"Rae-Rae, sweetheart, I want you to meet someone!" eleven year old Rachel's mother yelled from downstairs. Rachel looked up from her textbook, dangling her pencil in mid-air as she stared forlornly at her bedroom door.
She did not want to meet whoever it was that her mother had downstairs with her. It was probably another man; just another man to use her and abuse Rachel.
"Rae-Rae, I said that I want you to meet someone!" her mother screamed. Rachel immediately dropped her pencil and slammed her textbook shut.
She knew that specific tone; it was an order, not a suggestion.
Rachel breathed in deeply before exhaling sharply and making her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs into the living room.
Her mother was seated on the far left end of the couch and leaning against the arm of the couch was a man. He was tall, Rachel noted; taller than the last one. Her gaze fell to his hands momentarily and she fought not to imagine all the ways that they could hurt her.
She quickly looked away from his hands, meeting his gaze. She was surprised by what she saw there; such kindness, such sincerity. Two aspects of a person's personality that she had not seen in the eyes of her mother's previous boyfriends.
"What's your name?" she asked him hesitantly, quietly.
He grinned a toothy grin and Rachel felt herself relaxing. For the first time in years, she felt like maybe she could actually trust one of her mother's boyfriends and that was a nice feeling. Maybe their lives could actually change.
"Taylor," he responded, extending his hand for her to shake. She glanced at her mom, who was smiling, silently urging her to shake his hand. Her brown eyes, eyes that matched Rachel's so perfectly, were pleading with her daughter.
She grabbed his hand firmly and shook it, and for the first time in years, both Rachel and her mother were smiling smiles that reached their pretty brown eyes.
Taylor; Rachel shudders at the thought of him, but he is all she can see as she looks into the eyes of her mother. Taylor, who was supposed to be different. Taylor, who Rachel shook hands with and trusted and who used those same hands she shook that day to scar her for life.
"Rachel," Quinn's soft, sweet voice tears her from her thoughts. Quinn. She does not want Quinn here for this. Quinn does not need to meet her mother. Her mother does not deserve to meet Quinn, someone so innocent and pure and sweet. She does not need to ruin Quinn liked she ruined her own daughter.
She drags her girlfriend to the door, ignoring Quinn's squeak of protest and her Dad and Daddy's eyes on her and her mother's eyes as she does so.
She takes both of Quinn's hands in her own, searching Quinn's eyes, which hold a mixture of confusion and concern. "I need you to leave," she says. She does not speak the words harshly; she speaks them regretfully, sadly. The hurt that flashes over her girlfriend's face is enough to shake her, enough to make her want to take the words back, but she doesn't. She cannot.
"But, Rach-" Quinn starts to protest, but Rachel interrupts her, adding, "Please, Quinn, do this for me. It isn't that I want you to leave, it is simply that I need you to," not really, she needs her here, but she cannot admit to that because she is not strong enough to handle such an admission, "because she isn't safe or good and I don't want you to meet her because you are good and safe and kind. All personality traits that she will strip from you."
She thinks she sounds melodramatic and silly, but she does not care. She has to keep Quinn away from her mother, away from her horrible past.
"Who is she?" Quinn asks quietly, not listening to Rachel and leaving like Rachel asked her to.
Rachel opens and closes her mouth a few times, contemplating lying, but for only a millisecond because this is Quinn, her girlfriend, and Rachel does not want to lie to her. Not her. "My mother," she responds tersely, her lips pursed.
The blonde's hazel eyes widen considerably, but Rachel ignores the girl's silent questioning. "Please... go," she begs and she sounds tortured to herself. Probably because she is; she does not want Quinn to leave and she wishes she would stop talking, but she knows this is for the best.
She thinks.
"Okay," Quinn replies weakly, and it takes a few, long, torturous seconds for Quinn to release her hold on Rachel's hands, and all Rachel wants for her to do is to say that no, she will not go, and for her to realize that what she means by "please go" is "please stay, please, please stay with me".
But Quinn releases Rachel's hands and she doesn't say that she won't go. She opens the door and walks out, not looking back as she does and when she shuts the door, Rachel is snapped out of her trance and forced to face the reality of the scene she has returned home to.
