Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.
AN: Happy New Year. I hope you've all had a safe and happy holiday season, and that 2024 proves fruitful and peaceful. Please take care wherever you are in the world.
In Her Favour
i.
From the moment they drive into Lima, Lucy already knows she's not going to like it. Her father says the job transfer isn't complete yet; that there are other options for them depending on how they feel about the town.
Lucy's sister is home for Spring Break, reluctantly accompanying them on this little Ohio tour to scope out all the potential new expansion locations of the law firm their father works for. Right now, she pulls a face in Lucy's direction, which makes her giggle, and Frannie just winks.
"Girls," their mother says from the front passenger seat, and Lucy ducks her head, her cheeks hurting from smiling. She's missed Frannie in a way she didn't think she would now that her older sister is at college. It's the first time she's been home since she left in the summer, making up all sorts of excuses to spend Thanksgiving and the holidays with her friends in Boston.
Lucy doesn't really blame her, of course, because she also has dreams of leaving and just never coming back. It's partly why she's excited for this upcoming move. She can reinvent herself. She can be a person who isn't repeatedly shoved into lockers or called awful, horrible names. It's really the dream.
But Lima is really almost as small and dreary as Bellevue, and Lucy already knows she's not going to like it here. Her father drives them through the town, passing by the building that will likely house the new firm, and then takes them in a different direction towards the neighbourhood in which they'll end up living if they decide this is the place for them.
It's one of those upmarket ones, with large houses that all look alike in some way. They pass by a church on the way, which her mother comments on, her father nodding in approval. Frannie is quiet, watching with curious eyes the way Lucy is.
If they had to move here, Lucy gets the feeling she really would hate it. She can't say why she knows this to be true, but there's a feeling in her gut she gets whenever she steps into a new place.
She just knows. This isn't a place she could be happy.
Frannie must realise it too, because her hand reaches for where Lucy is picking at a loose thread on the hem of her cotton dress. Her fingers curl around Lucy's shorter, pudgier ones, and neither of them says anything until their father is asking what they want for lunch.
Lucy's started paying very close attention to what she eats, so she doesn't offer any suggestions, just listening as her mother and sister discuss their options.
In the end, they find themselves at some place called Breadstix that confuses Lucy more than anything. They have a salad bar and bottomless breadsticks on the table, but nearly everything they try to order from the menu is apparently out of stock.
Her father's face turns more and more red with every, Oh, we don't have that, either.
Eventually, her father orders a vegetarian pizza for them to share, promising something else once they're safely out of this damn town.
Lucy is suddenly giddy with the thought her parents also aren't too impressed with this town.
"Do you two want to have a look at what the salad bar has to offer?" Judy says, looking relieved the painful task of ordering food is complete.
Frannie starts to slide out of the booth immediately, Lucy hurrying to follow.
"Don't get anything that might look or smell suspicious," Judy adds, and then they're off, drifting through all the plastic plants and garish decorations.
Frannie can't quite keep the amusement out of her expression, which is basically permission for Lucy to giggle, not even trying to suppress it.
"Mom's worried we'll catch something from here," Frannie tells her, smirking. "Salmonella or something."
Lucy knows what that is from the set of encyclopaedias she's been reading at the public library. "Ew."
Frannie still reaches for a side plate when they arrive at the salad bar and picks out some olives. "They're basically pickled, aren't they?" she says.
Lucy scrunches up her nose. She doesn't like olives, but she stands dutifully at her sister's side as Frannie picks a selection for their table.
"Ugh. Green pepper."
Lucy looks up at her. "You're getting them for Daddy?"
"Maybe I shouldn't, right?" Frannie says. "I don't want him to bring us here."
"I also don't like it," Lucy says, pouting slightly. "Doesn't feel like a happy place."
"And that's what we want, right?" Frannie asks, a little pointedly. "To be in a happy place."
Lucy frowns. "Why wouldn't we?"
Frannie reaches out, then, free hand finding Lucy's long hair, twisted in a braid. "Yeah, Luce," she says; "We all just want to be in a happy place."
