Working idea: Rachel chose to be with Quinn out of sheer guilt after the accident.
A/N: This chapter is a flashback. I will be shifting from story's present timeline and season 3.
Usual disclaimers apply.
What is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil – Nietzsche
"Quinn?" Santana quietly asked as she drove around Columbus Circle for perhaps the third time. "Are you ready to go home?" It's been about two hours since the Latina picked up Quinn from the Upper East Side apartment she shared with Rachel, but the blonde requested to first drive around the Manhattan Borough.
"… Or we can at least stop somewhere?" Santana continued when she heard no response. "My ass is getting numb.", she added as a last ditch effort.
"East River Promenade", Quinn mumbled with her line of vision glued to the scenery from her side of the car.
The Latina groaned internally. A cold autumn evening and Quinn chose to stop at a riverside park; one where Santana knew the blonde had spent numerous times walking with Rachel. She made a mental note to be at grabbing distance in case the heart-broken girl beside her decides to jump off the ledge. But if freezing their asses off is what her friend wants, it's what she's going to give.
They parked at Yorkville and first grabbed coffee at Bagel Bob's because "Starbucks ruins neighborhoods and local entrepreneurial spirit", or so the former blonde HBIC of McKinley High claimed.
"You have misplaced angst, Fabray", Santana grumbled as she adjusts the collar of her coat upon reaching the walkway. "The least you could have done was to let me have my caramel macchiato"
Quinn scoffed before sipping from her cup. "It's overpriced but bland. Besides, I paid for our drinks, so don't even start with me", the blonde sassed.
Santana looked above and mumbled what Quinn could gather as something to do with mortification and hell. The Latina's attention was eventually directed to the iron post of a man depicted to be walking with 'John Finley Walk' casted below. "Is he the twin brother of Johnnie Walker?"
"Ha ha. You're hilarious." Quinn paused and looked up. "You really don't know who John Finley is?"
Santana raised an eyebrow. "And you do?" The Latina immediately regretted posing a challenge given the smug look on Quinn's face. "Of course I do. He was president of City College of New York and became Commissioner of Education", Quinn stated and ended with a confident nod.
Santana threw a disgusted expression. "And you know this extremely useless information because?"
"Because I studied at Baruch College?", the blonde replied with a baffled look as if the connection is the most obvious thing in the world. When Quinn decided to give New York a chance, it was at the end of summer and too late to apply for schools in New York. To be more productive for the first semester while looking for something she really liked, Quinn decided to take up certificate courses in graphic design which she thoroughly enjoyed.
Santana sat at one of the park benches facing the river and stared at watched the barges passing through. "And I fail to follow the bouncing ball."
"Baruch is a sister institution of City. Come on. How can you not know this? Your best friend—no, your only friend—" Quinn paused and pointed to herself, "studied there for a year. So yeah, I know who he was". Quinn shook her head and chuckled when Santana threw her head back and played dead. "I'm done educating you", she ended.
Santana opened her eyes and sat up. "Then it's time to be resurrected", she said before sticking out her tongue cheekily. Despite the noise coming from the other individuals in and around the area, they immediately fell into a deafening silence. Santana was never comfortable with emotional talk, but knew she would have to act as Quinn's anchor. Her best friend, or as Quinn aptly stated, her only friend, had duck-like qualities – calm on the surface but paddling aggressively below. She has known Quinn long enough to decipher what is behind those hazel eyes that only sparkled for one Rachel Berry; they can be good and beautiful, but somewhere tucked in the recesses of Quinn's soul laid a flurry of intense emotions that had once led Quinn to the path of self-destruction.
The dark-haired girl took a glance at Quinn and noted how far their friendship had evolved into. From rivalry to outright animosity to how they are now, Quinn always held a special place in Santana's heart. They freakishly understood each other – both craved for affirmation but will never admit to it. The scared and insecure little girls inside of them never really grew up. Santana turned pensive and worried how much more pounding Quinn can take before breaking completely.
"Do you regret it?" Santana asked, finally deciding to break silence. "I mean, do you regret not going to Yale?", she clarified.
Quinn tilted her head and narrowed an eye while thinking about the answer. "I go to Fordham. It's not Ivy League, but it's got a good academic reputation."
"That…doesn't really answer my question", Santana retorted.