Hesitantly, very slowly, she turns and focuses her attention on her Dads and the woman that she has always been convinced she would never see again, but she's here and Rachel knows no matter how many times she shuts her eyes, no matter how hard she prays, this is not a dream.
It is her nightmares come true.
"You have yet to answer my question," she states coldly as she looks at her mother, referring to her previous rudely stated question, the one that she asked when she first entered her house and saw her mother in her living room.
She is surprised that her Dads have not reprimanded her on her use of such foul language upon entering their home moments ago, but from the expressions on their faces, she gathers that they feel far too guilty to call her out on something as small as her unnecessary use of profound language.
"Rae-Rae," she winces at the nickname; it feels like cold ice is poking at her skin, pricking her painfully, "I-" Her mother pauses and Rachel waits for her to continue, not wanting to say anything because she does not have anything to say.
Only, that is not true and she knows it. She has so much to say, too much, and she knows that if she were to start talking, she would not stop for a very long time because she would not make her speech short and sweet. It would be long, sad, and filled with anger and betrayal and so much pain.
She tries not to think of that, though, because she will not be making that speech anytime soon. Or ever.
"I am not going to pretend for one second that you would ever forgive me for the hell I put you through," her mother tries again and Rachel feels herself choking up at the words; her eyes are watery and her palms are sweaty and she feels like she could break at any moment, "and I am not asking for your forgiveness right away and I will completely understand if you can never forgive me no matter how much that would break my heart, but-"
"Break your heart?" Rachel cuts in. She sounds hysterical even to herself. Her Dad is standing, looking like he is about to cut in or attack (not that he would ever hit a woman, but Dad is fantastic at verbal battles), and Daddy is standing beside him, his hand clutching his husband's shoulder, no doubt as an attempt to calm her Dad down.
"It has been three years since you have been in my life," Rachel continues bitterly. "If you want to be more specific, however, it has technically been fourteen because you quit being in my life the minute that my father was killed. You grew distant and you never listened to me," her hands are flying all over the place and tears are streaming down her face and she feels crazy, but she doesn't care, "and you let them... you... y-you..."
Her words trail off as her breaths become uncontrollable. Her Dad and Daddy are on opposites sides of her in, quite literally, the blink of an eye, their arms wrapping around her instinctively and simultaneously. Her Daddy rubs soothing circles on her mid-back while her Dad whispers to her to take a deep breath and tells her that everything is going to be okay, so she should just calm down before she makes herself sick.
She feels sick. She feels sick and she feels a little bit numb. The tears have stopped falling. Her mother looks like she is at a loss for words and the sight makes Rachel chuckle. The sound is odd, not like Rachel; too bitter and she is not a bitter person.
This is her mother's fault. Everything is her mother's fault. The way she pushes people away, people who try to care, even her wonderful girlfriend who has never done anything to hurt her in the time that she has known her... it is all her mother's fault. Her mother, who never really raised her, who was never there when she should have been, who never believed her...
"I hate you," Rachel seethes before yanking herself away from her Dad and Daddy and storming out of her front door, not caring that she is still in her Sectionals uniform and not caring that she has no place in mind to go. She only knows that she cannot be at home because with her mother there, home does not feel like home.
She has never made a home an actual home for Rachel.
"Rachel!" She is halfway down the street when she hears the shout. She scrunches her nose up out of confusion and whirls around, finding herself face to face with her girlfriend. Her girlfriend, who she had been convinced had left. But she hadn't.
"God, Rachel," Quinn breathes, and the sound in her voice is so sad. "Have you been crying? What happened? And your mom, Rachel... why haven't you ever said anything about her? What did she do to you? Rach... why did you ask me to leave? Why-"
"Quinn, stop," Rachel pleads with her, interrupting her girlfriend. The onslaught of questions is too much for her frazzled mind.
"To answer your ridiculous amount of questions," Quinn chuckles at Rachel's words, but Rachel is not an idiot, the sound is definitely forced, "yes, I have been crying, but it is not that big of a deal," lie, "and what happened is that my mother has shown up out of nowhere after three years of no contact whatsoever and I am unsure how, exactly, to handle the situation, and I have yet to tell you about her because she is not worth talking about."
