Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.
baby, when we touch, i get a little lighter
Quinn reaches out first.
After the funeral, and after the memorial, and after their lives have resumed, Quinn sends a single email with the subject line: 'found in my research.' The email, itself, is short, merely a means to attach an article she claims she found that made her think of Rachel. It's based on a study about the various types of relationships identified among a group of teenage girls in a particular high school class and Quinn types, 'thought you might find some of the results interesting.'
'Interesting' probably isn't the word Rachel would use, given her own past with Quinn and the rest of their classmates, but she reads the article on a day she's meant to be working on a midterm, and she gets the feeling Quinn is trying to tell her something very specific without actually saying the words. She wouldn't be able to say what, but it's definitely there.
Rachel sticks to email when she replies, maybe because it feels safer than taking out her phone and texting after all these months of silence. Or worse, calling. They haven't spoken since the funeral. Haven't even tried to see each other since they both arrived in their respective college cities as freshmen, and now as sophomores, the two of them trying so desperately to leave high school behind.
But Quinn reaches out, extending some proverbial olive branch, and Rachel is going to reach right back.
'i reckon we have a pretty neat trope of enemies-to-friends going on between the two of us, if we're being critical,' is what Rachel sends back, wondering if Quinn would appreciate her candour.
As usual, Quinn surprises her, replying that same evening with a simple, 'adoration masked as disdain, you mean.'
'i always knew you liked me!'
'you've always been a hopeful dreamer, berry.'
It starts something. Unnamed and undefined, but it's definitely something.
It's sometimes too easy to forget just whom they are to each other. Because Quinn is witty and present, unafraid with the written word and distractingly complimentary when Rachel least expects it. As a result, their endless email thread grows and grows, Quinn replying at routine times as their lives progress.
It's how Rachel learns she wakes up at six-thirty every morning and gets to her first class by seven-forty-five. She learns that Quinn gets coffee from the same vendor every day at ten-thirty, as she makes her way across campus to her eleven o'clock lecture. She has her lunch at one o'clock, usually some kind of salad or wrap, and then she spends her afternoons in tutorials or being a tutor herself.
It's the evenings when Quinn replies quicker and with more ease. Those single sentences become short paragraphs, Rachel telling Quinn about her classes and her teachers and her classmates. Quinn speaks about her roommate, her own decision to join Yale's glee club, and her desire to take up running.
It is sometimes too easy, yes, but it is also sometimes incredibly difficult. Quinn never, ever mentions Ohio or the past or any of their old friends. As a result, Rachel does not breathe a word about Ohio, either. As far as they're both concerned, their hometown and all associated with it just doesn't exist. It's fine with Rachel, truly, but she forgets sometimes, bringing up their shared past once and having to face a full day without Quinn making contact.
Those twenty-four hours are some of the longest, affecting Rachel in a way that has her sucking it up and sending Quinn the words, 'i'm not wrong in remembering we're still kind of friends.'
'you're not, no.'
'that means whatever happens, you can't just leave me. you can't.' She doesn't add that she won't survive it, but she suspects Quinn understands, anyway. They're entwined now, in a way that maybe isn't strictly healthy, but Quinn reached out, and Rachel intends to hold on.
Quinn might even let her.
'i'm not going anywhere.'
Rachel can't say how or why she believes Quinn, but she does. It's different, of course, having this never-ending conversation with someone who, in all intents and purposes, doesn't quite exist in Rachel's everyday life. She doesn't speak of Quinn to anyone - not even Kurt or her fathers. The new people in her life at NYADA have never even heard Quinn's name, and her friends from high school would question Quinn's intentions - particularly after the way they drifted apart so spectacularly during freshman year.
Rachel would, perhaps, go so far as to say that Quinn has zero intentions - literally none at all. They really just talk, sharing things at will and generally asking nothing of each other. It's a bit strange, Rachel will concede, because this is a friendship that doesn't seem to be intent on building. No. There's an odd contentment in the static measure of an email conversation that demands nothing that Rachel isn't already willing to give.
It goes on for weeks, Rachel balancing her schoolwork and friends and grief without completely losing herself in any of those things. Quinn is ever-present, ready with words of support or just willing to be the voice of reason. Which is needed because, after Christmas, Rachel almost makes the disastrous decision to leave NYADA in pursuit of television fame, but it is Quinn who reasons with her in a way that would be infuriating if it weren't so darn effective, essentially reminding her that she's not in any rush. Reminding her that her dream has always been Broadway.
'i'm going to send you flowers as a thank you,' Rachel declares, settled in the fact she has another two and a bit years as a student. She'll get her chance again. She has an entire career to look forward to.
'totally not necessary.'
'let me do something nice for you, dammit.'
'save me a ticket for your first opening night on broadway and then we're talking.'
'oof. i don't know if i want to be that nice.'
'ouch.'
Rachel imagines what Quinn's life is like, sometimes. She thinks about her in her dorm room, looking at her phone or laptop, possibly smiling, mind focused on Rachel Berry at that exact moment. It makes Rachel feel a bit giddy, drunk on some kind of power behind the idea of having Quinn Fabray actively thinking about her. She won't let herself go past that simple thought, though. Won't wonder about anything else in Quinn's life - anyone else.
For Quinn's birthday, Rachel does send her flowers. They arrive at her dorm room when Rachel knows she'll be there, a bouquet of gardenias and lilies and white roses. Rachel felt something undeniable and incredibly powerful when she first laid eyes on it, knowing it was the perfect one for Quinn, even likely to bring her to tears.