Quinn chuckled. "It does. I could've gone to Columbia and paid for it if it's all about being in an Ivy League. But. Fordham offered a scholarship. I'm being practical and forward looking. An undergraduate degree in Cultural Anthropology won't take me anywhere. I would need to continue on with a higher degree if I want to have it as a career. It would be nice if I don't end up in a lifetime worth of debt and continue the lifestyle I lead because my educational and trust funds are virtually untouched."
Santana rolled her eyes. "Okay, that's the official statement. Still doesn't answer my question"
"Because you're too chicken to ask the real question behind your stupid question", Quinn pointed out. "You know I don't regret going to Fordham. You know I'm actually enjoying my educational experience."
Santana sighed heavily. "Okay. Do you regret having given up Yale for Rachel?"
Quinn lowered her head and blinked a few times. "I don't want to answer that, because right now", she chuckled sadly then slowly wiped away a few stray tears. "…It just hurts so much, San"
Santana let out a shaky breath then scooted closer. "I tried", Quinn murmured as the Latina held her. "I tried so hard. What did I do wrong this time?"
The shorter girl closed her eyes and shook her head. It hurt to see Quinn so distraught. Santana held her tongue and reserved her thoughts for another day. "Quinn, you didn't do anything wrong. You fell in love. Nobody can blame you for trying, for wanting to be happy." Santana felt a grip on her shoulder and a slight nod. "I don't want to say things will be alright. But it will get better"
"Do you regret it?", Quinn asked in between sobs. "Do you regret letting go of Britt?"
"No", Santana whispered. "I can't ever regret doing what was good for her." To this, she felt a smile against her shoulder. "She's doing so well in California", Quinn added. The Latina nodded but remained silent. She didn't want to point out the obvious difference between their respective situations. Hers was borne out of mutual love and respect – that both she and Britt knew they needed the freedom to grow; the distance between them would simply tie them up and eventually suffocate them. They parted ways as lovers, but nothing was really broken. She couldn't say the same for Quinn.
The blonde pulled away after several minutes and turned to stare blankly at the dark water. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, allowing the cold breeze to kiss her face. Santana noticed how Quinn subtly rubbed her knee. The temperature dropped dramatically in the whole hour that they've been sitting. She had never complained openly, but Santana knew that the leg Quinn broke due to the accident acted up whenever it got cold. It's the kind of pain that's dull and numb that most people would have found a constant source of annoyance. But to Quinn, as the Latina found out, it was a positive reminder of what she had gained from it - Rachel. Thus, if anybody bothered to ask the fiery Puerto Rican how Quinn Fabray turned out after the accident, she had a ready answer – a girl so in love, that she had her life orbit around the small diva.
And that was what Quinn did wrong, Santana thought.
Santana should have known that watching Quinn and Rachel's relationship progress was akin a train wreck waiting to happen. But it moved in a relatively slow pace that everyone who witnessed it – except Finn, obviously – saw it as natural and something that made sense. People rationalized the relationship; unresolved sexual tension they said, citing numerous incidents from the past to prove their point. Even Finn admitted begrudgingly that Rachel was way too obsessed to get Quinn's approval for the longest time and even went through a phase of an inexplicable desire to know the blonde's kissing skills.
Santana saw it differently. Yes, Quinn had been attracted to Rachel longer than the blonde's own realization right after sectionals of that year. But the Latina strongly believed – and so did Quinn – that Rachel was far too wrapped up in her relationship with Finn to even consider anyone else, let alone her former tormentor. The Latina was certain that Rachel's infatuation was coming from a desire to be like Quinn and not to be with her. It wasn't a question of sexuality but of aspiration. Rachel wanted everything.
The brunette diva became attached to Quinn's hip right after the accident. The wedding kept getting delayed week after week until her relationship with Finn deteriorated. Everything was over except the formal break up.
"Rachel, honestly. You really don't need to do this." Quinn flushed in embarrassment while Rachel tried to navigate her wheelchair at the halls of McKinley on her return since the accident. "I can do this on my own", she murmured before ducking her head and covering her face with one hand.
"I know you can do this on your own, but the whole reason I re-scheduled your classes is precisely for me to be able to assist you anytime of the day". Rachel stopped at Quinn's locker then leaned over to look at Quinn. "I worked really hard", she whispered with a pout.
"My mom can hire a caregiver, Rach, if assistance is what you're concerned about", Quinn sighed.
