Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
A/N: I'd just like to take a moment to acknowledge/respect Cory Monteith's death, especially because his Glee character is so often slammed and hated in the Faberry sphere. He was an ally for equality, a heroic fighter, a successful actor (and it's not his fault he got stuck with a crappy character on Glee :p). Rest in peace, buddy. The struggle's over.
Previously:
"That's bullshit! This is such bullshit! It's the kill you love, not me!" The tiny person huffed. "I made you a very rich man doing exactly what you loved." Something slammed against the far wall, causing the blonde to flinch. "Now get out of here! Get out!"
The words echoed in her mind, her vision clouding over.
Get out, get out. It's happening.
Rachel pressed a towel rolled with ice cubes onto Quinn's forehead, biting the inside of her cheek when the blonde hissed out in pain.
After she had locked Finn out of the room, using both bolts—that guy could knock down the door if he wanted to—Rachel grabbed the phone and dialed the front desk, alerting the manager to the situation. From the barking orders that she heard before the dial-tone, it looked like Mr. Hummel had immediately sicced the hotel's security on him.
She had dropped the phone clumsily, finally noticing her shaking hands. After taking a few deep breaths that seemed to calm her nerves a little, she had glanced around the room, looking for a missing blonde.
Q-Quinn? Quinn! She'd called frantically, running into the bedroom, then the bathroom, then the balcony. She had even peeked over the ledge, just to make sure.
But when she had jogged back into the living room, she'd seen a shadow lying alongside the couch, curled on its side. She had stepped closer, and the body flinched, tucking its arm further around its stomach. Her eyes had been open wide, in shock, chest rising and falling quickly as her lungs took in shallow breaths.
Oh, Quinn… She had murmured, kneeling beside her carefully. The blonde, after a moment, had untangled herself from the leg of the chair and tucked her head onto the brunette's lap, eyes flickering shut. Rachel eased a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, rubbing soothing circles on the blonde's back with her free hand.
Rachel had lost track of how long they sat there, but she counted ten phone calls. She had ignored them, focused instead on the worn woman on top of her. She'd get up when Quinn was able to unfurl herself.
And, eventually, the time had come. Quinn had poked up her head, blinking owlishly as the past events returned to her mind. She had shuddered, pressed herself closer to the brunette, shook the tension out of her shoulders. After they'd eaten a little food—leftovers from the other night, as Rachel hadn't wanted to stress the blonde with a stranger bringing room service—the brunette had convinced Quinn to lie down on the bed so that she could look at her cuts and bruises.
She moved the makeshift ice pack down, shifting it so it covered the blonde's purple cheek. Quinn screwed her eyes shut. She clenched her jaw and exhaled. "Why do guys always know how to hit a woman right across the cheek?" She searched for Rachel's gaze for an anchor. "Wham! And it feels like your eye is gonna explode."
Rachel shrugged, concern evident in her brown eyes.
Quinn continued. "What do they do? Do they pull guys aside in high school and show them how to do this? Is that—ow."
"Sorry," Rachel murmured, and lightened the pressure. "Not all guys hit."
Quinn searched her face. "I heard about what you did with Schuster."
The brunette frowned. "That was a business decision."
"It was good," Quinn pushed.
"It felt good." Rachel let the blonde pull her hand down.
They sat in silence for a moment, and Quinn could see the guilt weighing down on the brunette's shoulders. She rubbed her thumb along the woman's palm lines. She released her after a beat, sitting up. "I think this is okay."
"But you're not even bandaged-"
"I gotta get going," Quinn said. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. "It'll be fine."
"Yes, I noticed you'd packed." Rachel dropped her eyes. "Why are you leaving now?"
"Well, I had packed before…you know."
"Oh," she replied. "But why?"
"Rachel," she said, waiting until the brunette looked up at her, "there'll always be some guy, even some friend of yours, thinking he can treat me like Hudson, thinking that it's allowed." She smiled sadly at Rachel. "What are you going do? You gonna beat up everybody?"
The brunette bit her lip. "That's not why you're leaving."
"Look, you made me a really nice offer," Quinn said, standing up. "And a few months ago, no problem. But now everything is different, and you've changed that. And you can't change back." She shrugged. "I want more."
