XV
On Sunday, Rachel waits for Quinn's text.
And waits and waits.
Eventually, she sends her own text. And then another.
When she receives no reply, she tries calling.
No answer.
She can't imagine much has changed in the time since they spoke, and Quinn has never been the type to stand up a person. She's too polite for something like that, which is really why Rachel does her best to hold onto her growing panic. Quinn is fine. She's probably just delayed.
It would help if Rachel just knew where to go, her mind whirling around all the options she has. She even toys with the idea of going over to Quinn's apartment, but that seems a little forward. And, frankly, does she even know if Quinn made it onto her flight at all?
So, she sits on her couch and waits, hoping the entire thing is just one big misunderstanding and Quinn's text is on its way any minute now.
Rachel doesn't move for hours, her phone held in her hand, her eyes barely drifting away from her screen. She doesn't want to miss a thing.
But hours are hours, and Rachel gets the sinking feeling quite early on that Quinn isn't going to call. Still, she's determined to hold onto hope she's mistaken. Quinn just lost her phone, maybe. Her flight was delayed, or she just -
Quinn wouldn't forget.
Rachel knows, deep in her heart, Quinn hasn't called on purpose, and it's merely confirmed when Santana gets in later that night, her expression sombre. Rachel barely has to look up at her to know she's going to be the one to deliver what Rachel already knows.
"Hey, Superstar," Santana says, quiet and… disappointed. "What you doing?"
"Waiting."
Santana shuffles around the room, removing her scarf and coat, before moving towards where Rachel is still sitting perfectly still on the couch.
"Waiting," Santana murmurs, sitting beside her and lifting her feet to rest on the coffee table. "Been waiting a while, huh?"
Rachel just hums, her heart aching.
"She's not going to call, Rachel," Santana tells her, merely saying words Rachel has already suspected, but the confirmation still stings.
Rachel gulps. "Why?" she asks. "I don't - she said she wanted to talk. I don't get it. I - I finally know what I'm going to say."
"Rachel," Santana says, and her tone is sharp in a way that makes Rachel freeze. "Couldn't - God, couldn't you have waited until after you talked, at least?"
"What are you talking about?"
Santana shakes her head and takes out her phone. "I'm talking about these," she says, scrolling through her phone and handing it to Rachel. "What the fuck, huh?"
She blinks, suddenly not wanting to look at Santana's phone. She knows the reason Quinn hasn't contacted her is on that phone, and there's a sinking feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.
"I honestly thought you liked her," Santana says, looking away. "I thought you'd figure it out." She shakes her head. "I thought it was Quinn."
But it is Quinn, she wants to say. It's always been Quinn.
Rachel can't bring herself to look.
She can't.
Oh, God.
Santana indicates to the phone again.
Rachel takes another moment, and then looks, immediately sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of the first picture.
Of her.
And Petra.
"Oh."
Santana sighs. "Alessia sent them to me," she says. "She sent the same ones to Quinn."
"Oh."
"She said she saw you at the club with some other woman, and she was interested to figure out if Quinn was with you, because, you know, the girl is actually interested in Fabray."
Rachel internally flinches.
"But then she figured out pretty soon you weren't waiting for Quinn at all," Santana says, and she still sounds confused. "I - I don't get it. What happened?"
Rachel breathes out. Isn't that the question? "I wanted to be sure," she confesses softly. "I needed to figure out for myself if - if it was just Quinn or not; if I could be what she needs and wants. That's why I was there. Nicole thought it would be a good idea, and it was, but I didn't - "
"Who the fuck is Nicole?"
Rachel sighs, not quite willing to explain, because that isn't even important. "Where is Quinn now? Is she back in New York?"
Santana shakes her head. "Please don't attempt some half-baked idea to make it up to her or something," she says. "Just give her some space."
"I have to talk to her, Santana," Rachel argues.
"I get that, but you can't," Santana says, automatically countering Rachel's words. "Now isn't the time to - "
"No, Santana," Rachel interrupts. "I have to tell her I have feelings for her."
Santana's mouth snaps shut.