Lucy can hear something odd in her voice, but she doesn't get the chance to ask about it, because a girl comes flying at them, forcing them to jump apart before she knocks into them.
Frannie just barely catches the plate still in her hand, the girl tossing a quick Sorry at them behind her wave of chestnut hair. She slips behind a booth, disappearing from sight, and Frannie gives Lucy a bemused look.
They're just about to turn to go back to their booth when a boy with a gelled Mohawk runs at them, a menacing look on his face. This time, Frannie isn't so agile, and there isn't an apology. The plate goes flying, the boy chasing after the girl, and that's about all their father can handle.
Russell gets to his feet, dramatically drops a twenty dollar note on the table, and declares that they're leaving.
Lucy already knows they're never coming back, and it takes her only another two years before she figures out why Frannie's voice sounded so odd. Her sister really does want to be in a happy place. It's why she so rarely comes home.
.
.
.
ii.
Rachel has never quite understood American football. She's never really been bothered to, but she did sit and listen as Finn waxed poetic about something called a fantasy league when they first started dating. She's a great girlfriend like that.
An even better one because she braves the cold to go and watch him play this sport she doesn't even understand, freezing her little butt off in the stands as she sits with her best friend, Kurt.
They're playing a team she's never heard of, coming in from Cleveland. They're supposed to be good, so it's likely McKinley will end up beaten - they usually do - and Rachel has to be prepared for a sullen boyfriend for at least the next few hours.
Kurt leans over to her when there's yet another fumble. "Can they at least make it a little bit hard for the other team?" he moans, wishing he'd stayed home instead of letting Rachel convince him to watch his stepbrother with her.
Rachel suppresses a smile. She's a supportive girlfriend, you see. She can't make any disparaging comments.
But even supportive girlfriends have their limits, and Rachel needs to use the bathroom halfway through the second half. Kurt offers to go with her, but Rachel waves him off and makes her way down the bleachers, careful not to slip.
She makes her way onto the grass, turning right to head towards the bathrooms she knows will be the quietest, taking her right around the stadium and out of sight.
Rachel might have expected the toilets to be empty, but they're decidedly not when she arrives, stumbling slightly when she finds two girls making out against the sinks.
It's honestly the most jarring thing she's ever seen in real life. This kind of thing isn't common in Lima. She would know. Her fathers have the statistics, and they're one of seven openly queer couples in the entire district. And one of two couples with a child.
But these two are young, dressed in cheerleading uniforms from the away school, and Rachel can't help her curiosity and intrigue. They must feel her stare, because they break apart and look over, a set of dark eyes looking stormy and a blue set looking just a little dazed.
"What are you looking at?" the dark-eyed one snaps, voice startlingly harsh. "Haven't you ever seen two girls kiss before?"
Rachel has, of course, but only on some type of screen. Never right in front of her.
"San," the other one says, a slight admonishment as she places a placating hand on the other girl's sternum.
Rachel just ducks her head as she steps into a stall, her bladder calling for her attention again. She wouldn't even know how to answer that question, anyway.
"We need to get going, anyway," the first girl says, Rachel still able to hear them as she latches the door and inspects the state of the toilet. The last thing she wants is a bladder infection.
"Q's going to come looking for us soon," the second one says, agreeing.
Just then, the door bursts open and Rachel flinches at the sound.
"Oh my God," a third voice says, exasperated.
"Speak of the Devil and she shall appear," the first girl mutters.
"One game," the third voice says, voice a little high. "I asked you to keep it in your pants for one fucking game."
"Relax," the first one says, sounding so unaffected by the third girl's ire. "We were just coming back, anyway."
"Unbelievable."
"You need to chill," the first says. "We're winning, anyway."
"We have one more routine," the third throws back, but her voice has lost its bitterness, getting softer and steadier in a way that makes Rachel curious about her. "Think you can stop making out for long enough to participate?"
