Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters. I do, however, own the wonderful Maria Arioso.
A/N: Hey all, here's the next chapter :) By the way, before you read this chapter, please go read the story 'Still Hurting' which covers Quinn's POV after the party in chapter 17.
Thanks to seekingoutfriday, ScorpioP, feintidea, Phen Name, Anonymous, devildoc35, , Cate53, Monichanz, AllICanDoIsBeMe, Jess-Sal, Patomentality, Emo-Chan the Awesome, Nightlancer600, thetamarine, Cat, Guest, hb, ToFinallyEscape, WhatHurtsMeMost, ToshiroXyou, AthynaDaughterOfPoseidon, Love-Knows-No-Boundaries 101, Ranryuujin Omega, thewhitestnoise, maxibear23, holdmetonight, mythic-lionheart, Katherine Ada, Witty Ninja, Cassicio, gayarm-agron, lealover, FeelingGrey, Justxenjoyingxthexride, SoFlaComet, JPElles, ch3lsko, and clueless1022.
Alright, so please, read and review, it'd really help so much all :) Hope you enjoy.
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Chapter 18: Trust Me
Rachel learned long ago you could tell what sort of person someone was by looking at his eyes.
Eyes were like the yellowed, sun bleached pages of a fine novel. They told stories of the things they'd seen. Spoke of moments spent amongst loved ones, of childhood memories long passed.
Eyes were books, meant to be read and studied vigorously in order to garner understanding of their owner.
Rachel was an expert at reading through the lines. Of discerning what a coffee stain on one crinkled page of memory might symbolize versus the well-loved crease of a thumb at the very edge, rubbed soft in reverence or anxiety.
Papa's eyes were the softest shade of brown, with the slightest hint of red about the irises. They were often gentle, showing bright chestnut in the warmth of the California sun, matching the kind smile etched on his thin lips.
In moments of sadness, they would dull, lifeless and heavy under the weariness of his heart. The smiling creases about his mouth would sag and age him as he sat, staring blankly into the distance, unfazed by the steam of his coffee sitting on the scratched surface of the modest dining table squeezed into the modest confines of their old, paint chipped home.
Maria's eyes were a fierce blue. Steely in their resolve when facing the most difficult problems. Twinkling and teasing the rest of the time, mixed with just the slightest hint of amusement and self-satisfaction.
And Quinn's…
Quinn's were forever changing. Shifting from one shade of the lightest green to the deepest gold. So many emotions ran through those eyes, so many stories lay hidden behind them. So many things Rachel could see, yet so many more hidden. So much unspoken.
But God, the way Quinn looked at her that night… last night…
The warmth in her eyes as she bent next to Rachel, speaking in soft tones to calm her. The way Quinn's lips felt pressed against her, smooth, yielding, and adoring.
…The golden panic and silver agony etched across her irises when Rachel pulled away. It'd torn Rachel's heart. Made her want to reach out and murmur apologies. To say "I'm sorry you had to love someone so fucked up." To ask Quinn not to love her anymore, because Rachel didn't need or deserve Quinn's affection.
Those eyes made Rachel feel so many things. It was a messy, emotional cocktail of things Rachel neither wanted nor needed to feel. Not when there was still so much more to sort out.
She wasn't ready for the sorts of secrets Quinn might be hiding behind those hazel eyes.
Rachel could read the stories behind them, if she so desired. If she really wanted to face the things left unspoken between the two of them.
But she couldn't now.
She wouldn't.
And it wasn't just because she couldn't deal with it… couldn't deal with all of these things at once. All the pressure cascading in at her at once in a haze of agonized memories reading to crash into her… ready to break her down.
No… no, there was more. So much more to think about.
She didn't trust herself.
Rachel didn't trust herself to be careful with Quinn's heart. Not when she couldn't keep hers together without sticking it together clumsily with rusty nails and a splintering hammer, only to have it come flying apart in minute shards at her feet.
How could you keep a person's heart in your hands when you had nothing to give in return except cheap two-by-fours and fragments of glue, mixed in with the sharpened edges of memories left untouched for five years?
