School without Quinn was…unexciting. Rachel hadn't before realised what a difference the girl had made, whether it had been bullying her in the past, or more recently, smiling at her from across the hall, and pulling her into janitor's closets, passionately kissing her. She missed her. Quinn was her girlfriend, as strange as it still sounded to her, and she felt lonely in the crowded halls of McKinley without her.
To keep herself occupied, Rachel had turned her focus back to her pursuit of Errant, the elusive graffiti poet, but much to her frustration, there was nothing. No whispered rumours of new poems, no lingering chemical smell of permanent markers, no poems written anywhere. The Poet's voice had fallen silent - the quiet stung Rachel, piercing her heart and opening the lonely spaces she'd only just begun to fill. Between the expulsion of Quinn and the absence of Errant, Rachel felt quite alone.
Glee was her refuge. Music became her solace. Singing was her outlet. She felt like the Rachel Berry of old, before life became complicated, fraught with unexpected love and unforeseen obsessions, when music was the one thing that had really mattered, her driving force. Only, it wasn't the same; she wasn't the same. Life moved on, happened, and now she had other considerations, crashing down on her skull every time she left the choir room or the auditorium.
"Are you ok?" and "how you doing?" were words she frequently heard from her fellow Glee clubbers. Even Finn, who had taken the news that his two ex-girlfriends were dating quite well. Several times, Rachel had caught Kurt glaring at Finn, or nodding at him, after which the tall boy would come to talk to her, so she made the assumption that Kurt had spoken to his brother, and talked some sense into him. She was glad. School was hard enough now, without another person to have to avoid. But it still felt somewhat as though someone had died and everyone was trying to make sure that Rachel didn't get too caught in her own grief.
Of course, Quinn was always trying to make sure that she was ok. That afternoon, Quinn came over, and the two of them lay on Rachel's bed. Quinn kissed Rachel's forehead, just above her eyebrow.
"You're quiet," she noted, taking a brown strand of hair between her fingers and letting it flow through them. Rachel didn't speak for a moment.
"There's so much going on. You got expelled, Errant stopped writing, and I'm just here, and I don't know what to do."
Quinn traced a finger down Rachel's cheekbone, then lightly brushed the tip of her index finger over the brunette girl's lips. Her eyes followed her finger, never wavering.
"Why do you have to do something?" she asked, her breath little more than a whisper. Rachel, who had been lying on her back, propped herself up on her elbows so that her eyes would meet Quinn's.
"Because I feel so lost without you there, so unanchored. I don't like not seeing you at school. I miss the excitement of the possibility that I could turn a corner and you'd be there, with all your el rock chick glamour and that little smirk you do every time you see me. I miss that. And I can't even distract myself anymore because that stupid graffiti poet has decided not to graffiti anything, and it's driving me crazy that I'm not getting any closer to finding out who they are because they're not writing anything. How am I supposed to figure it out if there are no clues? Sometimes, Quinn, I wonder why I even bother," Rachel gushed, frustration pouring into her voice, spilling into the air. Quinn kissed Rachel on the lips, soft.
"Rachel Berry, the lone fighter. You never give up. That's why you bother. You can't not. And I'm sorry that I'm not coming back to McKinley, but you get me every other time, don't you?" Quinn smiled, and Rachel nodded in resignation to the truth. "As for Errant, well, I don't know what to say there. Maybe all the clues you need are right in front of you and you just haven't seen them yet."
"Then I must be pretty blind," Rachel muttered darkly.
"Mmm, pretty, definitely, blind, I don't know about," Quinn chuckled. Rachel poked her, jabbing her index finger into her ribs.
"Not funny, Quinn."
"What's not funny is that you're getting so worked up about this Errant person. Don't take this the wrong way, but don't you think you're worrying about it too much?"
"Quinn! I thought you of all people would understand. You're supposed to be supporting me! Rachel cried, moving herself a little further away from Quinn on the bed.
"Rachel, c'mon, I am supporting you. You know I am, but I don't like seeing you get upset by this. It upsets me that you're upset. I think you'd benefit if you didn't take this so seriously," Quinn said, keeping her voice calm, reasonable. She reached a hand out to Rachel, taking the other girl's hand in her own. Rachel felt the squeeze of her fingers and couldn't help squeezing back. She sighed.
"I feel so inadequate, like I would know who Errant was, if only I looked a little harder. But I've looked so hard, Quinn, and I still can't see anything! It makes me feel stupid. That's why I can't give up. I have to find out so I can prove to myself that I'm not stupid or inadequate - that I can achieve things if I try harder," came the confession, tumbling from Rachel and piercing Quinn right in the heart. Quinn's thumb began rubbing little circles on the back of Rachel's hand. She didn't speak. When Rachel looked at her, her hazel eyes were far away in thought. A crease furrowed her forehead, between her eyebrows, and her jaw was locked. It was look of such intensity that Rachel was a little frightened by it. Softly, she called Quinn's name, trying to bring the girl back to the present, out of the depths of her mind and into the familiar comfort of the bedroom. She called again, a little louder, and this time Quinn responded, her eyes focusing and her forehead becoming smooth of the lines of concentration.