Rachel is almost right when Quinn emails right after the delivery, just three words. 'i hate you.' It makes Rachel grin, wide and unembarrassed, alone in her dorm room, her heart beating loud and fast at the thought of Quinn opening more of her gift. There are a few chocolates, yes, but the most embarrassing part is the card. It's long and detailed and sappy to the point of humiliation. She should never have -
'okay, maybe i don't hate you,' Quinn eventually sends, which just makes Rachel's smile grow.
'but quinn i already know you like me.'
'yeah yeah.' Then, in an uncharacteristic display, she sends another email, longer and more heartfelt. 'thank you, by the way. i know these past few months haven't been easy for you and part of me was convinced i wasn't actually helping. but maybe i am. i know you've been helping me. so thank you. for the flowers, yes, but for everything else too.' But it's the last sentence that tells Rachel much more than she ever needed to know at this stage in her life. 'but now i have to explain to my annoyed girlfriend why another girl is sending me flowers.'
Which is -
Rachel doesn't even know where to begin to unpack that. It strikes her that this is the reason she's never allowed herself to imagine Quinn's life outside of her little room. Because it seems impossible that Quinn isn't attached. She's a catch, beautiful and brilliant, and Rachel can't -
Any kind of confirmation would have been difficult to swallow, but the fact that Quinn has a girlfriend tastes just that bit more bitter. Rachel can't explain it. Or she won't. She's not ready for it, and maybe that's why Quinn has waited this long to allude to any kind of relationship, right? Because Rachel recently lost the love of her life in Finn.
So why does it feel as if she's descended into grief all over again?
She manages to suck it up and respond, though, which is truly a feat in itself. 'you're very welcome, quinn, because you are helping. you always have. haha sorry not sorry. good luck!' And then she cries into her pillow until she falls asleep.
Nothing quite changes about the way they interact with each other, but Rachel is suddenly more aware of her own unintentional flirting that she's always perceived as her overt friendliness. She wonders how it comes across to Quinn, who is the same levels of snarky and sarcastic, unbelievably sweet when she wants to be and fierce in support of Rachel's dreams. All Rachel really knows is that, if this is what she gets as Quinn's friend, then whoever is Quinn's girlfriend must be overwhelmed by what it must be like to have her on a different level.
It's what she thinks, at least, until she gets caught in the rain a week after Valentine's Day on her way back from her shift at the diner at which she's picked up some work to find a strange brunette waiting for her in front of her residence. Rachel suspects she should know whom she is, but she's at a loss until the girl speaks, tone flat.
"You're Rachel," she says. "I'm Nat. Quinn's girlfriend."
Rachel raises her eyebrows, clearly surprised. She's dripping water on the front steps, bound to start shivering soon, but the last thing she wants is to have this girl in her room before she's ever managed to have Quinn.
"Um. Okay."
Nat watches her carefully, realisation dawning. "Wow. Did she not even tell you I exist?"
"What? No. Just - " she stops and takes a breath. "She did. I just didn't know your name. What are you doing here?"
"So you do know about me?"
Somehow, it feels like a trap, but she still says, "Yes."
"Then why the fuck are you still talking to her?"
Rachel blinks in surprise. "What?"
"If you know she's in a relationship, why are you still talking to her?" she asks, and there's an unmistakable accusation in her voice that just doesn't sit right with Rachel. She hasn't done anything wrong. Neither has Quinn, in fact. All they do is talk, usually about random, unimportant things. Like friends do.
Rachel straightens to her full height. "I don't appreciate what you're implying," she says, an edge in her voice.
"I'm not implying anything," Nat says, and it's the first time Rachel notices the desperation in her eyes. It's barely there, but it is visible. "I'm telling you to stop talking to my girlfriend."
Weirdly, it's not even the first time she's been asked to stay away from someone's significant other. The last time, it was Quinn demanding she stay from Finn, and now look where they are. Back then, Rachel was actually guilty, but this time is different, isn't it? She's not actively trying to lure Quinn away.
Is she?
Not consciously.
"No," Rachel says, which must surprise Nat. "Quinn is my friend. I don't even know you. If she doesn't want to be friends with me anymore, then she can tell me herself. Goodness knows she's never been shy of telling me exactly what she feels in the past."
Nat just stares at her. "That's rich," she says. "You can't honestly be looking right at me and claiming the two of you are just friends."
"We are," Rachel insists.
Nat laughs, dark and twisted. "No, you're not," she says. "Otherwise you wouldn't be the only person she's spoken to today."
"Excuse me?"
Here, Nat looks lost and confused, and Rachel feels sorry for her for the first time. It must be something otherworldly to be so dismantled by someone like Quinn Fabray. Rachel has a small idea, but she's quite certain Finn, Noah and Sam would likely never recover from being caught in her web.
Neither will Nat.
"Today," Nat says. "She hasn't said a word to me or anyone else, but she's talking to you. Why? What makes you so special?"
Rachel knows what day it is. Of course she does. It's the day Quinn was almost lost to the world. The day Rachel almost threw her future away and became a teenage bride. The day that would have ended much more different if any one thing had changed.
It's the day Quinn Fabray would have died, and only Rachel is the survivor from that time in Quinn's life. Maybe that's why Quinn can talk to her, this person who already knows these specific demons, someone who won't expect anything more out of her on this day other than to be alive.
Rachel can't tell any of that to Nat, though. If Quinn doesn't want to talk about it, then that's her prerogative. Rachel isn't about to reveal things to a person she doesn't know. She didn't even know the girl's name until a few minutes ago.
"I'm not special," is what Rachel says, which might actually be a lie. "I was just there."