There's a lot more huffing, the second cheerleader interjecting to bring the peace, and then the three of them leave with as much fanfare as the third entered.
Rachel finally uses the toilet, mind a little scattered after the last few minutes.
And if she squints across the field when she returns to her seat, hoping to discover who the third voice was, that's only for her to know.
It takes her another decade to figure it out.
.
.
.
iii.
"I did not come all the way to New York, just for you to drag me to some dorm party," Quinn complains, letting Mike pull her along. "I don't care that there's a girl."
"Not a girl," he insists. "Quinn, she's the girl."
Quinn isn't nearly drunk enough for this. When he first asked her to visit him, she thought they were going to order pizza and game all night. High school Michael Chang Jr wouldn't have been caught dead at a party if it wasn't mandatory for the football team, and Quinn left the parties behind when she removed the cheerleading uniform for the last time.
It had to be a girl.
"Who is she?" Quinn asks as they weave through the crowded corridor. They're in a different residence to Mike's, boys and girls lining the corridors, and Quinn already knows she's going to need a shower after this.
"Her name is Tina," he says, and his voice goes soft in a way that makes her smile. He wasn't ever much of a dater in high school, so very concerned with getting good grades, making his parents proud, and suppressing his desire to dance.
There was one girl he crushed on really hard in junior year, but said girl actually ended up liking Quinn, and now the two of them have something totally awkward to laugh about and bond over.
Which essentially means this Tina person has to be special.
"We're both taking Bio," Mike explains as he leads the way. "Her lab partner is a bit of a disaster, so she kind of - " he cuts himself off, eyes going wide. "Do you think she's being nice to me only because I help her with her work?"
Quinn doesn't know this Tina, so she can't quite answer. "Just how bad is this lab partner?"
Mike winces. "She's not bad, per se," he says. "It's just that she's a Theatre major, which means she's not putting much stock in this elective, whereas Tina and I really need it for Med School."
"Damn."
"She's sweet, though," he says, shrugging. "A bit scattered. Maybe you'll meet her tonight."
"The mission is to meet Tina," Quinn redirects, because there's a certain lilt to Mike's voice that spells trouble for her. He's been trying to convince her to get back out there again, after her high school girlfriend decided that Stanford was her first choice instead of Yale like she initially told Quinn.
Quinn isn't quite over it and it's been five months already.
Well, that's not true. She is over it, but not quite enough to give into the freshman-experimental-phase like the rest of her floor in her dorm at Yale. Goodness knows she's been propositioned enough. All she has to do is wear her leather jacket and it's basically like a lesbian beacon.
When they finally get to the epicentre of the residence party, there are human bodies spilling out of a room that has to be the source of the music.
Mike peeks into the room, searching for a person Quinn won't be able to help him find. She looks over his shoulder, surprised by the size of the room, belatedly realising it's actually a recreational room filled to maximum capacity and then some.
It takes Mike a moment to spot whomever he's looking for, and then his mouth opens and he says, "Tina," loud enough for literally everyone to hear.
Quinn ducks behind him when basically every eye turns to look at them, only lifting back up when she hears a soft voice say, "I'll see you later, Tina." Quinn's gaze lands on the girl who must be Tina, her eyes momentarily flicking to the girl who's actually spoken, already turned away, chestnut hair disappearing into the crowd.
Mike reaches for Quinn's arm, drawing her to his side. "Tina, hi," he says, and Quinn can already tell he's hopelessly gone on this girl. "Sorry, um, I didn't really mean to yell."
"That's okay," Tina says, cheeks a little flushed, perhaps from embarrassment, and Quinn realises in literally the next beat that Tina must be hopelessly gone on him, too.
"Um. This is my friend, Quinn," Mike says, maybe needing her to be some kind of buffer. "I was telling you about her. The one at Yale"
"The one we might end up going to Med School with?"
Quinn manages a laugh. "He's still trying to convince me," she says, eyes meeting Tina's. "I'd think, after high school, he'd be tired of coming second to me."
