And the end is here. Thank you all for your support and reviews. I hope you enjoyed the ride :)
x-leanmean
"Maybe we should slap her. Does anyone have water? Let's throw it on her."
"Santana, she'll catch her death, get out of the... Santana, so help me I will end you."
Quinn groans as two hands shake her mercilessly.
"Quinn Fabray do not go towards the light!"
"She's waking up! Don't beat her head against the floor!"
Quinn furrows her eyebrows against the shock of voices, reaching to cover her eyes.
"S-Santana?"
"That's half of it."
Peeking from behind her fingers, she spies Santana smirking at her and grimaces when she rolls her eyes and pulls Quinn's hand out of the way. "Look who finally decided to join us, Q."
Blinking rapidly, Quinn turns her head and spies Rachel, hovering over her with the world's goofiest grin.
Rachel is alive.
She feels so full of light and wonder that she's sure this is a dream. Nothing this good could ever happen in real life.
Crying out, she tackles the girl, wrapping her arms around her and pressing her ear against her chest. The steady thump brings tears to her eyes.
"Rachel, baby, how? Where have you been?"
Hushing her quietly with a chaste kiss, Rachel runs her thumbs along her cheekbones, studying Quinn's face with so much intensity, her heart jumps.
"Rach, you're gonna make me pass out again."
Smiling, Rachel kisses her nose and Quinn grips at her hands, pulling her close again.
"I'll tell you after." She says, nuzzling softly into the blonde's collarbone. "There will be plenty of time after."
Breathing in the scent of her, Quinn nods against her head, still reeling over the crazy turn of events.
"Um, guys?" Santana says, standing to brush off her pants. "We should probably get back out there. They were only taking a short recess."
"Where are we?" Quinn says then whines softly as Rachel pulls her to her feet, their hands clasped tightly together.
"Judge's quarters," Santana says, reaching for the door handle. "They went to recess after you spread-eagled. But the sooner we get out there, the sooner this will all be over."
Reaching for the latina's hand, Rachel squeezes it and Quinn's at the same time and the three of them smile like idiots for a minute, unashamed.
The end is in sight.
As Santana opens the door and steps out into the courtroom, Quinn pulls Rachel back into her arms, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
"I love you and I missed you so much."
Digging her fingers into Quinn's shoulders, Rachel buries her face in her chest and breathes deeply, allowing herself a single moment of weakness before pulling back and meeting her eyes.
"Let's make sure you never have to again."
Together, they turn towards the courtroom, determined to take on the only thing that had ever come close to forcing them apart.
Rachel's examination by George had gone really well.
Her cross examination by Burton...well, Quinn would be surprised if he left with all his features with the way Rachel's eye lasers were flashing.
"You see," Burton says, gesturing thoughtfully towards the jury. "This could easily be a case of misidentification. Miss Berry had just finished a very tiring task, both mentally and physically. She was not in a state of full awareness. Experts will tell you that the least reliable evidence in criminal cases is always eyewitness testimony simply because," Burton pauses, as if waiting for a holy truth to arrive. "Everyone's perspective is different."
"I know what I saw Mr. Burton." She interrupts, her nostrils flaring. Quinn cringes, sure the Judge will start banging his gavel for the fifth time in as many minutes.
"You think you know what you saw, Miss Berry, but Mr. Maroney's face is in every paper. Anyone who even resembles him would probably be identified as him simply because his face is easy to recall."
He watches Rachel with a sympathetic nod, his hands setting on his hips.
"I get it, Rachel, I do. It's a very powerful desire to find the person who's responsible when you witness a crime. But just because a person resembles the culprit does not make them guilty."
As Rachel's hand trembles the whole way to her water glass, Quinn sends a quick prayer to the heavens that every person in this room doesn't become a witness to murder today. Setting her glass back down, Rachel takes a deep breath and looks at George. He nods encouragingly.
"What I saw was not a Vincent Maroney look-a-like. It was that man, right there," she says, pointing, the jury following with their eyes. "He had a woman, scared out of her mind, and cornered up against a wall. She screamed in pain and he laughed. And you know what? I can tell you every detail of that night perfectly because I re-live it again and again every time I close my eyes."
Rachel struggles as tears well in frustration.
