Probably one of my favorite chapters I've written...not sure why. LOL Thanks for reading!
Chapter 30
The moon was like a beacon brighter than Quinn had seen it in months, or maybe she had forgotten just what a full moon could be. Glowing in the sky, silently watching over the night, a celestial vigil over the worn and weary below. Quinn closed her eyes briefly, steeling her nerves and gathering her courage. She rose to her feet, eyes still clenched closed, raising her arms toward the sky. She said a silent prayer to the moon, for protection, safety, health, and for love. As a child she used to think God was in the moon, his shadow was the stars, if she prayed hard enough into the night everything would ultimately turn out okay. So many nights of her life were spent gazing up at the dark sky, with only the light of the moon and the twinkle of the stars to pull her focus.
God had listened before, when he finally saved her from that last hospital, her parents finally promising to let her stay at home, when he gave her someone to love her in Puck and of course in Sam. She had looked to the moon when she was pulled between the security of Mike and the passionate uncertainties of her feelings for Sam. God knew how much her heart could handle and led her toward someone that wouldn't hurt but only give her time to heal. Then Puck returned on a night when she had been so thankful, counting stars like blessings, alone staring up at the sky, feeling just about content with the safety of her heart. There he appeared torn and tearful, needing something to hold, something to be real. Quinn had been there, knew what it was like to fall and have only the air sliding through your fingers, so she let Puck lean, and finally she became someone's rock. Needed and wanted, giving and not taking, it was nice to place focus outside of herself for a change.
It had been good with Puck, despite the hurdles they had to jump to land together again. Quinn relished her role as supporter, caretaker, partner. Puck made her feel like an adult, like an equal, like a wife. Maybe if she had been more secure in her position, if she had just been able to believe that a man like Puck could truly want someone like her for the long term, that night with Sam might never have happened. But she wasn't and it did, and their lives were forever altered. Quinn tended to resist change beyond her control, she only liked to transform on her own terms, yet one drunken night spun her entire world out of control. Now here she was standing on a roof, hands to heaven, praying for something she thought would never change.
"Quinn get back here. Someone might see you," said Iley in a hoarse whisper.
"Who?" asked Quinn not even opening her eyes, arms still raised. "We're all alone out here. The edge of the world."
"You mean the edge of the roof and there are surveillance cameras. Come back here in the shadows next to me."
"In a minute." Quinn let her hands fall to her sides and opened her eyes but didn't move back from the edge of the roof.
She let her toes curl over the edge of the tiles, grazing the metal gutter below. It was an exhilarating feeling being so close to the edge, her hair whipping in the wind. It was a frigid February night, and Quinn wore only a royal blue flannel nightgown with tiny white dots, but she wasn't cold. The feeling of freedom kept her warm, as her pulsed raced in anticipation of what just one more step could bring.
"Ever wish you could fly, Iley?"
"I guess. Used to like to pretend I was a superhero."
"I used to fly, back at the group home."
"Quinn are you feeling alright?" asked Iley sounding nervous.
The pink house with a yellow door, a garden out front, filled with flowers, a stone path leading to the back, stopping at a tall oak tree. Standing on a solid limb, feeling almost higher than the clouds, Quinn would lift her arms toward the moon and take off. Her greatest escape of all often happened in her mind as a child. Never any fears of being discovered missing, no worries about where she would actually go, the tree behind her pink house was her launching pad to the unknown, vast and mysterious but never scary. She was free.
One more step and she felt like she could fly tonight. Away from the white sweat suits, scheduled colored pills, the constant questions, from doctors, from patients, from staff. One step and Quinn could be free again, fly back to a place where her life was her own, where she was nobody. A faded figure in baggy clothes that liked to hum showtunes, back to a version of herself that she recognized and actually sort of liked.
"It seems like a good night to soar," said Quinn a smile on her face as she looked over her shoulder at Iley. She extended her hand toward the blonde girl. "Take my hand. We can go together."
"Quinn you're scaring me. Come back here and sit."
Quinn shook her head, turning once more toward the open span of sky. Leaning her head back she let wind the billow through her gown, the icy air stinging her bare knees.
"I bet your baby girl would miss you if you flew away," said Iley from behind her.
