Erratum: In the library scene with Quinn, I mistakenly labeled Nicholas Sparks' novel as "Love Song" instead of "The Last Song". I hope I'm not the only Nicholas Spark's fan who wasn't offended. I actually have noticed it before and even reminded myself to correct it a lot of times, but for some unfathomable reason, it kept on slipping off my mind each time I edit so it stayed that way until publishing.
Also, I'm sorry for grammatical errors. English isn't my native language and this is the longest English material I have written so far.
/
To those who followed, favourited, and especially those who were kind enough to leave a comment (or two) thank you so much for being awesome and appreciative. You are all so sweet. The reception for my story was wonderful and I can't even begin to say how thankful I am for that.
I love nerdy,shy!Quinn for a million of reasons and because I know that Dianna, being the adorably shy, quirky, sweet and animal-loving human being that she is, would fit that role perfectly. Also, there is not enough Quinn in Glee right now, and although I'm happy that Dianna is doing quite well outside that crappy show, I love Quinn just as much as I love her and writing is the only way I could express how much I miss our slightly-psychotic but painfully-vulnerable cheerleader. I'll be putting her through a lot in this story (and I'd dare say that this is only the beginning), but the torture would be out of my pure love for her character.
Rachel wouldn't be evil in this story, mainly because I can't imagine Rachel and the awesome Lea Michele being that. I hope that's OK. She'll be starting to redeem herself in this chapter. As for Santana, she will be taking a slower path, but I promise she'll get there eventually. Brittany is the second glee love of my life, and I'm looking forward to writing her scenes with Quinn. I'll do my best to create justifiable Judy and Russel (no matter how unjustifiable his actions are), and there'd be a deeper reason, aside from the obvious and hinted ones, for Judy's submissiveness and Russel's abuse.
So here's Chapter 2. I hope you'll enjoy it.
/
Chapter 2
The hallways are already empty when Rachel Berry walks towards the girl's bathroom for a quick hair-fixing session before going home. Cheerios practice is cancelled today to give way to Coach Sylvester's congressional campaign, so they all get the privilege to go home earlier. Rachel usually goes home with Santana and Brittany, but Santana offered to take Brittany to the lake this afternoon because the usually bubbly Cheerio seemed sad and upset (with Santana herself), and feeding the ducks in the lake makes her feel better all the time.
Nobody knows this, but Rachel secretly loves every end of the day a lot more than the rest of it. She's got a natural flair in acting, so no one sees what she really feels behind her mask. Sure, High School is a wonderful experience to her so far, and she has Santana to thank for that, but having to play the role of the cold, perfect head cheerleader all the time is exhausting, too.
She loves to go home every afternoon and sink herself inside her fathers' warm hugs, completely letting go of her cold persona as she shares bits and pieces of her post high school dreams with them. She loves sprawling on the couch while having her usual chocolate drink and watching stupid television shows without worrying about not pleasing Coach Sylvester or her peers all the time. She loves stripping out of her tight, short Cheerios uniform and slip into her thousand-times-more comfortable clothes. She likes spending nights with Santana and Brittany, safe inside the comforts of her room, playing video games until morning, without snapping their heads every now and then to check whether their actions are affecting their reputation or not.
Some may say she's extremely lucky, but every day at school is a battle for her, too. Internally. She's being pressured to become someone she's not in order to "restore order" in school, and honestly? She's sick and tired of it.
She can be herself all she wants in college, and that's what she plans. But High School is a different thing – it's where survival is synonymous to popularity, and Rachel has to live with that until next year.
As she walks, she passes by Quinn Fabray's locker and notices its missing lock and the ribbon that's in its place now. There are evidences of slushy drops seeping through the locker's spaces. Clearly, hers and Santana's orders have already been acted upon. She tries to rid her mind of images of Quinn being handed her punishments. Rachel is usually uncomfortable with having to put someone into the ringer, even after a year of practice. No, she's still having a hard time getting used to it, a difficulty that weighs her down more when the victim is someone as innocent as that Quinn girl, but that is what's expected of her. Not to mention, trying to get through an irate Santana's mind is like trying to squeeze squished toothpaste back into its tube.
Also, passing that Science Class is important for the three of them lest they'd be kicked out of the Cheerios, the only chance they have for a college scholarship, and Quinn sort of deserves her punishment for ruining their project, no matter how mediocre it seemed. They spent the whole night putting that thing up, after all.
She comforts herself up with that fact to lessen her stomachache-inducing guilt, especially when she passes by a huge puddle of slushy along her way, and she just hurries to get to the bathroom so she can get through the day.
She's almost home.
She'll always feels better at home.
However, she doesn't expect the sight that welcomes her as she reaches the bathroom's doorway, and she temporarily freezes in shock.
Quinn Fabray is sprawled on the far wall, pale and trembling, knees folded to her chest as she desperately struggles to breathe. Her blonde hair still has red and blue slushy residues on them, and her lips are turning blue from breathlessness. Rachel places her hand on her mouth as she tries to take in what's happening and how she is related to all of this.
And oh Lord. She has never, ever, ever wanted it to come to this.
The struggling blonde spots her and her heavy, glassy eyes immediately widen as she weakly regards Rachel with a terrified expression. Apparent panic at seeing her tormentor causes her to breathe even harder and she clutches her chest tighter as she tries to shrink further against the wall.
"I-I'm s-sorry. Pl-please, not n-now… P-please…" she pants.
The shaken, terrified look on her pale face is clenching Rachel's own heart for some reason and she quickly brushes all thoughts away as she runs and kneels next to the girl. Guilt consumes her whole being, but she tries to get past the feeling for the time being.
She breaths deeply and gets into action. Right now, the blonde needs her help and that's what she'll focus on. Quinn recoils when she reaches her side however, and Rachel has to swallow hard to keep her own anxiety at bay as Quinn weakly pushes herself away from her.
It admittedly hurts, the way Quinn acts like Rachel is about to beat her up especially that the cheerleader is sincere in her desire to help (even if it's partly because of guilt too), but she knows she can't blame Quinn. She never can. Mainly because aside from tears and sweat, Quinn's face right now is also littered with slushy.
"I'm s-sorry…I'm sorry," Quinn keeps repeating, a petrified mantra, as she continues to cough and wheeze from whatever it is that she's having. Rachel winces with every labored breath the girl is heaving. They sound so strained and painful.
Then Rachel gets the idea. One of her fathers, Leroy, is asthmatic, too, and he sometimes gets horrible attacks such as this one.
"Shhhh… It's fine… I'm not going to do anything bad to you. I'm here to help you. I promise, it's OK," she explains gently, trying her best to look honest and reassuring.
Quinn looks at her with a somewhat astonished look, but it's innocent and hopeful, too, and the haunted look in her eyes makes Rachel want to yell. It's like she's begging for help, only that she isn't sure if she could.