"I would never testify in a case where I was not one hundred percent sure of the person I was accusing. Every night I see Vincent Maroney in that alley in my dreams. Every single night I hear him laughing, yelling, chasing me, breathing down my neck. He's made my life hell for the last six months... I mean come on! I had to fake my own death just to be here today."
Her voice wavers as she swallows hard, closing her eyes briefly, then opening them to meet Quinn's.
"That man is not only a murderer... he's a monster," she whispers, disgust flickering across her features. "Whether the jury chooses to believe me or you, Mr. Burton," she adds, turning to face him where he stands, "I know what I've said is the truth."
George looks tired as he scans his call sheet, running a hand through his hair. Quinn sighs, wrapping an arm behind Rachel's shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She felt good about the direction the case had taken with Rachel's testimony, the last witness for the prosecution today. At the six and a half hour mark, Burton stands and clears his throat.
"We have a final witness before we would ask the Grand Jury to make their decision, Your Honor."
The Judge finishes writing a note on his legal pad, pushes his glasses up his nose and gestures towards the stand.
"The floor is yours, counselor."
Stepping out from behind his table, he turns to the gallery and calls, "Nicole Maroney, if you would be so kind."
And just like that, Quinn's brow wrinkles in worry. She had thought Nicole was just here for moral support, but, it seems the tides have changed. At one point she would have bet everything that Nicole was on her side, but recent events had proven that, even when you see someone every day... you may never really see them for who they are.
Nicole adjusted her suit jacket as she stood from her seat and approached the bench, her heels echoing loudly in the packed room. Placing a hand on the Bible, she swore in and took a seat, crossing her legs like Quinn had seen her do a thousand times in board meetings over the years. She looked utterly calm, sure and smooth as the surface of a lake, but Quinn couldn't help but wonder if there was a little more under the surface than it appeared. Family takes care of each other. Rachel glances at Quinn when she snorts quietly, rolls hers eyes and interlocks their fingers.
"Nicole, let us remind the jury, what is your relation to Mr. Maroney?"
"He's my father."
Smiling, Burton nods in acknowledgement.
"Was he an important figure in your childhood?"
"He was the only figure in my childhood. My mother passed when I was born and he worked hard to make sure I had everything I needed. I'd say he single-handedly helped mold me into the person I am today."
Quinn rolls her eyes as Burton all but glows with her answer.
"Excellent, just excellent. Tell me now," he says, turning towards the jury. "Does that sound like the kind of man who would murder, in cold blood, a woman his own daughter's age, no less? I, personally," he pauses, flashing a camera worthy smile, "find that very hard to believe."
Turning back to the stand, he holds up his fingers, ticking off words.
"A hard worker. A provider. A role model who molded you into the person you are today. Miss Maroney, what is it that you do?"
"I am the Editor-in-Chief of Lush Magazine."
Raising his eyebrows, Burton mimes surprise, as do many of the jury members.
"That's quite the impressive job, indeed. What skills would you say got you to where you are?"
"Objection, Your Honor," George interrupts, tapping his leg nervously. "Relevance?"
"-There's a point, Your Honor, I swear." Burton says, holding his hands up.
"Get to it, Charles."
"Miss Maroney, please describe the assets that have gotten you to your esteemed position, the ones that you feel best reflect what you've learned from your father."
"Self-confidence and leadership, organization, drive, and perseverance." Nicole looks up and, for the first time today, her eyes meet Quinn's directly. "Loyalty."
Quinn catches just the slightest quirk of her lip.
Unaware, Burton continues on, his arms gesturing towards Mr. Maroney as he paints the picture of an upstanding citizen.
"Loyalty. Yes that is a big one in this day and age. Families are constantly falling apart and yet here, we have a daughter whose father is charged with murder, a most heinous crime, and she comes and supports him in his time of need. Miss Maroney, how would you describe your relationship with your father?"
Wetting her lips with her tongue, Nicole folds her hands in her lap.
"I believe I would describe it as strained, Mr. Burton."
Burton hesitates for the briefest second, and Quinn smiles, knowing his well written script is about to fall apart in his lap.
"I.. well.." He clears his throat. "Tell me, Nicole, you're familiar with your father's associates. Had you ever heard of a Melanie Michaels?"
"I hadn't," she says, and Burton starts to speak, but she interrupts. "Until she called me the night my father killed her."