"That's what I figured out," Rachel says. "That's what those pictures helped me realise. It's Quinn." She smiles, though it's tinged with sadness and a hint of determination. "It's always been Quinn."
Santana blinks once, twice, and then shakes her head. "Well, shit, Berry," she says.
"Are you actually surprised?"
"Yes," Santana blurts, and then says, "I mean, no. I don't know." She closes her eyes for a moment. "I just - until any of this even happened, you've given zero inclination you'd be interested. Not even just Quinn, but any girl at all."
Rachel licks her lips. "I don't think that's entirely accurate," she admits quietly.
Santana's eyes widen. "You better not tell me you've had the hots for me?"
"What?" she squeaks. "No, Santana, I'm talking about Quinn." She shakes her head. "It's always been about Quinn, and I just - I didn't know it. How could I have missed it? Why couldn't I just see it?" She knows she sounds miserable, but she can't help it.
She is miserable.
"I don't get it," Santana says, a crease in her brow. "What happened? What were you hoping would happen if - if you went out and… did whatever you did?"
"I needed to know."
"Know what?"
"That it wasn't just her."
Santana's frown deepens. "Why would that even matter?" she asks. "Because it doesn't."
"It matters to me," Rachel says, and her voice is surprisingly steady.
"Why?"
"Because she's Quinn, Santana," she says, as if it explains everything.
"Please explain it to me," Santana says; "because I'm obviously not following. If it's Quinn, why can't it just be Quinn? What does anything else matter?"
"Do you have any idea what it's like to be Quinn's sole focus?" she asks. "To have her look at you and see only you and nobody else?"
Santana blinks. "I do, actually."
"It is terrifying," she says tensely. "I was - no, I am terrified of this and her and what it means for - "
"Your career?"
Rachel glares at her. "If I was in any way worried about how this would affect my career, I definitely wouldn't have asked her to pretend to be my girlfriend," she says, curtly and hotly.
Santana shifts away. "Okay…"
"For our friendship," Rachel says quietly. "For our relationship."
Santana sighs. "I'm sorry to break it to you, but you probably don't have either of those right now."
The silence that follows is long and uncomfortable. There is more to it, Santana knows, but she understands the very real sentiment that it is Quinn. Everything gets more complicated when you're dealing with that particular blonde.
"So, you've spoken to her?" Rachel eventually asks, voice small. "How - how angry is she? What does she think the pictures are about? Will she let me explain? Do - do I even stand a chance to make it right?"
"You have always stood a chance, Rachel," Santana says. "Just, I think this one hurts a lot more, because she made this offer to talk, thinking she made you uncomfortable by being a girl, and now - "
"Now she thinks it's the fact she's Quinn," Rachel guesses.
Santana sighs heavily, and then looks through her phone again, switching to her messages from Quinn. "This is what we're dealing with."
Rachel almost doesn't reach for the phone, but she needs to be prepared for just what she'll be walking into when it comes to Quinn. She needs to know just how -
It's bad.
Like, really really bad.
It's just a long string of Quinn's confusion, hurt and anger, and Rachel wants nothing more than to stop reading, but she forces herself to keep going. She has to know.
San, what are these? Did Alessia send them to you as well?
I don't understand.
What is she DOING?
Are we sure it's even Rachel? I mean, I don't think she would ever go to Flagship without us, right? It doesn't make sense.
San, what is happening?
I don't understand.
Oh. That's Nicole. We met at one of Rachel's dinners. It's really her, isn't it?
I don't understand. She said yes. She said we could talk. We were supposed to talk. It doesn't make sense.
And then the one that truly slices through Rachel in a way that makes her want to curl into a little ball in the dark and never come out:
She could have just told me she doesn't want me.
Rachel closes her eyes, wishing she could burn those words from her memory. They're the last words Quinn sends Santana, and they weigh heavily in the air.
"I did it, because I didn't want to hurt her," Rachel confesses quietly. "To make sure I wasn't just overwhelmed by how it feels to have her full attention. To be certain I wasn't giving in because of her, and more because of me. To make sure I didn't want to wake up one day a few weeks from now and realise I've made a mistake. I just - I needed to be sure I wouldn't hurt her."
