Chapter 6 - Satellite Call (Sara Bareilles)

The conversation I have with Rachel doesn't leave my head all evening and overnight. I don't sleep. My eyes barely close. I consider texting her to check up on her but I'm afraid of waking her up if she is asleep.

It's pointless. I won't sleep. I get up and sit at the edge of my bed. I have money saved over from my paid internship. Who cares? I'd use other money if I had to.

I should wins over I shouldn't, and the next minute I'm sitting in front of my laptop sitting atop my desk. With a quick search I find the earliest flight the next morning and buy it on the spot. I'm sure my parents will understand my sense of urgency, especially mom.

It's late, so I wait to tell them the next morning, but I get ready. I pack a quick weekender and hope that it's enough for the time that I'm planning to stay. I still have some stuff at the cheerleading house that I left before going home but they are things I barely wear, that's exactly why they got left behind. Either way, I have extra clothes and a place to sleep.

My mom actually wants to come with when I tell her I'm going back to New York to be with Rachel. When I told her what happened, her first question was, "what can I do for her?" I promise her that Rachel won't be upset that she can't come with me, but I do make sure to also promise that I will let Rachel know that my parents and home are at her disposal.

We leave the house at five in the morning to make it to the airport early for my flight that leaves at 7:30. Mom doesn't complain about me waking her up at 4:30 to let her know of my plans and to drive me. She tells me she's very proud of me on the way there and holds my hand the entire time. It makes me feel safe because I'm honestly really scared about it all. I'm scared for Rachel. I'm scared with Rachel.

The flight is painless. I do zone off while waiting for takeoff and only really wake up when the air-flight attendant wakes me. He nudges me on the shoulder softly and says, "someone's waiting for you." I'm not sure how he knows. Before I ask, he tells me with a sympathetic shrug, "you look like someone who would keep people waiting."

It feels harsh in my ears at first, but then I realize that he might not be wrong. I don't know how I feel about that after.

I tell my cab driver Rachel's apartment address by heart and even offer him instructions in how to get there the fastest. He doesn't complain because even I hear it in my voice the fear start to rise. He simply nods at me through his mirror and signals that he's about to get on the driving lane.

The drive to her place could have gone faster in my opinion but I know it's not his fault that traffic's already heavy at this time of the morning (and always) in New York City, so I just let it go and focus on breathing.

I haven't even told Santana or Britt about this trip.

Or Sarah.

Santana's gonna get so mad. But she'll understand.

I climb up the stairs of the building two by two, with my bag looped across my chest. I go as fast as I can, the realization dawning on me that I'm this close to Rachel. I need to let go of my fear and be here for her. I know she doesn't need me specifically. She has her fathers and all of our other friends, but I want her to know that I'm available despite of where we stand in our relationship.

The only reason I knock as soon as I reach the door is because I hear Leroy's unmistakable voice coming through. They're awake, and it seems like they're cooking from the smell that's wafting out. The door opens wide and Leroy literally tears up on the spot when he sees me. "Oh, thank God. It's so great to see you, Quinn." He pulls me in, hugs me, and then passes me over to Hiram as if I'm a doll.

"How is she?" I ask them as I put my bag down next to the dining table.

"Sad," Hiram says after they exchange a look.

I nod once, "understandable." I look around the place, feeling odd in being there without the boys. Bandit and Benji are nowhere to be seen and I assume Mike took them with him to Tina's to spend the night. Probably because of Rachel's daddy, Hiram, who's allergic. "You guys?" I ask, wanting to make sure that they slept too.

"I mean," Leroy starts and flips a pancake. "I'm just thankful." He doesn't say anything else but with the way Hiram hangs his head I can only assume they must have imagined scenarios that they would be in New York for a different reason.

I hug them both again - with my arms open wide to fit them, "Me too." I look down the hallway. Rachel's door's closed. "I'm going to check in on her -"

"Please," Hiram says and gestures for me to go. "And Quinn - thank you so much for being here."

"I lo-" I start but catch myself. It's just a hard habit to break. I mean, it's not that I don't love her but I don't want to make this awkward. I clear my throat and say instead, "I care about her. A lot." I can't look them in the eyes. I blink and turn away and then say, "well, I'm going."

They watch me walk down the hallway. I check with them again and they both nod right before I open Rachel's cranky door. I always used to laugh at that when Rachel and I came back here for the night. I used to say that it was cranky because it creaks very loudly every time it opens.

I don't have to say anything. I see her entire body slightly perk up. The moment I sit on her bed, she throws her arms around my neck and burries her face on my neck, "Quinn," she says.

I do my best to exude comfort in the way I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her in for a hug. I want her to feel safe in my arms, always, no matter what. For as long as she needs me to, I let her hug me.