It doesn't quite placate Nat, her mouth opening to speak again.
Rachel cuts her off, finally starting to shiver and growing irritated with the nerve of this girl just to show up like this. "No," she says, holding out a hand and noticing that her fingers are turning blue. "Whatever you want to know should come from Quinn. She's obviously not ready, and I really don't appreciate your showing up here demanding things of me. I don't know you. Really, I don't wish to know you, given you feel entitled to dictate who does and does not talk to Quinn. She's her own person, complicated and sarcastic and hidden, but worth it. Don't force her into things. Believe me, when she does reveal herself to you, it'll be worth the wait." That's all she says, pushing past Nat and entering the building to find some warmth.
Shit.
Was that too much? She was supposed to make sure Nat knows they are, indeed, just friends, but now she's revealed too much, alluding to a very complicated history. She's given away insight into her own feelings, which seems like a dangerous play when all she really wants to do is protect Quinn from any kind of backlash.
It's moot, though, because Quinn doesn't bring it up, and neither does Rachel. She can only wonder if Nat chose not to mention her trip into New York, but Quinn says nothing about her choices or her relationship, and Rachel doesn't ask. That's what they do: they just don't ask. Quinn will tell her when and if she's ready.
And, so, Rachel forgets. Just allows herself to exist in the simplicity of being Quinn's internet friend. She does notice, though, that Quinn becomes less talkative, replying more sporadically for a few days.
Rachel suspects it's to do with Nat, though she can only imagine if Quinn is currently going through a breakup or if she's doubling down on her current relationship. Rachel still doesn't really allow herself to think about what it means that Quinn is actually in a relationship with someone. A person Rachel now knows exists, who holds Quinn's attention, who gets to see her and talk to her and touch her. This person, who gets to be with her without a history as heavy as Rachel has with her. This person who is not Rachel.
Rachel says nothing, though, letting Quinn work through whatever she needs to, offering silent support from afar. Rachel knows she can be a good distraction, so she sends updates on the musical she's going to be a part of at the end of the semester, as well as how she didn't know there were lecturers worse than Cassandra July, who was the embodiment of demon spawn.
There's a single day, one week after Nat's visit, where Quinn doesn't respond at all. Not a word until it's midnight and Rachel hasn't been able to fall asleep until her inbox pings and Quinn's name appears on her screen. It's the longest email Quinn has ever sent her, making Rachel's heart rate rise dangerously.
'you know, when I was six, my sister told me the story about the ugly duckling. i was fascinated by it at first, caught in the fairytale until i realised she was telling me the story for a very specific reason. in the story, i was the ugly duckling. left behind by myself, never quite fitting in with the rest of my family. she knew it even then, and it's part of the reason i tried to run so far from lucy to become quinn.
'it's all i wanted, you know. all i've ever wanted. to belong. to be wanted. i know i looked for it in all the wrong places, bending myself out of shape to become someone people would want to keep, losing the real me in the process. maybe i don't know who that is. maybe i'll never know. maybe nobody will. and that's okay. maybe i get to be a work in progress for the rest of my life. but what i do know is that you're someone i want to know me if ever i do figure it out. whatever happens in our lives, please never forget that.'
Rachel reads it twice, still left in the dark about what's possibly happening in Quinn's life. She's so tempted to ask, desperate to know her friend is actually okay.
What she ends up saying is, 'i'm not going anywhere,' as an echo to Quinn's previous words, and she can only hope it's enough for Quinn to know that Rachel is choosing her right back.
It must be enough, because their conversations go back to their brand of normal the following day and Rachel isn't brave enough to go back and bring up the weirdness of the past few days. Maybe they really should just put it behind them the way they've managed to shove so many other things aside.
As a result, it all just remains yet another thing they don't talk about. The list is growing, all sorts of landmines existing in their lives, and Rachel knows she has to be careful. Quinn is too, but she doesn't appear to be any more stressed out about stumbling onto some tricky topic than Rachel is. Maybe it's because Rachel is used to talking about everything in other aspects of her life, but Quinn is different.
Quinn is special.
She's also turning into Rachel's excuse for everything. It starts as a bit of a joke when one of her new cast mates, Eric, invites her out with the rest of the cast for a crazy night on the town after rehearsals and she has to decline in favour of heading to her dorm and entering a banter war with Quinn.
He makes a big deal of it when she politely declines, saying, "What, you got a hot date or something?" and she makes the mistake of hesitating. Because Quinn is hot, and they do technically have a date. And so now Rachel has some phantom hottie in her life that allows her to skip out on some of their more extravagant outings when she's just not feeling up to it.
She doesn't dare tell Quinn, though, even if she suspects Quinn would get a kick out of it. The problem is that it hits a little too close to home for them both, a what-if that exists in some universe where they haven't been enemies, haven't dated the same boys, and haven't had as many intimate conversations in high school bathrooms.
What Rachel does tell her, though, is, 'there was a brawl in the diner tonight. these two boys got into it over a girl they both liked and it was quite a sight to behold. she was screaming for them to stop, justin had to jump in to break them apart and he ended up with an elbow to the face and a broken nose. i still can't believe i witnessed it all. fighting over a girl like that. in public, no less.'
Even as she sends it, she knows the receiver is the wrong person to be expressing her disbelief to. Because Quinn has had two boys physically fight over her. Heck. Even Rachel might enter a brawl for her, just on principle.
So she isn't surprised when Quinn sends, 'i mean, i can think of a few girls i'd get in a fight for,' and Rachel's heart stutters in her chest. 'blake lively exists.'