"Glad you're back," Rachel smiled. Quinn moved closer, closing the gap Rachel had made between them, and in an instant, Rachel felt the other girl's lips on hers, full, soft, desperate. Rachel let a tiny moan escape as Quinn pushed her back down onto the bed and lifted herself so that her own lithe frame was covering Rachel's small one, pressing firmly into it.
"Rachel," she felt Quinn breathe against her lips, her neck, her collarbone. Over and over, she heard her name, whispered by her girlfriend. There was something in it, some kind of desperation, some kind of need. It was almost an apology. The realisation unnerved Rachel, and even as Quinn's hands inched up underneath her shirt, caressing her torso, she pushed the other girl off her. Surprised, Quinn sat back on her heels. Rachel's shirt fell back into place as she once again propped herself up on her elbows.
"What was that, Quinn?"
"What?"
"Why were you saying my name over and over again?" Rachel asked. Quinn frowned.
"Because I love you."
"No. No. That's not what that was. Don't lie to me Quinn! I may not be incredibly experienced when it comes to bedroom etiquette, but as an actress, I know what different tones of voice mean, and that definitely wasn't an 'I love you'," Rachel proclaimed, extracting herself from beneath Quinn. She pulled her knees up to her chest, letting them protect her. Something flashed in Quinn's eyes, but before Rachel could work out what it was, the other girl was leaning forward.
"Rachel, that wasn't an apology. I don't know why you would think that. I love you. I promise. I wouldn't hurt you," Quinn said, her words coming out so soothing and confident that Rachel almost believed her. Her heart ached in her chest, and there was a build up of pressure behind her solar plexus. She wanted to believe Quinn, wanted to believe the words and the sincerity in her eyes, but she couldn't. With a flash of clarity and self confidence, she knew she wasn't wrong. For all Quinn said that she wasn't lying, Rachel knew the truth. She'd heard someone else utter her name as a means of proclaiming love for her - she'd even heard it from Quinn - and the tone with which it was said was definitely not the one with which it was said a moment ago. She didn't doubt that Quinn loved her, not at all, but she knew that wasn't what she had been saying with her kisses.
"Don't. Lie. To. Me," she said, emphasising each and every word. Quinn's eyes went wide and she sat back on her heels again.
"Rachel, what the hell?"
"I said don't lie to me, Quinn. And you are. Don't pretend, ok. I'm not some simpleton like Finn who can be manipulated by you. Or someone like Sam who was so afraid of you that he overlooked your lies to do otherwise. I know you just lied."
"I don't have to listen to this," Quinn said, throwing her hands in the air. She got off the bed, but didn't leave. She stood at the base of it, staring across its length at Rachel. Rachel shook her head.
"I called you out, but you still won't admit that there was something else behind those kisses," she said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She let it out slowly, counting to ten in her head, trying to calm down. She wanted Quinn to admit that she'd lied, but she didn't want the other girl to walk out. She needed her. That's why she needed her to admit that she was lying.
"Rachel," Quinn began, but her voice trailed off, as though she didn't know what else to say.
"What, Quinn, what?" Rachel snapped, stunned by her own ferocity as the words came out. The sentence was much harsher than she intended it to be. But she clenched her teeth to stop an apology.
"Don't talk to me like that," Quinn protested, the anger quickly rising in her voice. Her eyebrows were knit together in fury. Her voice hadn't risen, but Rachel could see the anger, simmering just below the surface.
"Then don't lie to me!"
"No, you don't get to talk to me like that. Not ever. I've had enough of people treating my like shit. I'm not going to fucking take it from you too," Quinn growled, grabbing her jacket and throwing it over her arm. "You're supposed to fucking believe me when I tell you I love you, not accuse me of lying to you."
Rachel watched as Quinn walked out. She bit back the urge to cry out for her to stop. She fought the apology she wanted to scream to the other girl. Instead, after the sound of the front door slamming shut, the sound drifting up to her, there was quiet, the silence eating its way to her soul. Images of Russel Fabray yelling at his daughter fogged her mind. She buried her face in her hands. She shouldn't have pushed. Now she lost the girl she loved, all because of what was probably something stupid and inconsequential. So what if Quinn had sounded apologetic?
No. Rachel caught her thoughts. It mattered; it mattered that Quinn wouldn't tell her why she'd sounded apologetic. It mattered that Quinn wouldn't admit that she was lying. She'd been worried, that's why she'd snapped at Quinn. What could Quinn possibly have done that she felt she couldn't share it with her? Rachel didn't like being kept in the dark; when it came to her loved ones, she wanted to know everything. Scrambling for her phone, she dialled the number she knew off by heart.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Hello?" a voice said on the other end. Rachel scrambled for something to say; she didn't know where to start. "Hello?" the voice said again.