And yet she's already done exactly that.
Santana takes back her phone eventually, her expression twisted into something like regret. "This is the most she's talked to me about it," she reveals. "I tried calling, but - shit, I don't know what to tell you."
Rachel looks away from her, some other kind of truth seeping into her very bones.
Oh.
Rachel: Quinn, please will you call me back?
Rachel: I know what it looks like, but I swear it's not what you think. Please let me explain. Please.
Rachel: Quinn? Please?
Rachel barely gets through Monday morning's rehearsal, which is really just a final fitting for their costumes and testing out their makeup. Her mind has already decided she has to see Quinn. She has to lay eyes on her to apologise and try to explain in person.
As soon as Elliot lets them go, giving them the afternoon off - given their upcoming full dress rehearsals - Rachel takes off for Columbia's campus. She barely knows what she's going to say, but she knows she has to say something. She misses Quinn in a way she was unaware she was capable of.
Rachel's nerves kick in quite painfully when she gets to the corridor leading to Quinn's shared office. She's aware enough that she's probably - definitely - going to run into Jason as well, but she's willing to bear the brunt of his disapproval if it means Quinn will look at her. She'll even handle it if Quinn would yell at her.
Just, something.
Anything.
Except, well, Quinn isn't in her office. In fact, nobody seems to be, because the door is locked when Rachel tries it. She feels her heart stutter in her chest, and she quickly fishes for the spare key Quinn left with her - for emergencies. She knows what to expect - an empty office - but it still catches her off guard.
In fact, it looks as if Quinn hasn't even been in at all, her desk packed up and empty, and Rachel just stands in the doorway and stares, heart breaking all over again. Quinn feels so much further away now, and Rachel can't figure out how that could be.
"She's not here," a voice says, coming up behind her, and Rachel turns to find Liz standing there with a curious look on her face.
Rachel just blinks.
"Neither is Jason," Liz adds a moment later. "Or Jessica and Baheya."
Rachel frowns deeply, vaguely recalling the names of the two other people in Quinn's office.
"They're on the way to the airport," Liz explains, and Rachel is hit by something like deja vu, taking her back to when Jason was telling her something similar. "Headed to a conference in Prague."
Rachel feels the words, striking her in a place she wasn't sure even existed. "What?"
Liz regards her closely. "They're attending a conference," she repeats, slowly, as if Rachel is dumb. "In Prague."
"Oh."
"It's funny," Liz adds after a moment. "Quinn wasn't even supposed to go, you know? Claimed she had a prior engagement… but, suddenly, her calendar's all freed up and Jordan was just relieved he didn't actually give up her spot."
Rachel can hear the questions and the accusations, but she can't quite bring herself to address them, because Quinn put something as important as a conference in freaking Prague on hold for her, and now -
Well, now, Rachel doesn't know what's happening.
"But Jordan knew she would change her mind," Liz says. "Guess he could tell Quinn would make the right choice in the end." She pauses. "She's going to be something, you know?"
And, Rachel does know. That's never been in doubt. Rachel's believed in her from the very start.
Rachel's going to be something, too, and she wonders if she ever imagined they would become the people they're meant to be without each other. The thought is almost paralysing, because life without Quinn just doesn't seem worth much.
"Do you know how long they're going to be gone?" Rachel finds herself asking, which may or may not be giving Liz something like ammunition that she could use to hurt her. Because, surely that isn't something a girlfriend asks, right?
Liz's jaw clenches, and Rachel sees a handful of emotions play out on her face… because why wouldn't Rachel know all of this already? "A week, tops," she finally says.
It's not good news for Rachel, given her own desperation to lay eyes on Quinn, but maybe it's what they need. Rachel still doesn't know what she would say to Quinn, and she thinks she can use the time to put together something coherent enough that will explain just what's been going through her mind.
Just, she wishes Quinn wouldn't run.
Rachel expects Liz to say more, and she's not disappointed.