Rachel laughs to herself, alone in her room. 'i didn't know you had a thing for blondes.'
Quinn must be relaxed somewhere, on her phone or her laptop, because her response comes immediately. 'just blake. otherwise, you should probably know that brunettes are my kryptonite.'
Electricity sizzles in the tips of her fingers, wondering if Quinn is trying to tell her something specific. 'explain sam, then.'
'the dude is a bottle blond, rach. and i'm not really talking about boys, anyway.' Which is only the second time she's alluded to the fact she's not completely straight. Rachel has thought about it sporadically, wondering absently how recent it is. Has she always known? Did she figure it out in high school? Maybe when she got to Yale? Was there a specific girl who helped her realise? These are all questions Rachel could ask, but she's also not sure she wants to know the answers.
Not when they have nothing to do with her. Which is self-absorbed, she knows, but it's not something she's managed to grow out of quite yet.
'boys are dumb,' Rachel sends back.
'my roommate's boyfriend literally thought she couldn't pee while she had a tampon in.'
'oh my god.'
It's maybe at a time like this that their conversation would die. With anyone else, Rachel would be more concerned with trying to keep it going, offering up everything and anything to maintain her conversation partner's interest. She'd probably be asking endless questions.
But Quinn doesn't need Rachel to lead, replying with an entirely different topic and ensuring Rachel knows that she isn't bored or doing Rachel some kind of favour by continuing to talk to her.
'i have this paper due on monday that's breaking my brain. we went to this museum for my art writing class and now i have to write about this painting we saw that was disturbing in a way that i think i noticed only because i'm probably the only one in my class who's actually given birth.'
'i'm quite certain going through what you went through would change anyone's perceptive on life and art.'
'you've been through a lot, as well,'
'send me a picture of the painting. let's see if i see what you see.'
Now, if anyone had told Rachel that she would be spending her Friday night discussing art with Quinn Fabray as a college sophomore, she would have laughed in their face. And yet, here she is, casually discussing the meanings behind the choices an artist makes with paintbrush in hand.
What even is this life?
What does any of it even mean?
They're all questions Rachel wants to ask Quinn, desperate for any kind of clarity or direction. They have a complicated relationship already, but now they have this added complexity from this mutual communication embargo, a single email thread all they've allowed themselves after the intense start to the school year they both had.
Death tends to change things, it would seem. Rachel has wanted to mention it, bring up Finn in a way that forces them to talk about him and their past and what it means for their collective future that he's gone. Because many things have changed in Rachel's life now. Truthfully, they changed long before she received the call from Finn's mother on a normal Tuesday evening. She let him go long before he ever let her go, and Rachel somehow needs to get that across to Quinn.
Why, she doesn't know, but it feels important that Quinn knows. She needs to know.
So Rachel tells her. On a day that Quinn has been particularly quiet, complaining once about an endless amount of reading she has to get through, Rachel types words that feel as if she's opening the most vulnerable parts of her and letting Quinn see them.
'i hadn't even seen him since mr schue's failed wedding. you know i spent my summer working in new york. we didn't even talk in that time. i think I was mad at him, or maybe i was more mad at myself. we broke up for very big, important reasons, and there were times when i wasn't sure we would ever find our way back to each other. and that was fine with me.
'i know we don't talk about it. sometimes, i get the feeling you're still mad about the choices i made. i don't think i ever even said thank you for helping me see reason.
so thank you. maybe it won't mean as much to you as it does to me, but i get to have this life i have here in new york because you made sure i remembered to want as much for myself as i wanted for everyone else.'
Quinn is, predictably, so awkward about it that Rachel can't help but be amused. 'i'm not mad. i didn't even do anything. you would have been fine,' is what she sends back, and Rachel hasn't wanted to give her a hug this badly in months. She wants to reach through her phone and touch her. She wants to call her and hear her voice. She wants to -
For a moment, Rachel is ready to break all their silent rules, willing to throw all their quiet progress to the dogs solely for a chance to hear Quinn speak. It could be worth it, maybe, but she can't bring herself to do it. The risk of losing Quinn completely is too high.
So she just sucks it up and types, 'just say you're welcome, weirdo. i'm trying to tell you something important.'
'i swear i can hear you all the way from over here.'
'i'm screaming it from the rooftops.'
'ah, so that's the screeching coming through my window.'
Rachel gasps aloud, alone in her room. 'quinn fabray, you take that back!'
And when Quinn sends back, 'make me,' Rachel has to force herself not to remember a teenage Quinn, dressed in her cheerleading uniform, hands on her hips, an eyebrow arched, and those same words taunting her.
She dreams of Quinn that night. It's impossible not to, which is the only reason she doesn't feel guilty when she wakes in the morning, already breathless before she even finds a good morning email from Quinn waiting for her.
As if Rachel wasn't already in enough trouble. What is she supposed to do now? What can she do? What does she even want to do? What is she ready for?
Nothing.
Not with Quinn, at least.
Quinn, who is still kind and sweet and an everyday presence. Quinn, who is supportive and sarcastic. Quinn, who has a girlfriend. Rachel is still trying to wrap her head around that last part, unsure she can truly believe it until she actually sees it with her own eyes. But then she's not sure she'd be able to stomach witnessing such a thing, anyway.
So this is okay. What they're doing. What they're avoiding. It's all just there, waiting, and Rachel is content to let herself exist in this complicated friendship while she tries to figure out just what she's feeling.
Which, honestly, is easier said than done.
And so, days and weeks pass, conversations growing longer and deeper, scratching at the surface of what they really need to unpack, but Rachel is content. Truly, she is.
