Hello again! Real quick, just to respond to what a lot of you were saying in your reviews (and thank you all for them btw), long story short, Rachel cannot just go to her fathers and ask her questions like Shelby suggested because that would make for a dull story ;) Quinn has her own reasons for doing what she is doing as well. She is weighing out the dangers of everything to try to get her own clarity with Rachel and still, in a way, with Beth. Just remember that both girls are incredibly vulnerable emotionally right now and are prone to irrational decisions. Unfortunately, sometimes you've just got to learn the hard way.
More answers to come next, I promise.
Chapter 9:
Quinn shows up in front of Rachel's house the next morning driving the BMW SUV that her father had bought her for her 15th birthday; Russel Fabray's version of trying to win his daughter's affection after a bitter divorce.
Of course, Quinn knew that the present was all about control, and she wasn't about to forget how her father had disowned her during her pregnancy, but she wasn't about to return such a sweet ride in exchange for her honor, either. Her honor wouldn't get her to Foster, Nebraska.
Her car however, would.
Inside of her bedroom, Rachel hears Quinn honk the horn sharply twice to let Rachel know she is outside.
The brunette flips her long hair over her shoulder and hurries through the last of the note she is leaving on her desk for her fathers.
She had spent a long time debating whether or not she should leave one at all, but realized that it was her best bet in preventing her fathers from reporting her as a missing person.
It says nothing about where she is going or what she plans on doing, only that she is going on a road trip with Quinn and that she will be back in a couple of days.
When she is finished, Rachel takes her time to re-read the letter, making sure she has left no clues about her whereabouts anywhere in its contents.
She considers leaving the letter unsigned for a moment, but in the end, her guilt wins her over. She scribbles a quick Love You at the bottom and signs her name, just as Quinn lays on her horn from outside, imploring Rachel to move faster.
Rachel grabs her backpack, full not of schoolwork, but of essentials to get her through the next few days, and leaves the note on her bed. She is confident that by the time her fathers find it, she will be halfway to Nebraska.
"You're off to school early this morning, Star."
Rachel had been hoping to blow past her fathers without exchanging any words that might make them suspicious, but as she tramples down the stairs, she notices that they are both still sitting at the dining room table.
They are dressed for work. Hiram has his coffee in one hand and the newspaper in the other. His glasses hang low off the bridge of his nose like they always do when he is struggling to read with his aging prescription. LeRoy is picking at the last of his breakfast. Rachel notices that they have put a plate out for her too, but she has no intention on eating this morning.
"I have some stuff to do for glee," Rachel lies.
"Okay, don't work too hard, honey, and please make sure you stop for breakfast."
Her Daddy Hiram looks up from behind his newspaper and smiles at her so warmly that she damn near thinks to go outside and tell Quinn that this trip is off. She finds that it is very difficult to give her fathers such a cold shoulder when they are acting so paternal and loving.
"I will, Daddy," Rachel stutters, forcing her voice straight.
"We'll see you after school," LeRoy chimes in and it just about breaks Rachel's heart. "We love you, Star."
Rachel cringes. She cannot even entertain the idea of responding to him, so she doesn't.
It's not that she doesn't believe that her father's love her. She does, really, but in her mind, that does not justify them lying to her for almost eighteen years. That's her entire lifetime, and if she cannot trust them, that means she is going to have to do this on her own.
With that reminder in mind, Rachel just smiles, kisses her fathers' cheeks goodbye, and tells them that she will see them later.
Rachel makes her way out of her house towards Quinn's car.
The blonde is sitting in the driver's seat, fidgeting with the buttons of her radio. She is wearing sweats and sunglasses so big they cover half her face. She looks like she is going out on the lamb. Rachel looks down at her argyle skirt and sweater and wonders if she, like Quinn, should have dressed for comfort. After all, she is going to be sitting in this car for a long time.
"Nice skirt," Quinn nods to the brunette as Rachel tosses her backpack into the backseat before making herself comfortable in the passenger seat.
"I thought my dads would think it was weird if I didn't dress like I normally do," Rachel frowns.
"Did you bring a change of clothes?" Quinn asks.
"Just for tomorrow."
