chapter eight: i want to hold you when i'm not supposed to
"And action!" Quinn's voice, raised and easily mistaken for yelling if you didn't know that it was just how she was, echoed through set, through ear pieces and speakers. Rachel tapped the plastic ear piece, making sure it was in place. Even in the high energy, high intensity of shooting, Quinn's voice in her ear was a comfort. It focused her, kept all the other rattling thoughts in her head at bay.
Vanessa was walking across the lawn with Catherine, Ben, and, surprisingly, Leo.
"Uhg this is the opposite of a pantie-dropping date," Quinn had groaned when Vanessa had made her selection, "At least Ben will be there to make it hot."
"May-December romances are in right now," Rachel had tried to argue, "look at David Foster and Katherine McPhee, or Sarah Paulson and Taylor Holland. Who cares about dating your age?"
"Yeah, because that's exactly what our viewers want to see," Quinn said sarcastically, but there hadn't been any bite to it, only a lingering gaze.
Now Rachel was standing in the muddy field behind the mansion, her sneakers getting soggier and soggier as she watched four horses be lead up to Vanessa and her dates. With Adam they'd borrowed a fake horse, filming him from the knees up as he pretended to ride. But for Vanessa they'd gotten real horses.
Rachel watched from the monitors as Vanessa easily flirted with Catherine, who was talking about horseback riding through the Italian countryside.
"But," Catherine added with a seductive smile, "I'd love someone to share it with."
Vanessa held her gaze for a long moment before reaching up to pretend fix Catherine's completely straight collar, "That sounds enchanting."
"Ooohh, this is good Goldie," Quinn said through the earpiece.
"What about you? What do you like to do for fun?" Asked Catherine.
"Well, Mike was teaching me how to golf," Vanessa said, "He's actually a phenomenal golfer, if he didn't skate I'd say he should go into golfing professionally."
"Why is she talking about Mike ?" Quinn demanded in Rachel's ear, "It's a total boner killer. A lady boner killer too, by the looks of Cindy Crawford."
The rest of the day wasn't much better. Vanessa would just begin to flirt with one of the contestants, then start talking about Mike again.
"Rachel! Get her on task! I want wet panties not… whatever this is."
Rachel pulled out her earpiece as she pulled Vanessa aside. She'd just finished talking to Ben and was about to take a stroll with Leo along a very fake, very short fence that some poor PA had put up twenty minutes ago.
"Hey Vanessa, can I talk to you for a sec?" Rachel said, leading her away, "Listen, I know you and Mike have all this history but you need to stop bringing him up with your dates."
A crease formed between Vanessa's eyebrows, "I wasn't- oh my gosh," she pressed a hand to her forehead.
"Yeah, you have," said Rachel.
"Oh shit, I didn't even realize I was doing that!" Vanessa said, "We've just been together for so long, everything is… him."
"Vanessa," Rachel pulled her ever farther away from the crew, "Were you and Mike ever, you know, more than just skating partners? You can tell me."
"No! No, of course not! Mike and I are just, uh, business partners."
"Business partners?" Rachel asked, not believing her for a moment. Vanessa was flushed, but only slightly. Her voice was drifting from a conversational tone to one that Rachel mentally referred to as Vanessa's interview voice.
She'd watched a handful of interviews, most of them leading up to the Olympics. Both Vanessa and Mike were cheerful and chatty, playing off each other easily, finishing each other's sentences, and charming everyone they talked to. They were America's Sweetheart Skaters.
Rachel's even watched some of their skating videos as well. She'd gotten hooked, late one night, watching video after video of skating programs. And watching, she understood why their fans were convinced that they were sleeping together. When they skated, Vanessa and Mike were like two halves of the same soul. The were sensual, skating in a way that made Rachel feel like she was watching something forbidden.
"Uh yeah, Mike said it on accident once and it kinda stuck," Vanessa gave an awkward laugh, Sorry I'm doing it again. But we're strictly professional, like you and Quinn."
Rachel snorted, "Yeah, just like Quinn and me," she said as the image of Quinn moaning beneath her filled her mind. She pushed it away, burying it deep down where it wouldn't distract her.
"Listen, Vanessa, when you're on these dates, whoever you're with is your boyfriend or girlfriend, okay?" Rachel said.
Vaness nodded, "Yeah, I get it. I'll stop talking about Mike."
"Excellent."
…
"Well it's good to see you and Quinn aren't at each other's throats anymore," Jay's comment was casual enough, well meaning even, but as soon as he said it Rachel felt herself go cold.
"Oh my god," Jay said as he turned to glance at Rachel. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into a quiet alcove.
"Oh my god it was you," he said, "You gave Quinn the hickey that Chet's been bitching about all day."
Too late, Rachel recovered, "That's ridiculous, Jay. I mean, Quinn and me?"
"Oh don't try to lie, you looked pale as an untanned wifey when I mentioned you two being at each other's throats and all I meant was you weren't fighting anymore," Jay said, crossing his arms, "So spill."
"C'mon Jay, Quinn and I aren't a thing," Said Rachel, which wasn't exactly a lie, it wasn't as if they were dating.
Rachel tried not to think about what dating Quinn would even mean- waking up to her smile, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist at parties, getting to kiss her without worrying…
"So you're telling me that Quinn's vendetta against Kara isn't because you kissed her? And Quinn just bails your ass out of everything because you're a good producer? Or we could talk about how Quinn hates it when anyone gets too close to her but she'll put her hands all over you without a second thought."