But then, quite suddenly, Spring Break is upon them, and Quinn says, 'my mom has been trying to get me to go home all year. i think she might actually miss me.'
And Rachel, who has been very careful about how much she reveals, replies an hour later with a very dangerous selection of four words. 'i don't blame her.' Which gives away too much, she knows, but she can't help it. Quinn is someone to be missed, even when Rachel has her this way - which isn't really any way at all.
Rachel knows she can't make any kind of claim to her. She won't, but the thought can be comforting when she's trying to decide if she should go home to Lima, as well. If Quinn goes, maybe she will. Otherwise, what's the point? Her own fathers are going to be on a cruise in Florida, the two of them really leaning into their empty nest. She could see Tina and Mike, maybe even Sam and Blaine, but none of it is appealing enough to draw her from New York. Not when Kurt is already here, or when her classmates are already planning a week of debauchery.
Not when Quinn is only two hours away.
Quinn, who takes nearly ten hours to reply, sending an email at four o'clock in the morning, forcing Rachel to wake to Quinn's own dangerous four words. 'i miss you too.' It makes Rachel's heart stutter in her chest, catching her off guard in the worst way. What does it mean? Why would -
Feeling brave and reckless, Rachel types, 'come visit me.'
Barely a minute later, Quinn sends, 'i can be there on tuesday.'
The great big world stops and starts again. It feels like the air is clearer, but she suddenly can't breathe properly. Tuesday. That's just days away. She hasn't seen Quinn since the funeral, and even that was in passing.
Rachel remembers Quinn taking hold of her hands, not quite meeting her eyes. She squeezed tightly, whispered her sorrow, and then left, never to be seen again. She couldn't stay for the memorial week, but Rachel has always thought that Quinn didn't feel it was her place to mourn Finn alongside the rest of them.
But now Quinn is coming here. To New York. To see Rachel. To stay with Rachel? She definitely doesn't know. She would ask, but they don't do that kind of thing, so she rather just expresses her excitement at having Quinn in her city and just rolls with it. What's the worst that could happen, hmm? It's likely to be awkward, anyway, so Rachel's just going to lean into it. She has an itinerary planned, anyway. All sorts of places she wants to show Quinn.
She can't quite hide her nerves, though, and her friends notice. Particularly Kurt, who has heard absolutely nothing about Quinn in the months since they graduated from high school. It's not as if Rachel anticipates a bad reaction, but she knows she's kept so hush hush about it for a reason. What that reason is, though, isn't clear to her until Quinn arrives at Grand Central Station and steps off the train and right back into Rachel's orbit.
It hits Rachel like a freight train of its own, Quinn appearing like some kind of siren and tilting Rachel right off her axis.
Oh.
Oh.
That's why she's been so content with keeping Quinn so separate from her everyday life. Because now she's here and she's real, and now Rachel has to accept that maybe she's kept Quinn hidden away from the rest of her world for precisely this reason. There's no denying her feelings now.
No.
This can't be happening. Not right now. Not with Quinn right here.
When Quinn spots her, a smile splits her face, and Rachel is gone. Lifted off the ground and thrown into some kind of tailspin; sent into the ether of impossible feelings, and now she has to interact with this person. This person, who is as perceptive as ever, and so notices immediately that something has happened to Rachel. Something she can't quite figure out, but something nonetheless.
Quinn comes to a stop right in front of her and says, "This wasn't a good idea, was it?" It's actually the first question she's asked in months, bringing to light something they've kept carefully locked away, but now Quinn is here and Rachel takes a single breath before closing the space between them and throwing her arms around her.
"It could never be a bad idea," Rachel whispers right into her ear, feeling Quinn's arms wrap around her waist and hold her tight.
Oh.
Shit.
Maybe it actually is a bad idea.
Trying to quell her panic, Rachel squeezes that bit tighter, breathing her in and luxuriating in the smell of apples from her shampoo. It's not a bad idea, no, but maybe they're not quite ready for what it means. Rachel certainly isn't, because this is -
This is Quinn.
Quinn, who has to release her first, Rachel dropping from her tiptoes and settling in front of her. Close enough that she has to tilt her head up to keep looking at her face. A face that's smiling down at her, eyes scanning her features in return. "There you are," Quinn says.
"You're here."
Quinn takes a small step back, reaching for the handle of her small suitcase. "It appears I am," she says. "I was promised an authentic New York experience."
"And I intend to deliver."
So… it's not entirely awkward, though it's clear there's something there that they're decidedly not speaking about. For now, they just walk side by side, Quinn listening as Rachel talks endlessly about all the little things she's learned about New York. She points out little shops she's discovered, the two of them eventually stopping to get some coffee on their way back to Rachel's dorm. Rachel is a regular, the barista, Evelyn, recognising her immediately and ringing up her usual.
"Oh, and can you add - " she pauses to look at Quinn with the intention of getting her order.
Quinn steps forward, gentle hand on the small of Rachel's back, and says, "Please can I get a hot matcha white mocha, grande?"
Evelyn looks between them, trying to make sense of what she's seeing, but Rachel just takes out her phone to pay, focusing on that task rather than the feel of Quinn right behind her. How is she supposed to get through the next however many hours without saying or doing something ridiculous?
They find a table once they get their drinks, Quinn quietly thanking her for the drink. They sit opposite each other, Quinn crossing her right leg over her left, her foot gently touching Rachel's shin. She's so aware of it, heart pounding in her chest.
Quinn just watches her carefully, fingers tracing the rim of her cup. Rachel feels as if she's on display, exposed in the worst way, insides already bruised and raw.