Quinn rolls her eyes. "Jesus Berry, you really do suck at sneaking around. You're lucky you have me."
"Just drive the car," Rachel mutters, snapping her seatbelt into place before falling back into her seat.
She is starting to get nervous. Actually, she has been nervous, but now that the time has finally come for them to leave, it is harder for her to pretend that she isn't.
Quinn smirks at the brunette. It is just the two of them now with nothing in between. It feels so right and so wrong at the same time.
Rachel is the only person in the world that Quinn would do something like this with. She is the only person that Quinn finds she can be around without getting bored of. It might be selfish, but despite what they might find on the other side of this trip, Quinn is excited what it might mean for them. Together.
"I like this new Rachel Berry," Quinn tells the girl, throwing her car into drive.
Rachel raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Living on the edge," Quinn explains. "It's a bit freeing, isn't it?"
Rachel doesn't respond, but Quinn does not seem to be looking for a response. Instead, she peels away from the curb and down Rachel's block, heading west towards Foster, Nebraska.
They drive for several hours before stopping for lunch.
Rachel doesn't want to stop at all, but Quinn needs gas. Plus, she is starving and knows that Rachel must be too.
Rachel's cell phone starts to ring just as Quinn is getting ready to pull off the highway.
"It's my dad," Rachel swallows, looking down at her phone. Her dads never call her during the day. The school has probably notified them of Rachel's unexcused absence.
"Don't answer it," Quinn tells Rachel. She glances at the brunette out of the corner of her eye. She is nervous, Quinn can tell; and they have only been on the road for a couple of hours…
Rachel nods at Quinn, but folds her lips inwards as her phone silences. The device is only quiet for a couple of seconds before it starts to ring again. Her father seems determined.
"I should answer," Rachel tells Quinn, chewing on her thumbnail.
"No way," Quinn tells her seriously.
"I'll make something up! I can buy us a few more hours!" Rachel insists even as the phone goes quiet before immediately starting to ring for a third time.
The noise is starting to get to Quinn. It is loud and obnoxious and it is starting to give her a headache.
What would give her even more of a headache however, is if Rachel answers that phone and ruins everything before they could even really get started.
With that in mind, Quinn reaches over and snatches the phone out of Rachel's hands. Before the brunette even knows what Quinn is doing, the blonde rolls down her car window and throws Rachel's cellphone out onto the desolate highway.
The silence is welcome. It relieves Quinn's headache immediately, but that relief is only temporary. A moment later, Rachel is screaming in her ear.
"What the hell did you do that for?" the brunette shrieks.
"Because you were going to answer for your dad and ruin everything!" Quinn argues back.
"We need my phone for the GPS, you moron!" Rachel argues back. "Your phone looks like you dropped it off the Empire State Building. You can't even see the screen. How are we supposed to get there now?"
Quinn only shrugs. She seems indifferent about their dilemma, which annoys Rachel even more.
"I guess you're gonna have to learn how to read a map."
"Turn this car around," Rachel demands. She is taking deep, walloping breaths like she is on the verge of a panic attack as she swivels around inside of the passenger seat trying to catch a glimpse of her cell on the side of the road, but it is long gone.
Rachel falls back into her seat. The panic is starting to sit tight inside of her chest. This was a terrible idea. What the hell had she been thinking?
"I'm not turning around," Quinn insists, shaking her head.
"Turn around, Quinn!" Rachel tries to yell back, but she is breathing heavily now, and that is impeding her ability to raise her voice.
"Okay, that's it!" Quinn finally snaps. She has had enough. Rachel might have been growing on Quinn in a way that not even the blonde can explain, but she is not about to have the brunette screaming inside of her ear for the next eight hours.
The blonde finds an exit up ahead for a service station and she takes it. She doesn't say a word until she has skidded to a halt in front of the pump.
"You need to relax," Quinn tells Rachel seriously. "This is a confined space and the two of us are going to be sharing it for a long time. You can't be freaking out this entire time."
"You just threw my phone out the window!" Rachel argues.
"And you can get another one when we get back," Quinn reasons. "Take a breath, Berry. You need it."