Mike rolls his eyes, relaxing slightly as he settles into their banter. "You're never going to let me forget you got Valedictorian over me, are you?"
"Never," she confirms, and Tina laughs, eyes for only Mike.
Mike, who asks, "Was that Rachel you were talking to?"
"Oh, yeah," Tina says, getting closer so they can hear her over the booming music. "Told me she dropped Biology, actually." Her eyes roll a little. "Apparently, it just wasn't for her."
Mike blinks. "Oh." He seems to deflate. "I guess you probably won't need me anymore."
Tina's own eyes widen slightly, and Quinn wants to pinch Mike for being so damn oblivious. Is he seriously looking at the same girl she is? Quinn may as well start writing her best woman speech right now.
"Well, not exactly," Tina says, stepping even closer. "I mean, I'm still a little behind. Need to catch up."
Mike perks up immediately, and Tina meets Quinn's gaze, both of them slightly amused. All of a sudden, Quinn knows she's locked in, too. Because she belongs to Mike, and now Mike belongs to Tina.
Quinn almost wishes she could tell this absent lab partner - Rachel, apparently - just the kind of favour she's done them all.
.
.
.
iv.
Rachel's form of self-soothing after a breakup includes copious amounts of baking.
Cookies, mostly, but also some muffins. Every flavour imaginable, truly, because this break-up stings in ways the ones before never did. Not when she was convinced she and Finn finally came full circle and found each other again after years spent apart, both of them trying to find themselves.
It was a beautiful story. High school sweethearts forced apart by circumstances finding their way back to each other in their mid-twenties, and now this.
This.
Finn's wanting to return to Lima, and Rachel's staying right here in New York.
So Rachel bakes, trying not to give into the rage in her heart that Finn actually thought she would give up her dream of Broadway to be with him in Nowhere, Ohio. The absolute nerve of him. She's wanted to perform on Broadway since before she could even form grammatical sentences. Nobody - literally nobody - is going to stand in the way of that - least of all Finn Hudson.
When her rage has ebbed, Rachel realises she has a plethora of various baked goods and no idea what to do with them. She can't possibly eat them all. Maybe she should just leave goodies at the doorsteps of every apartment on her floor.
In the end, it's actually Tina who gives her the idea, the two of them trying and failing to schedule a day to get brunch together. They've seen each other on and off over the years, but Tina is very busy with Medical School and trying to maintain her relationship with Mike, who is also trying to get through Medical School.
But now Rachel seems to have all the time in the world, now that she's dropped an entire human man.
Tina tells her she's doing a surgical rotation at Mount Sinai, she and a few other students from her cohort shadowing doctors and nurses at the hospital. It sounds both terrifying and exciting, but it works out quite well, because the hospital could probably do with some festive treats.
Which is why Rachel packs up as many as she can physically carry and makes her way through the city to the hospital. Tina is already waiting for her when she arrives, looking quite dashing in her lab coat and stethoscope.
"I've already cleared it with my Attending," Tina says, in lieu of a greeting. "You can leave treats at the nurse's stations on each floor, but not the ICU."
Rachel just nods, and then pauses. "Wait. You're not coming with me?"
"Dr Schmidt is clipping an aneurysm in half an hour, so I'm headed to the gallery to watch," she explains. "She might let one of us even be in the OR."
Rachel doesn't blame her. Tina's always made it very clear to Rachel her goals and desires to become a surgeon. Even as freshmen, forced to be Biology partners, Tina always took it much more seriously than Rachel ever did. They fell out of touch when Rachel dropped the course, but Tina congratulated her on her first Off-Broadway role on Facebook, and now they see each other semi-regularly.
"Just ask one of the nurses if you get lost," Tina assures her, and then leaves her standing there, her arms full of baked goods. She takes a breath, swallowing her building ire at Finn, and then goes in search of the closest nurse's station. Rachel's understanding is that the goods will likely be eaten only by hospital staff and maybe a handful of patients, as most are already on strict dietary regimens and the hospital hesitates at allowing consumption of external food.