If she should.
Again, Rachel tries to swallow the guilt she's currently feeling. "Are you asthmatic?" she prods.
Quinn hesitates but then gives her a shaky nod. Rachel takes note of the blonde's worsening pallor, and the beads of sweat on her forehead.
"OK, listen to my voice. Try to relax, please. Do you have your inhaler with you?"
Quinn shakes her head. "I-it's emp-empty," she pants erratically, feebly raising her hand that's holding the empty medicine. It's shaking so hard. She looks at Rachel helplessly.
"Don't worry, I have one here," Rachel reassures her, rummaging through her bag while silently thanking her family for being over-prepared at all times. Ever since Leroy's terrible asthma attack a few years prior to which an inhaler was not anywhere in sight resulting to a subsequent trip to the hospital, every member of the Berry family has been required to bring an inhaler with them, everywhere they go, at every time of the day.
Quinn is still watching her cautiously, breathlessly, so Rachel hurries up.
Finally, she retrieves the pink medication. "Don't worry, it's unused, so hygiene wouldn't be an issue," she says hurriedly as she uncaps the inhaler and prompts Quinn to open her mouth. The blonde obliges, and Rachel pumps the medicine twice. She is about to pull away when Quinn weakly holds the medicine in place and pumps two more times before letting go of Rachel's hand.
Once it's done, the blonde leans against the wall and closes her eyes tiredly and the two of them wait for the medicine to ease Quinn's breathing. Rachel doesn't know what to do with her hands, so she just caps the medicine, and leans on her back next to Quinn. She observes wordlessly as the girl next to her starts to breathe deeper.
"Better now?" she asks, after a while.
Quinn hums a little, then coughs. "T-thank you." Her voice is raspy from the asthma attack, and Rachel hopes that it's normal.
"You can keep this," she offers, handing the inhaler over to Quinn. "Hygiene issues and all that. My asthmatic father's the biggest O.C. out there so he won't be using this anyway."
The blonde seems hesitant at first, but Rachel raises an eyebrow at her so she accepts it shyly.
A few moments of silence ensues, both girls unsure of what to do. Rachel, for her part, is still mulling things over.
Should she just go now? She's the HBIC after all, and Quinn is the resident loser, and she's not even supposed to be helping her now because that's against the social rule.
But there's almost no one left at school, and Quinn is still really weak and, so she decides that it wouldn't hurt for her to stay for a while. Quinn's also shaking, and Rachel briefly wonders if Leroy had some sort of a shaking fit after his asthma attack.
She doesn't think so.
"We should go home," she suggests after a few minutes. It's obvious that Quinn needs her rest. "It's kind of late."
Quinn looks at her with unscertainty and fear in her eyes – like she can't seem to believe that Rachel would ask her something like that. Not that Rachel can blame her; she can barely believe herself, too. "You won't p-punish me?"
It's like a cold bucket of water is poured over Rachel. Of course that's what the other girl would think. That's all she ever got from them. "No, no. Not anymore," she says. "Uhm… Are you – can you go home on your own?"
It takes a few moments for Quinn to nod but even then she seems to want to convince herself more than she wants to convince Rachel. She stands up unsteadily then, slightly swaying on her feet as she does so. Rachel stands up as well, ready to catch Quinn because the girl looks like she'll topple over anytime.
Quinn manages to regain her bearings, though, and Rachel watches as she walks towards the sink to retrieve a leather journal. Her brows furrow when Quinn turns the hand dryer on and runs the notebook under the hot air. Whatever that notebook is, it's evidently valuable. Its jacket is covered in slushy, and Rachel feels the guilt clench her stomach for the nth time today.
"You can g-go ahead," Quinn whispers hoarsely. She's still shivering. "I-I'll j-just finish fixing t-this up. Th-thank you for h-helping me, Rachel."
Rachel couldn't believe her ears. She doesn't deserve the gratitude. Just like you can't be thanked for extinguishing a burning house when it's you who has burned it in the first place. No, you don't. Not one bit.
Quinn looks entirely sincere, though.
"I- are you sure?"
The blonde is unable to answer. Rachel watches in horror as Quinn drops the notebook and places four fingers on her temple, obviously having a dizzy spell. She sways in place, and Rachel catches her in the forearm to balance her before she falls on the floor and hits her head or something. Her skin feels hot to the touch, Rachel realizes, so she gently sits her down and kneels in front of her.
The brunette cups her on the cheeks, then her eyes widen as she quickly moves her palm to the pale blonde's forehead, too shocked to notice how Quinn, no matter how dazed, slightly flinches against her touch.
Oh God.
"Quinn, you're burning up!"
And it's entirely her fault. She feels tears prick at the corner of her eyes but she blinks them back. She doesn't even register the fact that she called Quinn by her first name when she always called her a mean nickname.
"I'm f-fine-"
"No you're not," she argues, immediately regretting her sharp tone when Quinn whimpers. "You're really sick," she adds in a gentler manner, studying Quinn's face carefully. Her eyes are glassy from the fever, and Rachel berates herself for not noticing it sooner. "I would bring you to the nurse's office but it's already closed. Come on, I'll just bring you home."
Quinn shakes her head, then moans at the dizziness the action brings. "Y-you don't have to let me b-burden you, Rachel."
"No, I have to," Rachel insists. "And you're not a burden, OK? I'm half the reason why you're feeling this awful, and that makes it my responsibility to take you home."
"You really don't have to-"
"No!" She's scared and frustrated and guilty, and they don't make up for a good combination. Quinn recoils again, so Rachel tries redeeming herself once more. "I'm sorry. But please, Quinn. I really want to help you. Let me. Please."
Its then that Quinn coughs and it seems to take everything from her fatigued frame as her body sags a little more. Only Rachel's grip on her forearm prevents her from falling on the floor.
"OK, R-Rachel," she pants and Rachel sighs in relief.
The brunette quickly runs things into her head, trying her best to keep her composure. "Do you have a car?" she queries.
Quinn shakes her head. "No. I-I walk."
Rachel will be damned if she lets Quinn walk on her own right now. "OK. We'll take my car then." She wrings her hands nervously to calm herself. She's scared, but she's not letting it get to her. Not now. "Come on, I'll help you to my car."
Rachel takes both her and Quinn's bags before offering both hands to help Quinn stand. Quinn stares at her hands nervously before allowing Rachel to help her.
"Wait, t-the notebook."
Rachel nods, letting go of a still-swaying Quinn for a while to take the notebook from the sink and stash it into Quinn's uber-dorky Supergirl bag. Once Quinn is satisfied with the condition of the journal, they make their way to the parking space.
Quinn is at least three inches taller, but she's extremely thin (almost alarmingly so), so supporting her towards the car isn't that much of a toil for Rachel who is the epitome of athleticism. The blonde is sicker than she's letting on, Rachel realizes, because she keeps losing her balance along the way.