…Did she want Quinn's heart?
She felt something… or she thought she had. Just the slightest bit of something when their lips touched. It hadn't been very strong, but it'd been something.
But Rachel couldn't know for sure.
She didn't know.
Rachel didn't know anything… wasn't sure of anything anymore.
'Well…' Her hands tightened around the edges of the music stack, brown eyes flickering down to take in the outstretched hand, then up to smug, dark blues.
'…I'm sure I don't trust him,' nails dug into the palms of her hands, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Rachel knew the sort of look in Jesse St. James' eyes. She'd seen it so many times before, reflected in the eyes of the boys she'd dated over the years.
The boyish charm of the rugged planes of his face, the quirked curve of his lips, the relaxed and confident bearing of his broad shoulders all masked the insincerity in his eyes. The arrogant steel behind those dark eyes. The unsettling glint of sinister intelligence behind feigned kindness.
He was another one of them. One of those foppish tools she'd had in her life before she'd come to Lima.
Jesse St. James was nothing special. A talented, handsome nothing special. But truly, nothing special.
…Perhaps that scared Rachel most.
Because that intelligence… that charm… that confidence…
Rachel was sure there was more to him. More to Jesse St. James.
There always was.
So Rachel reached out tentatively, extended her hand and firmly took Jesse's, shaking it. Her eyes flickered back up to his, the slightest hue of red flaring up around her irises.
"Pleasure to meet you as well," her voice rang with a harsh, distrusting edge.
Rachel's eyes widened as the boy lifted the back of her hand to his lips, placing a delicate kiss against the back, dark orbs never leaving surprised brown.
"No, the pleasure," he placed his other hand atop hers, "is all mine. It isn't everyday I'm in the presence of someone as radiant on stage as I am."
She suppressed a disgusted shiver with a plastic smile. "You certainly aren't shy about how good you are, are you?"
"You don't have to be shy when you've been named National Champs several times over and have a scholarship to attend a little school called UCLA," he paused, "that's University of California, Los Angeles."
Rachel fought the urge roll her eyes. God, the guy was a prick. How much more arrogant could he get? "I'm aware. I lived a few years in California before I moved here."
"I knew there was no way you were from this trash hole," Jesse leaned forward slightly, balancing an arm on a stack of sheet music. "There's no way I'd have gone so long without hearing a gorgeous voice like yours if you had been from Lima. Your solo of 'Mama Who Bore Me' from Spring Awakening, while not close to the professional, polished edge of Miss Lea Michele's performance, was truly remarkable."
Rachel suppressed an annoyed huff, biting her lip as she leaned further away from Jesse, placing her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.
Was that meant to be a compliment or an insult?
"I'm flattered you think so," she fought back the annoyed edge of her voice. "Vocal Adrenaline's performance was… impressive."
An understatement, she knew, but she wouldn't have Jesse St. James thinking she thought them something remarkable. Even if they were.
This was their competition. The final hurdle they'd face at Regionals or Nationals in order to save New Directions. She wouldn't have them… him thinking they feared Vocal Adrenaline.
There would be no weakness.
"Your group has shown great improvement from last year," Jesse stood up to lean casually against the stacks, staring into the cramped expanse of the store. "Last year, I didn't think much of your group. Movement was sloppy, singing was off-key, and your lead singers left something to be… desired."
Rachel's blood boiled in her veins, her fists clenching.
"The reason for their great improvement must be," his eyes flickered over to Rachel, "their newest member. Their new, shining star… You, Miss Rachel Berry."
"I'm only one person," Rachel replied. "One person alone does not make the entire team. What New Directions has done, they could've done with or without my help."
"On the contrary, one person can make or break an entire team," Jesse replied, straightening. He stepped closer, mere inches away from Rachel. A smile lit his thin lips, carrying over into the darkness of his irises. "And you make New Directions what they are, don't you?"
There was a knowing light in his eyes, a sort of perceptiveness that Rachel hadn't seen in her quick study of his character. A hint of panic played in the fringes of her mind.
