Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters. I do, however, own Maria Arioso.
A/N: Hey all, long time no write! So it's been quite the month for us all, eh? What with Quinn sleeping with a woman and all… I heard some of you weren't quite happy with what happened, so I'm hoping this'll help take the edge off… Faberry feels and *GASP* plenty of progression. Happy late Valentine's Day to you all :)
Thanks to ToInfinity, thetamarine, maxibear23, critizie281, strawberrymacchiato, FeelingGrey, thenerdwithoutglasses, Shellmar, LoveSKINS94, Jess-Sel, miyuve, FoggyAndUncertain, SoFlaComet, Musicfutbolfan6, ZombieApocalypse911, StayWithMeForTheKids, Lunna Salvatore, YourInnate, Guest, RVFlorida, boldie, Jellyblubber, ichigo111981, ch3lsk0, meagainstthemusiic, Gleelover47, JPElles, Ilianalovee, Guest, redashford, d0kei, CanadianPianoMan, Abnab, floire, lealover, Athyna DaughterofPosiedon, NeniioN, KW Jordan, thegirlwhosleeps, Shiori Kaiou, yuri barq, Tattsmagee, Love-Knows-No-Boundaries-101, CloisRonita, texican, Wheelie91, RoseHarrow, physcob2002, Sithlord223, Pie56, and najiow.
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Chapter 19: Smoke Starts To Clear
Maria's time had run out.
She'd bought herself two weeks. Two weeks to make a difference. To change their fortunes. To take a losing team without a single winning bone in their bodies, capitalize on their strengths and turn them into something to be feared.
She'd done her duty with New Directions.
She'd taken their cringe worthy, sad dancing and their tone deaf karaoke and made them into a winning team, despite the fact that she'd only had fourteen days to do it.
Maria considered it something of a miracle. She hadn't thought she could do it, honestly.
The videos Rachel sent her made her heart sink and shook her self-assuredness back when she'd first seen them.
Because, God, if the Journey Medley was their best effort, did they have any hope?
Female vocals would have been more acceptable had the correct singer been matched to the correct song. Fabray's voice was pretty. Soft, mellow, and calming against the ear. If they'd stripped down something, made it a guitar and Fabray's voice, it would've been the perfect thing to lull the crowd into unawares before cracking out the big guns.
But New Directions hadn't done that. Instead, Quinn's had been drowned out by the instrumentation and by Finn Hudson's dying cat wails.
That had irked her more than anything.
The male vocals were terrible. Finn Hudson sounded—and looked—like he needed to take a shit (she hadn't fucking liked him even BEFORE she'd met him) and danced like someone lit his ass on fire.
She'd seen brief brilliance the moment Puckerman had taken a line during "Don't Stop Believin'." His voice was smoky and hard-edged, perfect for rock tunes. He was fucking perfect for that Journey Medley. Any sane choir director would pick him over Finn "Constipated Fucker" Hudson.
Then again, William Schuester (affectionately—or well… amusedly nicknamed PedoSchue by Maria during a moment of awkward Finn Bromance groping) wasn't exactly a sane Glee Director.
The choice of Schue as choir director was, quite honestly, a fucking mystery.
Maria knew he'd been part of McKinley Glee Club's more successful years. That he still lived in those years and thought himself some sort of Glee expert simply because he'd beenthere when they'd won (he'd also been there when the Pyramids were built, Maria groused amusedly).
But being part of an activity didn't make you good at teaching it.
A Glee instructor needed to be good at arranging vocals, good at putting together choreography, or at least someone to help with it.
Schue had none of those qualifications.
He was a middle-aged man teaching Spanish (rather badly, but still teaching it) at a High School in the middle of nowhere, with only his own self-taught dancing and singing skills from Glee Club over a decade ago.
New Directions had different songs, with badly balanced vocals, and varying ways of running up and down risers (which Schue called 'choreography').
Fuck it all.
He wasn't even close to being what New Directions needed.
Maria had the idea to go help New Directions for some time. Had the idea to book the tickets, to take a leave of absence from school (and it was a fucking brilliant one too if she didn't say so herself—'Visiting Universities in Ohio,' who could say no?), and to go help Rachel before she tore her hair out watching the clowns stumble during rehearsal.
Maria watched Rachel stumble taking direction over New Directions (pun unintended) for the first few months of her stay. Watched her friend huff over the group's disconnect and their stubbornness.
She watched Rachel grow to love New Directions, despite its dysfunctionality.
Rachel sincerely believed in every member of the Glee Club and what they could do.
"They're a bit scatterbrained," Rachel admitted one night as she sat at her desk, eyes circled dark with exhaustion. "Lord knows they're the most stubborn people I've ever met in my life. But when they get together, work together, and put their mind to it, they can do anything."
Rachel believed.
Rachel had never been wrong before.
So Maria swallowed her doubts, put on a brave face, and she believed in what Rachel told her.