Rachel touches Quinn's forehead (to which the girl jumped upon contact before blushing and apologizing bashfully) when they were safely seated inside Rachel's car. Her worry escalates. She doesn't need a thermometer to tell that the girl's fever is real high.
"Should I just bring you to the hospital? You're seriously sick."
The girl's eyes widen alarmingly at the suggestion and she looks at Rachel, scared hazel eyes pleading earnestly. "No, p-please. Just take me h-home. I- No h-hospitals, please. I p-promise I'm fine, R-Rachel."
Rachel is more than taken aback by the amount of fear Quinn is exhibiting. It's like bringing her to the hospital would actually kill her instead of make her well, and she just finds herself nodding.
"OK. If you're sure. But promise me you'll tell me if you can't take it anymore, alright?"
Quinn nods gratefully, relieved. But she's still shivering so Rachel turns the car heater higher, before reaching for something in the back of the car. She's so small, so she had to put both knees on her seat and stretch her arms to abnormal levels to reach the backseat. Quinn watches her, confused.
"Here, put this on," she finally says after a while, sitting back down properly and handing over a Cheerio jacket to her blonde companion.
Quinn stares at the jacket, before biting her lip and staring down at her lap. "A-are you sure? I don't want to r-ruin it."
"Geez, how would you ruin it?"
Rachel is only joking, but Quinn's eyes turn even sadder and she starts playing with her hands atop her lap. They're a little too bony, Rachel realizes. Maybe she should make Quinn do something about it soon.
"I don't know. I just would," she pauses as Rachel raises an eyebrow. "I r-ruin everything."
The last part is quietly whispered, but Rachel, with her kind-of-bionic ears hears it. The tone of her voice is so defeated that Rachel has to suppress a wince.
This is what they all did. This is what they – who the whole school considered the "better" kids – had done.
"Hey," she says softly, trying to draw Quinn out of her quiet shell. "You wouldn't. And I'm sorry if I was one of the people who made you feel that way, but you're not ruining anything. You didn't, or never did. We just said that because we were, I mean, still are stupid kids who want smart kids like you to feel stupid just because you aren't as pathetic as us and I know that I'm just rambling right now and my words are jumbled or whatever, but you, Quinn Fabray, do not ruin anything, OK?"
Quinn doesn't look too convinced (and there's something else in her face – surprise?) as she looks at Rachel with a gloomy pout and watery eyes before staring on her hands again. Rachel wonders how many times Quinn had people apologizing to her. Probably not much. Probably not ever.
The brunette sighs. Quinn wouldn't instantly believe her pep talk – okay, jumbled pep talk – especially after being made believe of the opposite for quite a while, but Rachel has to try somewhere. In a different time, maybe, when Quinn isn't awfully sick and extremely sad and heart-wrenchingly lost. "Here, just let me help you with that," she says instead as she gently takes the Cheerios' jacket back – careful not to upset Quinn who for some reason flinches on the smallest of gestures – and lightly places it on the blonde's back, making sure that her arms are fully covered from the cold. She then helps the blonde with her seatbelt.
She gives her a closed-mouth smile before heading off to the Fabrays'.
/
By the time Rachel parks her car outside a more-than-decently sized white house, it's dark and slightly drizzling. She's made the right decision by bringing the blonde home. It's 10 minutes by car, which converts to at least 25 minutes of walking, and judging by her present predicament, Quinn could have had easily collapsed upon reaching the outside of McKinley's main gate alone. Looking through Quinn's side of the window, she briefly surveys the place. She has never been to the Fabrays' before, but she can tell from the looks of the classically-styled dwelling that the family is well-off, at the very least. The house is slightly smaller than her own, but it has this unexplainable foreshadowing, ill-omened feel to it that makes her almost shudder. Like seriously, this house screams bloody murder. She can almost see a scarecrow chasing an ill-fated gardener with a raging chainsaw around the wide front yard while grey chickens make panicky noises that make the scene ten times scarier.
She snorts internally and shakes her head at her silly self, blaming her secret mystery novel and horror movie obsession for her overactive imagination. Maybe she should listen to her fathers and limit herself on that stuff.
She glances at her blonde passenger and her brows instantly furrow. Quinn is worriedly staring out of the window, looking at her own house like it's about to swallow her whole while unconsciously twisting her hands on her lap. This confuses Rachel to no end because if Quinn is herself and it's her that's a few feet away from her home, she'd be halfway to her bed right now.
"Are your parents home?" Rachel asks, breaking Quinn out of her stupor. The gates are locked and when Rachel squints to survey the main door, it seems closed as well.
"I-I don't know," the blonde whispers.
"You don't know?" Rachel asks with furrowed eyebrows, thoroughly confused. She is semi-conscious that her tone suggested judgment, but how can one not be made aware if their parents will be home or not? Leroy and Hiram would inform her of their out-of-town engagements at least two weeks prior to the date of their excursion so Rachel believes she has every right to be bugged about this.
Quinn just shakes her head steadily, like this is something normal and there's nothing about this to be perplexed about. Not a single thing.
"They're not at home. The l-lights a-are out."
"Oh," Rachel answers, still confused. "O-kaaay? Can I just have your keys then? Or do you have a spare here somewhere? I'd just get down so I could open your gate and door."
Quinn looks at her with a blank but puzzled expression, as if confused about why Rachel would be asking her that in the first place.
Rachel is equally weirded out. She would be asking her that in the first place because her own fathers supplied her with three sets of keys just so they'd be assured that she'd be able to get inside her own home should they be incidentally out.
"Don't tell me you don't have keys to your own home? Why?" Rachel exclaims incredulously. This time the judgment in her tone is more apparent and Quinn looks down on her twisted hands, looking self-conscious.
Rachel sighs and tries calming herself. She's confused, but there's no need to freak Quinn out right now. Maybe their families just have different rules and practices, and she'll just have to learn to deal with it.
It's still drizzling outside, so she'll have to be sure to ask the right questions.
"Has something like this happened before?"
Quinn still looks uncomfortable, but she bites her lips and nods.
This whole arrangement is really off, at least to Rachel, but she tries pushing her thoughts away. "What do you do when this happens, then?"
"I w-wait."
"'Til they arrive?" Rachel follows up, trying to hide her utter confusion. It still shows a little though; she couldn't help it.
Again, Quinn nods, before breaking into a racking coughing fit. Rachel winces and rubs the sickly blonde's back until the coughing stops. By the time it's over, Quinn has turned paler and beads of sweat are forming on her forehead. The blonde weakly leans against her seat and tries to catch her breath.
"Hey, you still OK?"
Quinn finally looks at her and offers a weak smile. "I'm fine, Rachel."
"Are you sure?"