That feeling. That foreboding that'd been gnawing at her since she first picked up the phone and dialed her way back into Leroy's life... It surged to the forefront of her mind for the briefest moment, making her synapses fire in warning.
…It was there, then it was gone.
But she would heed it, that brief flare of sense that'd flared through her.
She had to get out of here.
"No," she shook out of her thoughts, stepping away from Jesse. "No, I don't. I didn't do anything to make them anything other than what they would have eventually become.
"I'm nothing special, St. James," her gaze fell briefly to the ground, before flickering up to burn into him. "It was nice having a little… heart-to-heart with you, but I really have to get going. I'm late for coffee with a friend."
Well… that hadn't been… true, but she was sure it would be the second she stepped back into the house and came face to (angry, pissed, hell hath no fury like woman scorned Maria's) face with Maria.
She'd get Rachel somewhere where Rachel couldn't storm out of the room, somewhere public where her words, though soft, would be sharp and cutting against Rachel's ear.
Maria would scold her for what she'd done and demand Rachel apologize to Quinn. She'd push her, make her feel ashamed, then deliver her to the Fabray doorstep.
It was a cycle they went through.
Rachel would expect nothing less from her.
She pivoted on her heel, feeling her fists uncurl and her right hand raise to grab the cool metal of the door up ahead.
Until someone grasped her shoulder, grabbed her, made her stop in her tracks.
The hand was large and warm on her shoulder, gentle yet insistent in its pressure.
Rachel's shoulders stiffened. She turned her head the slightest bit, meeting with dark blues.
Blues that'd melted and softened with an edge of understanding. Eyes that were open, honest, and unlike they had been before.
They were… different.
And so was the voice that issued forth from Jesse's throat.
"I think I'll decide that for myself, Miss Berry," the hand pressed to bring Rachel around to face Jesse St. James as a warm, raw voice met her ear. "Let's find out right now… if you wouldn't mind?"
His words were open and soft, questioning. The kind of voice you use to speak to spooked animals or frightened children.
She searched his countenance for some trace of his earlier arrogance, for his deception, but found none. His bearing was slumped, casual, and relaxed. That self-satisfied smirk gone, replaced by the smallest quirk on the edge of his thin lip to reassure her.
Was it a trap?
She was curious. What did Jesse St. James want?
So she would allow herself to be caught by this trap.
Just this once.
If need be she would run… she'd run just like she had the other night from Quinn.
It seemed to be the only thing she was truly good at.
"What did you have in mind?" her voice grew weaker in its resolve.
"One song," Jesse said softly. "Sing one song with me. That's it."
"One song, and you'll leave me alone?" she asked.
"Just one song," he nodded.
She bit her lip, before nodding softly. "Alright… a song."
The slight bend in his lip spread across the rugged planes of his face, lighting up his eyes as he gently took Rachel's hand. "Come on, they've got a piano in the corner. We can settle this right now."
And Rachel let herself be led, for once in her life.
Because she didn't, for the life of herself, know what else to do.
Singing one song wouldn't change anything. It couldn't.
At least… that's what she hoped… prayed for.
The piano in the corner of the music shop had clearly seen better days. The polished black varnish of the upright piano stood chipped and weathered by years of use. The white of the keys yellowed and browned by tea and coffee.
Jesse took a seat on the chipped, mismatched bench, scooting over slightly whilst rolling up the sleeves of his jacket. He threw a smile over his shoulder nodding down at the empty space whilst pulling up the battered casing over the keys, exposing the stained ivory.
Rachel took a tentative step forward, pushing a lock of brown hair behind her ear, taking a seat beside Jesse, leaving a large margin of space between them. She placed her hands squarely in her lap, balled into fists.
Jesse placed his fingers on the keys, ringing out a soft chord, turning his gaze upon Rachel. "Is it alright if we do something a little less Broadway? As magnificent as you were with a musical, I'd really love to sing something a little more… contemporary."
"That's fine," she said, never meeting his eyes.
God, why couldn't she meet his eyes? Why couldn't she look at him?