Quinn finally speaks, saying, "I almost forgot what you looked like."
"Excuse me?"
Quinn just smiles, not repeating herself.
Rachel just stares right back at her, not sure what to say. They can usually talk and talk, about nothing and nonsense, and now they're here in the flesh and all Rachel wants to do is look at her. Possibly even touch her.
Quinn sips her drink three times before she leans forward and asks, "Is this weird for you?"
"No," Rachel immediately says, and then flushes. "Maybe a little."
Quinn chuckles lightly, leaning even further forward. "Why?"
"I don't know."
"Sure you do," Quinn counters. "You clearly have something to say to me. Something going on in that pretty head of yours. It's okay. You can say it."
Rachel takes a breath and blurts, "How's Nat?"
Quinn's expression shifts, falling into passivity. "What?"
Rachel opens her mouth, and then closes it. Why did she ask that? How can she possibly explain that away? She's not even supposed to know about Nat.
"How do you - " Quinn starts and stops, frowning now. "Where did - Rachel."
Rachel drinks some of her soy latte, trying to buy herself some time. "Um. So. She actually came to see me."
"What?"
"Yeah. Just showed up at my dorm out of nowhere. I didn't even know - Quinn, I had no idea who she was, and she just started - she thought we were - um."
"What?"
"Well, she thought I was special," Rachel tries, needing to be delicate about this. "She wanted me to stop talking to you."
"What?"
"She couldn't believe that we're just friends," Rachel clarifies, which is really the moment Quinn just blows everything apart.
"We're not."
Rachel's eyes snap up. "What?"
"We have never been 'just' anything," Quinn clarifies, which isn't any better. "Definitely not just friends."
"Quinn."
She takes a breath, leaning back and putting much-needed space between them. "She shouldn't have done that," she says, frown deepening. "I'm sorry she did that. When was this?"
"What?"
"When did she come here?"
"On the twenty-first of February."
Quinn's mouth closes, pressing into a thin line, because that is a very significant date in both their lives. There's no hiding from it. Rachel wants to ask if Quinn ever did get around to telling Nat about the accident. She wants to know if they managed to clear things up. She wants to know -
"You met her weeks ago and you didn't say anything?" Quinn asks, and there's a mixture of disbelief and hurt in her voice. Rachel doesn't have a suitable explanation other than she never wanted to lose any part of Quinn, and this is how she's managed to hold onto her.
It's the absolute truth when Rachel says, "I really didn't know how to bring it up," because their quiet agreement can be extremely inconvenient in the worst times and just plain annoying other times.
Quinn doesn't say anything for a long time, her gaze focused on her own hands on her cup. Her eyes are narrowed, her brow creased, and Rachel probably shouldn't find her as intriguing as she does in this moment. Beautiful and broken and deep in thought.
When Quinn eventually speaks again, several minutes have already past, her drink already finished. Her eyes dart to Rachel for a beat, and then she's saying, "I think we rushed this," which might be true for any number of reasons.
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to be ready for," Rachel admits. "What are we to each other?" It's the heaviest question she can ask right now, her heart pounding against her rib cage and getting dangerously close to a truth she's not sure Quinn will end up admitting.
Quinn, who takes a deep breath and says, "The fact you've asked that question answers my own," with a tone of defeat that Rachel still doesn't understand. She wants to reach out; desperately wants to hold onto her. Because, all of a sudden, it feels as if she's lost her.
Maybe she's never even had her.
Quinn slides her empty cup forward, body following. Her right hand reaches to cover one of Rachel's, dark eyes immediately dropping to the contact. "I'm going to go home now," Quinn says, voice just a bit shaky. "I think - maybe - why did you tell me to visit?"
"I missed you." It's really as simple and complicated as that. "I do miss you," she adds. "I want you here with me."
Quinn looks conflicted, taking her hand back and putting distance between them once more. "You can't say things like that to me," she says.
"Why not?"
"Rachel," she says. "I know I haven't said it quite so explicitly, but I think you've figured out that I'm at least a little bit gay." She pauses. "Actually, I'm a lot gay."
Rachel squirms. "Yes."
"When pretty girls tell you to visit them, you visit them."
Rachel just stares at her. "Are we - what are you - Quinn." What does that even mean? What is Quinn trying to say?
"You read the article I sent, didn't you?"
She nods dumbly.
"And you mentioned the enemies to friends trope, but there were others, correct?"
She nods again.
Quinn sighs. "Enemies to friends to…" she prompts.
Now, Rachel shakes her head, because this honestly can't be happening to her. "No," she says, firm. "You can't actually sit there and tell me you've been flirting with me this whole time."
For a moment, Quinn looks deathly amused, but then her brows knit together. "Not the whole time," she concedes. "Not at the start, obviously, but then you sent me flowers, Rachel. And the sappiest card. I mean, surely you know what you were doing."
"What? No. I just - I just wanted to do something nice for you."
"I've seen you do nice things before," Quinn points out. "It's different when it's me, isn't it? Exactly the way it's different for me when it's you."
Rachel can't figure why she's so determined to deny what she already knows is true. It's just built-in, because heaven forbid Quinn Fabray knows Rachel Berry more than she knows herself.
Maybe it's why she says, "But you have a girlfriend," like it's an accusation. "Why would you just - if this is - why would you come?" Her eyes narrow. "I thought we left cheating behind in high school, Quinn."
Quinn shifts, her expression closing off, and Rachel knows she's hit a nerve. Okay. An antagonistic Quinn Fabray is more familiar territory. This other, kind creature before her is too foreign - Rachel can't make any sense of her.