Quinn just nods, then starts fiddling with her seatbelt. Rachel looks at her curiously.
"I-Thank you for bringing me home, Rachel," Quinn whispers shyly, face turning pink. She then gives Rachel one last nod and opens her side of the door.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
Quinn sits back, purses her lips and looks at Rachel blankly, as if expecting Rachel to already know what she's doing.
And yeah, OK. Rachel knows what she's doing. She could almost hear Santana's sarcastic voice saying: The weirdo's going up your car, geez. But what she really means to ask is why.
"I mean I know what you're doing, but why?"
"I'm at my…house, Rachel. I'll just wait for my…for them."
"Outside?"
Once again she can hear Santana's No, she's waiting inside so that when her parents arrive she can come out. Rachel shakes her head. People generally tend to ask obvious questions when taken aback.
Quinn smiles through a slight shiver and once again gives Rachel a self-conscious nod. She seems to be having trouble understanding Rachel's confusion through this all.
"Uhmm. Yeah," Quinn says, biting her lower lip. The nervous expression on her face makes Rachel want to hug her just to make it go away, but that action wouldn't bode too well, so she stops herself. "Thank you again Rachel. I know I don't deserve your help, but it really meant so much to me."
Deciding to ignore Quinn's self-deprecating comment for the time being, Rachel replies, "But it's raining."
Duh.
Her internal Santana really needs to shut the eff up.
Quinn looks out the window and sighs. "It's OK, Rachel."
Rachel doubtfully surveys the scene outside. The drizzles have turned into pelting raindrops by now, and the sun has almost fully set. The streetlamps provide additional lighting, but they won't be close enough to offer comfort and security to a vulnerable, pretty teenage girl like Quinn. A sharp lightning strikes suddenly, followed by the loud boom of thunder, and Rachel catches Quinn jump from the sound, eyes widening in fear. The blonde's breathing picks up and she must have been really scared because she suddenly and uncharacteristically catches Rachel's hand in a tight grip. Only when the initial fear is gone does she notice that she's holding Rachel's hand, and she pulls hers away abruptly as if burned.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles almost incoherently. Despite the dim lighting, Rachel can tell that she's blushing. She fights back a smile. Quinn is the shyest person she has ever met.
"Don't be silly. It's fine," Rachel says with a smile, taking back Quinn's hand on her own. The feverish warmth of the blonde's hand contradicts that of the cold weather, and Rachel lets herself relax a little.
"You know what," Rachel decides, "Let me just bring you to my home, OK? It won't be safe for you to stay outside in this hour and weather. What do you say?"
Quinn doesn't answer. Her eyes fall down on her lap and she starts twisting the hem of the Cheerios jacket with her free hand.
"Hey, look at me, please."
Quinn looks towards Rachel's direction hesitantly. She doesn't necessarily make eye contact but Rachel keeps it at that.
"I'd like to bring you home, Quinn. You're very much welcome there. Only until your parents arrive."
"But they'd be m-mad." Quinn's eyes are shining with unshed tears when she finally meets Rachel's eyes. Her voice also has a slight tremor in it. Rachel wonders if she's really just that scared of her parents, or if her fever is worsening, or both, and since all of her options don't sound good, she decides to convince Quinn more.
"I'd call them once we arrive. Don't worry, I'll get this one covered."
They seem like neglectful losers, anyway, Rachel wants to add, but decides not to.
"But your parents…they'd get mad at you, too."
Rachel almost snorts. She can't imagine Hiram and Leroy getting angry because of this. "They won't. They're not even there, so they wouldn't know, anyway. And if they would, they'd probably be pleased to know that I'm helping someone who deserves my help," she adds just to contradict Quinn's earlier statement. "And then more. They'd probably be proud of me."
"They will?" Quinn asks, slightly in awe.
"Uhuh," Rachel reassures her with a nod.
Quinn looks back to the direction of the house with a nervous expression on her face, then turns to Rachel. The brunette looks expectantly as Quinn bites her lower lip and finally nods minutely.
"OK," she whispers.
/
Only the soft music from the car's stereo breaks the silence during the car ride to the Berrys. Their home is on the opposite direction of McKinley High so the trip would last for approximately 20 minutes. Quinn starts dozing off three minutes into the ride, with her golden head falling against the window from time to time. Her eyes are mostly closed during the travel but she'd sometimes put her hand on her temples or groan and cough weakly. Rachel keeps glancing at her sympathetically. The poor girl must be dead tired by now.
At least the rain has stopped pouring excessively when she pulls up on her driveway, and has once again dissolved into soft drizzles. One glance at her sick passenger tells her that the blonde girl has completely fallen asleep during the short ride, with her mouth slightly hanging open. Her hair is a tad disheveled and her face is pale, save for two fever-induced pink tints in her cheeks. She looks…gorgeous and Rachel sulks a little about how unfair it is that Quinn can still manage to look angelic during situations like this. She's pretty sure she herself would look like absolute crap should this scene be reversed.
She makes the necessary arrangements and is pulling off the garage in no time. Quinn is still fast asleep and the exhaustion leaking through her pores is too apparent that Rachel detests the thought of having to wake her up. But she knows she can't leave her to freeze in the garage either, which is worse, so she turns the engine off and walks out of the car. She opens Quinn's door, and turns to the girl.
"Quinn… Wake up. We're here."
It turns out that Quinn is a light sleeper, and her eyes immediately blink open when Rachel pokes her in the arm for the first time. Rachel watches with a sinking feeling in her gut as the blonde scrambles away once she realizes that she's in an unfamiliar place, her breathing picking up and her eyes frantically wandering around as she tries to figure out where she's at and who she's with.
Rachel backs away a little to give the surprised girl space. And it may be only because of the fever, but Rachel is really starting to wonder if the lingering haunted look in Quinn's beady eyes is caused by something else.
"Woah, relax, Quinn. It's just me."
Quinn starts calming down slowly when she regains her bearings. She gives Rachel an apologetic look and eyes her own nails.
"I'm sorry, Rachel."
Despite her worries, the brunette finds it adorable that Quinn doesn't seem to notice how she puts Rachel's name at the end of almost all her sentences.
"No, it's fine. I startled you. Sort of. Let's go inside. The Berry abode's been empty all day. About time to change that."
Quinn gives her a small, shy smile and Rachel takes her hand and helps her get through the entrance. Quinn is almost completely exhausted by now, and Rachel has to grab her by the arm to steady her balance. Her lids are half-lidded; Rachel's pretty sure she can direct her to the hard, cold floor and she'll fall asleep. She leads her to the large living room and has to fight back a smile when despite her not-so-healthy predicament, Quinn curiously cranes her head to look around as much as she can. Obviously awed, she gasps audibly at the scene that meets her, and Rachel lets her smile come out when Quinn looks at her with wide eyes.
"Your place is beautiful, Rachel."