Rachel tries to listen to Quinn's advice. She leans back against her seat, closes her eyes, and tries desperately to think about anything other than her fathers wondering where she is and her smashed cell phone on the side of the highway somewhere in the middle of Indiana or Illinois or whatever state they were currently in…
She thinks about Quinn, how she didn't know if the two of them had been in the right place at the right time or the wrong place at the wrong time to ultimately lead to this trip, and how ultimately, she didn't care. It was one way, and then it was the other, and the only constant through it all had been Quinn.
Surprisingly, the thought helps her calm down. Slowly, she opens her eyes again.
"Okay…" the brunette reasons with herself.
"Are you gonna be okay?" Quinn asks.
"I don't know," Rachel admits, but that answer seems to satisfy Quinn enough.
"Well, just remember, I can careen off the highway again anytime you need a minute."
Quinn smirks at Rachel, trying to keep the mood light. Much to the blonde's surprise and relief, Rachel smiles back.
"I'd prefer it if you didn't."
"What's an adventure without a little extra adventure, Berry," Quinn shrugs before finally stepping out of the car.
"Where are you going?" Rachel calls after her, noticing that she has not turned to the gas pump, but towards the old, log supermarket at the end of the parking lot that is so rundown, it looks as though it doesn't even have electricity.
"Inside," Quinn tells Rachel. "We're gonna need a map."
The man behind the counter who sells Quinn a pocket atlas and two cheap, gas station sandwiches tells her that she is currently in a town called Moline, Illinois; a town whose proudest accomplishment to date is that it is the birthplace of the John Deere tractor company.
When she walks outside, the sun is high in the sky and it is blinding. She pulls her oversized sunglasses back down over her face and walks towards Rachel, who is filling her BMW with gas.
As Quinn gets closer, she notices that the tank is long full, but Rachel still seems to be staring off in the distance. Quinn follows the brunette's line of sight. She is staring at a payphone about a hundred feet in front of her. Quinn didn't think they even made those things anymore.
"Thinking about calling your dads, Berry?" Quinn approaches the brunette cautiously, careful not to startle the girl.
"I didn't think I would feel so guilty about this," Rachel admits airily. "God, they must be so worried."
"How fast do you think they would drive here if they knew where we were?"
Somehow, Rachel manages a small smile. "I don't even know where we are."
"Moline, Illinois," Quinn informs her. "Home of John Deere tractors."
"What?" Rachel raises a very confused eyebrow.
"Never mind," Quinn waves her off quickly. "You know that you can't call them though, right?"
"I know," Rachel nods sadly.
"We should get going," Quinn says quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from this dangerous path it is headed down. She tosses her car keys into Rachel's hand and makes her way around the car towards the driver's seat. "You're driving. I need a nap."
Shelby is no longer expecting Rachel to show up for their daily after-school rehearsals now that the girl had all but admitted that the whole thing had been a sham to weasel information about Peter Gabbanelli out of her.
As a direct result, Shelby decides to channel her frustrations on yet another failure with her daughter into her work. She doubles-down on Troubletones rehearsals; two-a-day rehearsals, one before school and another one after.
Shelby had thought that this brutal schedule would feel good. At least she had thought that it would make her forget about Rachel. Whipping a group of ungrateful teenagers into shape used to be what helped her sleep at night during her Vocal Adrenaline days. Maybe it is a sign of her newfound motherhood, or maybe she is just getting old, but she finds that it no longer has the same effect.
Will Schuester makes his way into the auditorium just as a group of her Troubletones start to complain that the stage lights are too hot and their feet are starting to hurt from all the dancing.
Normally, Shelby would rip those girls a new one for daring to complain, but if there is one thing that Shelby hates more than complainers, it is spies, so her group gets a reprieve from her wrath, which is instead focused in on Will Schuester.
"You do know that this is a closed rehearsal, right Will?" Shelby asks. Her tone is rather cool. Her relationship with Will has been rather symbiotic since she had come to William McKinley, but today, he actually looks afraid of her.
But then, Shelby realizes that it is not her that he is afraid of. He is not cowering away from her like most people do when she snaps. Instead, he is coming closer, and he looks afraid.
Shelby feels her face fall. Something is wrong, she can feel it.