"I know about wanting more," Rachel said, standing. She stepped closer. "I invented the concept. The question is how much more."
Quinn crossed her arms. "I want the fairy tale. Impossible relationships."
Rachel chuckled. "My special gift is impossible relationships."
Quinn cracked a smile. Rachel walked with her to the door, and Quinn took her bag from her, pausing. "Thank you."
The brunette nodded, leaning against the doorway. "You're welcome. If you ever need anything—dental floss, whatever—you give me a call."
Rachel grinned as Quinn let out a light laugh, remembering the strawberry seed fiasco. God, that night seemed like so long ago.
"I had a good time." She rocked back on her heels, finding it hard to go, now that the time had actually come.
"Me too." Rachel gave her a half smile. "Do you want me to get you a bellhop?"
"No, I got it," Quinn said. "Thanks."
She walked over to the elevator door, and punched in the button.
"Stay," Rachel spoke up, after a second. She padded over to the blonde. "Stay the night with me. And not because I'm paying you, but because you want to."
Quinn kept her gaze fixed on the shiny metal and shook her head. "I can't."
Rachel's shoulders dropped a little as she sighed. She walked back a few steps, not quite leaving. The elevator doors pinged, giving them both a start.
"Good-bye," the blonde said, sparing Rachel one last glance.
The brunette watched her disappear, and muttered aloud the words her tongue had been brimming with. "You, Quinn Fabray, are so much more than you think."
"I want you to call maintenance and have them deal with this. You must delegate authority," Mr. Hummel said, reprimanding an employee. Quinn strode off the elevator, pausing behind him.
"Yes, sir," the employee stuttered. When the manager shooed him, Quinn tapped the man's shoulder.
"Hi, Kurt." She smiled at him, outstretching her arms.
"Miss Fabray," Kurt said, chuckling. He stepped into the embrace, clearing his throat when he pulled away.
She bounced on her toes anxiously. "I wanted to say good-bye."
Kurt frowned slightly. "Well, then, I gather you're not accompanying Ms. Berry to New York."
Quinn rolled her eyes in jest. "Come on, Kurt. You and me live in the real world... most of the time."
He nodded sadly, glancing out at the door. "Have you arranged for transportation?"
"I'm gonna call a cab," the blonde said, and began to walk across the lobby.
Kurt stopped her. "Allow me."
She furrowed her brow.
"Darryl."
The driver from the limo stood, folding a newspaper under his arm. "Yes, sir?"
Kurt rested a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Please take Miss Fabray anywhere she wishes to go."
The man smiled, tipping his hat. "Yes, sir."
The driver went out to pull a car around, and Quinn followed with Kurt slowly. "It's been a pleasure knowing you. Come and visit us again sometime."
Quinn smiled, knowing the impossibility of ever stepping foot inside the plaza again. Instead, she nudged the kind manager. "Stay cool."
Kurt's eyes crinkled in amusement as he watched her go. He needed more guests like the blonde. She was refreshing.
Rachel leaned back against the wall of the balcony. She looked up at the sky, letting her eyes fall shut against the early morning sunlight.
Quinn would love this, if she were here.
They never were able to get up early enough to catch the sunrise, but the sun, peeking up over the skyscrapers and sprawling streets—it was every bit as glorious as watching it from a mountain top.
Of course, the blonde wouldn't be far this far back. She'd be pressed against the railing, leaning over it. She'd breathe in the dewy air. Make a comment about how each morning is a dew over, and smile at her own pun. Then say something more serious.
It was true, though. Mornings were light, pure. They weren't heavy like night; they didn't fall. They rose. Like a seedling in a spring breeze.
She'd say something like that.
If Rachel was more of a morning person, she might even consider having a sunrise wedding. It made more sense than a sunset wedding, didn't it? Although, then the drinking would start at nine in the morning. But, it was a celebration, wasn't it?
She took a few small steps closer to the edge, just barely peering over it. The ground swayed beneath her as she glimpsed the dizzying view.
"Is that everything, miss?"
The voice caused her to jump, and she skittered back inside. The bellhop stood by the door, holding a suitcase.
Rachel glanced around the room, inhaling the familiar smells. "Yes. Yes, that's everything."
He nodded. "I'll meet you downstairs, ma'am."
"Thank you."