First Jason, and now Liz, because everyone else has been able to see what Rachel has missed for years. "She loves you, you know," the woman says, a crease in her brow. "Always finds some way to talk about you. Bring you into conversation, as if she needs to give everyone the reminder that you exist."
Rachel doesn't have to wonder where Liz is going with this, and she quickly excuses herself, before another person can tell her what she already knows. She moves almost on autopilot, her feet carrying her away from where she was certain she would see Quinn.
Quinn, who is running away. There's really no other way to term it, and she knows she shouldn't be angry with her - because, hello, she ran first - but Quinn isn't giving them a chance to clear everything up.
Which, okay, is another hypocritical thought.
Almost desperately, she tries Quinn's number again, unsurprised to get her voicemail. It's really the first time she feels as if they've lost everything they had; all they've managed to build since high school. She's ruined everything, maybe, and she doesn't know how she's supposed to get back what she's suddenly sure she's lost.
She's losing Quinn. She's lost Quinn, and it feels monumental and painful, and she doesn't know how she's ever supposed to get past this.
Suddenly, she can't even breathe, her heart pounding in her chest, uncontrollable and -
It hurts.
It hurts worse than any other kind of pain she's experienced in her entire life, and she's been through a lot already. She's lost people before - some in permanent, heartbreaking ways - but the mere idea of being without Quinn in the kind of way she now faces makes everything else pale in comparison.
It's never felt like this.
Which is really the moment Rachel knows exactly what's happened.
Because it wouldn't feel like some massive, monumental end if what they shared wasn't also massive and monumental. How could she not have noticed? How could she have relegated this feeling to what other women feel for their female friends? How could she have ever mistaken her desire to see Quinn and touch Quinn and talk to Quinn every second of every day for anything other than exactly what it means?
How could she have fallen in love with Quinn and not even realised?
The idea is just wild, but she's suddenly certain it's true. There's really no other explanation for everything she's been feeling.
She loves Quinn.
No.
It's more than that.
She's in love with Quinn.
And she's managed to mess it all up before they could even really start.
She stops walking abruptly, stepping to the side and leaning against the wall of one of the corridors. She feels both light and heavy, caught between elation at the sudden realisation and despondency that she has no idea how she's supposed to get Quinn to hear her out now.
If she even knew what to say.
Perhaps she should lead with 'I love you.'
With that in mind, she lifts her phone, opens her message thread to Quinn, and composes what she wishes she'd sent before the situation started to seem so permanently irreversible.
Rachel: You know me. In fact, you know me better than anyone else, which apparently everyone but me has always been aware of. You know I would never intentionally hurt you, and you know I wouldn't do anything that the pictures depict without first talking to you. You know all of these things. I know you do.
I also know you're angry and hurt, but you also know, deep in your heart, there's a reasonable explanation. You know there's some way this all makes sense. Because you KNOW me, Quinn.
The last few days/weeks have been horrible without you. I've been so confused and lost in a way I didn't think possible. I've always been so sure of myself; settled in the fact I know exactly who I am. I was convinced I was emotionally mature, but the idea of you and what you mean to me has thrown me for a loop, and I haven't handled it well at all. I've been so stuck on figuring out myself so I don't hurt you, and ended up doing that exact thing. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you feel as if I don't want you, because that is the furthest thing from the truth.
I have all these things I want to tell you. All these things I've managed to learn about myself, but I want to tell you in person. I want to be able to look into your eyes and hold your hands (if you'll let me) and make sure you know exactly what I'm feeling about everything that's happened. Because I finally know. I KNOW, Quinn, and I'm asking for the opportunity to tell you exactly what.
Right now, you're on your way to Prague, and that is such a big thing. I keep having this nightmare where you just don't come back, and I can't stand the thought that the last time we saw each other ended the way it did. Still, I want you to enjoy your time, and make sure they remember your name. Maybe, when you're back, we can schedule an actual time to talk, face-to-face? Please.
Travel safely. Know that I'm thinking about you - which I now know isn't anything new 💛
Rachel reads it over just once, to make sure she hasn't made any glaring grammatical errors - she is sending this to a soon-to-be published author - and then clicks the blue arrow with her eyes closed.