The gasp in the court room literally slaps Vince and Burton across the face as they both double take with this new information. What? Even Quinn's mouth hangs open until Rachel pushes it shut with her finger tip.
"You knew?" Quinn whispers into her hair, her eyebrows raised. Nodding, Rachel winks.
"Your Honor, I believe we're done here for-"
"I'd like to hear what she has to say, counselor," the judge says, watching Nicole carefully. "If you wouldn't mind expounding Miss Maroney. You were contacted by Miss Michaels, you say?"
"I was," she says, nodding towards George. "The phone records to prove it are with Mr. Newell if you would like to see."
Taking a sip of water, she continues.
"On the night of August 18th I was working late in my office at Lush. I received a phone call to my private line, to which only Maroney family and a chosen few" she adds, eyeing Quinn, "have the number. I answered it immediately and Miss Michaels was on the other end. She said she had a story for me; that she had all the proof I would need to finally, officially, take my father down."
She stops, looking to the jury.
"You see, I haven't had anything to do with the Maroney's since I graduated college. My father's business is not mine, and I want no part in it."
The judge nods, looking over the phone records.
"And how," he says, looking up, "did you respond to Melanie Michaels?"
Swallowing, Nicole shrugs.
"I was intrigued. I hadn't realized that there was an inside man in the Maroney house or I probably would have partnered with her sooner. You see, Mel was a part of the Gianni's," she gestures towards the jury, "if you don't know, which I hope you don't, the Gianni's are the Maroney's enemy. We've been warring over New York City since the prohibition. The fact that she had not only infiltrated the Maroney mansion but worked there undetected for years... well, even I was impressed... and Miss Fabray can tell you, that's not an easy thing to do."
The jury chuckles at her side smile and Quinn rolls her eyes. Only her boss could turn a murder trial into her own personal talk show. This was the woman she thought she had known. For a second, she almost feels guilty for doubting her.
"So she called me, knowing my relationship with my family and my position high in the media... but really I think she must have known that people were catching on to her and I was a last hope. At any rate, when I heard her tone I flipped on my work recorder because I knew I would want to check everything she said on my own. Turns out, that was the last conversation Mel ever had. I didn't know at the time, but later, I was contacted by Rachel Berry and upon hearing her story, everything clicked in place."
"If you don't mind," George says, gesturing towards a tape player. "We have a segment of the tape here for the jury to hear."
"Please," the judge says.
Burton collapses defeated in his chair as George hits the play button and the courtroom falls silent. Nicole's voice is smooth and warm in the quiet rustle of the audio tape.
"Mel, I think I've got it all. I've got to ask, though. Why are you giving me this? This story will take both our families down."
A lighter voice replies, softer, and Quinn feels Rachel jolt, having finally put a voice to the face that haunts her dreams.
"...because we're the daughters, Nic. No matter how far we separate ourselves from our fathers, they're still there, watching and waiting. How long will you live looking over your shoulder? If taking out the Gianni and Maroney legacy will give my future children freedom, then I'm willing to take that chance. After all, if we can't stop them, who will?"
The tape is quiet for a second, then Melanie's voice cuts in, rushed.
"I have to go. This is your burden now, Nicole. I have a very good feeling that my time with it is about to go up."
After the soft click of the call ending and a quietly murmured curse word by Nicole the audio recording comes to an end.
"Your Honor," George says, standing. "If I may?"
"Go ahead, counselor."
"Miss Maroney, would you tell the Grand Jury, why did you not take this information to the police?"
Nicole takes a deep breath, pulling herself from her memory of the phone call with Melanie.
"I took the information Mel gave me and did what I had planned to do; I looked into it. After all, I am a Maroney and we're awfully good at slipping through police fingers. I wanted to make sure the case was fool proof. By the time I knew every bit of her story was true, Rachel was calling me and I knew that Melanie was gone and that Miss Berry was now on my father's hit list. So, with a little forceful push from her, I enlisted in the plan to take down my father."
Nicole turns her face to meet his, the firm set of his lips dark against his pale pallor.
"But there is one thing I don't understand," she continues, studying him, tilting her head to the side. "You knew didn't you?"
Almost imperceptibly, Quinn catches his nod.
"Why didn't you stop me from-"
"-I was torn."
The court room stills as Maroney watches her, his voice, silent until now, raspy in comparison to the girl's.