She glanced around the empty, clean space once more before following him out and locking the door behind her. It was no use sulking behind in that room.
Santana looked down at herself in the cocktail dress. Quinn tilted her head, assessing the fit. It was almost perfect. Where it had been loose on her, it hugged the Latina's curves.
She nodded her approval, and Santana made an exaggerated twirl. "I look like a fucking princess."
Quinn rolled her eyes, chuckling. She turned back to the bag she was packing.
Santana shimmied out of the gown, slipping on some tights and a skimpy shirt. "San Francisco's not that great, you know." She moved to lean on the wall beside her roommate. "It's bad climate. It's foggy. It's unpredictable."
The blonde glanced up, amused. "I'll wear a sweater."
"What are you even gonna do there?"
"Get a job. Finish high school." Quinn shrugged, folding another few shirts away. "I got things I can do. I used to make pretty good grades in high school."
The Latina hummed. "Yeah, I could see that about you. I could see that."
Quinn glanced over at her. "Sure you won't come with me?"
Santana snorted. "And leave all this? Not in a million."
The blonde laughed, and dug into her purse. "Come here."
"Whoa," Santana said, looking over her shoulder to see a wad of cash. "Whoa. What is that?"
"It's part of the Rachel Berry scholarship fund." Quinn handed it over, smiling softly. "We think you got a lot of potential, Santana Lopez."
The Latina shook her head. "You do? You think I got potential?"
"Oh, yeah," Quinn said, proudly. "Don't let anybody tell you different, okay?"
"Okay." Santana nodded a few times, and tucked the cash away in the room. When she came back, Quinn was holding out her black beret.
The Latina shook her head, putting up her hands. "No, I can't, I can't. It's your favorite." The blonde shrugged, tossing it into her travel bag. "What time's your bus?"
"An hour."
Santana shifted. "Yeah, well, I gotta split, 'cause good-byes make me crazy and sappy and shit." She lunged into a bear hug, surprising Quinn. "So, take care of you."
"Whoa," Quinn said, returning the tight hug. She chuckled. "Take care of you, S."
Rachel paused at the front desk, signing the bills and returning her room key. She glanced up at the manager. "You don't have any messages for me, do you?"
He glanced down at the computer. "No, I'm afraid not, miss."
The brunette sighed. "I'll need a car to the airport also."
"Of course. Darryl will take you wherever you need to go." He lifted the phone. "Darryl, the limousine out front, please? Thank you, Darryl."
Rachel cleared her throat. "One last thing. If you could possibly..."
"Yes?"
"…return this to Fred's for me, please?" She pulled out a black velvet box.
"Yes, of course." He took the box, hesitating. "May I, miss?"
Rachel smiled shyly. "Of course, please."
Kurt opened it, eyes widening at the diamond and ruby necklace that rested inside. He'd had rich guests before, jewels weren't rare to him. But there hadn't been a necklace quite like this for a few years, at least. He closed the lid.
The manager watched Rachel tap the counter. "It must be difficult to let go of something so beautiful."
Rachel nodded absentmindedly.
"You know, Darryl also drove Miss Fabray home yesterday."
The brunette's head snapped in his direction, brow furrowing.
Kurt tapped the box, placing it under the desktop. "I'll take care of it."
"Thank you, Mr. Hummel," Rachel said, looking at him questioningly as she walked out to Darryl's car.
She settled into the back seat, resting her arm on the window.
Darryl put down the glass barrier. "Your plane is leaving as scheduled, miss, and you should be back in New York on time."
Rachel nodded, sighing. She had never thought she'd be disappointed to hear those words before.
But she couldn't help it. She didn't even like Hollywood that much, yet ever since she'd picked up the blonde she had prolonged her stint, even agreeing to help a sponsor and his son clean the business up.
Her home was Broadway.
Her home was Times Square at night, all lit up, not Beverly Hills at sunrise.
But all she longed to see was a certain blonde, and she was starting to see her everywhere.
How did it happen?
How did it get to this point?
She couldn't do this, drop everything and make a fairy tale, could she?
"Darryl?"
He slowed the car, as if he knew exactly what she was about to ask. "Yes, miss?"
"Can you take me to Miss Fabray's? But stop by a flower shop first, please."
"Of course, Ms. Berry."
She could see his smile from the back of the limo.
