his own.
"Go home early today, Josh. And good work." He looked as if he was debating on whether or not to thank her so she shooed him away to make it easy on him. Well, it made it easier on the both of them, really.
Looking down at the text he had sent her, Rachel found that she had a sense of direction. She knew where she was going, for once, and she was choosing to follow.
The only way to avoid catastrophe with Beth was for the girl to tuck her head into the space connecting Quinn's neck to her shoulder. With her eyes unable to look anywhere, no elevator memories could hit her. Quinn was debating on whether or not she had made a wise decision in not sending Beth to therapy; she truly had believed that her young mind would forget Emily soon enough. She had no clue that Beth would begin to become attached to things so soon. It sent tremors down Quinn's spine knowing that Beth might meet a friend when school started only to be torn apart when they didn't talk every day. That's how kids worked; they were best friends for a few days and then they went their own ways.
How would Beth handle that?
Quinn decided to put off figuring the rest out until later. She would either figure it out herself or get Beth some help. Help that she obviously couldn't give her.
Hell, how was Beth supposed to go to school if Quinn couldn't leave her?
It was too much.
The handing off of her work to her boss was fast and painless. He thanked her for the hard work and gave her another article to go through and bring back at a later date. "This one is much less urgent, don't worry."
"Mommy?" Beth asked when they were outside again.
"Yes, baby?"
"When awe we going home? I'm hungwy."
Rachel wished she had demanded that Josh dig deeper into his research. As she stood by the door she had knocked on around twenty minutes ago, she definitely regretted not finding out when the dweller of the apartment would be home.
She hadn't expected to have to wait; in her mind, this went much more smoothly. She envisioned knocking, the door being answered and… okay, so she really hadn't known what could happen after that. The point was that she had always imagined the door opening right away.
Because the door did not open for her, however, Rachel found herself leaning against the wall and wondering what would happen now. Should she wait? What if they never arrived? What if Josh had been wrong and this was not the place?
She was just about to leave when she heard the scampering of light feet.
"I want mac and cheeeeeeeeeeese!" a high pitched voice shouted as a familiar blur ran around the corner. Beth had yet to notice Rachel standing by the door, but Rachel had absolutely noticed the girl.
"Beth, wait for me you little—" the blonde woman finally rounded the corner and her gaze, unlike Beth's, immediately landed on the brunette standing outside her apartment. Her back facing Rachel, Beth saw her mother make a weird face.
"Mommy? What awe you-" she turned around to see what her mommy was making a face at. "Wachel!" she squealed and ran forward, arms wrapped tight around the bare skin of Rachel's legs. She wore knee-high boots and a skirt, along with a nice shirt. Basically, her usual attire.
This… this Rachel had not planned for. This wasn't how it had happened in her head. This was awkward.
God, why hadn't she just thrown the damn flower clip out? Now she felt the urge to apologize to a woman she didn't know for randomly showing up and letting Beth hug her. What should she do? She couldn't just push Beth off of her?
She hated that Beth's reaction made her heart smile. She hated that she had mentally described her heart as smiling.
"I, uh, I'm sorry for showing up randomly. At your home. Uninvited." She looked at the blonde and understood exactly why Josh stuttered all the time. If Josh felt even half of the nerves she was feeling now, she would be giving that boy a raise along with a nice, big apology.
"Beth, come here," the woman called her daughter over. "Might I ask why you're here?" Rachel didn't think the woman seemed upset or anything, mostly curious. Probably protective over Beth.
"Oh, yea, sorry. I probably should have said that first," she cleared her throat. What on Earth was going on? "I found this with my clothes this morning," she reached into her bag and pulled out the clip. "I figured I'd return it…" uncertainty filled her being as the blonde said nothing while she pegged Rachel with a stare that kept her in place.
"My clip! That's my flowew!" Beth ran forward and reached for it, excitedly yelping over it. Rachel easily released her hold on it and watched as Beth hugged her legs once more before running back to her mother. "Look, Mommy, my flowew! Can we eat now?"
Her mother finally ended her contemplation and unlocked the apartment door. Beth ran in ahead while older hazel eyes once again found Rachel's brown ones.
"I sense the essence of Cinderella. I'm assuming you'd like to come in?" Rachel found herself faced with the most powerful eyebrow rise she'd ever seen.
Her stomach dropped; she hadn't prepared for this. She hadn't prepared for any of this. Wouldn't it be weird to enter the apartment of someone whose name she still didn't know? Well, technically, the information was probably in her phone. She hadn't looked, though. She'd seen the address and she'd waited.
"Well, actually, I just wanted to drop off the clip and—"
"Please?" the blonde said unexpectedly. Her demeanor had changed now into something almost desperate. It was then that Rachel saw the tiny curves of blue under the woman's eyes. She looked exhausted. "Beth's going to throw a fit if you leave now and I've already…" she trailed off as she ran her knuckles across her forehead. "Hell, never mind. I don't even know why I asked that. You're obviously busy with—"
"If you're going to invite me in," Rachel took her turn to interrupt with a surprise burst of courage, "can I at least know your name? To be honest, this could all have been some set up and you could be a crazy fan trying to lure me into you house only to trap me in some form of a dungeon."
The woman blinked as she likely tried to figure out whether or not Rachel was joking.
"Quinn. My name is Quinn Fabray."