If Rachel hadn't been the one to believe, Maria wouldn't have done it.
She wouldn't have gotten on a plane at the ass crack of dawn to go to no man's land. Wouldn't have even blinked, wouldn't have thought to go to Lima, Ohio (it was fucking freezing!).
But it was Rachel.
And Maria could never turn her back on Rachel.
So she'd done it.
And now her two weeks were up.
Those two weeks of toil, laughter, sweat, tears, and blood (in Finn's case, she happily noted).
Maria'd become somewhat of a believer herself.
Maria loved New Directions in her own, small, quiet way. She loved what they could create when they worked for a common goal. When there was some sort of order created out of the chaos of their personalities, all colliding into one organized, beautiful mess.
New Directions was like music, and at the center, at their very pulse, she found Rachel standing there. Rachel was their heart, providing that unknown push to make them pulse andlive.
The glue that held them together.
Maria chuckled. It was just like it'd been back in San Diego.
Rachel, and her absolute magnetism.
God.
Maria loved music, loved New Directions.
'…And I love you,' she thought with that sad smile splayed across her lips as she watched Rachel make her way down the stairs, pulling her jacket over her shoulders.
"You've got all your luggage?" Rachel tightened the scarf about her throat, taking a sit at the bottom step, pulling on a pair of dark hiking boots.
"Yeah, yeah, Mom," Maria huffed, pulling her backpack over her shoulder, grabbing the handle of her luggage in the other. "God, Rach. You can be such a fucking grandma, sometimes?"
"You leave your crap at my house whenever you come over," Rachel stood, tapping the boots on the remainder of the way, "and then you call me and ask 'Rach, why the fuck didn't you tell me to double check?!' So don't get all huffy with me, M."
"Sure," Maria rolled her eyes. "Mom."
"Maria Arioso."
"Rachel Berry," Maria drawled. She smirked, tapping a petulant Rachel on the tip of the nose. "It's only 6 AM, do you really have to be such a stiff so early in the morning? Can't you just relax for once in your goddamn life?"
"Can you take things seriously for once in yours?" Rachel countered.
"No. Because I don't want to die a bitter, jaded old grouch like you," she replied.
"Just check."
Maria chuckled, bending down on one knee. She hit the clasps of the suitcase, making quick inventory and running down a mental checklist. Satisfied, she threw the lid closed, locked the case, and stood.
"We've got everything here," she paused. "Mom."
Rachel clenched her jaw. "Just get into the goddamn car."
"Oooo, she cussed," Maria chortled. "Someone's angry."
"Car, now," Rachel shoved Maria toward the door, shouldering Maria's laptop bag over one shoulder, pulling her keys from her pocket.
The two of them strode through the small courtyard and past the gate. Rachel clicked the locks open. She threw the back door ajar, taking Maria's bag from her shoulder and dropping it on the seat unceremoniously.
"Hey, that's expensive!" She heard Maria call, irritated as she slammed the trunk shut.
"Then you should have been the one carrying it, huh?" Rachel opened the front door, taking a seat before slamming it shut. She placed the key into the ignition, powering the car on.
Rachel waited till Maria closed the passenger door before she pulled out the driveway and started down the street.
They sat in silence for several blocks, Rachel's hands tight against the steering wheel.
Maria bit her lip, looking at Rachel out the corner of her eye.
"…So it's really been two weeks, huh?"
Rachel's grip relaxed, the steely sheen in her eyes softening to a sort of melancholy.
"It's been two weeks," Rachel confirmed softly. She shook her head, a crooked smile on her lips. "It's been two weeks and so much has changed."
"Been a hell of a ride, huh?" Maria said, pulling her legs up to her chest.
"Isn't it always when you're around?" Rachel asked, shooting an accusing smile at Maria.
"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," Maria said innocently, tapping her fingers against the upholstery.
"We both know you're fibbing."
"Getting me caught at the middle school?" Rachel asked, lifting a brow. "Getting me to go on a date with that moron, Jake Newman."
"At least he wasn't an asshole like the last several guys before," Maria huffed, crossing her arms.
"He asked me if I wanted to do it after dessert," Rachel narrowed her eyes.
"He was blunt," Maria grinned. "Blunt, straightforward, and didn't hide his desire to get into your pants by kissing ass."
"It was crude."
"It was honest."
"Agree to disagree?" Rachel chuckled.
"As always," Maria paused, before continuing. "So… you and Quinn."
Rachel furrowed her brow, looking over at Maria. "What about me and Quinn?"
"You two kiss and make up?"
Rachel gasped, taking a hand off the steering wheel to hit Maria on her shoulder. "Maria!"
"You can't tell me you don't wanna kiss her," Maria smirked. "I saw the way you went at it. That kiss might've led to some goddamn angsty moments, but fuck was it-."
"I'm not listening."