Quinn frowned, suddenly thinking of Beth. She had forgotten her for a bit as the wind beckoned her into its fold. She teetered shakily as she finally looked down, five stories up, concrete and frozen earth below. Quinn eased down into a sitting position, then scooted slowly back to join Iley near their windowsill.
"I wasn't going anywhere really. I was just…"
"Dreaming?" suggested Iley.
"Something like that. For a moment I was wishing for the old me."
"I get like that sometimes. I think about who I used to be before I felt the urge to hurt. It would be nice to be that girl again. The one everyone trusted and wasn't leery of."
"Yeah. I might have been nothing much, but at least I wasn't crazy."
"Or dangerous."
Quinn and Iley gave each other a look of shared understanding. "I can't go back can I?" Quinn asked.
"I think those other girls are lost somewhere," said Iley sadly. "At least they visit us sometimes," she added pepping up."That's how we know there's good still inside here." She pointed to her chest. "The girl I used to be reminds me to stay strong."
"I'm not sure the girl I used to be would be of much help now."
"Why's that?"
"She's making me want impossible dreams," admitted Quinn softly.
Iley rested her head on Quinn's shoulder. "I just want to be free. I want to get out of here and find a little place of my own. I've never really had that, something that was all mine."
"That sounds good."
"What do you want?" Iley asked tugging on the sleeve of Quinn's nightgown to make sure she was listening.
She wanted to be able to love her baby without hesitation, without being stabbed with guilt every time it took her just a minute too long to remember Beth. She wanted to be able to walk down the street with her head held high and not hear the barely concealed whispers of the people she passed, she wanted to feel like singing, to get back to herself, to remember her heart and let it flow through all that she did. Quinn had lost that somewhere, her direction, her passion, lost between Puck breaking down, and then later bailing out. The music was gone and she had lost herself.
"I want to sing."
"Like up on stage? I know you used to do that."
"In the middle of a field, twirling amongst the wildflowers, in the warm sunshine." Her baby on a blanket at her feet, with her father smiling up at her, her captive audience.
Better than the roar of applause from a crowd, more exciting than the glow of the spotlight on her face, to be able to share her songs with the two people she loved most in this world, that was all she wanted. Adoration of fans replaced by love of her family, the stage swapped for a home, all her often dreamed desires for a life in the music business seemed so frivolous now. Losing Sam and Beth forced her to see that the audience she craved was right within her reach, if only she hadn't let them slip so far away.
"I hope I'm not here for spring. I don't want to have to watch flowers bloom through a plate glass window," said Iley sadly.
"That's what I always missed most, the flowers. They're sort of like rainbows sprouting from the ground don't you think?"
"You have such a beautiful mind Quinn."
"What?" Quinn giggled.
"I can picture the things you say, in my head."
Quinn shrugged. "I used to dream a lot. I guess that's why. I can make anything work out in my mind. It's the real world I suck at."
"At least your head is filled with pretty things, and not darkness like mine. I would love to be able to find someplace beautiful to go."
"Oh you can Iley, you just have to want it enough." She pointed up at the night sky. "See that star over there? That's the North Star. Do you see it shining brighter than the others?
"Yes."
"Now close your eyes, and I'll close mine, and let's wish. Wish the biggest and best wish you can."
"Okay I wish…"
"No," she interrupted. "You can't say your wish out loud, only your heart can know it or it won't come true. So wish Iley."
Quinn closed her eyes and concentrated. She sent herself back to that field, in a white dress, barefoot and spinning. She saw Beth on Sam's lap and they were clapping and laughing. The grass was tall and the flowers were everywhere, hiding them from view. Alone in their own little hideaway, Quinn's breathing increased as she spun faster, the song bursting from her as she moved, then with a dramatic flourish she hit her last note and plopped down on the blanket beside them.
Pressing kisses to the top of her little girl's head, Beth leaned toward her to get in her arms. As Quinn took her from Sam, their eyes met, and his lopsided grin appeared, his eyes disappearing in the happiness of his face. With one hand on Beth's back, and the other cupping the back of her hair, Sam leaned closer, his smile never fading, his eyes drinking her in. He murmured something that Quinn strained to hear, she wanted to ask him to repeat it but the question died on her lips as he swept a kiss across her mouth.