There.
The ball is proverbially in Quinn's court, and Rachel tells herself she'll wait until Quinn is back stateside to contact her again. They need the time, perhaps, and Rachel's just come to this massive, monumental realisation about the true extent of her feelings, which is going to need some time to settle.
Because that changes things, doesn't it? It's never been about whether she's attracted to Quinn, has it? Attraction was never the problem, and she feels like an idiot for ever thinking it was.
It's when she's already on her way home that she feels her phone buzz in her hand. She has no reason to think it's some kind of response from Quinn, but her heart still leaps into her throat as she reveals the screen.
And almost drops her phone.
It's a text from Quinn.
From Quinn.
Rachel's heart pounds, having to stop walking again, and move out of the way of the flow of pedestrians. She's not sure what to expect from Quinn, because, if she did, she thinks her life would be a lot easier. The text, itself, is simple, and completely on Quinn's brand.
Quinn: Okay. See you when I get back.
That's all it is, but it feels like everything, and Rachel can't help her smile. It's contact. It's something, and Rachel feels a spark of hope ignite in her chest. She'll fix this, somehow, she knows she will.
And, frankly, this is the only confirmation she needs that Quinn might even let her.
Rachel tells herself to focus on her show, and she just about manages it.
Jasmine and Frankie are wonderful distractions, reading her melancholy as her just missing Quinn while she's away. Which is true, but it's so much more than that, as well. So much more than she thinks she could explain to them, or anyone else.
Still, she appreciates that the two of them tell her stupid jokes and read some of the funniest posts from the 'fuck my life' tag.
It's almost enough to keep her from moping about Quinn.
Almost.
Santana calls her out for it on Thursday evening, though, which is actually longer than Rachel expected her to wait. She's been subdued and generally horrible to be around, and, as often as Rachel isn't even the apartment; her mood still manages to get on Santana's nerves.
It's probably the most normal interaction they've had since Rachel dragged Quinn into her hair-brained scheme to maintain some kind of image of herself. The more she thinks about it; the sicker she feels, and she knows there's a part of her that's more angry with Santana - and Kurt, whom she hasn't even be able to talk to about all of this, by design - than she initially thought, for allowing her even to approach Quinn about it.
It's her own fault, she knows, but her friends should have done more to warn her. So, when Santana makes a comment about her moping, Rachel is ready for her. She's looking for a confrontation, just needing to get out all her frustration, and this is something she and Santana do for each other. Over the years, they just haven't been shy to call out each other, and this is, apparently, one of those times.
"Why would you even let me ask her?" The question comes out sounding like the accusation it's meant to be, and her heart is pounding in her chest.
Santana, mercifully, takes the bait. "Let you?" she asks. "Seriously? Am I supposed to be some kind of mind-reader? How the fuck was I supposed to know you were going to do something that stupid?"
"That stupid?" Rachel throws back, and both their voices are rising. "How was I supposed to know it would - "
"You just were," Santana shouts, and there's a new edge to her voice. "You just were."
"How, Santana?" she questions. "How was I supposed to know? Nobody ever told me."
Santana rises to her feet from where she's sitting on the couch. "Why didn't you ask me?"
"What?"
"Why didn't you ask me?" she asks, somewhat pointedly. "I'm your roommate. I'm the one who doesn't usually form emotional attachments. I'm the one who would - "
"You already know why," Rachel tells her, fists clenched at her sides. "I already explained it to you, and Quinn."
"That's all bullshit," Santana snaps. "None of those are remotely close to why you asked her."
"Then why, huh?" Rachel asks, and there's a hint of desperation in her voice, because Santana must know something she doesn't. "Why on earth would I put us through all of this? Because I sure as hell don't know, and it'd be great if someone would just tell me, for once. So, why, huh? Why?"
"Because you've been in love with her the whole time, too."
The words, said that way, by someone who knows everything, catch her off guard, and her heart leaps into her throat, blocking all sound from escaping. Even she hasn't been able to say those words out loud, and here Santana is taking them right from her and throwing them into the space between them.