That's okay. Healthcare workers deserve all the treats, as well.
Rachel has just made it to the third floor when she receives a text from Finn, asking if she's reconsidered his proposal, and she very nearly hurls her phone against the closest wall.
Which is when she hears it.
A soft, female voice singing quietly, fumbling a little on the lyrics of Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros' Home. Her voice is sweet and calm and steady and very good, and Rachel comes to a stop before a door. She doesn't look inside, because that would just be rude, but she stands and listens, the singer forgetting the lyrics and just making a few sounds in time with the beat.
"Don't laugh; sing with me," the voice says, and Rachel closes her eyes, feeling all the swirling emotions from earlier start to settle.
Maybe this breakup won't be too bad. She's suffered through worse, so she's confident she'll get through it. She doesn't have a choice, truly, but being here around these children really puts her entire life into perspective all over again.
"There you are," a nurse says, catching Rachel's attention. "I'm told you've got a few treats for us."
Rachel turns to her, smiling. "I do, indeed," she confirms. "I saved all the best ones for the Children's Ward." She moves towards the counter, depositing several bags and containers on its top.
"Gimme, gimme," the nurse says, and Rachel can't help her smile, reading her name tag to see the word, Emily. "Davis has been begging for a chocolate muffin since he was admitted," she says. "Kid's really been through the ringer. Definitely deserves something good." She's chatty, Rachel realises, as she unpacks several containers and listens to the nurse prattle on about several other patients without ever giving too many details.
Rachel is only half-listening when Emily suddenly asks, "Oh, you don't happen to have a lemon and poppyseed one, do you?"
"Excuse me?"
The nurse flushes, which is an odd reaction. "It's just that they're Quinn's favourite," she says. "I'm trying to get in her good graces, you know?"
Rachel does not know, no, but she still unearths a lemon and poppyseed muffin from another container just in time to hear Emily gasp.
"Oh, there she is," she says, and Rachel turns her head immediately, catching sight of the back of a woman - this elusive Quinn, apparently - who is also the probable singer Rachel heard as she walks away, footsteps assured and steady. She's wearing a white lab coat, blonde hair just to her shoulders, and Rachel says a gentle thank you to her. For what, she's not sure, but the feeling in her heart is gratitude, regardless.
It's definitely buckets better than the murderous rage she's been feeling at the most inopportune moments, and so she hands the nurse two lemon and poppyseed muffins instead of one, which really sets them all on a path she doesn't realise until much, much later.
.
.
.
v.
When Quinn arrives at the specified bed in the Emergency Room, her patient is the least panicked out of everyone he's with. Hands are flailing, voices are high-pitched, and Quinn can only imagine the chaos that was wherever this group of people have just come from.
"Mr Anderson," Quinn says, voice steady. "I'm Dr Fabray, and I'll be examining you today."
"Please call me Blaine," he says over the ruckus, perched on the edge of one of the beds, back perfectly straight. "I'm sorry about these clowns. We're meant to be going on stage in an hour, but now we're here, and I need you to tell me I'll be able to sing before my female lead actually strangles me when she arrives."
Quinn studies the most obvious injury, which is quite clearly a broken nose. She steps forward to get a closer look. "That looks like it hurts," she says, setting his file on the tray and finding herself a pair of gloves. "Do I want to know what happened?"
"Dance rehearsal gone awry," he explains.
"It's sabotage," one of the people with him says, a man around their age, who places a comforting hand on Blaine's shoulder.
Blaine shrugs, gently patting said hand with his own. "It was an accident," he says.
"No it wasn't," the other man insists, shooting a dirty look at one of the other men, who shrinks into himself. "It's not just a coincidence it's your understudy who's responsible for this."
"Kurt," Blaine warns. "Stop."
"Yeah," Quinn says, "I kind of need his attention over here."
Kurt lets go, and Blaine turns to her, relief in his gaze. "So, how bad is it, Doc?"