"I was so proud of you, Nicole. For getting away from it all... from me, even. You were so resolute in not having anything to do with me that I knew, it had to be my downfall that you were back again. But honestly," he says, watching her with a small smile. "You stood up for your idea of family in a way that I never stood up for you. If that means going to prison, then that's what I deserve. It's high time I own up to my mistakes, not being the father that you deserved among them."
Nicole nods solemnly, her eyes never leaving her father's.
"Well, if that is it," the judge says, closing his binder. "I believe it's time the jury makes its decision."
"In the case of the State of New York versus Vincent Maroney, the jury finds the defendant guilty."
Quinn smiles as Rachel's face lights up, trembling in the sudden rush of joy that has her squeezing the girl's hand with all her might.
Finally.
"After today's events," the judge says, his fingers folded together on top of the bench, "I've made a slight change to the sentencing for Mr. Maroney."
Handing a paper to the prosecutor's aide, George reads over it quickly before beckoning Rachel and Nicole over to his desk. Quinn watches intently as they huddle together, each head nodding in turn. The girls return to their seats, Nicole right next to Rachel, as George signs the paper with a flourish and the aide returns it to the judge.
"With the agreement of the prosecuting party," the judge begins, reading from the paper George signed. "I hereby sentence you, Vincent Maroney, to 25 years in prison, after which, you may be considered for parole. That will put you at the ripe age of 82 and, thanks to the work of a few brave people today, maybe you'll have some grandchildren to meet who will live in a world free of the Maroney mob wars."
Standing as the arresting officer approaches, Vince looks first at the judge and then to Nicole. "I hope so, Your Honor."
The officer leads him from the court room in cuffs as the judge stands, pounding the gavel three times.
"In the case of the State versus Vincent Maroney, the court is adjourned."
"So its some sort of, actually I guess it's a poison, right Dex? It's in a puffer fish and if they give you exactly the right amount, it will let you fake death. You're not actually dead, but it sure does look like it without medical tests because your heart basically stops. I drank that in my coffee right before you guys showed up because if we were going to pull it off, we had to make it look real. Thankfully, Quinn's boss knew exactly who was being sent to take care of me and Leo was known for one in the stomach, one in the chest. I wore a special bulletproof shirt with blood packets everywhere and everything just sort of came together! Isn't it great!"
Clapping her hands once, Rachel beams at the group, then wraps her arms protectively around Quinn. "I'm sorry I couldn't forewarn you darling. It had to be realistic. Dexter said you did very well."
"If by very well you mean went one on one against the guy who killed you and earned the world's biggest bruise from using her ass to walk down some stairs, then yes," Santana nods, "she deserves an Academy Award for her performance. She could almost rival you, Berry."
Scoffing, Quinn glares at Dexter while leaning over to press the three hundredth kiss to Rachel's head in the last hour. She was so happy she could barely keep herself in the chair. It felt like every cell in her body was vibrating with joy to have Rachel back in her personal space.
"Aw, do you forgive me?" Rachel pouts, brushing the blonde's bangs aside.
"I suppose." Quinn says, with an eye roll. "But you only get to fake die once, Rachel, no buts. And you!" Quinn adds, pointing at Dexter, menacingly. "Don't poison my wife again! No!"
Humming in delight, Rachel kisses Quinn's neck and raises an eyebrow at the man, chuckling. "Told you she wouldn't forgive and forget."
"What about me?" Nicole interrupts, plopping down in the seat next to Quinn and smacking a wet kiss against her cheek. Fluttering her eyelashes, she tilts her head. "Do you forgive me for risking my life to save yours... and Rachel's... and probably Santana and Brittany's at some point in there... and-"
"Okay, okay," Quinn replies, pushing her away as Santana chuckles and wraps an arm behind Brittany's chair. "Jesus, Boss, just because you're all we're family now and everything doesn't mean you can get all touchy-feely. I don't want you sending me love notes at work or something."
Snorting, Nicole swipes a slice of pizza and takes a bite, talking as she chews.
"No worries there, Q. You're still my slave. And you've got a shit ton of work to catch up on come Monday."
"You'll be lucky if Quinn can even walk herself into the office by Monday." Santana grumbles, biting into her own pizza. "They're going to destroy my guest room with their love all weekend long. I may as well burn it off the apartment when they leave."