We end up laying on her bed. Me against the wall, her cuddled inside my arms. She's still crying, but she's shaking less. We don't try to talk. I'm just really here to be here. If she wants to talk, I'm all ears but I don't want to pressure her into doing anything she doesn't feel like doing.

She does this thing where she runs her fingers up and down my arms. She's always done that, and it feels comforting. I remind myself I'm not here to comfort me, but her. Hopefully that's doing the trick for her too.

Once I realize she's stopped crying, I say, "I'm really sorry."

She just nods, her head moving against my chest.

"Were you close?"

Her voice is hoarse, "we were..." she sniffs, loudly, and exhales shakily, "close-ish."

I know who she was, and that's not what I was getting at. I just wanted to know if they were more than just Friends With Benefits. Maybe they were just With Benefits. I don't comment on it, I just ask something else, "have you eaten?"

"I had half a bowl of soup Mike made, last night."

"Your dad's making pancakes. I believe they're banana pancakes, your favorite," I try to cheer her up. It won't really bring her friend back, but it might make her feel better, even if temporarily.

She sighs, "I'm not that hungry right now, actually..." her voice simply grows quieter.

"Okay," I allow. "For now, okay? I'll go get you some pancakes in a little while."

She nods again. I at least know she's listening.

I hope she doesn't mind me talking, "mom's asked me to tell you that she's thinking of you. She made me promise I'd tell you that her and dad are always available for whatever you need."

She smiles against my chest, I can feel it. I remember the way that feels perfectly. It's not a big smile, it's a small smile, an honest but sad smile, "she's so sweet. I really appreciate that, Quinn."

I squeeze my arms around her tighter, "same goes for me."

"I know," she says and continues tracing her fingers up and down my arms. "Thank you," she tells me. "For coming, you didn't have to but I'm glad you're here."

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I just know it's Santana. She probably woke up in my home without me there, and I realize how awkward that must have been but also that I don't care if it comes to Rachel. Santana probably won't care either, she'll just go to Britt's anyway. I'm sure she's texting to know about Rachel.

After a while of silence, she offers, "...I knew she was dead. The moment I realized what had happened..." She stops talking just as abruptly as she had started.

I sigh, because I hate it that Rachel went through something as awful as being with someone when they die. "I know it's terrifying," I say, although I don't really know anything about it. I wish I could sympathize with her in a way that made her hurt less.

"I'm - she was... Great, Quinn." She says. "I know that you must not like her given our...relationship," she begins. "But, god, she was a good person. Funny, smart, sweet."

I stay quiet because I have a feeling Rachel just wants to talk about her friend. I feel stupid for ever being jealous of the girl but that's in hindsight and unfair.

"I was a fucking jerk to her the first time..." She breathes out, "I left the next morning with Santana to get breakfast. Left her on my bed alone and naked. She must've felt - fuck. What kind of a person am I?"

"You're an amazing person, Rach. Everyone knows that," I tell her even though I know it was a rhetorical question.

She pttfs. "She actually called me later that day, saying that it wouldn't bother her if we just... Fucked." Rachel kind of laughs, "And complaining I didn't bring her breakfast in bed, as a joke. We came to an agreement where it was just about the sex but we sort of managed to form a friendship too, beneath all of that."

I don't comment on anything this time.

"Dammit. Why - I asked to drive! I should've been driving. I just..." she stops herself, tries to calm down by softly counting to five then, "The other car lost control; it wasn't his fault either."

"oh, honey," I say. "Don't put yourself in her position. You couldn't have known that this was going to happen. Her driving or you driving - it was an accident."

She grows quiet for about ten seconds. "I know."

Santana Skypes later that night. She berates me for leaving without letting her know but is thankful that I did go.

Rachel's been in bed most of the day and her fathers and I have been trying to get her to get up to eat. At least walk to the kitchen, so she's moving and doing things, but she insisted that she wasn't hungry.

With Santana on Skype, we had another one in our team telling Rachel she needs to eat. At some point in the conversation Santana bribed her with a very specific look that made Rachel stand quickly and walk out of the room.

I don't know what she said or what the look meant but it worked, so I don't care. I say bye to Santana and follow Rachel out. Leroy has made spaghetti and Hiram baked cookies. They're such supportive parents and I love watching them work together.

"How's Santana?" Hiram asks, putting a plate full of pasta in front of Rachel and another in front of me.

Rachel doesn't reply, she just starts to eat, slowly.

I look at her and then at Hiram with a sigh, "she's fine. Misses us."

"Rachel," Leroy calls her attention.

She barely looks up, chewing seems like it's such a hassle for her at the moment.

"Never mind," he mutters. He grabs his own plate and sits across from us. Hiram pulls the chair next to him and sits too. They have glasses of wine and Rachel and I are drinking water.

"Honey," Hiram tries instead. "We know this is traumatizing. Do you - if you need to talk to someone..." He stops to take a breather, trying not to come off too strong. "We think you should see someone."