"K-Kurt?" Rachel stammered, "Kurt, I need you."
"Rachel? Is everything ok? What's wrong?"
"Kurt, I screwed it all up. I messed it up so bad. She's gone."
"Ok, it's going to be alright. Hang on, ok? I'll be there in ten," Kurt said, and the line went dead. Waiting, Rachel hugged her knees to her chest. He was the only person she trusted to help her. She didn't know how she was going to fix things, getting Quinn to open up and admit that she lied, while simultaneously fixing the new rift in their relationship, but she knew Kurt would listen, would try to help.
Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the front door. Stumbling down the stairs, Rachel managed to open it. Her hand was shaking slightly; it took her two goes to grip the handle, three to actually turn it. Another fifteen minutes later, Rachel, amidst tears, indignation, anger and worry, finished her recount of what happened. Kurt took her hand.
"Listen, Rachel, you're not wrong in knowing that she's lying to you and wanting to know why, but sometimes you have to learn to trust. You have to trust Quinn that she knows what she's doing, that she has a good reason for keeping things from you," he said, sighing.
"But I'm her girlfriend! I deserve to know!"
"Rachel, Quinn is not used to having people to talk to about important things, remember? There's this whole other part of her life that no one knows about. We don't know how she thinks, we don't know what kind of things she's been through. We know only bits, and bits aren't enough to let us say that we really know her. The girl has issues, obviously, look at what she did to herself over summer."
"B-b-but-" Rachel began to stutter, but Kurt held up a hand, cutting her off.
"She's a private person, Rachel, she isn't used to letting everyone in to every aspect of her life immediately. You have to earn her trust, and that's going to take time. Look at her, Rachel. She needs to really, really trust you to reveal all her secrets to you. You might be her girlfriend, but she still doesn't trust you enough. You're going to have to be patient with her. She's special, Rachel, she's not the ordinary I-get-everything-I-want girl that everyone always thinks she is. It means you have to treat her like she's special, and that means being patient with her," Kurt advised. Rachel was quiet, thinking his words over. They made sense. They made a lot of sense. She hadn't thought about it like that before, but when she really gave it a moment to properly think about it, Kurt was right. She hardly knew Quinn; every time they went on a date, she learnt something completely new and amazing about her - she was letting her into her life one tiny step at a time. She sighed. Maybe she'd been a little over the top earlier. She rubbed her sore, swollen eyes.
"Apologise to her, and I'm sure she'll be willing to forgive you. She loves you, you know," Kurt smiled, squeezing her hand. Rachel returned the smile.
"How do you know?" she asked, frowning a little at him, as she realised what he said. He gave her a grin, flashing perfect, white teeth.
"She's loved you for a long time, Rachel, you just never saw it. Trust me on that one," he returned, rather enigmatically. Rachel raised her eyebrows and Kurt grinned wider, but didn't give any more information.
"Fine. Keep it to yourself, then," she mock glared at him. He pretended not to know what she was talking about. She rolled her eyes at him, but was glad that he was there. She needed his sense of cool and his ability to talk common sense into her. She really hoped that when they both found themselves in New York next year, and living there years from now, that they would still maintain their friendship. He was precious to her, even if sometimes their competitive selves fought.
Her thoughts turned back to Quinn. Tomorrow; she would apologise tomorrow and hope, against all hope, that Quinn would forgive her and that they could go back to being in a happy relationship. It had only been a few hours, but already she missed her, an ache in her chest which wouldn't go away. She'd never envisioned herself with Quinn, but now that they had dated, she couldn't see herself with anyone else. Not truly. Yes, tomorrow, she had to.
Tomorrow arrived with perfect blue skies and warmth, an indication that the end of the school year was fast approaching and that in a couple of months, Rachel wouldn't be returning to the halls of McKinley. She started the day with a smile, and an energetic session on her elliptical, making her feel more alive than ever. Today was the day; she would apologise to Quinn, they would make up and everything would go back to being perfect. She could spend the last few months of high school in bliss. She almost ran to the car when it was time to leave, and almost drove through several red lights in her excitement. But she got to school safe, and being the prudent, if overzealous driver that she was, without breaking any driving laws.
The school was abuzz with excited, disbelieving whispers when Rachel finally arrived. Students stood in clusters, words rapidly falling out of their mouths, elaborate hand gestures punctuating sentences; it was the most alive Rachel had ever seen the student body, and that was something, considering the several sex riots the Glee club had caused over the past few years. She wandered past them, weaving in and out of the groups. There was a large crowd gathered outside the main doors of the school, which, Rachel could just see, above the heads of her peers, were still closed. Spotting Kurt, she rushed over to him, the question leaving her mouth as she approached.