Rachel takes in the way Quinn is playing with the hem of her shirt and the way she is nervously chewing on her bottom lip (which is very, very sexy, but Rachel tells herself not to go there because this is clearly a serious moment in their relationship) and knows that her girlfriend wants to argue with her, but she won't. She never does.
Sometimes, Rachel wishes that she would.
"You don't have to hide from me." Quinn brushes her thumb against Rachel's cheek before gently cupping Rachel's face, forcing the brunette to look her in the eyes, and as much as Rachel tries not to, she looks because Quinn's eyes are beautiful and hazel and right now, they have a look in them she has never seen before.
A new look of determination, stronger than the determination that is usually there when she is in HBIC mode. This is a softer look of determination, a more sincere one. Meant for helping, not hurting.
"Whatever happened in your past, Rachel, it does not define who you are now," the blonde continues and Rachel allows the words to sink in, "and all I am asking is for you to let me in. I care about you," she can hear the unspoken words there, those three words that mean so much and she knows that if Quinn were to say them, she would repeat them and she would mean them with her whole heart, but now is not the right time, "and I just want to know you, all of you, because most days, I feel like I don't and it hurts me to not be able to help you. I can't help if I don't know what the problem is."
Instead of saying anything, Rachel grabs Quinn and pulls her close, so close that there is no space in between them. She covers Quinn's mouth with her own, not caring that they are in public and forgetting all about her qualms with PDA as she kisses her girlfriend hard and deep.
She is directing everything she is feeling at Quinn. The anger, the pain, the frustration, the betrayal, the confusion, everything. And she knows it is wrong, so wrong, to take it out on her girlfriend, but this is the only way she knows how to do it without shattering. She does not want to become a broken shell, and if she is going to lose herself, she would rather lose herself in Quinn than lose herself in such an awful way that she would never be able to find herself again.
Her hands are moving awkwardly along Quinn's sides because this is new and she's never done this before. She's considered doing it before (yes, it, it; she is a virgin and she is not ashamed of said fact). Of course she has because she is a teenager and she has a hot girlfriend and said hot girlfriend has more-than-nice lips and a gorgeous body.
"Your room," Quinn whispers heatedly against Rachel's lips and all Rachel can do is nod dumbly in response before kissing her again, moving with her to the back of the house, where they can enter the house through the back door and not be seen by her Dads and she-who-must-not-be-thought-of-or-named-because-she-would-ruin-the-perfect-moment.
The two tiptoe up the stairs quietly, hand-in-hand, past Denise's room and past Rachel's Dad and Daddy's room and into Rachel's room.
They are back to touching each other everywhere that is physically possible the second that Rachel's bedroom door is shut and locked.
Rachel gently shoves Quinn onto her bed, feeling brave and bold and sexy because she has this brave, bold, and sexy girl on her bed that likes her. Really likes her. A girl who makes her feel happy even when it feels like happiness is far, far away off in another land. A girl who cares about her and who is more patient with her than she feels she deserves on most days.
She pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it aside, watching as Quinn licks her thin lips (thin, perfect, kissable, beautiful lips), gesturing with her index finger for Rachel to join her.
Rachel doesn't hesitate, she moves closer to the bed and climbs onto it, maneuvering herself so that she is hovering over Quinn. She is acutely aware that she is topless and that Quinn has far too much clothing on and she's not sure that they should be doing this, but she wants to so badly because she wants Quinn and she has wanted her like this and in so many other ways since day one.
Quinn arches her back off the bed and then pulls Rachel down with her, her lips crashing onto the brunette's roughly, probably bruising them in the process, but she doesn't care because she feels so good.
"God, you're so beautiful," she manages to get out in between heated kisses and soft moans of pleasure escaping from both girls.
She slides her hands up Quinn's shirt, running her hands along her girlfriend's nicely toned stomach and enjoying the way she shivers underneath her.
"Are you sure... I mean, do you want to?" she sputters nervously because she does not want to do this unless Quinn wants to. She doesn't want to push and she knows that they were just talking and that Quinn isn't completely happy because Rachel hasn't one-hundred percent opened up to her but that doesn't change that Rachel wants to and she swears that someday she will.