Rachel doesn't even acknowledge what they say. I can see her staring off into space as if she's not even in the same table as us. I put my hand on top of hers and feel how cold she is. She looks at me when I do that and shakes her head slightly, "yeah?"

"Your dads are trying to talk to you. It's important."

She looks at them, really trying to focus. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby girl." Leroy says sympathetically. He looks concerned. "Your father and I just think you should see a psychiatrist."

"I'm fine," she assures them with a swipe of the hand and then goes back to slowly eating.

"But baby -" Hiram tries but Leroy stops him with a hand to the arm. They exchange a look and then decide not to press on it at the moment. She needs more time.

I don't say anything. I'm not really sure how much I can really comment on and share my opinion. I mean, I agree that she needs to talk to someone though.

After only three bites of her food, Rachel excuses herself and leaves us to retire back to her room.

The three of us left at the table don't know what to do.

"When's the funeral?" Hiram asks, looking at his plate. "I mean, it's awful, I know, but I just want to get it done with it so we can take her home..."

Leroy speaks, "it's tomorrow morning. We can leave the next day."

"Quinn?" Hiram says. "Will you be going back with us to Lima?"

"I mean, I will if you want me to. But I do have to go back to work sometime."

"Your decision, honey." Hiram tells me. "Are you planning on going to the funeral tomorrow?"

I nod. There's no way in hell I'm letting Rachel go through that alone. I've never had someone so close to me die, and I would hate it if I had to go through it by myself. "I always want her to have a hand to hold," I tell them.

The look they give me is teary but hopeful. There's a blanket of sadness around us but at the same time, I can tell they're proud of me. I just want be always be as good as I can for their daughter. This is not me making up for what I did that ended our relationship, or me trying to get her back. Rachel's a beautiful person and she deserves someone she trusts next to her.

"Thank you, Quinn," Hiram whispers and puts his hand over mine as I had done to Rachel earlier. He squeezes and says, "for everything."

"I've never done this before..." Rachel says quietly while she's pulling up her black pantyhose.

I watch her from the bed, intoxicated by the way she moves. "Me neither," I tell her. She doesn't look up.

She doesn't realize how gorgeous she looks right this very second. Her hair falls in waves over her bare shoulder, her breasts perk up deliciously under the red bra she's wearing. Toned abs lead my eyes straight to the matching red underwear she has on, which lead to glorious legs.

I quickly turn away when I realize I have been staring and I no longer have the right to. I feel like a perv, especially when she's getting ready for such a solemn event.

But the way the pantyhose roll up those legs really catches my attention again.

No. I can't really do this. I look away and walk across the room to focus on fixing my hair on the mirror. It's pinned up and to the side, the opposite direction of the cut on my dress. I'm here to support Rachel in her time of sadness, not to ogle her as she gets dressed.

I'm pretty sure she hasn't even considered the fact that she's getting ready in front of me. She's in her underwear and pantyhose, and it's probably never once crossed her mind that I'm in the same room as her. I feel selfish.

"Hopefully it's a quick ceremony..." she trails off as she's grabbing her dress from inside her closet.

I let my eyes turn toward the sound of her voice, and she emerges from the closet in tall black heels and still no dress on. I gulp and shake away the thoughts that assault my head from the image. Damn it, Fabray. Keep it in check.

She places the dress on the bed calmly and stands in front of it. She bends over to unzip it, legs going for miles before ending on her behind, up in the air. She lifts the dress and puts it on over her head, the fabric finding the places it needs to hang onto on her body. She fixes a few places here and there until it feels comfortable and then looks over her shoulder. "Will you zip me up?"

The request just about kills me. The look does. I want to say no, because seeing her like this is affecting me way more than it should. And I need to be respectful of her feelings and of our situation. I'm not sure if touching her while these thoughts run through my head is appropriate.

I say, "sure."

It takes longer than it should for me to cross the room to where she is. I'm over-analyzing it, I know this. But I can't help it that I'm getting so nervous about it. My hands hover her back for a few seconds before I actually let them touch. My chest begins to feel tighter as I force myself not to breathe, afraid of any sudden moves; as if any movement can shatter the moment.

"Quinn?" Rachel says. Her voice breaks through my daze.

My eyes have closed. They open. "Yeah?"

"Are you going to zip me up?"

There's a shaky smile before I say, "oh yeah, of course."

Before I can over-think it again, I grab the zipper and pull it all the way to the top. "There." As soon as I'm done, I put about ten feet of distance between us.

When she turns around, the distance seems irrelevant. She's absolutely gorgeous, no matter what. Is it socially acceptable to compliment someone on the way they look to a funeral? I decide not to say anything, because I don't want to confuse Rachel anymore than she is.

"Ready?" She asks me and I nod.

I'm ready. This isn't for me to be ready to; she needs to be ready.

I need to be strong for her. I am here to be her rock.