"I didn't see it at first," Santana says, and it seems as if her own anger has faded at the sound of the words she's just said. "I mean, I don't think anyone did. Not Quinn, not Kurt, not me, and definitely not you, but it all makes so much sense now."
"I don't - I didn't - " Rachel starts, because even if she's acknowledged her feelings now, there's nothing to suggest she's been harbouring them for longer. Is there? There can't have been.
"No," Santana says. "Just think about it, okay? You've always hidden behind the fact Quinn is your best friend, but it's more than that. You've always wanted her attention. She's always your priority, and the way you know her is frightening sometimes. You never get along with anyone she dates, and you looked personally attacked when she went on her one-night-stand binge after the breakup, and nobody could quite figure out why." Santana eyes her. "God, it probably started back in high school. I always knew there was more to your obsession with her."
"Santana," Rachel says, helpless.
"Holy shit," Santana says. "We've been on Quinn's case for years about how repressed she was, but you were way worse. I mean, you almost married your boyfriend, and then didn't when Quinn didn't show up to the wedding she strongly disagreed with. Oh, my God, this is seriously peak lesbian drama."
"Santana."
"Holy shit," she says again, more things clicking in her head. "Julia knew."
"Excuse me?"
"Like, way before anything even happened between Julia and Quinn, you hated her," Santana explains, and then she laughs. "Dude. Julia could tell you were head over heels for her girlfriend. That's why - "
"Why what?"
Santana promptly shuts up.
"Santana."
The Latina glares for a moment, and then returns to her original seat, flopping onto the couch. "Julia asked her to choose," she reveals. "Before they were meant to move here. Julia asked her to choose between you and her, and she - "
"She chose Julia?" Rachel asks, her voice breaking right along with her heart.
"She didn't."
Rachel blinks in surprise. "Is that - is that why they broke up?"
Santana shakes her head. "That's still a mystery," she says, but pauses at the guilty look that seems to take over Rachel's face. "What? Wait. What? What do you know?"
"I - I think I know what happened," she confesses, moving to sit in one of their armchairs. "Now that you've told me Julia asked that of her. I think I know what finally did it."
Santana meets her gaze. "It was you, wasn't it?"
"I didn't - I mean, I went to New Haven," Rachel explains. "To see Quinn. I needed some advice. About Jesse, and the engagement." She winces at the sound of her own words, because that all must have been terrible for Quinn. "Quinn didn't know I was coming. It was an unexpected visit, but I just - I needed to see her, you know?" She fidgets with the hem of her sweater. "Julia answered the door. It was awkward, as it usually was between just the two of us, and I kind of alluded to the idea of marrying Jesse, and there was - she just seemed so relieved, for some reason, and I remember her saying, 'at least, this way, I'll finally have her for myself.' And, I think, even then, the idea of losing Quinn to anyone else was enough to cause such a visceral reaction that I - "
"What did you do?"
"I told her that, no matter what happened in our lives, Quinn would always be mine," Rachel admits, a crease in her forehead and a significant flush in her cheeks. "Which, I mean, wow, huh? Where did that even come from?" What was she thinking? Quinn doesn't belong to anyone.
"Dude."
Rachel tilts her head back and sighs. "I can't realistically tell you what I was thinking before, but I've figured it out now, Santana," she says. "I'm in love with her. Maybe I've always been, who knows? But I know what I feel in this moment, and please tell me it can't possibly be too late."
Santana doesn't respond, which, given everything, might actually be a mercy.
Quinn gets back to New York on the Tuesday before Rachel's show is scheduled to open, and Rachel does her best not to go straight over to her apartment and tell her everything she's figured out since the disastrous day at Central Park.
She has to remind herself the ball is now in Quinn's court, and hope she doesn't run into anyone else who's seen what she took so long to see, or someone who's also enamoured with the blonde.
The list, it seems, is long.
The lead-up to opening night is frantic. Between final rehearsals and Previews, she's kept busy enough that she doesn't have the time and energy to dwell endlessly on the fact Quinn hasn't contacted her. Santana assures her Quinn is fine, but she deftly avoids answering when Rachel asks if Quinn will be at her opening night. There's a ticket for her, of course, but Rachel just doesn't know if she'll show up.
