"Rachel, honey, relax, it's just a flower. And a beautiful one too," David urged, clutching Rachel's elbow and looking into her eyes, willing her to be calm. She shook her head and fought the feelings which clawed the way up her chest, leaving puncture wounds in her lungs and heart; she was sure she was bleeding internally from the stress.
"It's a red rose. Look at it! How is it just a flower? A flower is never just a flower," she panicked, glancing at the rose as though she expected it to leap to life at any moment and attack her. "It's Quinn, I bet it's Quinn. Mark said she was in New York, and she said that she would see me on Broadway one day, and oh god, it's happening, isn't it? She's watching the shows and sending me flowers. Didn't she imagine that it would freak me out like this? Didn't she know that I would panic? David, what the hell do I do?"
"You don't know they're from her. You could be seeing monsters where there are only shadows. People love you, it could be anyone sending you those flowers. Just take a breath. Everything's ok," he said, leading her to a seat. People milled past, offering small smiles of congratulations for another successful performance. Digging into her training, Rachel smiled back; it wouldn't do for them to know that anything was wrong. David she trusted, but the rest of them would as soon see her bleeding in a dark alleyway. Even as she thought it, she knew she was being harsh, but her paranoia and shock wouldn't let her think otherwise, despite the fact she considered all her cast mates friends. It was only when they were gone from sight that she lapsed back into her panic, her face growing worried and wild. David shook his head at her and lay his hand on her shoulder.
"I think," Rachel began, but paused, her voice struggling. She tried again, "I think I just need to go home. I can't be here, it's freaking me out. If it's her, why doesn't she just tell me? Why all the secrecy? Besides, I can't have all these people staring at me, it's unbecoming. Sometimes I wish I'd never known her," she sighed. David suppressed a small smile; there wasn't any conviction in Rachel's tone, and he knew beneath it all, she was nervous that this might mean that she and Quinn would meet again, after all those years. He knew she would deny it, but she would jump at the chance.
Nevertheless, holding onto her elbow again for support, he led her out through the stage door. Like every other night, a small crowd was assembled, waiting to see the star of the musical, and like every other time, Rachel rose to the occasion, smiling and making small talk, thanking her fans and signing their playbills. David was proud of her; not many people could pull off something so trivial when they were going through an emotional crisis.
A dash of red flashed in the corner of her eye; Rachel whipped her head around, and found her nose buried in a red rose. Shocked at the contact, she stumbled backwards, almost falling on David, who caught her and righted her. She dragged her eyes up the arm which held the rose and sought the face of its owner. The smile on his face lit up the alleyway.
"Hey Rach. Long time no see."
"Finn!" Rachel gasped, hand flying to her mouth to cover her shock; it wouldn't do well to have people see her with her mouth gaping open like some silly schoolgirl. He laughed and took the hand from her mouth, pressing his lips to the knuckles before placing the rose in her palm.
"I missed you, Rachel," he half shrugged, grinning. "By the way, you were great tonight. I'm real glad that you got here, where you always dreamed of being. You lit up that stage."
"Oh, thank you Finn. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I'm surprised to see you here. But at the same time, glad that you came to see the show! I know you weren't really a fan of the play when I forced you to watch it with me in high school," she murmured, embarrassed by this encounter, and not at all sure how to act around the boy she hadn't seen since high school; she'd come a long way since then.
"Aw, nah, it's no big deal. I came to appreciate a lot of things that I didn't used to like, you know? I learnt how to appreciate beautiful things," he said, turning his head a little and looking her directly in the eye. A half smile graced his lips. Taken aback, something fluttered in Rachel's stomach. She broke the eye contact, staring at the rose he'd given her.
She could feel him smiling as she observed the flower. It was easier to look at the rose than it was to look at him. He was so different, older. Time had helped him mature well; he had built the muscles in his arms, and was more lean than she remembered. A light dusting of facial hair graced his cheeks and chin.
"So did you get the roses I sent you? I had to do some persuading of your security, but the guy finally believed me. Said he'd leave them for you. Did he?" Finn asked, and Rachel met his eyes again. She nodded.
"Yes, thank you. I was wondering who they were from," she smiled. A thought crossed her mind. "Oh, and thank you for the gardenias from the other day as well. They were beautiful."
"Um, sorry, I don't know what gardenias you're talking about," he frowned, and one look at his face assured Rachel that he wasn't lying; Finn had never been good at concealing his emotions. If he were lying, it would be written all over his face.
"Oh, sorry, I just assumed…" Rachel trailed off. Finn was unabashed.
"Ah that's ok. You must have a lot of admirers who want to send you flowers. Can't blame them," he said, smiling down at her. Had he gotten taller since they'd last seen each other? Rachel found it hard to believe, considering the height difference which had already existed between them. But if he hadn't gotten any taller, then neither had she. She realised that the distance between them had nothing to do with height; it was the rift time had torn between them. He looked like the Finn she had known, but there was something different; the way he carried himself - confident, like a man who knew what he wanted from life, not like the lost boy she had last known in school. She found herself looking down at her hands, not sure how to proceed; it was an awkwardness she was not at all used to feeling.