"So fucking-."
"NOT LISTENING!"
"Hot," Maria completed, grinning.
"Can you not be a teenage boy for once?" Rachel huffed, jerking the wheel to turn.
"Again, can you not be such a Grandma?" Maria dropped her legs. "But no, really. What happened yesterday between the two of you? Did everything go alright?"
Rachel chewed her tongue, eyes locked before her. "…I told her everything."
"Everything?"
"About the divorce, about why I came here," Rachel clarified, "about the nightmares. I told her everything."
"And about… you two?" Maria prodded.
"I…" Rachel swallowed heavily, before continuing. "I told her I wasn't sure how I felt about her."
"Okay, wait. So you basically said," Maria cleared her throat, before continuing in a high-pitched, squeaking voice, "'I'm a sexy, wounded, mysterious girl with some childhood trauma on the side…. Oh, by the way, I may or may not have feelings for you.' Nothing else? No, 'please wait for me to solve my issues?'"
Rachel scowled. "What was I supposed to do? I was being honest."
"And I honestly think she'd like something a little more concrete than that, Rach. She was waiting for you to say something," Maria shook her head. She pounded her head against the glass. "How are you so fucking clueless?"
"I'm sorry I'm not ultra suave like you are," Rachel growled. "But I was honest, and I told her I didn't know how I felt. And then-."
Maria looked up, eyes snapping to face Rachel. "Oh fuck, there's more? God, tell me."
"Shekissedme," Rachel rushed out.
Maria's eyes widened. "Fuck. Fabray planted one on you!? You let her?"
Rachel cleared her throat, cheeks flushing. "…Yes."
"Holy fuck, Rach," Maria blinked.
"Yeah," Rachel agreed, staring steadfastly at the road.
"So," Maria's voice lowered. "What do you think you're going to do? Are you going to… y'know. Take her out?"
"I-I…" Rachel paused. "I need to start thinking about what I came here for, Maria. I need to stop dragging my feet on finding out what I came to find out. I didn't come here to date anyone."
"Sometimes we find things along the way, Rach," Maria replied. "Quinn's a hell of a catch. I think she really likes you, and not just 'cause you're pretty. I think she'd do anything for you."
"What makes you think so?" Rachel responded defensively. "How can she be any different than any other person?"
"Because you've actually let her in," Maria said. "You let her in and it didn't take long. It only took a few months. Fuck Rach, I had to wait two years before you'd talk to me.
"Give her a chance, Rach," Maria continued. "Let her help you out. You need someone to help you when I'm gone. Get to know her and just let things happen. Don't hide. Take a chance."
"I don't know if-."
Maria grabbed Rachel's hand, holding it to her chest. "You can, Rachel. You can.
"I know it's not easy to trust, Rach," Maria shook her head. "God, I know how much it's hurt you to trust people. But do you trust me?"
Rachel glanced over, tightening her hand. "Of course I trust you."
"Then trust me," Maria said softly. "Trust me like you always have. Give Quinn a chance."
Rachel's shoulders tensed, her jaw tightening. She pulled her hand away from Maria as she rounded the last turn into the airport, parking the car. Rachel closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, before turning to face Maria.
She grabbed her friend's hand again, looking up at her seriously.
"I…" Rachel paused. "I trust you. And I'll do it. I promise you."
Maria's eyes softened. "Thank you, Rach."
She squeezed Rachel's hand gently, before opening the door.
The two of them grabbed Maria's luggage, walking hand in hand toward the airport terminal. Maria checked her luggage and printed her boarding pass.
They stood together in front of the security line. Maria turned, grasping Rachel's other hand as a melancholic curve took residence in her smile.
"I guess this is goodbye, huh?" Rachel asked with a weak smile.
"It's back to sun and beaches for me," Maria squeezed Rachel's hands. "…I'm going to miss you, smurf."
"I'll miss you, too," Rachel said softly, smile falling from her lips. "It was really great having you around."
"It was great being around," Maria laughed, eyes watering as tears threatened her eyes. She lifted a hand, wiping shakily. "Ah fuck. I'm not supposed to get all weepy."
Maria grabbed Rachel, squeezing the air from her lungs.
Rachel groaned briefly, before wrapping her arms around Maria's shoulders, rocking side to side. "Call me when you get in, huh?"
Maria nodded into her shoulder, squeezing harder. They parted, Maria wiping the tears from her cheeks.
"Take care, Rach," Maria said. She leaned forward, hugging Rachel once more. She leaned back on her heels as they parted, placing a gentle kiss on the crown of Rachel's head. "Start poking around a bit… and trust Quinn to help you."
"Will do, M," Rachel whispered.
With a final squeeze of her hand, Maria went past the security line, handing her ID and boarding pass to TSA.
She climbed onto the escalator, turning around for one last wave, smiling.