She hates that she keeps getting blindsided by people. Mostly, she hates that she always seems to be the last person to know when something bad happens.
"I'm not here to spy," Will promises. "Principal Figgins just called me into his office. Apparently, the Berry men tried to report Rachel as a missing person this afternoon."
"Excuse me?" Shelby asks, her voice dipping low.
"I don't really know the details, just that they called the police and then they called the school, telling them to please contact them if they see or hear from Rachel." Will passes along the information and then he hesitates. "I thought that you might want to know."
"What do you mean they tried to report her as a missing person?" Shelby asks, standing up to her full height. She feels her breathing start to increase despite herself. She had read an article once in one of those parenting magazines in the waiting room of Beth's pediatrician's office. Teenagers go missing constantly. Nine times out of ten, they're runaways who show back up eventually, but there is always that one time; the possibility that every parent fears the most.
"Apparently she left a note," Will explains. "It didn't say where she was going, but that she would be back in a few days. The police told the Berrys that because she left a note, and because she is so close to being eighteen, they were treating this like a runaway. They won't file a report or put out an APB unless Rachel doesn't return by the end of the week."
"But who knows what can happen by then!" Shelby breathes, feeling that final thread inside of her snap. She takes a deep breath, trying to think logically about what her next steps should be, but logic hardly seems helpful in this case.
Something is bubbling inside of her stomach like lava rising inside of a volcano. At first, Shelby doesn't recognize the feeling, but after a moment, she places it; it's fear.
"I know Shelby, please try not to panic," Will begs her.
"My daughter is missing and you're telling me not to panic?" Shelby hisses. Her voice is so venomous that Will actually takes a step back.
"There's more," he risks saying. He looks unsure as to whether or not he should continue, afraid that Shelby might choose to kill the messenger.
"What?"
"Rachel said in her note that she's with Quinn."
"Quinn?" Shelby raises an eyebrow. She seems genuinely confused. She knows that a strange relationship has been budding between Rachel and the blonde, but it hardly seemed likely that the two of them would be running off to God-knows-where together.
Then, realization suddenly clicks and Shelby feels her entire face go pale.
"They found him…" Shelby whispers under her breath.
"Found who?" Will raises an eyebrow at her, confused, but before he can even finish getting out the question, Shelby is heading towards the auditorium exit.
"I have to go, Will!" the woman calls over her shoulder. "Release my Troubletones for me! Tell them that they are done with rehearsal until further notice!"
Shelby sits inside of her Range Rover, stuck in the late afternoon traffic that is notorious for littering Lima's main street as she drives towards the Berry home, trying to compose herself in the hopes that by the time she arrives, she will have enough nerve to knock on the front door.
She knows where they live. She has driven past the house a hundred times.
She is ashamed to admit that, but the Berrys still live in the same home that they had when Shelby was eighteen and pregnant. Even she had lived there for some time.
Shelby used to drive past the home a lot when Rachel was younger, praying to catch a glimpse of the girl, but she never did. Until one day in early 2009 when she walked into the auditorium of a Western Ohio High School to scope out the competition of a local Sectionals competition only to have her life changed forever…
She parks in front of the Berry's home and looks up. All of the lights are on inside of the house and Shelby feels a pang of guilt, imagining Hiram and LeRoy in there frantically searching for their daughter.
Why hadn't she said anything sooner? She has been building herself up to call Hiram and LeRoy for the last two days, but every time she got close, she would tell herself that she would do it tomorrow.
She expected herself to have time. She hadn't expected Rachel and Quinn to do something like this. Now that she thinks about that, she realizes how foolish that had been.
When Shelby finally builds up the courage to knock, LeRoy answers the door almost immediately.
Shelby hasn't seen the man in well over a year, but the first thing she notices is that he looks older. It is not a bad thing, the more mature look suites LeRoy, who has always been an old soul. It is the frantic look inside of his eyes that is unbecoming.
When he realizes that it is Shelby standing on his front porch, he freezes.
Shelby recognizes that it must be a shock to see her here. He certainly hadn't been expecting her, yet there is still a gentleness inside of his eyes.