"It's been great seeing you again Finn, and thanks for coming to the show, but it's late and I really have to go. David's meant to take me home," she said, injecting apology into her voice and gesturing to the other man who stood to the side, out of the way. Finn nodded, glancing at him.
"Are you two…?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Rachel nearly laughed.
"No! Oh gosh no. We're just friends, that's all. Good friends, but friends nonetheless," Rachel assured, finding herself oddly wishing that Finn believed her. David stepped forward, looking Finn in the eye.
"I'm the director of the production," he smiled, extending his hand. Finn stared at it for a fraction of a second before shaking it. He nodded.
"Cool. In that case, Rach, you free Saturday night? Saturday is the matinee performance, right? You got the night off?"
"Um, yes, I do. Sure, sure, I'm free this Saturday. What did you have in mind?" Rachel spluttered, more and more surprised by this new Finn Hudson. He grinned.
"Remember the last time the two of us were in New York together? Remember the date I took you on?" he reminded, and Rachel nodded, heart in her mouth. Finn grinned wider in answer. "I'll pick you up at seven," he added, handing her a folded piece of paper. Opening it, she found a row of numbers written on it in Finn's hand.
"Ok. I'll see you then," she smiled, scribbling her address down on a spare bit of paper littering her pocket, and Finn thanked her as she handed it to him. He gave a small wave before he turned. She watched him walk away down the alley, trying to make sense of her surprise, before turning to face David. He raised his eyebrows at her, a smirk poorly concealed on his face. Rachel linked her arm with his and pulled him the opposite way.
"Friend of yours?" David asked, the all knowing smirk evident in his voice. Rachel gave a light tug at his arm for his jest.
"Was it really that obvious?" she innocently asked, playing along. David made sounds of thinking in the back of his throat, dragging out the moment longer than it ought to have gone on. He was still making sounds of musing when they reached his car. Rachel gave him a light punch on the arm before disentangling herself from him and slipping into the passenger side.
David drove Rachel home, and though he tried to make conversation, Rachel kept deflecting his questions. Eventually, he gave up with the knowledge that for the moment, she wanted to keep her thoughts to herself. Silence descended on the occupants of the car, and David realised that being driven through New York City was Rachel's favourite time to think, the bright, artificial lights spilling into the car's interior, briefly illuminating the dashboard with reds and greens and blues, before sliding away, melting into the left behind street. Simultaneously, she was part of the city, and yet contained, away from it; it comforted her, knowing that she wasn't alone when she was alone.
Rachel didn't begin to voice her thoughts until the two of them were both seated in her apartment, drinks in their respective glasses; this time David had chosen the orange juice, not having the heart to tell Rachel that he hated her coffee. He sipped at the juice as Rachel gazed into the depths of the off television, as if trying to divine something from its black screen. David waited. Eventually, Rachel sighed and turned to him. He could see from her eyes that her encounter with that Finn boy had shaken her.
"Do you believe in soul mates?"
He paused a moment, seeking a truthful answer. His eyes roamed about the room as he thought, looking at everything, but not seeing anything, the various pieces of décor all the same to him. All except one. His attention was captured by a small motorcycle replica, sitting on the bookshelf. It was so unlike the rest of the oddments Rachel had collected and furnished her apartment with, that he couldn't help but stare. Even from where he sat, it gleamed, not a speck of dust clinging to its carefully painted surface, a contrast to the shelf upon which it sat, with its thin layer of dust. A memory stirred within him, of Rachel and himself, sitting upon that very same couch, she speaking, and he listening to a recount of a first date. He smiled.
"Yes, I believe in soul mates. I believe that some people find that one person they can't be without. I believe that those people, when they're apart, are never satisfied with anyone else. I don't think they feel incomplete without each other, but not quite content, like life's not as bright as they know it could be, the way they knew it to be when they were together," he answered. Rachel frowned and her teeth found her lower lip and began chewing on it.
"But do you think they're meant to be together?"
"I think if they're not together they'll find a way to be, but I think that if life doesn't work out that way for them, they can survive without the other, just not quite as happy as they would have been if they were together. It's almost a paradox; they're meant to be together, but they'll be ok if they're not."
"Hm," Rachel voiced, and then seemed to come to her senses, "but where's all this coming from? David, have you found someone? And you didn't tell me?"
David laughed at Rachel's disgruntled disbelief. Of course she didn't see that he was using her as his source of enlightenment.
"No honey, I haven't found anyone. Don't you think that if I'd found a man, I'd tell you? Besides, according to media reports, you and I are seeing each," he laughed, and after a moment, Rachel laughed along with him. And once started, they didn't seem able to stop. They laughed till they shook, and tears streamed down their faces. They clutched their sides as they flopped back onto the couch. It was only when they couldn't get enough air into their lungs that they forced themselves to stop, taking deep breaths in between fits of giggles.