For the slightest second, Rachel swore steely blue eyes broke, heartbreak and pain wrought across the irises. The curve of Maria's lips took on a sort of sadness that seemed to age her friend. Maria's shoulders slumped, as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.
The light from the rising sun glared against the metal of the escalator, blinding Rachel for a split second. When Rachel's lids fluttered open, the sad slump of Maria's shoulders was lost, her eyes again the same determined blue.
And so, with one last wave of her arm and cocky smile, Maria turned on her heel and walked away.
Maria Arioso disappeared as abruptly as she had come back into her friend's life.
Rachel was alone.
School didn't feel half as entertaining without Maria.
No smart ass comments against Schue's repeating Spanish lessons regarding various forms of conjugation. No wise cracks about Santana's plastic surgery.
There were no perverted jokes at lunch, nor the constant quarrel between Maria and Santana to act as the backtrack of conversation.
It was quiet. Quiet and uneventful.
Rachel thought that she'd be thankful for some quiet. That she didn't have anyone to force her to change anything around her.
Maria made things interesting. Made things fun. Drove her to do things she'd never do.
But Maria wasn't here anymore.
Things between Rachel and Quinn stagnated. They danced awkwardly around each other. They shared classes, a table at lunch, and sat next to each other during Spanish. They spent a majority of their time around one another.
They threw each other strained smiles, said hello and goodbye.
But they never sat down to speak. They never brought up the subject of the kiss, or the conversation that had gone with it.
Their friendship was reasonably strained.
Quinn's 'outing' hadn't extended beyond the party. The Glee Clubbers kept a deep lock on the secret (which had been quite surprising, considering they had two of McKinley's greatest gossips in the club).
No one knew Quinn Fabray had a not-so-small crush on Rachel Berry, nor that she loved someone decidedly less masculine than any of her previous relationships.
No one spoke a word, and so Quinn was left on top of the social pyramid.
That hadn't stopped Quinn's sexuality from being the talk of Glee Club.
The meeting following Sectionals started out well. Mr. Schue thanked them for all their hard work and displayed the trophy in front of everyone. He did his 'feel good' spiel about how the entire club had done beautifully at Sectionals and how the road ahead would be tougher, but they would surmount any obstacle together and come out on top at Regionals.
The theme for Regionals, he'd told them, would be singing an 'anthem.' Something that stood for New Directions' true face. Something that spoke for all of them, that combined every single voice and made it flow.
He dismissed them, paying them for their victory with a free period.
Rachel immediately set to work, grabbing Artie and Tina to come up with suggestions. They'd come up with a set list once, they'd do it again. Hopefully, the idea would be well received by the club, whatever they came up with.
They'd been sitting down in the lower risers conversing. Quinn had taken a seat at the top riser next to Brittany and Santana.
Rachel looked up, hoping to see Quinn at least look at her for the first time in a while.
But Quinn wasn't paying attention. Hadn't paid attention since they'd won.
Instead, hazel eyes stayed steadfastly locked on the tattered novel in Quinn's hands. Blonde hair eclipsed Quinn's features, falling about her face in a golden curtain.
Rachel frowned, sighing as she turned back to the conversation at hand.
God, she hated this.
This awkwardness between them.
They'd gotten things relatively settled between them… at least, for a good while. Rachel hoped they'd regain some of the easy camaraderie they'd had before that stupid party.
But their conversation obviously still weighed heavy on Quinn's mind. It laid heavy on both of them.
As did their kisses.
Rachel ground her teeth, closing her eyes.
She wished she could erase even just an ounce of the uneasiness.
Noah strode into the room, late as always. A seedy grin lit his lips as he caught sight of Quinn.
"So how long have you wanted to bang chicks, baby mama?" Noah asked, bounding up the risers evenly.
"Since it's none of your business," Quinn replied stiffly, keeping her gaze locked on her book.
"Baby mama," Noah sat down beside her, throwing an arm over her shoulders. "I thought we were closer than that. You can tell Puckasaurus all about it."
Quinn slammed her book shut, rounding on Noah. "Why, so I can add to your nasty little mental porn collection? No thank you. Leave. Me. Alone."
"You're hurting me, Quinn," Noah smirked, holding his hands to his chest. "Really hurting me."
"Back off, Mohawk," Santana hissed. "It ain't any of your business. If Q doesn't want to tell you, then she doesn't have to."
"Since when are you so quick to defend her?" Noah asked. That insincere smile spread across his lips once more. "Unless… are you banging her? Is that why you're being so defensive?"
"What the hell does sex have to do with me defending her?" Santana hissed. "Back off, Puckerman, before I shank you."
"Is that a threat, Lopez?"
"Sure is, dickhead," Santana growled.
Rachel ground her teeth, rage welling in her veins.
She was so tired of all this fighting. All of this goddamned drama.
And Quinn…
Rachel clenched her fists.
She wouldn't let Quinn be harassed.