It reminds Shelby of the first pre-natal appointment that Hiram and LeRoy had ever attended with her. She had only been a month or two away from giving birth at that point, and can remember the OB pointing at the ultrasound to show them Rachel's tiny feet, her fingers, her chin, her heartbeat…
She remembers how ecstatic the Berry men were to finally have the baby they have been waiting so long for. She remembers how they couldn't pull their eyes away from the ultrasound screen that day. Shelby recognizes that that probably makes it hurt even worse that they had looked away long enough for Rachel to do something like this.
"I heard the news," Shelby tells the man. "I think we need to talk."
They get a cheap motel room a few miles outside of Des Moines just as the sun is starting to set.
It is a sketchy, trucker motel off the side of the highway, but it is the only thing that they could get. The girls had been denied a room at the Holiday Inn down the street because while Quinn was eighteen, Rachel wasn't yet, and the hotel chain had a policy against that.
They were afraid of being denied here too, but when Quinn had asked for the room, the older man behind the front desk only asked if she wanted the room overnight or by the hour. He didn't care if the girls were eighteen or eight. He gave them the room without question.
Their room is upstairs on the second floor. Inside, there is a moldy smell and a red carpet that looks like it hasn't been changed out since the 1950's. They only get three channels on the television, four if you count the one that comes in with picture but no sound. There is only one bed. It's a queen size, but the girls couldn't be paid to sleep underneath those covers…
Quinn tosses her backpack onto the ground and takes a seat at the edge of the mattress. It's more comfortable than she thought it would be.
She cuts a glance towards the other end of the room where Rachel is sitting in one of the armchairs, meticulously picking toiletries and a change of clothes out of her backpack. She spends the entire time pretending not to notice that Quinn is staring at her. Quinn never seems to notice that Rachel always notices her staring, but she does.
The two of them make eye contact eventually, but it only lasts a second before Rachel averts her eyes.
Quinn doesn't, though. She keeps staring; watching as the tiny girl slowly starts to peel off her shoes. She looks exhausted, even though Quinn recognizes that it is unlikely that either one of them will get much sleep tonight.
"You okay?" Quinn finally asks.
"Yeah," Rachel nods. "Just tired."
Quinn nods. She can tell that Rachel is still thinking about her dads, still thinking about her broken cellphone on the shoulder of a highway, hundreds of miles behind them, still thinking whether or not this trip had been such a good idea…
"We only have about four hours left on the road," Quinn shrugs, desperate for something positive to say. "We should probably get some sleep. We need to leave early tomorrow."
Rachel nods in agreement.
"I'm gonna take a shower first," she announces, standing up from the armchair before making her way towards the bathroom.
Quinn hears the sound of running water moments later. She leans back against the mattress, trying very hard not to picture Rachel inside of that shower just on the other side of that wall.
She shakes her head from that thought, fearing it a violation of Rachel's privacy. Trying to distract herself, she grabs the remote control and starts to flip through the television's three channels.
Her options are between the news, Telemundo, and a staticky version of My Cousin Vinny which cuts out for long seconds every couple of minutes. She settles for that anyway.
The movie is playing for a long time before Rachel emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders. Quinn has to actively pretend not to stare, but she still feels her jaw drop in awe.
"I left my hairbrush," the brunette murmurs. She sounds embarrassed to have been caught like this as she patters quickly towards her backpack in the far corner of the room.
Quinn nods absently, but she seems to have lost her voice. She follows the contours of Rachel's body as she digs through her backpack for her hairbrush, and for a second, she even manages to forget that she is currently in some run-down, crappy motel room in the middle-of-nowhere Iowa preparing to confront Rachel's birth father who may or may not be a dangerous criminal… Instead, it is only her and Rachel and the rest of the world be damned.
That feels good enough for her.
Rachel disappears inside of the bathroom again and emerges a few minutes later fully dressed, with her hair coiled into a high bun on top of her head. She leans up against the open bathroom door and stares at Quinn.
"Hey Quinn?" she calls to the blonde.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for coming on this trip with me," Rachel tells her, smiling softly.
The blonde returns the smile. She had been afraid that Rachel was starting to regret coming on this trip at all, but even if she was, she didn't regret coming with Quinn, and that is something that the blonde is more than willing to accept.