"I'm sure," Quinn says and Rachel watches as she slowly, so very slowly, pulls her shirt over her head, mimicking Rachel's earlier action of tossing her own shirt aside before pulling Rachel down again and kissing her sweetly. The kiss lingers between them before it grows more passionate, more demanding.
She does not know what this will mean for them, she does not know where they will go from here because there is still so much they have yet to learn of each other, but she does know that she loves Quinn (and she will tell her, someday) and that's good enough for now. More than good enough.
Elated, that is how Quinn feels. Any tension, any negative feeling she was feeling before joining her girlfriend in her room are gone, so far gone.
She has had sex before, she isn't going to lie, and Rachel knows that. Quinn made it a point to tell Rachel that she lost her virginity to Santana when she was thirteen, but with Rachel, everything is different, stronger.
Not to say that what she felt with Santana wasn't real because it was, but this, this is the real, real deal. The everlasting kind. She can feel it.
She felt it in the way Rachel touched her, the way Rachel knew which buttons to push. Quinn knows Rachel is not as experienced as her, but Rachel sure as hell could have fooled her because what she did was fucking amazing.
"You're amazing," Quinn whispers for the umpteenth time, curling further into Rachel as the brunette pulls the covers over their naked bodies, and it feels nice. It feels nice to be able to lie with a girl, to not have to hide. It feels nice to be in a bed as opposed to a tent or a car or a backyard and to cuddle and to feel such a strong connection with someone.
She wants Rachel to open up to her; she knows this is how they got here. They got here because Rachel wants to avoid (that, and because they both have wanted each other from the second they laid eyes on each other) her past for a little while longer, but she doesn't mind. How can she mind? She's with a beautiful girl whom she loves, a beautiful girl she wishes she could say those three precious words to, but she can't because there is so much she doesn't know and she wants to know it all before she breaks out the words that may make Rachel run.
At the thought of Rachel running, she swears her heart breaks, so she shoves the thought aside, wanting to enjoy this moment with her wonderful, totally gorgeous girlfriend.
She thinks Rachel looks even more beautiful at this particular moment. She wants to take a picture, but since she knows Rachel will not let her even if her life depends on it, she simply takes a mental picture and she knows it will stay in her mind forever. Or, at the very least, in the back of her mind, never to leave completely and there for her to bring back to the surface whenever she very well pleases.
Rachel's brown hair is a mess and there are sweat beads on her forehead and there are hickeys on her neck (Quinn smirks at the sight of them and she is sure that Rachel left plenty marks of her own all over Quinn's skin; she shudders pleasurably at the thought). She looks so beautiful, so real.
The room smells of the vanilla candles Rachel lit and Rachel's perfume that has faded slightly because of the sweat and of Rachel.
She thinks she likes the last scent the most of all.
She hears Rachel yawn and sighs sadly. She wants to talk, but she does not want to push. So she won't. For the moment.
She places a kiss on Rachel's nose and Rachel giggles. "Can we talk tomorrow? Please?" She does not want to sound like she is begging, but she is sure it is obvious that she is.
"Maybe," is all Rachel says before kissing her softly and shutting off the light, pulling her as close as she possibly can. Quinn sighs into Rachel's touch, their legs entangling together and the warmth from Rachel's body providing her more warmth than the blanket.
She feels content, more than content. "Goodnight, gorgeous," she whispers and she feels Rachel press a sweet kiss to her collarbone.
"Goodnight, my hazel-eyed beauty," Rachel whispers against her skin before they both drift into what Quinn is convinced is the best sleep she has had in weeks.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This did not turn out the way that I wanted to. I did not intend for Rachel and Quinn to have sex, but hey, whatever, it was bound to happen anyway.
Rachel really is hesitant about opening up, but she is going to start, little by little, next chapter. The woman from the last chapter? Rachel's mom. I don't know how to feel about Rachel's mom, really. The way I have written Rachel's past, I must say I am not fond of the woman.
Thanks for the reviews. Stick around for the next chapter.