"Is there something wrong here?" Rachel asked smoothly, turning in her chair to face the confrontation.
The red hue of her irises stood against the brown, threatening in the light. She set her face into a stern, determined mask.
"Yeah, Thinks-With-His-Dick here," Santana pointed to Noah, "is harassing my girl Q here. I want him to back. Off."
"Everyone here's curious," Noah smirked. "We'll all find out sooner or later. You know that's the way things go around here. Might as well get all the kinky details out now."
"Noah!"
Noah jumped, surprised. He looked at Rachel, a twitch of fear hard in his stomach.
"Leave Quinn alone," her voice was low, soft, and commanding. "Do we understand each other?"
"It's not-."
"Do we understand?" Rachel's voice rose in power, a threatening edge joining its stoniness.
Noah's eyes narrowed briefly, a flash of annoyance lighting the brown as he frowned. He stood, irritation lost as he shook his head. "Alright, alright. I'll back off. But if you ever want to spill the details, baby mama, I'm here." He tossed one last oily grin over his shoulder before he exited the choir room.
Rachel's shoulders fell, eyes gentling to chocolate brown as she stood, throwing an apology to Artie and Tina as she started up the risers.
She shoved her hands in her pockets as she stopped a riser away from Quinn, throwing her a cautious smile.
Hesitant hazel looked back at her, lost in a storm of emerald and amber. A flurry of emotions colored Quinn's features as she took in Rachel standing before her. A hand creased the edge of the edge of a yellowed page as Quinn closed her book.
"Hey," Rachel said gently.
"Hi," Quinn's voice was almost a whisper.
Rachel stood awkwardly, the two of them staring shyly at each other for several long moments.
Santana, staring amusedly from the side, smirked. "You gonna say something, Berry, or are you gonna stand around there like an idiot till we leave?"
Rachel chewed her cheek for a moment, looking down at the ground for a moment, before looking up again. She swallowed before speaking.
"Quinn?" Her voice was higher-pitched, nearly a squeak.
Quinn nodded, cocking her head to the side as she waited.
"Uhm… I-I was wondering," Rachel stuttered. She shook her head. "Would you like to grab an early dinner?"
"Dinner?" Quinn's brow rose in surprise. "You… want to go to dinner with me?"
"O-or just a snack, y'know, before dinner," Rachel's gaze flickered down again, her cheeks reddening. "I'd… really like to get to know you a bit more… And I need a bit of advice. I thought it'd be a good way to kill two birds with one stone."
She stood there, heart sinking as each moment passed without a response.
She'd only been trying to reach out! End this awkward tension. Start to keep her promise to Maria!
Rachel stifled her emotion behind a mask of attempted indifference.
Maybe she had ruined it all.
She faltered. "I-I'm sorry I asked. It was stupid to think you'd-."
"I'd love to get dinner with you."
Rachel's jaw hung agape, her eyes wide in shock. She shook her head, swallowing. "D-did you just s-say-."
"Yes," Quinn smiled softly, her eyes the softest green. "I'd really like to get dinner with you, Rachel… I'd… like to get to know you better as well."
A slow smile spread across Rachel's lips. "Really? That's great."
"Do you want to go now?" Quinn asked.
"That'd be a good idea," Rachel nodded. "Let me give my Dad a call so I can tell him I'm walking."
"I can give you a ride," Quinn stood. A smirk worked its way across her lips. "Wouldn't want any unknown white, male assailants to come collecting a young petite brunette out on the street, now would we?"
A warmth lit in Rachel's heart. She smiled. "No, I suppose we wouldn't."
"When you said you were going to take me to dinner, I thought we'd end up at Breadstix," Quinn said as she shut her car door. "But… you didn't."
"I wouldn't take anyone to Breadstix," Rachel chortled as she started across the parking lot. "The only thing Breadstix is good for? Take out. Really bad take out, but take out."
"And this place is so much better?" Quinn asked skeptically. Her brows rose as she took in the shop next to the restaurant. "Is that…"
"An ammunition shop?" Rachel chuckled. "Yes. But I promise the food is worth it."
Pietro's had been a family favorite before she'd left Lima.
Sunday night, as designated by Papa, had been deemed pasta night. Sometimes, the Berrys would cook their own spaghetti ("Straight from Italy," Papa would say as he opened a can of sauce with flourish, dumping it into a pot with a smirk—Italian hadn't been one of his specialties). It would turn out alright. Perfectly edible—if one deemed watery bargain sauce and overcooked noodles edible.
The rest of the time, Leroy would come home from work, throw down his coat and briefcase, grab Rachel and Hiram by the hand, and declare it was time to save themselves from Hiram's "Italian disaster." He'd smile and kiss away the pout on Hiram's lips, promise to make it up to him later. Then the Berry family would pile up into the car and head off for Pietro's.