"Hello?" he asked, his voice still lacking its earlier arrogance. "By Lionel Richie. Do you know it? Would that be alright?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, that's fine."
He smiled. "I think it'll sound beautiful with that voice of yours. But let's see how this goes, hmm?" His fingers plinked out a scale before settling on a chord, sounding out the introduction of the song.
"I've been alone with you inside my mind," his voice rang smoothly forth from his throat, his fingers working easily across the keys. "And in my dreams I've kissed your lips… a thousand times. I sometimes see you pass outside my door."
He swallowed, licking his lips. "Hello… is it me you're looking for?"
Rachel breathed in softly, parting her lips to sing. A slight chill ran down the column of her back as their voices blended. "I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your smile. You're all I've ever wanted and my arms are open wide. And you know just what to say. And you know just what to do. But let me start by saying…"
Wary brown and smiling blue met. "I love you."
The song continued, driving forward, crescendoing in intensity.
Rachel's voice gained strength as she plowed forward, drowning her mistakes in every lyric and every word.
The song, perhaps, didn't match what was in her heart. Didn't match every festering emotion bruising and burning itself into her mind.
But this… this was an anesthetic. Pouring her sorrow, anger, her rage into every note and having it warble in her throat. Losing her thoughts to the song's demands and listening to the way their voices rose and fell over the steady flow of the music. Surrendering herself to every chord and every dynamic.
Her eyes closed, her shoulders relaxed, and she slumped, bracing one hand against the piano's edge as her throat opened to sing.
Her music… this… this felt right. Just as it always had. It never failed to make her feel numb. To drive out the demons for a short while.
Their voices died as the final notes of the piano died out and the two of them were left, sitting alone in that lonely corner of the music shop.
Tears fought their way through the closed crease of Rachel's lids, dripping through her lashes as the pain rushed back through her veins and spread its poison to her heart.
She drew her sleeve across her eyes, slathering away the tears before Jesse saw them.
His hand rested gently on her shoulder, turning her to face him. He studied the redness in her eyes, but said nothing about it.
"See," a smile lit his lips. "You are something very special, Rachel Berry. That was absolutely beautiful and invigorating.
"I've never had anyone on par with my singing," he chuckled, shaking his head. "If you were in Vocal Adrenaline, we'd get every due-."
"But I'm not in Vocal Adrenaline," Rachel's voice was strong against his ears.
He stopped, a wistful curl taking residence on his lips. "No. No, you aren't."
He paused. "But I'd like to get to know you a little more. You're interesting." He slowly shut the lid over the keys. "Are you free next Friday? We can do coffee?"
And God, there it was again, that greasy smirk, that slyness in his eyes.
That trace of panic fired in her mind.
She'd taken the bait and hoped for something different, but he'd disappointed her.
Rachel's jaw tightened.
She thought there'd been something different about him when the bravado had left his shoulders. When he'd allowed her to see something of himself.
But really, had he at all?
He was just the same as the rest of them, wasn't he?
"No."
The smile on Jesse's lips faltered. "…What?"
She looked up at him. "No, I will not go out for coffee with you on Friday."
His eyes grew stormy. "And why wouldn't you?"
"Because I'm not interested," Rachel said flatly. She stood from the bench, clenching her fists. "I'm not interested in you or anything you have to offer. I have a team that counts on me, and I will not betray them by seeing you."
"You're being a bit melodrama-."
"I know your sort," Rachel said, pointing at him. "I know just what you want from me, what you intended with that song. Hello, really?"
"And what if this was all meant as a friendly gesture," Jesse motioned to the bench. "What if I'm just trying to extend a hand in friendship between our teams?"
"If that's what you intend, then I'm sorry for the way I'm behaving," Rachel said without missing a beat. "But I doubt I'm wrong. I rarely am when it comes to people like you."
"People like me?" he scoffed. "What about people like me?"
"You want something," Rachel whispered. "You always want something from others. Don't think I haven't heard about you before, Jesse St. James. Don't think I haven't dated your kind before. Handsome choir boys that run off and play nice with other girls."