"What happened?"
"Someone broke into the school last night, so they've locked us all out. No one knows what's happening. There were police here earlier. You just missed them," he explained, looking worried. He shrugged when Rachel raised her eyebrows. She scanned the crowd, looking for someone. She spotted him, mohawked head poking out among a group of boys. She scurried over to him, excusing herself from the company of Kurt, and pulling Puck by the arm, stole him away from his group of friends.
"Was it you?" she asked before he managed to get a protest to leave his mouth. Surprised, he stared at her.
"No way! When I break into the school, they have no idea I was ever there," he preened, proud that he had never been caught, or caused a commotion such as was happening around them. "Trust me, Short Stuff, same as you, I have no idea what's going on here."
Suddenly, there was a groan and the front doors opened and the crowd, gathering there, flooded the corridor, eager to see what had happened. Rachel and Puck stood back, arms crossed, watching as their peers pushed each other to be the first to see what it was to have them locked out of their school. Several teachers came out, ushering the lingering groups of students to class. But Puck and Rachel waited, ignoring the teacher who was pointedly staring at them, willing them to move. Rachel was glad Puck was with her, she felt less guilty about ignoring the teacher with him around. Besides, she too wanted to know what the fuss was about, but didn't want to seem as desperate as the others of her school; a star was always to maintain class, after all, not allow themselves to fall to the common behaviour of normal people. Audrey Hepburn would never have been caught pushing and shoving in a crowd, Rachel was sure. When enough of the students had dispersed, the two of them, without a single word, but seemingly a single thought, marched towards the entrance hall of McKinley, burning with curiosity, but not willing to outwardly show it.
The corridor was empty, the last of the classroom doors slamming shut with a dull thud as they entered. They could hear the muted chattering of their fellow students as the sounds melted through the doors and the walls of the classrooms, sounding like ghost children as the sound echoed in the empty corridor. Rachel swallowed. She saw it immediately; words, written in what seemed to be red paint, scrawled across the linoleum floor, impossible to miss. She read the line closest to her feet. It didn't make any sense, and so she realised that the starting point of the text was at the other side of the corridor. The two of them walked over to it, shuffling backwards as they read each line.
Three bottles of wine and a passionate kiss
In the middle of the night
On an illegal tryst.
Two dates into unfamiliar worlds;
Embraced by a tattooed family
Who drink coke and rum,
And pierced by a laser from a plastic gun.
One love burning brighter than the rest,
One fight to put it to the test.
One errant poet with only one important question:
Is it obvious enough for you yet?
Rachel's heart skipped a beat when she read the first line. By the time she got to the end, it had stopped beating altogether. It had just stopped. No beat, no pulse, no blood still moving through her veins. Quinn. Quinn. Errant. Quinn was Errant. She took a shuddering breath, the air which had been knocked out of her lungs reluctantly returning to them. Her chest hurt, like her insides had been rubbed raw and put back in the wrong way, and there wasn't room for her lungs to expand anymore. Air burned her throat, set fire to her lungs, made her heart stab her with each beat. Quinn. Was. Errant. Her head hurt, like she'd just been aroused into consciousness after being knocked out by a blow to the head. She put her hand to her temple, pressing her palm against it, willing the pain away.
"Rachel, Rach, are you alright?" a concerned Puck asked, putting a hand lightly on her shoulder. She rounded on him, eyes flashing, hand dropping and curling into a fist. She hit him hard with it on his chest.
"You knew! You fucking knew! And you didn't tell me! I'm going to kill her. I'm really, really going to kill her. How dare she? She knew how much I wanted to find out who Errant was, and she'd sit there and ask me questions and talk as if she didn't know a thing, and all this time, all this god damn time, it was her!" Rachel fumed. Puck cowered before her, she noticed, in a part of her brain mildly detached from her rage. Spittle flew from her mouth as she screamed, spraying all over the front of Puck's t-shirt. Abruptly, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the corridor, heading for her car. Heavy footsteps followed her, Puck, jogging behind to keep up with her.
"Rachel, where are you going? Hey, wait up! Don't do something stupid," he urged, but she ignored him. Getting into the car, she shoved the keys into the ignition, turning it with such ferocity that the car revved as it started. She barely thought anything rational as she pulled on her seatbelt - the only thing she wouldn't go without doing first - and pulling out of her spot in the parking lot.
The last thing she saw as she disappeared with a squeal of tyres, a puff of smoke and the smell of burning rubber, was Puck, running a hand through his mohawk, looking the most worried she had ever seen him. And then she was gone.
A/N: And so it truly begins. What do you think? Bet you're relieved to find out for sure that Quinn is Errant. But thoughts and comments and feedback if you have any are greatly appreciated.