They'd had the best spaghetti, made fresh every morning and featured sauce made from scratch. Bread was baked each morning, the parmegianno reggiano freshly imported from Italy, the ingredients brought in each morning.
The owners Giuseppe and Donatella, had known Rachel since she was a toddler. They'd showered love and sweets on her. Stocked vegan friendly alternatives once she'd started to change her diet, and never failed to ask for a song.
Pietro's was a home away from home, once upon a time.
It still reminded her of home, she thought as she stared up at the paint chipped sign. It looked rougher, just as Ms. Powers' studio was. But it was still home.
She still felt like she belonged here.
Rachel opened the door, the scent of garlic, tomatoes, and bread wafting to her nostrils. She stepped aside, motioning to Quinn with a slight smile on her face. "After you?"
"What a gentleman," Quinn said teasingly, before advancing forward.
The cold air nipped one last time at her cheeks as Rachel closed the door.
Her eyes scanned the tiny restaurant.
Still the same mismatched, lovingly arranged mahogany furniture. The same polished marble floors. The same stone etched fireplace, with wood crackling welcomingly in its mouth. The same brick walls, and the same soft Italian music.
Rachel smiled.
Still the same. Still untouched.
"My God…" Rachel's gaze snapped up to meet sharp black. A tall, square-shouldered man, middle-aged, with short black hair, paled as he looked at her from behind round-rimmed lenses.
Her heart stopped, the smile falling from her lips.
"Rachel Berry?" his voice, a rich tenor with the slightest hint of an Italian accent, sounded with a hint of disbelief. "Is that you?"
"Hi, Giuseppe," Rachel replied, eyes softening.
"Oh, goodness!" A bright smile lit the man's features as he strode forward, grabbing Rachel into a hug. "Rachel Berry! Ah! It has been so long since I last saw you!"
"Giuseppe," Rachel wheezed out a laugh, patting the Italian on the shoulder. "Giuseppe, you're going to crush me!"
"Forgive me, Rachel, forgive me," Giuseppe pulled back, studying Rachel intently. "Goodness, how you've grown! You've become so beautiful! How is your Papa?"
"Papa's doing alright," Rachel said with a smile. "He's opened a practice in San Diego. I came back to spend the year with Dad. I had a friend I wanted to take for a bite. I automatically thought of you."
"A friend?" Giuseppe questioned. The smile on his lips widened as he saw Quinn standing shyly behind Rachel. "And what beautiful friends you keep, Rachel!" He stepped forward, taking Quinn's hand in a firm shake. "A pleasure to meet you, I am Giuseppe, owner of this humble establishment!"
"Quinn," Quinn responded with a smile. "I'm Rachel's friend."
Rachel chuckled, stepping forward. "Alright, Giuseppe. Do you think you could cook us up something? We're starving."
"Will it be the usual for you, Rachel?" Giuseppe asked.
"You know me so well," Rachel grinned. She looked over at Quinn. "You trust me?"
"Of course," Quinn replied.
"Amatriciana for Quinn, please Giuseppe," Rachel smiled warmly.
"Of course," Giuseppe nodded. "Take a seat anywhere you like, Rachel. Food will be out soon."
The Italian disappeared into the kitchen, the doors swinging in his wake.
Rachel shook her head, chuckling as she took a seat at a table by the fireplace, shrugging her coat off and hanging it off the back of her chair.
"He's quite spirited," Quinn commented amusedly.
"Always has been," Rachel said. "My family used to come to the restaurant a lot when I was younger… Giuseppe's like my friendly Uncle."
Quinn smiled. "There's a lot I don't know about you, Rachel Berry."
"I'm hoping we can bridge the gap a little today," Rachel said graciously.
Quinn rested her arms on the table, linking her fingers together, staring at the table surface before looking up. "So what'd you want to talk about?"
"Things have been awkward between us lately," Rachel started. "I know that there's a reason for it… The last few days have been like hell.
Rachel bit her lip. "I don't want us to lose our friendship just because I'm… not so sure about how I feel right now. And… I could use someone to talk to. I want to get to know you a little more, Quinn. I think it'll make things a little more clear."
She met Quinn's inquisitive stare. "Is… that alright?"
Quinn smiled. "It sounds great to me. I want all those things too, Rachel. Just because I…" she hesitated. "Just because I like you, that doesn't mean that I don't want to be friends with you. I don't have any romantic ulterior motives. You can trust me with things.
"I'm so glad you opened up to me about your Dads," Quinn nodded. "I'm glad you're talking to me. Thank you for trusting me."
Quinn reached forward, squeezing Rachel's hand. "So… as my friend… is there something you want to know?"
Rachel paused.
The question had been eating at her… But she didn't exactly know how to phrase it without sounding terribly insensitive.
"I don't want to sound rude or anything," she cleared her throat. "…But… are you…?"
Quinn smiled. "Gay?