Rachel didn't reply. Jay was right, over the years Quinn grew to prioritize Rachel over more and more. She thought back to all the times Quinn had stood up for her or protected her, even the little things like telling people to stop gawking when Jeremy publicly dumped her, or letting her sleep in her bed afterwards.
She made a face, did Quinn love her? Twice she'd said it, once as a confused reply to Rachel and once in the control room, blood and passion dripping to the floor, but she never knew what that really meant. Did Quinn love her like as a friend? Or as something more?
"You don't understand," is what she settled on, pushing away the silly, mushy feeling she got in her chest when she thought about that possibility, "Quinn doesn't- it's not like that."
"Yeah and keeping a clothes hanger in the closet doesn't make it straight," Jay said rolling his eyes.
He turned to leave but Rachel grabbed his arm, "Jay, you won't-"
"Tell anyone?" He sighed, "Of course not Rachel. That's a decision for you and Quinn to make in your own time."
…
She'd been staring at for the past several minutes, the envelope that way laying on her desk, taunting her. She already knew what was inside, but she was putting off looking as long as she could.
Early that morning, Quinn had installed a new wireless camera in her office, one above the door, looking out across the whole room. The feed ran to her computer, recording every movement for her to check later, in hopes of catching her letter writer.
But when she'd walked into her office that afternoon, the camera lay smashed on the floor. At first glance it looked as if it had fallen, but Quinn had stolen a power drill from the crew. Someone had broken it on purpose. Whoever was delivering her the letters, she surmised.
Quinn sighed. Picking up the offending envolve, she slid her knife-like letter opener along the edge, hooking it under the top flap, then dumped the contents onto her desk.
Another photo, and a note.
I don't like being watched , the note said, hand written in a slanted scrawl that was nearly illegible, Now she'll pay for your transgression.
Quinn's hands shook as she turned over the photo. It was from their first day back on set, but from inside the office, at the moment when Rachel had surprised Quinn with a kiss. The black and white print was fisheyed, but would have been almost erotic if it wasn't for the means it was obtained.
With a frustrated cry she shoved everything but her computer off her desk. Her hands curled around the stacks of files and spreadsheets sending them flying. Papers fluttered to the floor as framed photos fell with a clatter. The thrumming adrenaline of fear and anger filled her body, pumping through her veins.
Falling back into her chair, Quinn's breathing came in ragged bursts that faded to a steady yet heavy rise and fall of her chest. There was a camera in the room. There was one recording her every movement at that moment.
Picking up the offending photo from the floor, Quinn held it up, walking around the office until she found the right angle. The camera had to be on her coffee table. She checked the coasters, then the flowers, before her eyes lit on a glass babble she didn't remember purchasing.
Then, with all the pent up fury and frustration, she threw it to the ground, watching as it shattered with a satisfying crash. From the shards of glass Quinn picked up a tiny black object, the camera.
…
Vanessa leaned into Leo's arms looped through hers as they walked by the pool. The sun had already set and everyone was inside, busying themselves by getting ready for the elimination ceremony.
"I'm so glad to have caught you off camera," Leo said, patting Vanessa's hand, "The constant surveillance would be unbearable if it wasn't for you."
Vanessa laughed, a lovely sound that echoed across the pool before she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it, "I'm sorry, that's so kind of you, but that sounded like something the producers would feed you."
Leo smiled, "I suppose it does. I am sincere though."
Vanessa kissed his cheek.
"I believe you," she said, "I suppose the cameras don't feel any different to me than when I was training and competing. But you work in the financial industry right? I'm sure the surveillance is more subtle."
"You're right," Leo said, "We're always being watched, but here it's just so much more in your face."
"Every moment is a performance," Vanessa said, "Whether we know it or not."
"All the world's a stage," he agreed, "And al the men and women have an agenda."
Vanessa stopped to look at him, "And what's yours?"
"To woo a lovely young woman," Leo replied, "And yours?"
Vanessa smiled, looking past him into the bushes where the cameraman was hiding, "To find love, of course."
And then she kissed him.
…
Leaning back in her chair, Quinn rubbed her temples. Her office was still a mess, but the elimination ceremony was over, five idiots had gone home, and she decided she could deal with it in the morning.
Throwing back the end of her whiskey, Quinn shut her eyes, wishing to go back to the moment when she'd fallen asleep in Rachel's bed. She wanted to reach across the pillow-length space and cup Rachel's face in her hands, she wanted to breath in her warmth and watch her eyelids flutter shut. She wanted to know that they were safe, that she could always keep Rachel safe from the cruel world they'd help design.
Then, just as if the universe had read her thoughts, the door knob quietly turned and as the door opened so did Quinn's eyes.
Rachel shut the door behind her, but stayed still in the shadow of the door. But even from the distance, Quinn could see the tear tracks on her face and her wild, fearful eyes. Quinn was out of her chair and across the room in a heartbeat, hesitating as soon as she reached Rachel, afraid to touch her and scare her off. Every horrible thought filled Quinn's mind. Something had happened- someone had done something .
"What's wrong?" Quinn said, she lifted a hand to slowly settle on Rachel's arm
"I'm sorry," Rachel breathed, not looking Quinn in the eyes.
"Rachel, you're scaring me. What happened?" Quinn rached up with her other hand, cupping Rachel's face. Rachel leaned into the touch, and finally looked up at her.
Rachel held her gaze for a moment before jerking forward to wrap her arms around Quinn, hiding her face in the crook of Quinn's neck, and began to cry.