Brittany smiles, reaching to tap Rachel's hand on the table top.
"It's okay. She want's to get a bigger place anyway. But make sure you can walk on Monday, Rachel. There's an audition for a new show I'm choreographing that you're perfect for."
Rachel's squeal cuts through the pizza shop as she launches herself at Brittany, pulling her into a hug over the middle of the table.
"That's WONDERFUL, Brittany." Sighing, she collapses back in her chair, leans her head against Quinn's chest, and smiles, content.
Quinn smiles down at her and at each face in turn around the table. Santana and Brittany, the greatest friends she had ever known, jumping into the line of fire with only a moments notice. Nicole, her mentor turned mercenary, whose presence means more to her with each passing day. And Dexter, of course. The man who couldn't keep Rachel out of trouble... and then put her directly into it... and in return probably caused years of traumatic nightmares and emotional scarring.
Well maybe that last friendship would need a little work.
But all the same, Quinn felt as if she was connected to each of them, like a tiny strand of light bounced from one to another in turn, and that thought warmed her heart, beating steadily there against Rachel's cheek.
"You know what would make this day perfect?" She says finally, breaking the silence of her friends as they eat around her.
"What's that, babe?" Rachel replies, looking up with sleepy eyes.
Quinn shrugs, meeting their expectant looks.
"Making that wife thing final."
All signs of sleepiness disappear as the right side of Rachel's mouth tugs up and Dexter sighs, reaching for his coat.
"I'll get the car."
...three months later...
After so many months of being shut off from the life she wanted, Rachel could hardly believe all she had gained in such a short time. A handful of close friends who supported her no matter what, a starring role on a new Broadway play set to release in just a few more weeks, a home where she could go and actually feel safe at night, anxiety free, and a love that was all her own and so much more than she could have ever hoped for.
Sighing romantically, she runs a brush through her hair, humming under her breath.
Things couldn't possibly be better.
She stiffens as a hand covers her mouth from behind, a voice rasping roughly against her ear.
"Keep quiet and this will be quick and painless."
Sucking in a breath, Rachel struggles to see the person against her back until their teeth clamp down hard, tugging mercilessly at her earlobe.
"Better yet," Quinn husks, flipping her around and pushing her up against the wall. "Go ahead and be loud."
Rachel's low chuckle turns into a moan as Quinn growls, pressing light kisses up her neck.
"Babe, wait until after the show. I have a hard enough time noticing everyone else when you're there, let alone if you have your way with me before hand."
Running her hands up and down Rachel's sides, Quinn smiles and presses a final kiss to the brunette's lips.
"Fiiiiiiinnee. Break a leg out there," she says turning with a grin. As she slips through the hanging fabric of the cast room, she adds over her shoulder, "and when we get home tonight, we'll play doctor."
She rolls her eyes, but a shiver goes up her spine none the less. Being married to Quinn definitely had its perks, but getting to go home to her after a long day was Rachel's favorite, hands down.
Taking a final glance in the mirror, Rachel turns and head out of the cast room towards the back stage, high-fiving a few crew members as she goes. Her black leather boots click quietly along the wooden floor as she spies Brittany, tugging on her fishnets in the alcoves of stage left and moves to stand beside her. Hidden in the darkened stage she spies Quinn and Santana, front and center at their usual table, chatting amicably as the house lights begin to fade out.
Rachel reaches out and squeezes Brittany's hand as the audience settles down into their seats.
"Here we are again, Rach."
Turning to meet Brittany's smiling face, Rachel grins.
"And what a journey we've had, Britt."
The two drop hands as the sound system kicks on, Patti's voice echoing through the speakers.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, for your entertainment pleasure and for one night only, the Black Cat proudly presents, this year's crowd favorites, as voted by you! Take it away Rachel!"
As the lights flash on and the band starts the thumping beats of AC/DC's Dirty Deeds, Rachel, Brittany, and the other dancers stride out onto the stage to the whistles and cat calls of the house below and Rachel knows she's glowing. In all her moments, she can't help but wonder, if maybe this isn't her best one yet.
Reaching for the mike her eyes find Quinn's automatically, and with a sexy wink, she pops her hip, bites her lip, and begins, the single diamond on her left hand twinkling almost as bright as her eyes in the stage lights.
Almost.