"You think you have me figured out?" Jesse said. "Has someone hurt you so much that you can't count on anyone? Can't face anyone anymore? Are you so scared that all you can do is keep running? When will you stop running, if so?"
Rachel's eyes flickered with a semblance of hurt before sealing over, a blank slate. "Goodbye, Jesse St. James. It was a pleasure to share a song with you."
She strode from the shop as Jesse growled, throwing himself down on the bench, pulling at his hair in frustration.
He pulled his phone from his jean pocket, pressing numbers down on the phone, lifting to his ear.
"What's wrong, Jesse?"
"I spoke to her… she's not biting."
There came a long string of silence before the person at the end of the line spoke again.
"Somehow I didn't expect anything less of her."
"So what do we do?" he asked. "I tried, I sang with her. She wouldn't talk to me."
"We try something else, Jesse… We'll get there somehow."
"Where the fuck have you been?" Maria's voice greeted Rachel's ears as she strode through the door. She loosened her scarf, throwing off her jacket.
"Out," Rachel said mutely, making her way through the parlor and up the stairs, just as she had yesterday.
She didn't need to hear this. She didn't need another reminder.
Two hands seized the shoulders of Rachel's shirt, forcing her around and slamming her into a wall. Furious blue eyes bore into Rachel's alarmed browns.
"Like hell you get to dismiss me after what happened last night," Maria's voice was low and dangerous. "I understood how you reacted. Hell, I understood you holing yourself up in your room. I thought you'd come downstairs this morning and we could discuss it, but what do you do?!"
Her nails bit into Rachel's skin, making her friend wince. "You disappear without a note, without a fucking word! You ran away!"
"Let go of me!" Rachel said, pushing up against the angry hands.
"No!" The hands slammed her back into the wall. "You listen to me for once.
"This entire trip, I've watched you and Quinn dance around each other. I've watched you be a 'will they, won't they,'" Maria whispered. "And I know, Rachel. I know that you're hurting. And I can understand it. But…"
She paused, looking up at her slowly. "But you need to start thinking about the others around you. You don't see it yet, but you've dug your way so deep into their hearts… they care about you, Rachel… Especially Quinn."
Rachel gritted her teeth, looking away. "I… I never meant to hurt her. It's… It's just… you don't understand-."
"I don't understand?" Maria asked softly. "Oh Rachel…. I've known you the last five years. I've soothed your nightmares, I've dried your tears, I've listened to everything you've told me. I've always been there for you.
"I'm the only one that understands you," Maria said, gently lifting her hands, placing them warmly on Rachel's cheeks. "But you really have no idea what you've done to Quinn, do you?"
Rachel flinched at the mention, eyes flickering away. "I… I…" her voice grew soft.
'I never meant to do anything to her.'
She hadn't. She never wanted to hurt Quinn. She never wanted to hurt anyone. She hated when that happened. It sickened her. Made her feel poisoned, right down to the bone. Hurt her heart.
She'd never been that sort of cruel person. Rachel had always shown kindness to others (even those that didn't deserve it). It'd been one of the only things to carry over from 'old Rachel.' That one thing that sadness couldn't kill from little Rachel Berry and pry from her dead fingers.
The fact that she'd harmed someone… caused pain… It hurt her.
"I know, Rachel," Maria snatched the words from the air and fixed them into a sentence. "I know you never meant to hurt her. But you should've seen her… Fuck, Rach, she cried.
"They outed her, Rachel," Maria said softly. "They outed her and now you know that she likes you… and you meant the most out of all the people in the room. And you ran away from her.
"She probably thinks you can't bear to talk to her anymore," Maria's hands dropped. "She thinks that you're disgusted."
"That's not true," Rachel said, shaking her head. "I… I don't care about that."
"And I know you don't," Maria said, nodding. "…I know better than anyone. But Quinn doesn't, does she?"
Rachel chewed her tongue. "No…"
"And Rachel," Maria paused for a moment, thinking, before continuing softly, "…are you sure you don't feel anything for her?"