"It's not a big deal," Quinn forces herself to play it off.
"It's a huge deal," Rachel insists. "I never would have been able to do this alone. I… I know that I've been a little bit difficult today."
"You're going through stuff," Quinn cuts Rachel off, refusing to allow a girl as perfect as her continue to berate herself.
"So have you," Rachel points out.
Quinn nods and looks up at Rachel. The brunette is smiling at her, and it is a genuine smile, which Quinn has noticed has been coming less and less frequently from Rachel.
Quinn tries to take it all in, but Rachel must notice her staring because she flushes and looks down at her feet.
"Well, if you were being difficult today, then I have been a downright pain the ass," Quinn tells Rachel, trying to ease the tension that she always seems to place between the two of them.
"No, you haven't been," Rachel reassures her. "You've been a really good friend."
Quinn swallows. She knows that this is supposed to be a compliment, but she can't help but frown. She had heard the exact same sentiment from Shelby yesterday and still, she hardly feels like she has been a good friend. In fact, she has been thinking quite the opposite lately.
Quinn forces herself to look up when she feels Rachel staring at her.
The brunette looks like a model in an old painting with her long, wet hair draped over her shoulders and those big doe eyes wide with all of the possibilities of the world…
The two girls stare at each other for a long time. The longer they maintain this gaze, the more Quinn feels her heart creeping inside of her throat. It is the exact same energy that she had felt while leaving Rachel's house yesterday. It is the exact same energy that had led her to propose an idea as stupid as this one; blind love, or something like that.
Quinn knows that if she doesn't swim back to the surface soon, she will drown so she forces herself to pull out of her own head.
"I'm going in the shower," she forces herself to say. Her voice has gone tight again.
Quinn doesn't wait for Rachel to respond. Instead, she scrambles inside the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her.
She presses her back against the wall and closes her eyes, trying to remember how to breathe again. She has never heard of a girl taking a cold shower in an effort to get the blood to ascend back to her brain, but she figures that it might be worth a try. The guys in Celibacy Club used to talk about doing stuff like that all the time. It had to work for her too, right?
Meanwhile, just outside of the bathroom, Rachel slumps onto the corner of the mattress, embracing the confusion of her last interaction with Quinn.
She has absolutely no idea what just happened, and wonders if Quinn plans on hiding out in the bathroom forever… Judging by how quickly she had run in there, it seems likely.
The brunette starts to run her hairbrush absently through her wet hair. Only then does she notice that the hairs on her arms are sticking up.
She stares at them for a moment. The thrill of her desire is fantastic. She has never felt this way about anybody before; not Finn, not Jesse, not Puck, nobody. She knows that had it been anyone of them who had asked her if she wanted to come on this road trip, she would have called them crazy.
But Quinn… somehow, Quinn was different.
It is a strange feeling where Rachel isn't sure if she wants to pounce on top of Quinn or if she wants to cry every time she sees her
She is so confused and so afraid of pushing the one friend that she seems to have in this world away. Her usual portrait of self-control has completely shattered in recent weeks. She has no idea what to do anymore.
By the time Rachel hears the shower turn off, she is already dressed and ready for bed. She is sitting upright against the bed frame, propped against the lumpy pillows, watching Marisa Tomei scream to Joe Pesci about her biological clock on TV.
"I didn't take you for a big My Cousin Vinny fan," Quinn comments from the bathroom door as she towels off her wet hair.
"It's good research," Rachel shrugs, her eyes never leaving the screen.
"Research?"
"For New York," Rachel insists, like that should be obvious.
The blonde just shrugs before traipsing around the room to get ready for the night. She had run into the bathroom so fast that she had forgotten most of her toiletries.
The night ticks by slowly and quickly, the exhaustion starts to seep in for both of them.
The girls hadn't done much more than sit in a car all day, but their emotions had drained them down.
"You can go to sleep if you want," Quinn offers as she watches Rachel try and fail to stifle a steep yawn. "You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."