"You'll live," she says, lifting a hand and waiting for consent to touch. At his slight nod, she tilts his chin. "It's not a bad break, but the window for setting it is closing rapidly. How's your pain? Do you want a sedative?"
"Ooh, definitely can't sing if I'm hopped up," he says, and it sounds like he's speaking from experience. "But I totally can when I'm drunk."
"That's a good talent to have," Quinn says as she turns his head to face her properly and gets her hands in position, thumbs on his nose. "It'll hurt."
"That's okay," he says, squinting slightly. "Anything'll hurt less than Rachel's ire."
Quinn makes sure she's settled, ready to set it, which is why she asks, "You're that afraid of her, huh?"
It's when he's just about to answer that she presses down, clicking the break into place, and he legitimately howls from the pain and shock of it. Kurt's hands are on him again, offering comfort, and Quinn reaches behind her for a splint.
"You're going to have to wear this," she tells him, clipping it into place. "Maybe you can work it into the show."
"As long as there's no lasting damage," Blaine says, shoulders relaxing after Quinn's assault. She spends a few more moments testing his breathing function. Once she's satisfied, she drops her hands and removes her gloves, ready to sign off on his paperwork.
"I recommend icing the area," she says. "Especially between now and when you take the stage, and definitely for the next twenty-four hours. I'll prescribe some painkillers you can just pick up from the nurse, and please come back if you experience any complications. Sleep on your back tonight."
Blaine shakes his head. "Oh, I don't think I'm getting any sleep tonight," he says. "It's our opening night. Nobody sleeps until the reviews are in."
A thought niggles at the back of Quinn's brain, Tina mentioning that she was going to watch one of her old friends from college's opening night on Broadway tonight, leaving Quinn and Mike to cover her shift.
"Well, then, I wish you all luck," Quinn says, finishing up. "Whenever you're ready, just stop by the nurse's station, and you should be able to make it back to the theatre."
"Thank you for your efficiency," Kurt tells her. "You don't even know the chaos it would be if we were still busy when Rachel arrived."
Quinn's suddenly glad for it, too, because her pager goes off in that moment, warning them of an incoming mass trauma, all hands on deck. She bids Blaine goodbye, and then takes his file to the nurse's station, smiling at Emily over the counter.
Emily just about manages to smile back, informing her there are four buses on the way, all of them critical.
Quinn's smile slips. "And here I thought we could get dinner after our shifts," she says, shaking her head. "I feel like we haven't seen each other in weeks."
Emily reaches for her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Save some lives," she instructs. "We can get breakfast, instead."
Quinn hears the commotion before she sees it, a woman coming rushing into the Emergency Room, draped in a long faux-fur coat. Quinn catches only a glimpse of her chestnut hair before Mike is calling for her attention, prompting her to follow him to get gowned and ready for the incoming ambulances.
It's as she's rushing away that she hears Blaine hurry to say, "Rachel, I swear it's not as bad as it looks," and she really doesn't envy him when the elusive Rachel starts admonishing the lot of them in a voice Quinn would cower from, and she's the Head Bitch in Charge.
For whatever reason, she hopes that voice never gets used on her.
.
.
.
vi.
It's the sound of voices outside her apartment door that catches her attention, drawing her to the peephole. Rachel's been expecting a certain, very important package delivery for the past few hours, and she's a little on edge because of it. The last thing she needs is people making a ruckus in the corridor.
Through the peephole, she sees that the apartment opposite her has its door propped open with a small box, more larger ones piled in the only room Rachel can see. Somebody is clearly moving in. That's reiterated when a body moves past Rachel's door, carrying a box, and said person disappears into the apartment, her voice saying, "I swear, if you've made me carry in your sex toys, I'm going to riot."
There's a cackle of laughter from within, and Rachel's brow furrows, because there's something about that voice that she finds familiar. Which is preposterous, of course, because the only blonde person she knows is Sam, and she hasn't seen him for years.
"No, that's the other box," another, airier voice says, and Rachel sighs, realising the stress of the incoming package must be getting to her.