Rachel's pout turned into a worried frown. "I know you probably don't appreciate my presence –"
"Don't be ridiculous", Quinn interrupted. "I just, you have a life, Rach. You can't spend the rest of the school year pushing me around campus". Quinn had never been as thankful for her long extensions as she reached for her locker combination today. If even for one second, she showed signs of difficulty opening her locker, Rachel would pounce on that opportunity to justify her cause.
Rachel huffed and crossed her arms. "I want to do this."
"Well, we can't have everything we want, can we?" the blonde retorted as she took out a few books and in the process uncovered a photo of Beth.
The brunette's eyes traveled from Quinn to her line of vision. "No, we can't. But" Her attention shifted to a photo on the side. "What we can have, we take every opportunity to grab it", she said as she slid the magnet holder from her face to Finn's. "Especially when you know the outcome will be good."
The blonde pursed her lips as she quietly observed Rachel's no-so-subtle act of erasing Finn Hudson from their lives. She wasn't capable of moving her legs right at the moment, but if she was able to – and if dance was an expression of one's feelings – Quinn knew she'd be quivering like a hula dancer on drugs.
The blonde girl had tried to be sober about the break up and both have avoided talking about it. Quinn tried –the operative word being 'tried' – to feel guilty about the broken engagement. She was, after all, attempting to become a better person even before the accident happened. But she couldn't bring herself to empathize because every argument led to one point: Finn Hudson was never good for Rachel Berry. Well, no one would really be, as far as Quinn is concerned. But that was beside the point. All that mattered at that moment is Rachel implying that breaking up with Finn was definitely a good thing.
"You, taking care of me is a good thing for me", Quinn said. "How is it good for you?"
"I get to spend time with you", the brunette said with a toothy smile. "I've spent years trying to be friends with you, and now that we are, I'm taking this as a most timely opportunity for us to really get to know each other. I mean, we barely have half a year, Quinn!", Rachel rambled on with her hands flailing. "Then you're off to Yale while I'll be in New York. We need to establish a bond so that we won't grow apart."
Quinn stared blankly at Rachel then blinked with a deadpan expression. "Really, Rachel? We'd be a couple of hours away from each other. And we have the internet and cellphones these days. We can always text each other."
There was an awkward silence that followed after Quinn's statement. "Texting each other, isn't that what caused the accident?", Rachel thought. And Quinn knew, from the look on Rachel's face that it was her exact thoughts.
"Unless you want me to send telegrams", Quinn said and forced a smirk in order to lighten up the mood.
Rachel's eyes brightened, then jumped a little and clapped her hands. "Ooh, we could be like Rolf and Liesl from Sound of Music!"
"Dear Rachel. Stop.", Quinn began as Rachel started pushing her wheelchair towards their first class. "Thank you for taking care of me. Stop. Yours. Stop. Quinn "
Rachel grinned and played along. "Dear Quinn. Stop. We are sort of friends. Stop. No need to thank me. Stop. Always. Stop. Rachel"
Quinn laughed as Rachel started humming "Sixteen going on Seventeen". Truth is, while she acted all embarrassed, the former Cheerio loved how Rachel kept fawning over her these days. She had the beautiful singer all to herself regardless of what the circumstance was. When you are in love with someone, Quinn realized, it doesn't matter under what capacity it may be, but the sheer proximity is enough. It doesn't hurt that the person you're in love with had broken up with her fiancé and practically invaded your personal space on a day to day basis.
Finn Hudson be damned. The accident acted as a trigger for Quinn to let go of all her inhibitions. She had kept sober about her chances with Rachel. But the blonde became determined to make the brunette – who is currently wheeling her off to their classroom –feel so special that she would forget what it meant to love that awkward giant.
"San?"
"Q?".
"Take me home, now?"
Santana closed her eyes and muttered a short prayer before nodding and getting up. It's been a long time since she acknowledged God's existence. The uncertainty and brokenness found in one simple question forced the Latina to call on whatever deity was up there listening to them. Home is where the heart is, people said. But if that's the case, then Quinn will certainly be a rover for a very long time.
P.s Thank you for the comments/reviews and the story alerts. Writing fiction does not come as a natural skill for me so I always look forward to reading constructive criticisms as it is the only way to keep improving.
Lcrazemag: My decision to write Quinn's provenance as Ireland is based on two things: 1) I met years ago (pre-Glee) an Australian who is a Fabray and of Irish descent. I do not know if the surname is really Irish though. And 2) There was an actual Samuel Fabray logged in at Ellis Island from New South Wales. (Plus, I would say Quinn is a very Celtic name )