"Don't be an idiot," Rachel rolls her eyes at Quinn's offer. It makes the blonde falter. She has been trying desperately not to think about her and Rachel actively sharing a bed for the night, but Rachel being the one to suggest it makes Quinn's knees go weak.
"O-okay…" Quinn stutters before climbing in. She props herself up against the headboard, keeping herself as far away from the brunette as she can get for fear of what she might do otherwise.
"Goodnight, Quinn," she hears Rachel say after the lamp is flicked off and the two of them are shrouded in darkness.
"Goodnight, Rachel," Quinn reciprocates.
The two girls lay there for a long time. Despite both being exhausted, neither one of them are sleeping.
Quinn is flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She can tell by the brunette's breathing pattern that she is doing the same.
"Quinn?" Rachel finally whispers through the darkness when she can no longer tolerate the silence. "You awake?"
"Yeah…" Quinn mutters.
"What are you thinking about?" Rachel asks. Quinn can feel her shift inside of the bed. She turns onto her side and props herself up on her elbow. She is staring at Quinn through the darkness. Quinn can feel her eyes on her.
"Whether or not my mom will remember to feed my fish," Quinn lies. "What are you thinking about?"
"That I'm glad you threw my phone out the window," Rachel tells her.
Quinn raises an eyebrow at the girl, finally turning to face her, too. "You almost killed me for that earlier."
"I was angry then," Rachel admits. "But it was the right thing to do."
Quinn watches Rachel's eyes fall.
"You okay?" the blonde asks. Rachel only shrugs.
"I'm feeling a little homesick," Rachel admits. Quinn notices that her words are sticky around the edges like she is trying not to cry.
And then she does start to cry. The flood gates open and the brunette is sputtering on the bed, creating a fjord between them.
"We'll be home soon Rachel," Quinn swallows. It is the most pathetic thing she probably could have said, but she can't think of anything else.
It doesn't matter. Rachel doesn't seem to even hear her. She is still crying.
Quinn sits up and forces the crying girl into her arms. Much to her surprise, instead of pushing her away, Rachel only leans in closer. She clutches onto Quinn's shirt and soaks her tears into the fabric.
Rachel stays there for a long time, pulling away only when she is ready.
Her red-rimmed eyes are wide and wet, but hooded, and somehow, Quinn knows what is going to happen before it even does.
It still manages to surprise her when Rachel pounces on top of her and presses her lips into Quinn's mouth so hard that it would have hurt Quinn had she not been waiting for this exact moment for so long.
Rachel bites onto Quinn's lower lip and pulls it hard in between her teeth. Her eyes are closed, but a quick peak tells Quinn that they are not closed so much out of passion as they are because Rachel is afraid to see what Quinn's reaction might be.
Quinn doesn't want to give Rachel the wrong impression. She finds it quite pathetic on her part that after weeks of crushing on the girl, it ended up being Rachel who made the first move.
She forces herself not to think about that. Instead, she decides to make the best out of a good situation. She leans into Rachel, gasping into her mouth as though to tell her that she has been waiting for this moment just as long as Rachel has.
Renewed by Quinn's reciprocity, Rachel pushes the blonde down against the mattress and crawls on top. Her hips are pushed flush against Quinn's, digging in. Heat radiates between them. Rachel's fingernails are pressed so deep into the skin of Quinn's waist that the blonde is afraid she is going to break the skin.
Their lips ghost over each other's. Rachel's chest is heaving, struggling to find air through the ferocity of her motions. Her body weight is limp on top of Quinn's chest. The two of them are pressed together, adhered by the sweat that has broken out across their skin. Quinn can feel Rachel's heart pounding against hers.
Then, Rachel pulls away from Quinn to start to tug her shirt over her head and when she does, Quinn notices that her cheeks are still wet from earlier and something inside of the blonde snaps back to attention.
"Rachel, wait…" Quinn gasps.
"What?" Rachel asks, her arms falling back down to her side.
"Are… are you okay?" the blonde risks asking. She shifts out from underneath Rachel to sit up and for a second, neither of them moves except to breathe.
"I'm fine." The truth hiding inside of Rachel's insistence is obvious. Rachel might really care about Quinn, but this isn't about feeling as much as it is about not feeling and Quinn realizes that Rachel is not fine. She is beautiful and perfect and astounding, but one thing she certainly is not is fine.