"I can't believe they're actually saying that!" Rachel exclaimed. David nodded, still giggling.
"I know. I don't have the heart to tell them I'm gay!" he added, and this sent them into another fit of laughter. As Rachel wiped the tears from her eyes again, she tried to voice the question in her mind, sombre though it was.
"So, if you're single, how is it you're so wise about soul mates?"
"I listen to my heart," David smiled, "and I observe people around me. It's how I learn. You should try it sometime, honey."
"But how do you know they're your soul mate?" Rachel asked, ignoring the jibe aimed at her. "I keep half expecting a knock at my door and for them to be there, like 'hello, I'm your soul mate.'"
"But soul mates don't just come a-knocking, Rae," David reminded gently. Rachel sighed.
"I know."
"It would be nice though."
They sat in silence, waiting for something to happen, for some thought to cross their minds, appropriate to the conversation. The longer they waited, the less anything felt like it should be said. The rap of knuckles on the front door saved them from having to think of a topic of conversation. David raised his eyebrows at Rachel in surprise and found her doing the same towards him. He frowned.
"At this time of night?"
"It is New York, the city that never sleeps," Rachel shrugged, pushing herself off the couch to get the door. David watched with a mixed sense of curiosity and fear; exactly, it was New York - nothing was to be trusted, least of all a late night knock on an apartment door. Rachel pulled it open and found no one; whoever had been there had gone, no trace of who they might be left behind. Rachel turned to frown at David. He jerked his chin in her direction, urging her to look again. A small cardboard box sat on the threshold, innocent and inconspicuous. Rachel picked it up and shut the door.
"Ideas?" she asked, placing it on her lap. She treated it gingerly, as though it might be a bomb that could go off at any second. David shook his head. "Only one way to find out then," Rachel sighed, and tore off the tape holding the box shut. From where he was sitting, David couldn't see anything, and for a brief moment thought it was a hoax, some kid knocking and running, leaving an empty box as a prank. Then Rachel pulled out a folded piece of paper; no, a map, he realised, of the city. They exchanged a glance.
Rachel unfolded the map, frowning as the paper whispered in protest. New York revealed itself, one panel at a time, simplified down to blank blocks of land and green areas of grass, bound by the blue river, which in reality was more brown than blue. Her eyes scanned the paper, looking for a clue as to why on earth it was left in a box outside her apartment in the middle of the night. David had shuffled closer, and together, the two of them poured over the map, searching.
"There!" David said, pointing at the paper. Following his finger, Rachel immediately saw it, a small black X on the paper, in the green that was Central Park. She glanced at David and found him staring at her.
"What do you think…?" she began quietly. He shrugged with an unsure kind of resignation.
"X marks the spot?"
"I guess."
"Who would send you that?" David asked, worry tinting his voice. Rachel shook her head.
"I have no idea. But I think this map just might lead me to find out."
"Oh no. No. Don't you dare!" David forbade, realising what Rachel meant to do, "there is no way you are going to this place. You have no idea what might be waiting for you. Some map dropped outside your apartment this late at night, inviting you to Central Park is not a safe sign. This city is full of crazies. You don't know what you might be getting into. Please Rae."
"You're right, you're completely right," she sighed after a long moment, "it spells trouble. I won't go. I promise."
David leant back into the embrace of the couch, still looking at Rachel. She could sense his disapproval, his wariness. She put a hand on his arm.
"Hey, I promise. Whoever this creep is, I'm not playing their game. It's probably just Finn anyway, trying to be romantic. I'll call him tomorrow, and I, under no circumstances will go to the park. Ok?"
"He needs some help in that department, if it's your boyfriend trying to be romantic," David growled.
"He's not my boyfriend! And he can be romantic when he wants to be. Besides, maybe he's gotten better at it since I last saw him," she defended, annoyed that David was calling Finn her boyfriend already, when they hadn't even been on a date yet. At the same time, the epithet caused a small thrill to shoot up her spine.
"Alright, alright, he's not your boyfriend. But Rae, whatever you do, don't go to this place. X might mark the spot, but the people it's meant for never seemed to end well. Be safe, Rachel."
With another assurance from Rachel, David forced himself to his feet, excusing himself. It was late. Rachel saw him out with one more assurance that she would not go to Central Park, and satisfied, he kissed her on the cheek then disappeared down the hall and into the night. Closing the door behind her, Rachel picked up the map, staring at the tantalising black mark. Almost unconsciously, she memorised the spot, imagining where it was in reality, and wondering whether she had been there before on one of her walks during her days off. With a final sigh, she threw the map onto the round dining table and went to bed, trying to convince herself that David was right and that it would be a bad idea to go. But she fell asleep with a small voice in the back of her head telling her to go.