She tasted blood in her mouth as she bit into her tongue, closing her eyes.
Did she love Quinn?
No, no she didn't.
But that didn't mean that she didn't feel something. That nagging little tug at her emotions when she'd kissed Quinn. That faint trace of something that hinted at something that, with time, could become something more.
But it scared her. She'd never felt like that in her entire life.
The fact that a girl had made it happen was only the slightest concern in Rachel's heart. Papa raised her to treat love between two people, regardless of gender, as something to be cherished.
She'd been well aware of the fact that she might not be so straight. She'd never loved a woman, and never been consciously attracted to them (unless drunk, apparently).
But that sliver of her past, that nagging urge to dig into the past, the reason she'd come to Lima bit into her mind.
'You can't start something new till you finish something else.'
The past hadn't been allowed to rest. She hadn't solved anything yet, only made things more complicated.
…And how could she even hope to succeed in loving someone when she didn't know what love was?
Who'd been her mentor in love? Her Dads?
She never thought they would divorce. That their love would turn to hatred.
Rachel never thought their love would die.
But it had. Papa and Dad divorced and Papa had taken her to California, far away from her Dad and everything she'd ever known.
Did she have a prayer in love when theirs failed?
So Rachel merely looked away, closed her eyes, leaning against the wall.
"I don't know."
Rachel's hands shook as she placed the last of her textbooks into her locker, closing her eyes and exhaling.
They trembled as she slammed the locker shut, spinning the lock several times to scramble the code.
She swallowed, opening her eyes and turning her head to stare further down the row.
Maria refused to come to school with her today. She knew what had to be done. What Rachel would do. She wouldn't be around to interrupt it.
Rachel would apologize. She would make amends. Reassure Quinn.
It was the right thing to do.
She needed to do it.
She wanted to.
The slam of a locker brought Rachel forth from her thoughts.
Quinn stood, eyes locked onto the slushy-stained tile of the hall, closing her locker softly, a slump to her shoulders.
Today, Quinn's hair flowed down her shoulders in soft, tumbling waves of gold, held out of her eyes by a jeweled barrette. Dark wash skinny jeans encased taut, athletic thighs, ending in a pair of plain white flats. A yellow blouse and white cardigan paired off the ensemble, leaving Quinn looking younger and lighter than in her severe Cheerio's uniform.
Rachel blinked.
God, was she beautiful.
She shook her head, clearing the thoughts from her head.
'Bigger things to do, Rachel," she thought to herself, 'much bigger things.'
She mumbled some prayers quickly under her breath (one in Hebrew, and a quick 'Our Father' to boot) before advancing forward, fixing her hand to the strap of her messenger bag slung across her torso.
"Quinn?" the greeting was questioning, tentative.
Sharp eyes, the color of burnt amber, bore into Rachel's. As they connected with sorry brown, they shifted to sad hazel, a conflicted mixture of angry, frustrated gold and loving green.
"What do you want, Rachel?" Her voice was so fragile, almost as though Rachel could break it to little bits with the slightest touch, with the slightest corruption.
Rachel bit her lip.
But hadn't she already done that?
"I…" Rachel looked about the hall, watching the students milling by, throwing glances at the two girls.
She swallowed. "Can we talk in the choir room?"
Quinn looked about, jaw tensing slightly before she sighed, her shoulders slumping before she nodded softly. "Alright... I'll meet you there."
"Lunchtime?"
"That's... fine."
Hazel eyes bore into Rachel's back as she closed the choir room door.
Rachel lifted her hand to her lips, biting down softly on the flesh of her hand. The faint pain filtered through her senses, drowning the slight edge of her anxiety.
She slowly turned from the door, walking over to the risers, reaching for the chair beside Quinn silently, pulling it to come to rest in front of Quinn.
They sat for a moment, silent, eyes resting squarely on the ground instead of looking to each other.
Rachel clasped her hands together, breathing deeply, worrying her lip for a moment before looking up, parting her lips to speak.
"Quinn, I'm so sorry about what happened," she swallowed. She shook her head as she continued. "I can't even begin to say how sorry I am."