Rachel offers her a small smile. "Thank you," she says modestly. Although Rachel makes her talents known to every human being she meets, she isn't one to brag about the family's riches. But she's proud of how well her fathers groomed this house. The dwelling is definitely modern in design, with the walls painted in silver and white, and decorated with sets of furniture that are mostly black which her fathers exclusively order from a famous Filipino designer. In one of the walls is a giant frame containing all of her medals from all of the competition she's been in – singing, ballet, dancing, acting, swimming, you name it. In another is a giant sketched portrait of the three of them laughing in front of the white modern-inspired fireplace in the kitchen. A large LCD television is placed in another corner, with a three-piece black designer sofa in front of it and four speakers along the walls. A glass-made spiral staircase leads to the second floor, in which all bedrooms are located. Expensive paintings line the house, and Quinn can't seem to take her eyes off an extra-large portrait of cute little puppies playing around a fallen log. She's smiling dorkily at it and Rachel's heart warms for some reason.
She mentally takes note of showing more of the house to Quinn (and maybe of the many animal paintings in the kitchen), but right now, despite the blonde's renewed vigor upon seeing the house, Rachel knows she should let her rest. She seems a little happier, but her eyes still look extremely heavy, and her balance hasn't improved a bit.
"Come on, I'll show you the guest room," she says, taking Quinn's hand again and leading her upstairs. The blonde hesitantly takes her attention from the painting and concentrates as much as she can on climbing up the staircases.
Once they reach the equally modern guest room, Rachel helps Quinn peel off the jacket and hands her one of her larger t-shirts she took from the guest room closet. She surveys the room and points to the room's toilet.
"You can change in there, OK? I'll just grab some blankets and other necessities. Or, I mean, can you change on your own? I can stay here and help you with…uhmmm…changing," she finishes awkwardly, scrunching up her nose because, well, that sounded wrong on so many levels.
Quinn turns crimson and refuses to meet her eyes again. "It's fine, Rachel," she croaks.
"OK," Rachel answers, looking anywhere but at Quinn, too. "Uhm... So, uhmmm… Please make yourself comfortable."
Quinn nods minutely, smiling at the floor. She shuffles awkwardly to the changing room and Rachel watches her fondly before going out of the room to quickly look for fresh blankets.
/
Contrary to her initial plan, it takes Rachel more than a little while to get back. Her inner OCD decided to find the perfect bed sheet and blanket that Quinn would like, instead of just grabbing the one on top which is the normal thing to do. After making a mess of her father's extra closet, she finally settles on the matching fluffy yellow sheet and blanket, with little puppies and kittens on them, remembering Quinn's dorky smile when she looked at that animal painting. The last time she has used this sheets was when she was ten, but whatever. She's pretty sure Quinn would like this.
Transporting the sheets to the guest room has also been a grueling task, considering her small size. She trips twice along the way (not that's she's admitting that she's clumsy or anything), and curses God for the same number of times. Her grumpy expression immediately changes when she gets into the room, though.
Because her heart melts at the scene. Not literally. Or maybe literally? Is it possible for hearts to literally melt into a semi-worthless puddle? Because that's exactly how she's felt.
Quinn is curled on the couch like an angel, face flushed and breathing a little raggedly. Her eyes are closed exhaustedly but Rachel is certain that she's only half-asleep. She seems sicker than earlier, Rachel thinks, and she's shivering as she lay there, but she can't help but admire how the blonde looks right now. She has taken her reading glasses off, and Rachel can see how nice her bone structure is without that freaking gigantic bifocals hiding her perfectly-sculptured cheekbones.
Quinn coughs and groans, curling her hands around her midsection, and Rachel immediately springs into action. It has never even occurred to her to make Quinn sleep on the couch. In their home, all the Berry guests are treated by the Berrys like Kings and Queens (except Santana who takes the pleasure of treating herself that way on her own), and Quinn wouldn't be an exception. Sleeping on the couch is uncomfortable, and it wouldn't do a sick girl such as her any good.
She covers the shaking girl with the blanket and places a thermometer between her lips before scrambling around to fix the bed. Once she's satisfied with the covers, she approaches Quinn again, careful not to startle her like how she did in the car earlier. She takes the thermometer from the girl's mouth and shakes her head at the 104-degree-Fahrenheit reading.
"Quinn," she whispers concernedly, not even trying to touch the girl this time.
She watches as long eyelids flutter open, and clouded hazel orbs come into sight. Quinn's eyes are unfocused as they survey Rachel wearily and she lets out a soft moan, most definitely from exhaustion.
"Quinn, come on. I'll bring you to the bed."
Quinn blinks twice. "B-bed?"
"Yeah, the heavy rectangular thing where people sleep," Rachel deadpans, smiling a little.
Quinn seems too disoriented to understand the sarcasm. "A-are you sure?"
Duh. Where else does she think she'll be sleeping? "Absolutely, Quinn."
"B-but I don't want to-"
Knowing where the girl is going, Rachel hushes her. "Shh... I already told you, you won't ruin anything."
Quinn is silent for a moment. "Okay," she murmurs after a while, probably too tired to argue. Not that she's the type of girl to argue if she's fit to do so.
Rachel helps her stand up and leads her to the bed. She finds herself smiling at the soft sigh that leaves Quinn's lips as soon as her head hits the pillow. Her heart breaks a little, too, though. It's probably the first comfort the blonde has had today. Quinn starts shivering harshly again, so Rachel pulls the blanket higher to her chin and places a huge pillow beside her. The blonde automatically hugs the proffered pillow tightly, and she lets out another soft sigh.
The brunette touches Quinn's forehead again and grimaces at the heat coming off the girl. She knows that she really needs to do something to lower her temperature, so she reluctantly leaves the blonde's side to pick up the cold compress her fathers stash in the freezer. When she comes back, she is surprised to find Quinn sitting up as much as her weak body can on the bed, eyes wide with fear, panting and shaking harshly.
"Hey, hey," Rachel says softly, approaching the girl. "You're supposed to be resting," she adds, placing the cold compress on the table and sitting down on the bed, close to Quinn. Unshed tears are forming in Quinn's tired eyes, and Rachel hates the thought of putting them there for some reason, especially after the terrible day the blonde has had.
"I-I'm s-sorry, R-Rachel. I was just s-scared," Quinn whispers shakily, surprisingly maintaining eye contact.
"Scared?"
"That you l-left me t-too," Quinn finishes, finally letting some of the tears fall.