Rachel frowned. "I was going to ask 'of an alternate lifestyle,' but sure."
Quinn chuckled, before nodding. "Yes. Yes, I'm 'of an alternate lifestyle.'
"I…" Quinn looked down at the table, her eyes growing a pained shade of gold. "Do you remember when I told you about my first love?"
"Yeah," Rachel nodded. "At the coffee shop."
"Well," Quinn shifted. "My first love was a girl that went to my middle school. I'd seen her around campus several times. And she was… she was always fearless.
"I admired her," Quinn continued, "I thought she was the strongest person I'd ever seen, but I never had the guts to talk to her… When I did, I just… I fell.
"I can't explain it," Quinn said softly, "that sort of… feeling you get when it first starts. But she saved my life, and I loved her for it. Time went by, when girls got their first crushes, I didn't. By the time High School hit, I was the odd one out… but I always thought it was because I hadn't found the right person yet.
"But Finn didn't feel right… And I started to notice that... My thoughts didn't revolve around men," Quinn's shoulders stiffened. "The revolved around that girl… and who I thought she'd become. I kept comparing boys to her. None of them fit… but the girls? The girls fit her more. I panicked.
"But then… I accepted it. I hid behind Finn, I didn't speak a word," a melancholy smile fell across Quinn's lips. "I was scared. Then Puck happened and… Well. I accepted it."
"You're so strong to have been able to have withstood so much," Rachel murmured.
"Thank you," Quinn replied. She smiled mischievously. "I spilled about mine… how about you?"
"Me?" Rachel questioned.
"Are you 'of an alternate lifestyle?'" Quinn asked teasingly.
Rachel half-smiled. "Would it be alright of me to say 'I don't know?'"
"You don't know?" Quinn drawled, raising an eyebrow.
"I like guys," Rachel explained. "I've dated guys, I've kissed guys, I like it. But… I've also kissed girls… and I've liked it sometimes." She shrugged. "I've never been in a relationship with a woman, so I can't really say for certain."
"So you're curious?" Quinn questioned.
"I'd say I'm not opposed to dating a woman, if the right one came along," Rachel shrugged.
Quinn smirked. "I'll just store that knowledge away for later…"
"Planning ways to woo me already, Fabray?" Rachel asked playfully, with a slight grin on her lips.
"You won't know it even hit you," Quinn chuckled.
They continued talking, smiling, throwing comments back and forth. Conversation became easier with each passing moment.
Rachel liked this. This openness between them.
She'd hid so long behind Maria and behind her masks. She'd suppressed so much and tried so hard to hide herself. She hated being vulnerable, telling other people her secrets. She hated leaning on people.
But Quinn made it easy. She opened herself and offered her support without a price. She had feelings for Rachel, but she asked nothing in return for her support. Nothing except Rachel's honesty, trust, and friendship. Rachel had come to accept that about her. Come to accept taking without giving back, though she loathed it.
Because God, if she could heal that sadness in Quinn's eyes. Someone as beautiful as Quinn didn't deserve to have sorrow weighing upon their chest.
If Rachel could erase the sorrow in Quinn's life, then she'd do it. Quinn was doing so much for her by putting up with this broken shell of a person. She was doing so much by beinghere, by listening to Rachel.
Rachel wished she had something to give back.
"So you said that you needed some advice?" Quinn asked.
Rachel nodded. "It's… about my Fathers."
"Alright."
"I've… hit a dead end," Rachel squared her hands. "I've asked my Dad everything I could about it, but he just won't talk. Papa refuses to say anything, he says to ask Dad. Dad's a dead end so…"
Quinn crossed her arms, thinking. "…How determined are you to find out?"
"It's what I came here to do," Rachel responded. "I'll do whatever it takes."
Quinn bit her lip, before looking up. "Will your Dad be home when you get home."
"No," Rachel furrowed her brow. "Why?"
"You need to look around," Quinn said. She lifted her hand to halt protestation. "I know it sounds… bad, but if your Dad won't tell you anything, you're going to need to dig. Even if that means going somewhere you're not supposed to.
"You said your Dad is still in love with your Father, right?" Quinn asked.
Rachel nodded. "He keeps a picture of him by his bedside table. He puts it away when I come into the room."
"Doesn't it stand to reason your Dad would keep anything related to your Dad?" Quinn reasoned.
"Yes," Rachel responded tentatively.
"Do you know here he'd keep it?"
"…His study," Rachel said, remembering her father's drawer full of knick knacks she'd seen as a child. Little rocks she'd brought him, pictures, letters written in a child's hand. "In his drawers."
"Tonight when you get home, go check," Quinn instructed. "There's bound to be something in there."
Rachel's eyes widened. "I… I don't want to snoop around. That'd be a breach of trust."
"He's already breached your trust by not telling you things you need to know," Quinn replied. "He'll never know, Rachel. If you want to find something out… you need to do this."