Quinn's silence chilled Rachel. Her heart pumped furiously in her chest as her jaw continued to work.
"I… I understand if you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore," Rachel said. "I know I hurt you. I know I shouldn't have run. It's just… there's so much. So much on my mind…"
Rachel's gaze flickered downward. "There's so much I haven't begun to tell you. I've been so scared for so long to share myself with people. It's been something that's been a part of me for the last five years…"
Pale hands came to twine with Rachel's, tugging lightly to bring the guitarist's attention to Quinn's face.
"Rachel," her voice was a low, melodic whisper. "Ever since you arrived here, I've known there was something special about you. I've never doubted that. All I've wanted is to get to know you. I've wanted to see what makes you so beautiful and so talented… It was so hard fighting myself... trying not to love you. You're such a loveable person. You're wonderful.
"But even though I… even though I like you," Quinn's words were forced and stiff. Rachel clenched her jaw. God, Quinn was afraid of her running again. She didn't trust her not to run like some scared little child again. "Even though I like you… you're still my friend. You being my friend is more important than you being-." She paused and swallowed as though pained. "Anything else.
"But you keep running, Rachel," Quinn continued. "You keep running away. You shut me out each time we make a little progress. You pull away and you close up inside yourself.
"I know what it's like to be in pain, Rachel. I know what it feels like to have your heart broken," she closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. "I know… I know what it's like to close yourself off, hoping to make it on your own, hoping to just get through another day. To feel like you can't trust anyone.
"But you can trust me, Rachel," Quinn said softly. "I promise that you can."
Quinn's hands left Rachel's as the girl sat back in her chair, waiting. They sat for several minutes in silence, atmosphere thick with tension.
"When I was younger, I lived here in Lima." Quinn's eyes snapped up as Rachel rested back in her chair, looking down to her lap as she continued.
"Me, my Papa, and my Dad… we lived together and we were happy," Rachel smiled. "Papa closed his medical practice to stay at home and raise me. He and I would sit outside and play games… or sit at the piano and play songs all day. Dad would work and bring me to lessons… And every night, they'd come tuck me in, and sometimes they'd sing me to sleep…"
Rachel chuckled. "It was perfect. They were perfect."
"What happened?" Rachel's gaze snapped up. Quinn's voice sounded rough against her ear.
Rachel's smile faded. "…That's… I don't know.
"It happened so quickly… First they stopped coming in to sing… then they wouldn't sit on the same side of the table together… Dad stopped coming home as much, and when he was home they'd fight," Rachel's eyes grew distant. "Eventually… Papa just gave up. They divorced and Papa got custody of me.
"There was a custody battle," Rachel swallowed heavily. "I don't remember much of it. All I remember is being brought in for a paternity test… and driving away from home.
"I never found out why my Dads got divorced. It always troubled me… My… memory won't leave it alone," a melancholy curve took residence on Rachel's lips. "I've forgotten it all… but it comes in bits and fragments. In nightmares that terrorize me during the night.
"I've… I've learned how to cope through the years. But I didn't want to cope anymore. I wanted to move on," Rachel shook her head. "I've tried to move on. I thought I didn't need to know. I didn't want to.
"But my mind… my memories won't leave me," her voice trembled with emotion. "I came here to Lima to put all the pieces together so I could finally be at peace with myself."
Tears rolled down Rachel's cheers as lids closed over chocolate brown eyes. "Everything I touch now… I destroy it. I've tried for so long not to let my emotions rule me. To just get over it all. But it just comes back. It always comes back to haunt me. I want to move forward. But it keeps holding me back."
Rachel's jaw clenched. "I never meant to hurt you, Quinn. I never wanted to. But I've done… I'm held back by so many things.
"And if I even want to look forward… if I even want a shot at living a normal life, I need to know why," Rachel explained. "I need to know why it happened. Because God, Quinn. I can't stand the nightmares anymore. I can't stand living like this anymore.
"I've tried therapy, I've tried it all, the only way to get rid of it all is to take what's here," she pointed to her temple, "and finally lay it to rest.