Too? Rachel is confused, but mostly she's just concerned. Quinn is obviously hurting a lot, from everything, and it sucks because she's too good to deserve even a tiny bit of this. Her parents haven't called and Rachel knows how terrible it is to get sick without your parents around. She gently wipes the tears out of the girl's flushed cheeks, careful not to make her flinch. Surprisingly, Quinn doesn't shy away from Rachel's ministrations this time, and she even leans a little against the brunette's soft touch. Rachel ponders about how fast things have changed. Just this afternoon, she wanted to strangle the girl for doing something she probably didn't even mean to do, but now, all she wants to do is make her feel better. She's only really been with Quinn for less than an hour, but the dorky, meek blonde has this side of her that is able to swiftly creep into Rachel's heart and has stayed there since.
"I'm here, OK? I'm, not leaving. As long as you need me, Quinn, and even after that," she reassures, moving her hand to the girl's shoulder.
"P-promise?" Quinn asks tearfully, sounding so small that Rachel has to fight her own tears from falling.
"Cross my heart and hope to die," she says with a gentle smile, thankful that the tremble in her voice isn't palpable. Quinn seems to trust her a little now, and she silently rejoices at that fact even if she knows that she doesn't deserve to even be forgiven yet. She'll work hard for that, even if the blonde tells her she doesn't need to anymore. She owes her that much at least.
"OK," the blonde whispers with trusting eyes. She looks a little relieved, and Rachel mentally pats herself in the back for a job well down.
"Here, let me help you lie down," she offers, standing up and putting a hand on Quinn's back. Gently, she guides her to lying position. Quinn grimaces and puts a hand around her midsection, and Rachel is immediately concerned.
"Does your stomach hurt?"
A horrified expression creeps up Quinn's face before she tries to mask it. Poorly. Her hands are still trembling, and she can't seem to look Rachel in the eyes again.
"N-no… I just m-moved the wrong way. I guess?" she replies, then swallows. Rachel raises her eyebrow (Quinn isn't a good liar) but doesn't say anything else. She thinks there's a right time for prying. Just not right now. Her priority is to let her rest first.
"OK. Just…um…sleep now, OK?" she says gently. "Don't worry about anything. I'll wake you up when the food is prepared and when you'll have to take your medicine."
Quinn looks at her then, utter surprise written across her features.
"What?" Rachel asks, a little amused, a little worried.
Quinn shakes her head. "Nothing. I've just n-never had…" she mutters then shakes her head, picking at the hem of her blanket. She's smiling sadly though, and Rachel's heart warms again. "Thank you, Rachel."
"There's really no need, Quinn."
She watches Quinn's eyes grow heavier, then remembers about the cold compress. Quinn's eyes are closed by the time she puts it on the sick girl's forehead. Not knowing what to do, she just sits next to the bed, watching Quinn succumb to sleep. Once she's certain that the blonde is dead to the world, she momentarily leaves her side to take a wet cloth then starts removing the remaining slushy stains on Quinn's face and hair. She feels the hot wave of guilt course through her stomach again. She can't even begin to imagine how bad it felt for a sick girl to be heartlessly doused with the freezing, sticky liquid. She's not one to think of worst case scenarios, but if Quinn's situation turns to worst, it's definitely on them.
Her thoughts are momentarily distracted when she hears Quinn mumble something in her sleep. It was too low to understand though.
She leans in closer. "What is it, Quinn?"
"Hmmm… B-bacon is salted or s-smoked m-meat… from backs… or s-sides… of pigs," she murmurs softly, forehead crunching a little as she explains.
Rachel pulls away and makes a fond "what the fuck" face. Did she just define bacon? Bacon? Rachel may be a true-blue vegetarian but the way the blonde adorably murmured the word makes her think that maybe giving Quinn some non-vegan options right now wouldn't be too bad.
"Would you like some bacon, Quinn?"
Quinn hums in approval and Rachel's smile grows wider before she rises from her chair and grabs her phone. She has a call to make.
"Toot toot… Toot toot…"
Rachel rolls her eyes. Santana always answers Rachel's call by imitating the "busy" sound, even if Rachel knows that Santana will never be too busy for her. It was relatively funny the first time. And maybe until now, but Rachel often pretends that it's just annoying her. She's sitting on the couch now, just observing Quinn from time to time. The blonde is thankfully still asleep, not so peacefully, but asleep nonetheless.
"Hey San," she breathes into the speaker. "I need to ask you something."
"Hey Rach, I need you to just call me later because I'm trying to convince Britts to stop being mad at me," Santana answers, sounding tired and annoyed. "It's that weirdo's doing, I'm sure of it."
Rachel rolls her eyes. If earlier she's just in doubt, now she's sure that she'll just have to explain everything that involves Quinn later to Santana. "How is she?"
"She's still being cold to me. It never took her this long to forgive me before. I don't understand; I didn't even do anything wrong." Rachel wants to correct her on that but decides not to. She still has a favor to ask. Besides, she can hear genuine sadness in Santana's tone. A sadness that she only submits to Brittany, and sometimes to Rachel, but mostly to Brittany. "But yeah. No worries." Santana breathes deeply on the other line. "I'm pretty sure she'll warm up to your royal hotness in no time. So I hope you understand that whatever it is that you're asking from me would be a bother for me at this moment," she adds faux seriously.
"I wouldn't stay long. I just have a few favors to ask."
She hears Santana sigh then smirks knowingly. No matter what the circumstances are, she can always count on Santana to do favors for her. That girl may be a bitch, but she's Rachel's loyal bitch. She's her real friends' loyal bitch. And that's one of the many hidden good things about her, even if a lot of people would argue that Santana's just plain evil.
"Whatever. Shoot, Rachel, before I change my mind."
Rachel suppresses a snort. As if. "Can you please pass by the pharmacy before coming here? I need some flu medicine and cough syrup."
A few seconds of silence ensues. "Sure. Uhmm…" Santana seems to be having trouble articulating what she wants to say next. Rachel hears her clear her throat. "Are you OK?"
She rolls her eyes. Now that wasn't too hard to say, was it? "No, it's not for me, actually. It's for my…uhmm…cousin."
"Puck?" Santana genuinely sounds surprised. "I thought he's immune to mono. If you're immune to mono, you're, like, immune to everything."
Rachel massages her forehead disbelievingly. Random words of wisdom like these makes her want to go back in time and re-evaluate her life.
"No. Uhmm… Luckily for me, Noah isn't my only cousin."
"Oh. O-K."
"By the way, I'm so glad you're concerned about me," Rachel teases, knowing that Santana hates it so much when people tell her she might have a heart. She suppresses a snicker, imagining Santana's deer-caught-in-the-headlights face.
"Gee. Don't flatter yourself, Thumbelina. Concerned my ass. I'm just worrying about our project. You wouldn't be able to help us fix it if you're drooling around on your deathbed."
"Yeah, yeah. You're a heartless badass," she answers sarcastically. "Oh. One more thing. Can you please pass by the grocery to buy bacon? Just think about how much more time that would give you and Brit to talk."
"Bacon? Are you sure you're not the sick one? Oh no! Are you dying?"