"I don't have a girlfriend, actually," Quinn says, voice steady but obviously icy. The warmth is gone and Rachel suddenly misses it. "I haven't had one since you sent me flowers and the sappiest card. She totally blew up about it, and I was forced to take a step back and realise it wasn't actually her I wanted." Her hands settle in her lap. "I didn't know she came to see you. I wish one of you would have told me. Would have saved us all this confusion."
"I'm not confused," Rachel insists, and Quinn stares at her, eyes narrowed, for nearly a full minute. Then she sighs and shakes her head.
"You're right," she finally says. "You're not confused at all. My mistake." She shakes her head again, dropping her voice to a whisper. "God, I'm such an idiot." Another sigh, and then she's getting to her feet.
Rachel's panic immediately kicks in. Quinn can't just - she can't just leave. Her hand automatically reaches out to stop her, but Quinn keeps her own hands close. "I don't know what's happening."
"Sure you do," Quinn says, lifting her empty cup. "I don't know if what you need is time, but I do know that the best thing is for me not to be here right now."
"Quinn?" Her voice comes out small and decidedly confused, and it prompts Quinn to move forward.
Quinn, who rounds the table and lays a hand on Rachel's shoulder. It's gentle there, offering some comfort. "You know, sometimes you say the darnest things," she says. "Get my heart pumping and my blood rushing, and you don't even know it."
"I don't - "
Quinn squeezes once, and then lets go. "I'm going to go home," she says again, which is the last thing Rachel wants. "When you're ready to talk - like really, really talk - you know how to contact me."
When Rachel reaches for her hand now, Quinn lets her. She links their fingers, holding on tightly. "Does that mean we can't keep talking at all?"
Quinn takes a breath, looking even more conflicted. It's probably not fair of Rachel to ask, but she also knows that the only person who can actually help her make sense of her feelings is the person standing right in front of her. If Rachel believes she's not confused, then she's certain she's confusing Quinn in return.
"What sorts of things are you going to talk to me about?" Quinn asks.
Rachel makes sure to look into her eyes when she says, "I have so many questions for you." Her own smile feels sad, so she can only imagine what it looks like to Quinn. "I want to know everything about you."
"Why?"
Rachel doesn't have any kind of response.
Quinn sighs. "And then what?" she asks.
"And then I'll come visit you," Rachel says. "We'll talk properly. We'll be ready."
"I already am," Quinn tells her.
"Then I'll be, too."
Quinn steps closer to her, a hand on Rachel's shoulder. And then on her hair. "We can talk," Quinn assures her, bending to drop a kiss to the top of her head. "Ask me all your questions." And then she's gone, turning on her heel and disappearing from the café before Rachel can think to call after her.
She sits a while, after, replaying the last hour and trying to figure out where it went so very wrong for her, and them. It's possibly that Rachel didn't expect any of this to happen today. Whatever did happen. But it's something else, as well. Maybe it's the disbelief, because how could Quinn Fabray ever want her? Why would she?
There's no way she's been flirting.
Except, now that it's been pointed out to her, maybe Quinn actually was. Maybe she is. Hell, maybe Rachel has been flirting right back. How could she just not notice?
It's actually the first thing she sends to Quinn, even as she's still sitting there at the table, taking out her phone and typing an email on the same thread. 'how did i not notice?'
It takes an hour to get a reply, Rachel already back in her dorm room, lying on her back on her bed and trying to make sense of everything she's learned.
'is that really the first question you want to ask?'
Rachel can't stop her smile, even if she feels a little ill. 'have you arrived safely?'
'not quite. caught a little nap, but not long to go now. how are you feeling?'
'how did i not notice?"
'i have some theories. would you like to hear them?'
'this is going to be embarrassing for me, isn't it?'
'since when are you concerned with making a fool of yourself?'
Rachel lets out a little laugh, definitely not needing to go into her tendency to take on the world without much care or thought. 'that's just how i go through life, huh?'
'i really do wonder how you get through life as you are. does everyone just have to point out everything to you like all the time?'
'i want to say no, but brody actually had to tell me cj only pretends to hate me because she's trying to make me better. does that count?'
And so it goes. They talk about it without actually talking about it, the endless questions continuing. It gives her time to process what's happened and what's happening. Because, and she's still hesitant to call it what it really is, she and Quinn are definitely involved in something. It doesn't feel like a lie whenever she ducks out of obligations because she has a hot date. Because she does. With Quinn.
Quinn, who is both distant and a lot more present. It becomes obvious to Rachel that she's being very careful, and Rachel doesn't want that. She wants all of Quinn's attention and focus and romantic powers. Whatever that is. She just -
Rachel wants all of it.
And so she decides to ask for it. The thing is that she doesn't quite realise what kind of power she unleashes when she asks, 'will you please flirt with me?' She does it mainly to see what it'll be like. She wants to be aware of it, and it is -
It's one of the more overwhelming things she's ever experienced, Quinn taking the cue and running wild with it. She turns every sentence into a compliment, using innuendo liberally, and even once bluntly typing, 'what if i told you i'm going to kiss you when we're next together?' and Rachel still hasn't recovered. 'now i can't stop thinking about it, and you, and what we could be doing. rachel berry, what doors have you opened?'
'are you going to walk through?'
'will you be waiting for me on the other side?'
Quinn is bold and brazen, and Rachel realises slowly - and then all at once - just how much she wants this Quinn. She wants her. What that really means for her, she's not entirely sure, but she knows something has shifted for her when Eric invites her out for drinks with the cast once more and she says, "Oh, Quinn's waiting for me."