"The past still haunts me," Rachel snorted, "God, that sounds so clichéd, but it's true. I know it's… a poor reason for the way I've acted. But I'm sorry Quinn… I really am. I hope you know that."
There was a beat of silence, a pulse of it.
"I know, Rachel."
Quinn's eyes had turned that familiar, comforting soft green. "I understand… Thank you for telling me. I know it can be hard for you... especially… after last night."
"We're friends, Quinn," Rachel said softly. "And… you're one of my best friends here. You've done a lot for me and… I don't know. For some reason, I just feel like I can trust you. It's a bit strange for me."
"It's strange to trust me?" Quinn asked softly.
"No, no," Rachel said quickly. "It's just… I don't usually trust people so quickly. I haven't really been here so long, but you came into my life so easily. Usually someone has to elbow his way in, but you made it feel so easy."
"Do I have to ask who elbowed her way in?" Quinn asked dryly.
"I'm sure you already know the girl," Rachel said with a slight smirk.
They laughed, smiling at each other as it died.
"Rachel… can I ask you something?" Quinn asked softly.
Rachel smiled faintly. "Sure, go right ahead."
"When we kissed," she shifted slightly in her seat. "…Did you feel anything? Or… was I the only one who felt it?"
Rachel's gaze flickered away for a moment, her lip worried between her teeth once more.
God, she couldn't lie anymore.
Not to her… she'd already hurt Quinn so much.
"I felt something," Rachel said, looking down at her hands. "I felt something, but I'm not sure what it is… I… I need a little bit of time to figure it out."
Quinn nodded softly. "Thank you."
The last traces of a smile left Rachel's lips. "Are we alright now?"
"I…" Quinn closed her eyes. "I think so. But it still hurts, Rachel. It still hurts a little bit. I'm sure it will fade. But I need you to trust me, and I need you to be my friend…" She paused, as though hesitating.
"A friend is really all I need," the words left her throat in a pinched, pained whisper.
"And you have it," Rachel interjected. "You always will. Please don't ever doubt that, Quinn."
"Thank you, Rachel," she said, smiling. She paused a second, before leaning forward. "Could… you do me one last favor?"
"What is it?" Rachel asked, curious.
"Rachel…" her words were soft and gentle, a melodic crawl. "Can I kiss you?"
Something in the back of Rachel's mind clicked and called. Her mouth dried and her heart pounded in her chest.
"…Can I…"
"Alright."
Quinn leaned forward, placing gentle hands on Rachel's cheeks, brushing a strand of brown hair out of dark eyes.
"It's alright, Rachel," Quinn whispered, running her fingers across the girl's cheeks in soothing strokes. "It's alright. It'll be quick…"
"…Can I ki-."
Their lips pressed together, melding together warmly.
The kiss was chaste and sweet, a smooth gliding of lips against each other.
"Can I kiss…?"
Rachel's hand found its way into long blonde hair, weaving her fingers through it, holding on for just a little bit longer.
"Can I kiss you?"
A final pressed of warmth against the chapped service, a final stroke against the cheek, and then cold.
Rachel's eyes fluttered open, the click of the choir room door closing her into the choir room, alone.
Her lips tingled, her fingers running across them as she stared into space, lost in memories she didn't know existed.
She ran, she grasped at the memory, tried to keep it from slipping from her fingers.
She saw hazel eyes and tears. Glasses, felt the heat of the sun's harsh rays on her cheeks.
She could feel the sweat spilling down her neck, feel the annoyance and the resignation coursing through her veins.
But the memories ran. They fled from her eager fingers.
"Lucy…"
Rachel clenched her fists, burying her face into her hands, shoulders shaking.
Where had it all gone…? Her memory…?
"Lucy… can I kiss you?"
A/N: End… not a real resolution to Rachel and Quinn's problems… sort of… leaving it open a bit…
Rachel does not remember Lucy yet, but the pieces ARE falling into place.
Please review, let me know if you enjoyed it... and it'd make this author smile nice and wiiideee :D