Rachel is about to answer but stops when she hears Quinn whimper. She fixes her stare at the blonde and notices that she's squirming and sobbing silently, like she's having some bad dream. The familiar sinking feeling in her gut comes back.
"Hey Rach?" Judging by Santana's rare and precious concerned tone, Rachel must have had failed to answer her for quite some time.
"Hey, uhmm… I've really got to go… Thanks, San. See you later. And I'm not dying."
She doesn't even wait for Santana say her farewell. It's probably going to be some heartless comment about finally getting rid of Rachel, anyway. She hurriedly puts her phone down and approaches Quinn's bedside.
Quinn is moaning and whimpering in her sleep, eyes tightly closed, knuckles clamped along the edges of her blanket. Her forehead is crunched from the terrible nightmare that she's having, her face so pale it's almost translucent and tears are falling freely from her closed eyelids. Rachel cautiously stands next to her bed, at an utter loss of what to do.
"No, no, no…Stop please," Quinn mutters, starting to thrash a little, her head now moving from side to side. She looks dreadfully disturbed, so despite the harsh thumping of her heart, Rachel sits next to Quinn's shaking form and urges her to wake up.
"Quinn, hey. It's fine; you're okay. You're just dreaming. Wake up, please."
This doesn't seem to work as Quinn continues thrashing and moaning. A choked sob escapes her lips, and Rachel feels her stomach sink even more. Now a little more desperate, she gently taps Quinn's cheek with her palms.
"Quinn, please… Wake up…"
Rachel realizes that she made the wrong move when the blonde girl doesn't wake up. Instead she starts screaming mutedly, lashing a little more, and weakly fighting Rachel's hands, even.
"I'm sorry…I'm sorry… I won't do it again. I'm sorry… Help… P-please… I promise… I'm sorry…"
Rachel has never felt more helpless in her life. Maybe she should have just brought Quinn to the hospital. Maybe this isn't her problem to face.
"Quinn, please wake up," she begs again, tears now gathering at the corners of her eyes. Her heart is pounding too fast it's almost painful, but she knows what she feels right now is nothing compared to how terrified the blonde girl is.
Swallowing all her fears and not knowing what else to do, she takes the cold compress from the blonde's forehead and struggles to bring Quinn into a sitting position. The action elicits a sobbed moan from the blonde's slightly parted lips and more series of weak fighting, but Rachel gently pulls her into a tight hug, whispering soothing sounds to her ears while she rocks her a little.
She isn't sure if human contact is what Quinn needs, or wants, even, but that is what Rachel wants for her at this moment. The feeling that someone's there for her when she wakes up from her nightmare, just like Hiram and Leroy had been there for Rachel. And it breaks her heart to realize that maybe no one has been there for Quinn all along, judging by how absent her parents are at this time.
And maybe it's too early and too sudden to think about now, but as she hugs the other girl, as she listens to the violent pounding of her heart, as she brushes the blonde hair that clings to her warm forehead while she urges and prays desperately for her to wake up, she knows that she wants nothing more than to be there for Quinn.
Suddenly the blonde whimpers and stiffens in her arms, and the tears that are forming in Rachel's eyes finally fall down her cheeks. She knows that Quinn's awake, she's finally awake, and it renders Rachel relieved and worried at the same time. Rachel feels the other girl's heart pound even harder as she faintly struggles to get out of her embrace, which is far from what Rachel plans, so she gathers enough strength to pull Quinn into her chest tighter.
Besides, she doesn't think she's ready to watch the terrified look she's sure is drowning Quinn's beautiful hazel eyes again.
"Shhh," she whispers breathily, "Quinn… It's me, Rachel. It's OK," she adds emotionally as she rubs the blonde's back. And it takes a tiresome while, but Quinn finally stops shaking and fighting and she sags quietly against Rachel's shoulder, and Rachel takes that as her cue to make this - all of these -better. "You're OK. You were just dreaming. You're safe," she whispers. "I'm here."
"You're safe," she says again and again, hoping Quinn will believe her.
A beat. It then that it happens. It starts with a little whimper, and before Rachel can fully understand what's happening, Quinn is crying unto her shoulders, her back shaking with the force of her sobs. She's not clinging to Rachel, or even hugging her back; she's just leaning to her weakly, wearily, as she pours her heart out. Her cries aren't loud, but they sound like pain and despair and surrendering all at the same time, and Rachel is left there stunned, aching, wishing that things aren't like this. That she doesn't have to discover how broken Quinn is because Quinn isn't broken in the first place.
But Quinn is broken – and it's her sobs that fill the room with the uninvited but expected air of solitude that somehow morphs into one huge ball of anguish and suspends itself under the safety of Rachel's slowly shattering heart. It's her tears that fall like needles on Rachel's shoulder, not in any way sharp but still sip through cloth and leave raw pricks of sorrow against her skin.
Quinn is broken – and she's here right now. With Rachel. So she just continues to whisper soothing words into her ears, even if she's not even sure she can sooth her own self at this time. She'd be lying if she'd say that what just happened doesn't terrify her until now. She knows nightmares are common to fever cases as high as Quinn's, but she never thought it could be that bad.
The blonde is still crying, and Rachel has this strange feeling that it's not just about the nightmare. So she lets Quinn cry her hurt out, not probably for the first time, but probably for the first time with someone there to hold her.
After about twenty minutes, Quinn finally grows silent in Rachel's arms, but the brunette's moment of relief is cut short when she hears her wheeze and feels her back heave. Worriedly, she gently pulls Quinn away from her to survey her face, and although she isn't entirely surprised, her heart still breaks once it is made clear to her that Quinn is having another one of her asthma attacks.
She carefully positions Quinn so that she is leaning against the headboard then hurriedly runs towards Quinn's bag and digs for the inhaler she saw the girl put in the front pocket earlier.
"OK. Inhale… Now exhale," she instructs as for the second time that day she helps Quinn with the medicine, then carefully observes until she's sure that Quinn's breathing well again. She puts the inhaler on the table, just in case they'll need it again later then turns back to Quinn.
The blonde is avoiding her eyes once more, just gazing at her lap, her own eyes half-lidded, and Rachel feels this overwhelming need to see her eyes, perhaps have an inkling on how Quinn is feeling. "Quinn," she urges gently, carefully taking the blondes still-shaking hand in hers.
"I-I'm sorry. I r-ruined your shirt," Quinn whispers hoarsely, eyes moving to their enjoined hands. Her shoulders spasm once as she obviously stifles a cough.
Rachel offers a short laugh as she curtly rubs the blonde's back. Her laugh sounds dry, though, even to her. "Don't worry about that," she reassures. "I totally hate this shirt anyway. You were doing me a favor, really."