He stops, a sudden smile on his face, and Rachel sees Nolan and Kathy behind him turn to look at her, because this is the most she's shared about her personal life since they started rehearsals.
Rachel chooses to be amused by his expression. "Another time, maybe."
"Whoa whoa," he says, and Kathy pops up over his shoulder.
"Who's Quinn?"
Rachel has to wrack her brain for a suitable explanation. "Um. We went to high school together. She's at Yale. We're kind of - she's kind of - I guess she's my person."
All three of them are grinning at her.
It's the moment Rachel knows she's ready for whatever it means that she can admit this much to the people in her life. It's why, the moment she gets to her dorm, she pulls up their email thread and types, 'can i come and visit you?'
It takes Quinn only five minutes to reply. 'when did you have in mind?'
And so, when they do next see each other, it's in New Haven. Rachel told Quinn she would go to her, and it feels like an important step for it to happen this way. Rachel has to prove that she's ready, and this is just one way to get her point across.
For a while, Rachel is tempted to surprise her by just showing up, but she just has to think of what it would be like if it were the other way around, and she's not sure she would survive Quinn Fabray just showing up at her dorm to give her what she's been waiting for, for weeks. So, Rachel gives Quinn a date and a time, and then she makes sure to be there. She's tempted to buy flowers, but doesn't want to put too much pressure on them.
But then, like the last time they saw each other, it takes barely a moment after she steps off the train and spots Quinn for her to know that every decision she's ever made has led her to this point right here. Where Quinn is grinning at her, two coffees in her hands, looking like -
She looks perfect.
Rachel fights through the little crowd to get to her, barely thinks of anything or anyone as she throws her arms around Quinn's shoulders and hugs her like it's the very first time. She doesn't want to let go. Ever. But she eventually does, pulling back to look at Quinn's face. Her expression is so many good, wonderful things, her cheeks flushed, and Rachel would love to exist in this moment.
But then Quinn says, "I brought you a soy latte," and Rachel's pretty sure she's in love.
"Hi," Rachel says in response, slowly dropping her hands. "Hi."
Quinn's grin softens, eyes on Rachel's face. "You're here."
"I have something important to tell you," Rachel says. "I can do it only in person."
"In a train station?"
"There are worse places."
Quinn steps closer. "I'm listening."
And, all of a sudden, Rachel's voice fails her. "Um."
Quinn waits, patient.
"Um."
Then she smiles. "Would you prefer to write it down?"
Rachel breathes out. "Honestly, I'd much rather just show you, if that's okay with you," she says instead, which looks as if it surprises Quinn to silence. "I need verbal consent, Quinn."
"Oh. Yeah. Okay."
Rachel reaches for again, the entire world falling away. Her hands find Quinn's shoulders, her neck, her cheeks. "I figured it out," she says, and maybe she needs to be touching Quinn to be able to think properly. "Why you sent me that article in the first place. I didn't get it at first. What it could mean. What you were trying to tell me."
"What was I trying to tell you?"
Rachel audibly swallows. "I don't think we were ever enemies," she says. "I don't even think we were ever friends."
Quinn frowns. "We weren't?"
"I think we've always been more and less than both those things," Rachel says. "It's probably why is was so difficult for me to see it as it was happening."
"What was happening?"
"This," she says. "You."
"Me?"
Rachel takes one final breath before she lifts herself up and presses her lips to Quinn's. All at once, she's not even a little nervous, because Quinn makes this wonderful, tiny sound, and then she's kissing Rachel back. It's like they've waited years for this. Which they have, of course, but it feels -
It just feels right.
Of course, the article now makes sense.
Of course, so many other things about their lives make sense.
Quinn pulls away first, her eyes searching, a steady smile on her face. "I suddenly hate that I'm holding coffee," she says. "I would much rather be doing other things with my hands."
Rachel laughs, delighted and so happy. "Maybe it's a good thing they're occupied."
"Tell that to my libido."
"You really are a flirt, aren't you?"
"I am many things, Rachel Berry."
Rachel kisses her again, slowly and deeply. "Are we now in our lovers era?" she asks, and Quinn laughs. It's this gorgeous, happy sound, and Rachel tells herself right now that she'll spend the rest of her life saying and doing whatever it takes to be rewarded with is.
"You're no longer confused?" Quinn asks now.
Rachel is still touching her when she says, "I don't think I ever was."
"Yeah?"
"But you knew that all along, didn't you?"
"I don't think it's such a bad thing that I know you, Rachel." She smiles a bit knowingly. "Prepare yourself, you know? My life's mission is now to learn every little thing about you."
"Well, you've already got my coffee order right."
"Speaking of coffee," Quinn says, putting some space between them to hand Rachel her cup. "Before it gets cold."
Rachel takes it from her. "I made some tentative plans for us," she admits, "But I've just remembered that this is your city."
"It is."
"Fancy showing me around?"
Quinn grins. "Yeah. I know a few places." She spins around now, and Rachel panics at the thought she's just going to start walking. Only, she doesn't. Instead, Quinn holds out her left hand, the action saying so much more than any of the many, many words they've exchanged in the past few months could ever say.
Rachel slips her hand into Quinn's, their palms pressing together, fingers interlocking. As silly as it sounds, it feels as if their hands were made for each other. She rolls her eyes at herself the moment she has the thought, but she's not going to deny it.
Here, with Quinn, just being to touch her, Rachel feels as if she could float off the ground. Anything can happen now. She doesn't think it'll all be easy - they are still Quinn and Rachel - but they have the rest of their lives to try to get it right. Here, with Quinn, she just feels so much lighter.
Fin