Before Quinn can say anything, Rachel is back on top of her. She doesn't want to talk. All she wants to do is kiss Quinn full on the lips, to feel the blonde all around her, to have her take away this confusing emptiness that has been lingering inside of her for weeks.
For a moment, the blonde had fallen for it because Rachel touches her as if she were actually here while everybody else has been treating her like a ghost for more than a year. Quinn could cry right now, that's how lonely she has been feeling in recent months, but then, it would be the both of them crying and that would just be obscene.
Something is wrong. This isn't Rachel. The brunette is aggressive, and she is not talking, and she is still crying, and Quinn knows that she has to stop this before it can get out of hand.
"Rachel, stop," Quinn gasps again as Rachel's lips attach to the blonde's neck and sink into her pulse point.
"Stop!" Quinn demands, more forcefully this time. She pushes Rachel off of her, forcing the brunette to fall back.
She looks down at Quinn with a confused expression. Quinn hates the pain that she finds in Rachel's face. Mostly, she hates that she knows that she has to push Rachel away right now. She is afraid that it will ruin everything between them. Of course, not pushing her away would ruin everything even more.
Quinn wants to know every single part of Rachel, but she is willing to take her time figuring it out. She doesn't want to be a page in Rachel's book that takes place in some dingy motel room in Iowa one night when they are both at their worst; she wants to be an entire chapter, the entire novel…
"Did I do something wrong?" Rachel asks. Her voice is quiet, frightened even.
"Yes," Quinn responds before she realizes how wrong that sounds. "I mean, no. You're… you're incredible Rachel, and that was amazing, it's just… there's something wrong. This isn't you."
"What do you mean it isn't me?" Rachel asks. She sounds offended, but Quinn knows that is only a front.
"I mean are we even going to talk?"
"We've been in a car together all day," Rachel rolls her eyes. "We've talked plenty."
"But we need to talk about this, Rachel," Quinn tells the girl gently. She pulls herself into a sitting position so that her and Rachel are eye-to-eye. Without even thinking, she lifts her thumb to wipe a tear off of the brunette's cheek.
The moisture sinks into the pad of her thumb. Rachel pulls away, embarrassed.
"You know, there's usually not this much talking in stuff like this," Rachel tells her. Her voice has lost all it's passion. Instead, it has gone stiff.
"Stuff like this?" Quinn asks.
"Making out," Rachel clarifies. Quinn swallows. She stares at Rachel and scrambles to come up with something that will make this better.
She never wanted it to be like this.
"Talk to me, Rachel," Quinn begs. She wants Rachel to know that she is not pushing her away, she is trying to reel her in to stay. She needs to make this better. She needs Rachel to understand that she doesn't have to spend the rest of her life wandering in circles just to find somebody who will listen to her speak anymore.
"Can we just pretend that this didn't happen?" Rachel asks. It's not what Quinn wants her to say at all. "I apologize for reading the wrong signal. It won't happen again."
"Rachel, it's not like that, I-"
"I'm tired, Quinn, I'm just gonna go to sleep." Rachel cuts Quinn off, rolling off the mattress and grabbing a pillow on the way down.
"Rachel…"
"It's okay," Rachel insists. "I'll just sleep on the floor."
Quinn watches Rachel go, amazed how quickly things can go from feeling so right to feeling so wrong.
She wants to tell Rachel that it's not okay, but she can't seem to find the words as Rachel finds a clearing on the floor and throws her pillow down on the hard rug. She lays down on top of it without even a blanket to cover herself.
With a loud sigh, Quinn leans back and stares up at the ceiling, trying to stop herself from crying at her own stupidity.
She had Rachel, and she blew it. For thirty whole seconds, she had thought that maybe her and Rachel could actually make something work. But that was over now…
The blonde folds her arms behind her head as she continues to stare into the darkness. She stays like this for a long time, not sleeping while Rachel is on the floor, also not sleeping. She stays like this until the glow of the sunrise starts to peer through the blinds.
She stays like this and stares, trying to wish away the morning that will inevitably come, bringing all of its answers and its explanations with it.