"What did you say?" she asked her eyes still closed dazed from the softness of his lips.
"I said someone's coming. Hurry up." Quinn quickly opened her eyes realizing she had been caught up in her wish. She felt Iley dragging her by her sleeve through their open window and back into the room.
They both dove into their beds, trying to feign innocence as the door opened and a male aide came in.
"It's cold in here," the aide commented closing the door behind him.
His hands were behind his back, and Quinn hoped he wasn't coming to give them yet another dosage of drugs, she had been enjoying the relative clarity of this time when the drugs were fading and the next dosage was hours away. For a few fleeting hours she felt like herself, able to freely think and feel, without the buffers of medication dulling her senses.
"It's not cold to me," replied Iley, casually flipping through a book on her bed. "Are you cold Quinn?"
"No," Quinn answered only half paying attention. She was still feeling Sam's lips against hers, the weight of her baby in her lap, and all that warm sunshine. She was too busy praying for wishes to be granted to play along with Iley's ruse.
"Well anyway, I have something for you," announced the aide, pulling his hand from behind his back and revealing a long white box.
"For who?" asked Iley sitting up excitedly in her bed.
"For Ms. Quinn Fabray. Looks like you have a Valentine," he handed the box to Quinn.
"I thought we weren't allowed to receive gifts," said Quinn as she looked down at the box in her lap in wonder.
"I'm just following orders. I was told you were to receive this. Now you have it, so my job is done. Go to sleep you two."
"Thank you," said Quinn a puzzled smile on her face. She wondered who would send her a gift.
"Well stop staring at it, open it already," urged Iley coming over to sit next to Quinn on her bed once the aide had left.
Quinn hands were shaking as she placed the box on her lap. She slowly untied the white satin bow that held the box closed, savoring the feel of the fabric against her skin. It had been so long since she had received anything nice. Her days had been filled with the austere surroundings of hospitals, aside from those silk sheets she used to have, Quinn hadn't felt much luxury in recent months. A simple bow was almost as good as diamonds for her now. Lifting the lid off the box, she was greeted with red tissue paper, a small white envelope sitting in the center of it all.
Iley snatched the card from the box, hastily sliding it out of the envelope. Quinn cringed slightly when she saw how rough the girl was handling the card, she didn't want it damaged. She wanted it pristine, as it had arrived.
"Not handpicked but still from the heart," Iley read out loud, from the small white card. Quinn's eyes widened as she took the card from Iley's hand, cradling it against her heart. "What's that about? There's no name."
Quinn didn't respond, she was too busy folding back the red tissue to reveal the contents of the box. There on her lap a rainbow of colors, sprouted from the earth, captured in a box.
"Wildflowers," she grinned, running her hands lightly over the fragrant blooms of blues, whites, yellows and pinks.
She could see him standing there on her porch, his hair golden from the sun, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, dirt still clinging to their stems. He had been so proud of his gift, happy to give her a smile after her months confined in the hospital. Sam had told her he wanted to give her what she missed the most, the wildflowers that grew out in the fields on the edge of the forest near her house.
In that moment she couldn't imagine a more perfect boy, she was filled with so many feelings she never could convey. And seeing him there in the sunshine, smiling at her, Quinn almost felt brave enough to reveal her heart. Then the clouds shifted and the sun dimmed, and Quinn's courage failed. Kisses covered all the words she couldn't begin to say. Here she was ten years later, and he was still sending her sunshine, still giving her what she missed most.
"Who's the cheap bastard that sent those? They couldn't spring for roses?" asked Iley turning her nose up.
Quinn just grinned as she excitedly put the box on her bed and ran over to their window, throwing it open and poking her head out, to gaze once more at the stars. She closed her eyes again, still clinging to that tiny card. "Thank you," she mouthed hoping God was still listening.
She opened her eyes and the moon seemed brighter, the stars twinkling with even more intensity. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw something below, moving on the frozen grass, all in beige. It almost looked like that other girl, the girl she used to be, twirling in the night, singing some unknown song. Quinn knew it was a trick of the light, and her mind was again getting lost in dreams, but it didn't matter because now Quinn knew there was still hope.
Even the most impossible wishes could be granted.