OK. Maybe she's lying because she wholeheartedly loves this stupid shirt with carousel print in front like she loves singing but Quinn really doesn't need to feel guilty over things as trivial as this when she already has pains too heavy for her frail physique to bear. She still looks painfully guilty, though, so Rachel squeezes her hand gently.
"Quinn, look at me, please," she coaxes, leaning forward hoping that Quinn would look at her.
And Quinn does, shakily. Tears are gathering in her scared eyes, and Rachel has to swallow hard to stop her own tears at the amount of sadness and sorrow that she sees in there.
"Do not ever say sorry to me again for this, OK," she says slowly, looking Quinn square in the eyes to convey her sincerity. "You're doing me a huge favor by letting me take care of you. I've been nothing but horrible to you even if you didn't deserve it, and as much as you need me to take care of you for you to feel better, I also need to take care of you for me to feel better. Do you understand me?"
The blonde still looks doubtful, and not a tad less sad, but she nods minutely and Rachel holds that as something to start with as she gives Quinn a small smile.
Quinn tries smiling back and it reminds Rachel of human cells – so small yet so, so important. But then her smile drops slowly and her pallid face grows paler, almost turning into greenish tint, making Rachel heart-wrenchingly worried once again.
"Are you OK?"
"I f-feel n-nauseous," the blonde murmurs feebly, and Rachel scrambles to get the small tin bucket she thankfully stowed under the bed earlier. She is just able to place it next to Quinn when the blonde starts heaving on the bin, and Rachel keeps herself from making a disgusted face as she holds the blonde's hair and rubs small circles around her back.
Quinn is throwing up water, just water, making Rachel wonder when the last time she ate was.
And she doesn't really know. But she knows Quinn didn't eat in the cafeteria earlier, because Quinn never ate in the cafeteria. The familiar feeling bubbles within her again; it's another one of their many responsibilities. A lot of the jocks even like calling Quinn a freak and fatty, even if she isn't any of the two, and her heart drops at the thought of how low Quinn might be thinking of herself because of that.
Quinn stops throwing up after a while, and she leans against the headboard wearily, whimpering in discomfort and breathing unevenly. Her eyes are drooping closed as her head rolls from side to side feebly. All that crying and vomiting have doubtlessly left her drained.
"You should go back to sleep," Rachel suggests once she puts the bucket down.
Quinn looks at her fearfully, forehead scrunched up and lips shaking a little, and Rachel knows she's remembering her dream again and thinking that she might have it again. Rachel moves closer and gently puts some of Quinn's stray hairs behind her ear.
"I know you're shaken up, but you really need to rest, Quinn. Don't worry; I'm not going anywhere. You won't be alone when you wake up."
Quinn just stares straight at her, as if reading her through her eyes. She wants to know if Rachel's lying or not, so Rachel schools her expression into the sincerest she can muster, which she realizes isn't that hard because she really is sincere.
To Rachel's relief, the blonde seems to realize this, too, because she acquiesces.
"OK, Rachel."
Rachel smiles minutely then supports Quinn's blonde head as the other girl moves to lay back down again.
"Tell me if you need anything, OK? Don't try standing up."
"OK, Rachel."
With that, Rachel puts the cold compress back on Quinn's burning forehead.
"Rachel?" the blonde whispers a few minutes after she's settled down. Rachel thinks she looks a little bashful.
"Yes?"
"I…uhmmm…" Quinn says, then swallows before shaking her head. "Ne-nevermind."
"What is it, Quinn?" Rachel tries again, gently, because she can tell that Quinn really wants to tell her something.
"I…uhm… I need…" Rachel waits patiently. "I need F-Frankie."
The short brunette raises her eyebrows. "Frankie?"
"My…uhmm…"
"Your?"
"My stuffed lamb," Quinn finishes shyly, ears turning crimson as she twists her hands on the edge of her blanket and stares vacantly at the carousel in Rachel's shirt. "I… uhm… it'suhm… it'sinmybag." She mumbles the last part nervously, rising her blanket a little higher to cover some parts of her face and Rachel can't contain her smile at the blonde's antics. It's adorable, really.
"Quinn, English only please," she says with a smile, deciding to tease her a little as she pulls the blanket lower to see Quinn's coy face again. She can't help it.
If possible, Quinn turns an even brighter shade of red and Rachel decides to stop making fun of her and end her little misery. "OK. You want your stuffed lamb, which is in your bag?"
Quinn hesitates then shakes her head slowly, shyly, and Rachel knows with the way she's nibbling her lower lip that it's really a nod and a timidly whispered yes please. She laughs a little. Quinn might be thinking that Rachel will find it weird. And it isn't, as far as Rachel is concerned.
"It's OK, Quinn. I understood it the first time. I'll get it for you," she says, standing up to retrieve Quinn's stuffed toy.
It's a medium-sized lamb – all white and cottony and gangly-limbed – that is already a little worn out yet obviously well taken care of. The stomach area has slimmed a lot, a testament to the fact that it has taken its huge share of tight hugs, and Rachel thinks it has the cutest little face ever. She skips a little – she actually skips a little – to Quinn's bed and offers it to the blonde warmly. Quinn accepts it with a shy smile and bright eyes.
"Thank you, Rachel," she says, hugging the stuffed lamb tightly to her chest. She kisses the sheep's nose then remembers that Rachel's watching her. She turns beet red and starts to turn around but Rachel stops her.
"Hey, hey. Don't be shy. It's not weird or anything," Rachel says. "He's cute," she adds, stroking the sheep's head.
Her heart leaps when Quinn offers her a warm toothy grin in return. She relaxes into Rachel's bed, breathing shallowly as she hugs Frankie.
Quinn's somehow tranquil face changes abruptly, however, when a series of whacking coughs suddenly consumes her, and she shifts unto her side, curling over her abdomen. She whimpers unto her pillow, leaving two wet spots on the cloth from the tears the coughing brought. Rachel rubs her back helplessly.
"Are you OK?"
Quinn just waves a hand dismissively and wheezes a little. "My s-sister g-gave him to me."
Rachel is confused for a while because she was asking about the cough, but soon understands that Quinn is talking about the toy. "Really?"
Quinn nods minutely and gives Rachel a small, sad smile. The brunette waits for the blonde to perhaps share something about herself but gets nothing as she just silently strokes the stuffed toy she's holding. For a while, Quinn looks content – exhausted but content nonetheless – as she lies there with Frankie. Yet when Quinn shifts a little on her side, Rachel sees her face change – her eyes going back to that faraway look that makes Rachel's heart drop, like she's caught in a memory – and she catches the tears form in the blonde's eyes once again. Quinn closes her eyes softly before her sadness falls from her eyes unto the pillow.
Rachel can't do anything but watch with heavy heart as Quinn quietly cries herself to sleep – stuffed toy in hand.
_to be continued_
So there it was.
I'm quite busy with my work as of late, but I'll do my best to update every two weeks after this.