Rachel leapt out of the car before it stopped, spying a florist cart on the side of the street. She gazed at the floors, wondering if the blonde had ever mentioned a favorite.
"I'm gonna have to charge you a little more rent than Quinn," a woman said to her companion, both leaning against the wall. Rachel glanced over, wondering if it was the same Quinn they were talking about. "…because I've got this beauty course I'm looking into. I'm not gonna be there that much, you know?"
Was it Quinn's roommate? But then the woman next to her would be the new roommate. Which would mean…Quinn had left?
"'Cause you can't—you just can't turn tricks forever. You gotta have a goal. Do you have a goal?"
"Well, I always wanted to be in the Ice Capades."
The florist approached Rachel, who was frozen in front of the large display. "Can I help you, love?"
"Those!" Rachel said suddenly, surprising herself with the certainty. "Those, please."
The woman pulled out a bundle of gardenias, tied together with a light green ribbon. She handed them to Rachel, taking her change. "There you go."
"Thank you very much," Rachel said, rushing back into the car. "Step on it, Darryl. She's leaving."
He nodded, and accelerated as much as the limo would allow him to.
Rachel glanced down at the bouquet, smiling to herself. It was like she was holding the essence of Quinn in her hands. She didn't have to try hard to picture a wedding lined with the flowers.
She could do this.
She didn't need to spin together a fairy tale, because it already was one.
It was their story.
Quinn looked around the room one last time. Her side was almost completely empty, save for a few posters and sheets that she would have Santana send to her later. Was she really doing this? Was she really leaving it all behind?
It was more nostalgia that prompted the question than the desire to stay. After the incident with Finn, she knew she'd reached her limit.
She only hoped Santana would stop soon.
A flock of birds swooped by her window, clucking and chirping in annoyance. A sharp car horn quickly followed, repeatedly. Quinn rolled her eyes, praying that there wouldn't be any asses like that in San Francisco.
The horn honked twice more right outside her apartment. She stalked over to the window, throwing aside the curtain. "Hey, you fuc—"
"Quinn!"
The blonde's mouth fell open at the sight of the brunette, poking out of the sunroof of the limo. Darryl waved at her apologetically.
"Quinn," Rachel shouted again, pulling herself out of the car and sliding down the side. She jogged below the fire escape, squinting up at the blonde. She raised her hands, presenting the flowers. "Princess Quinn! Come down!"
Quinn shook her head, amused.
Rachel groaned. "Had to be the top floor, right?"
The blonde smirked. "It's the best."
"All right," Rachel said, moving towards the rusty ladder. "I'm coming up."
She clamped the flowers in her mouth, hauling herself up the rickety fire escape. Quinn hopped out the window, laughing at Rachel's attempt to conquer her fear of heights. The brunette was muttering to herself, eyes almost shut tight. She was pressed as close to the wall as she could be, stuck a couple floors below her.
Quinn met her halfway, and Rachel managed to scale one more ladder, closing the distance between them. The blonde looked at her expectantly, taking the flowers and burying her nose into them.
Rachel took her free hand, interlacing their fingers. She gave the blonde a lopsided smile. "So what happened after she climbed up the tower and rescued her?"
Quinn looked up at her from beneath her eyelashes, and the brunette felt her knees grow weak. She was grateful when Quinn wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her impossibly closer. Lips brushing, she whispered, "She rescues her right back."
Rachel smiled into the kiss, chuckling lightly. The blonde tugged on her lower lip, taking it between her own. The kiss was slow, pure. It reminded her of the night they'd kissed for the first time.
She pulled back, resting their foreheads together.
It wasn't a fairy tale. No one was saving anyone; there weren't any knights in shining armor or princesses letting down their braided hair.
There was just a brunette and a blonde.
And it was their story.
Below them, a man strode across the street, calling out to fellow passerbys. "Welcome to Hollywood! What's your dream? Everybody comes here. This is Hollywood, the land of dreams. Some dreams come true, some don't. But keep on dreamin'. This is Hollywood. Always time to dream, so keep on dreamin'."
A/N: So if you didn't want an epilogue, ignore the next update.
A big thank you to the loyal readers & reviewers who have followed this fic all the way through. Sorry it's reaching an end, but it was fun while it lasted.