They were interrupted as Giuseppe strode forth from the kitchen, placing the spaghetti before them, exchanging conversation with them as he pulled a chair up beside the table.
Quinn's words haunted Rachel's mind throughout the dinner, long through the car ride, right until she dropped Rachel off at home.
'Go check. There's bound to be something in there.'
Rachel closed her eyes as she stood on the porch, hand tensing around the knob.
The words echoed in her mind.
'Go check.'
She felt terrible doing this to her Dad.
The lock on the door to his study wasn't locked. It never was. It never had been, not since the first time she'd opened the door at 3 to crawl into Leroy's lap to watch him work over court files, singing to him under her breath.
Rachel stepped into the room, with its familiar dark-stained bookshelves filled to the brim with sophisticated law material and the large desk at the center, with its chipped wood surface and the black leather chair resting behind it.
The drawers were just as familiar as ever. The top drawer, she smiled as she opened it, still full of things she'd given him. The smooth river stones from the park, her Father's Day cards… everything was there.
Leroy had always been sentimental.
The next drawer was full of pictures of clients that had wanted to thank him. Pictures of him in his starch suits, shaking hands with countless people featured with grateful smiles on their lips. The drawer almost spilled its contents onto the floor. She was careful to replace them.
The last drawer was his.
Pictures of Hiram from when they first met. Love letters, exchanged between them years ago. Little trinkets here and there. Anniversary cards, pictures with the in-laws. All with her Papa smiling as he'd never smiled before, the happiness warm in his dark, safe eyes.
Rachel wished Papa still smiled that way.
A letter, sent from San Diego, caught her eye.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
The page itself had been folded and refolded so many times, the ink along the lines started to wear. The creases were soft, the paper fragile.
Rachel's heart clenched as she recognized the smear around the some of the words… the crinkle about them.
Tearstains.
Her hands trembled as she read the date of the letter, written in her Papa's even hand.
…A week after they'd left Dad.
A week.
Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as the memories of the ramshackle hotel she'd lived in flooded her mind. Memories of Papa sitting listlessly on the bed, staring out the window at the bay. Staring at Dad's picture with so much agony in his eyes, she'd thought he'd break when she embraced him.
She gathered her courage, breathed in deeply, and read the letter.
Every word she read fed like a dagger into her heart. The fog lifted bit by bit, the puzzle pieces fitting together.
The paper shook in her hand, tears streamed down her cheeks. Pain welled in her throat as she fought the urge to scream.
As she finished, Rachel looked up, hands shaking.
Her chest constricted about her heart. It was difficult to breathe.
A pained shout ripped forth from her throat as she fell to her knees, clutching the letter to her chest.
The entire puzzle hadn't been solved. There were still pieces missing. What'd truly happened. The circumstances. Those were unclear.
But blame had been placed in the angry strokes of her Papa's pen.
He'd named the people who'd ruined their lives.
It was Leroy's fault!
It was all his fault.
His and hers, whoever she was.
God, it was all their fault.
They'd done something. Said something that'd ruined them. That'd threatened their happiness.
Her Papa had seen it as a threat. He'd combated them… all to keep her safe.
Rachel sobbed.
It was all their fault!
Leroy-
I don't know how you got my address. I don't want to know how you got it. I'd rather pretend I never received this letter.
How dare you write to me after all that you've done to us-to me and to Rachel. How dare you ask to see her. How DARE you ask me to return to you!
How dare you ask me to award you partial custody of my daughter.
You've dragged us through the mud, Leroy. I warned you to stop talking to her. I warned you. Nothing good could come of correspondence with that woman. She did not upkeep her end of our contract. She came, demanding things that she couldn't have,
And we sent her on her way. It was our right. That should've been the end of it, Leroy.
She was never supposed to be a part of our lives.
She was never supposed to be part of Rachel's life.
You and I knew it the moment we drew up the contract. You and I knew it when we put the ad in the paper. You agreed to it.
So why did you break the contract and communicate with Rachel's mother?
Did you feel sorry for her? Is that how it started? You felt sorry for her, so you thought you'd comfort her. You thought you'd say things in those letters you exchanged because you thought I'd never see? You didn't think anything you'd say would come back to haunt you?
It has, Leroy. It's come back to haunt you, and it came back to ruin our family.
You've always been so proud of your writing. You've always told me that the power of pen and ink can move mountains, and change lives for the better.
How does it feel to know your pen's ripped apart our family?
I will not give you partial custody of Rachel. If she decides to see you when she's grown, I will not stand in her way. But as long as she is under my care, you'll never see my daughter.
Don't write anymore. Don't bother wasting your pretty words on me.
They won't work. Not anymore.
A/N: Good, bad… Something else? Let me know. Please review!
Note: Don't jump to conclusions about why Hiram left Leroy yet. The Berry men's storyline is just starting. The problems go deeper than you realize.