Surely, this isn't something Quinn would miss, regardless of the state of their relationship. Surely. Even when they weren't friends, back in high school, Quinn would show up for her. Now wouldn't be different, would it?
Right?
"Please tell me you're going to opening night."
Quinn isn't even sure why she's reading the menu in her hands when she's already aware what she's going to get. "I'm going to opening night," she says, and chuckles when Kurt lets out an exaggerated sigh of what must be relief. "I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't," she adds. "And, plus, Jasmine and Frankie are also in the musical, and they're kind of my friends now."
Kurt regards her closely, studying her face for what she's really thinking. He's learned a little bit about her in the years since high school graduation, but there are still parts of her that evade him. "Quinn?"
"I know what you're going to say, but would it be called running away if I told you I'm seriously considering taking Jordan up on the option of a semester abroad?"
"Quinn," he says, stiffening in his seat. "Quinn, no."
She sighs. "I don't think I will," she says. "I just - I'm comforted by the option. Given everything." She grins a little. "Like, if nothing works out, I have an escape plan."
"Quinn."
"She texted me," she says; "before I left. Sent a whole paragraph. And, I know things aren't as they seem, and I know she must have figured things out, but I - I don't know if I even want to listen to what she has to say. Particularly if it's what I want to hear."
Kurt doesn't know what to say in this moment, so it's a relief when their server comes to take their order. He's a little amused when Quinn barely has to say the name of her dish before the server is already writing it down. She is a regular here.
"What do you want to hear?"
"'I love you and I want to be with you?'"
Kurt raises his eyebrows.
Quinn chuckles, mostly to herself. "I think I'll settle for an apology," he said. "An explanation. An agreement that we're going to work through it and hopefully come out of it better."
"You make it sound like a transaction," he points out.
"I think it's safer to leave my emotions out of it," Quinn says. "My heart has been battered enough at this point, and I'm trying to use my head a bit more." She shakes her head. "I would have avoided all of this if I'd just ignored my heart all along."
"I think we both know you can't quite separate them when it comes to Rachel," he points out, and they do both know it's true.
Quinn sips at her water. "Have you - have you talked to her?"
Kurt hesitates, before he shakes his head. "Not about any of this," he reveals. "I think she's under the impression you left Santana for her, so she's left me for you."
Quinn's gaze narrows. "She's mad at you, isn't she?"
Kurt clears his throat. "A little," he confesses. "We talked quite a bit about it as it was happening, but I don't think I helped her as much as I could have. I definitely didn't do enough to stop this inevitable implosion."
Quinn shrugs. "You said it yourself, Kurt," she says; "the moment she came to me with this hare-brained scheme, we were always going to end up hurting each other."
"That doesn't make me feel any less guilty," he reveals.
"Well, stop," she tells him. "We're going to work it out." Her attention drifts to her phone, where it's just buzzed with a message. She smiles a little as she checks it, shooting off a quick reply.
"Who is that?" Kurt asks, definitely curious about what could possibly bring about that smile.
"Just some work stuff," she says. "Denny and Tom are trying to get me to write a screenplay for them, but I'm still reluctant, so they have one of their PAs trying to convince me to take on the job."
"Oh?"
She rolls her eyes. "She sends me all kinds of terrible bribes to get me to agree."
"Is it working?"
This time, she shrugs. "Maybe," she says. "I don't know. I just want to get my book published, work on my thesis, and maybe I'll consider it. See where the inspiration lies." She sets her phone face-down. "After I can get everything sorted out with Rachel, at least."
"You're a lot more optimistic about this than I thought you'd be," he points out, distracted by talk of Rachel.
"Do you know, once upon a time, I wouldn't have chosen this," Quinn says. "I would have chosen Julia, and just never knowing what it's like to be with Rachel." She glances up when their server brings their meals, smiling her thanks. "But, I think there would have been a part of me that always wondered. If we would have made it. How she would have reacted if she knew how I felt about her. It's better I know, I think. Maybe now I'll be able to move on properly."
"And if you do hear exactly what you want to hear?" Kurt asks.
Quinn freezes as she's about to lift her cutlery. "Well," she breathes, not daring to hope for such a thing. "I suppose then I'll finally have something different to write about."
Rachel receives a single text from Quinn on the morning of her opening night. She almost misses it among all the other well-wishes she receives and the general excitement of the day as a whole. She's just idly scrolling through her messages, and nearly drops her phone when she sees Quinn's name.
After the near heart attack, a smile spreads across her face at the sight of Quinn's words. Especially the 'I'm looking forward to seeing you rock the stage tonight,' because that means Quinn is coming. She's going to be sitting in that theatre as Rachel Berry makes her official Broadway debut, and -
Wait.
Quinn is going to be in the audience.
Rachel suffers her second near heart attack in as many minutes, and it takes Jasmine coming up behind her and gently laying a hand on her shoulder to force her out of her panic. It takes her an even longer moment to accept that what's going to happen is going to happen, regardless of her feelings on the matter. Quinn is going to be watching her, which is what she wants.
Of course, it's what she wants.
It's just that it holds a lot of meaning, doesn't it? Before, it was almost expected that Quinn would come, but now she's actually going to be here after everything that's happened over the last few weeks, and it means something.
"You aren't actually nervous, are you?" Jasmine asks, her voice slightly teasing, but immediately sobers when Rachel gives her a helpless look. "Wait. What's wrong? Why do you look as if your world is ending?"
"Quinn is coming," her mouth says before she can stop it.
Jasmine looks predictably stumped. "Isn't that a good thing?"
Ordinarily, yes, but they haven't seen each other in weeks, and Rachel really doesn't want the first time Quinn lays eyes on her to be when she's acting as someone else… and kissing another girl. After everything Quinn must think happened with Petra, that isn't what she wants Quinn to see.
Okay.
She's definitely overthinking things, because Quinn knows what's going to happen in the show. Quinn knows their entire arrangement started because of what was expected of the character she's playing.
Though, it's been brought to Rachel's attention that might not actually be the complete truth. It's only part of the truth, because her subconscious decided to mess with her instead of helping her deal with her apparent forever feelings for Quinn.
Quinn, who is going to be sitting in the audience in less than two hours.
Quinn, who Rachel loves.
"I'm fine," Rachel suddenly says. Maybe she'll get to see Quinn after the show. Maybe they'll even talk. Maybe everything is going to be just fine, and she's going to get through it all and come out better for it. "I'm fine," she repeats.
Jasmine continues to stare at her. "What is happening right now?"
"Nothing," she squeaks out. "I'm perfectly fine."
"Tell that to your voice," she points out. "Do you want to tell me what's really happening?"
"There isn't enough time," Rachel deflects. Being this wired is exhausting, and she wonders if it would be worse if Quinn wasn't coming tonight. She turns to Jasmine. "Can I ask you something?"
"Um, of course," Jasmine says, looking slightly uncertain.
Rachel is aware she's acting strange, but she has to ask this question. "When you first met me and Quinn together, what did you think of us?"
"Excuse me?"
"When you met us; what did you think?"
"Um." Jasmine's face works through several expressions before she finally says, "I envied you."
"What?"
"It seemed - God, it seemed so easy for the two of you," Jasmine says. "The way she looked - always looks - at you; that's not something just anyone gets, you know? And you managed it. Somehow, some way, you found that in someone who is essentially your best friend, and I can assure you I'm not the only one who's been envious of you two."
Rachel doesn't know if she has the heart to reveal to Jasmine that none of it was real. It was something they just fabricated, borne of Rachel's desperation and Quinn's generosity. The lie feels heavier with every day that passes, and she wishes she could just tell someone and have them understand.
In this moment, she says, "Would you believe me if I told you I didn't realise I was in love with her until like a week ago?"
Jasmine looks at her for a long, long moment; eyes searching for something particular. Rachel can't be sure she finds it, but she does eventually say, "Yes," and Rachel reasons this is the most truthful they've both been.