It's a film script, you see. Rachel has undergone extensive auditioning, screen testing, and participating in chemistry reads to get this part, and now it's finally here. The final script, complete with the alterations made to fit her casting rather than forcing her to change to fit the original vision of her character.
There's a lot more shuffling in the corridor, and Rachel peeks out again to see the same blonde woman move past the door a second time, carrying an even bigger box. She lets out a little grunt when she can't get it through the door the first time, and Rachel can't help her own smile, eyes taking in the strength of her back beneath the t-shirt she's wearing. The way her forearms tense as she turns the box is truly fascinating, as well.
It feels wrong to keep looking, so she steps back again. At least she doesn't have to wait much longer before there's a knock at her door, and she rushes to open it, a courier waiting behind it. She signs for the package quickly, drawing it to her chest, and she's almost got the door closed when a different blonde woman appears from the open door of the opposite apartment and sees her.
"Hello," she immediately calls out, and Rachel hopes her new neighbours aren't going to want to be overly friendly. "I'm Brittany," she says. "Sorry if we're disturbing you, but we should be done out here in about an hour. Just have some final furniture to bring in."
Rachel blinks. "Oh. Yeah. That's okay."
"Really?" she asks, sounding sceptical, and Rachel is quite certain she also knows this woman, though she can't imagine how.
Just then, there's a shriek from within the apartment, and then a panicked voice is saying, "Britt, oh my God, your wife is trying to lick me!" Something - or someone - goes crashing to the floor, and Brittany turns to Rachel with wide eyes.
"I better go see who's injured there," she says, and she sounds way too calm; as if she's used to their antics. "It was nice to meet you, um…"
"Rachel."
She smiles now, wide and so genuinely. "It really is nice to meet you," she says, and then disappears into the open doorway, her mouth already opening to say, "Santana, you get off Q right now," and Rachel closes her own door, shaking her head in amusement.
She won't see her new neighbours again before she's scheduled to fly out to Atlanta, Georgia, to begin shooting, but she thinks about them often.
.
.
.
vii.
Mike tells Quinn that Tina's always wanted a winter wedding, which is why half their congregation is currently still scattered around the continental US, unable to fly into New York, owing to the massive snow storms that have brought nearly all air travel in the country to a standstill.
They still go through with it. Everything has already been paid for, but there are literally guests still stuck in airports as the two of them stand at the altar and exchange their vows, their photographer streaming the entire ceremony live to various people who couldn't make it.
Tina is obviously disappointed by it all, but the reception is actually a truly lovely affair. Mike asked Quinn to invite more people he knew would be able to make it, which really meant that she called Santana, Brittany, and all of Emily's nursing friends.
It turns into quite the party, as a result.
When the time comes, Quinn gets to her feet and says the best woman speech she admits to have started writing while they were still freshmen in college, even eluding to the infamous lab partner that helped set the newlyweds on the course towards this moment right now.
After, Tina tells her, "You know, my lab partner's actually on her way right now," with a fond smile. "She would have got a kick out of that speech, but she just managed to catch one of the last flights in from Vancouver to Boston, and hired a car to get here. She should be arriving soon."
Quinn lets out a little laugh. "You kept in touch, huh?"
"Rachel isn't really the type of person you just let go," Tina says, her voice very serious, and Quinn can only wonder what meaning exists behind those words.
"Well, I look forward to meeting to her," she says, but life has other plans for her. It's a little cruel, really, because Mike's nuptials have made her truly look at her own relationship with Emily and try to figure out if this is the relationship she wants to last a lifetime.
It just never occurs to her that she might be the only one.
Because Quinn is the one who finds her, her girlfriend of nearly five years, with her head between one of another nurse's legs, at Quinn's best friend's wedding. It literally couldn't be a worse situation than if Quinn had written it herself, and she's surprised by the numbness that settles over her, masking the rage she's sure she would unleash if it wouldn't completely ruin Mike and Tina's special day.
Emily is full of excuses, but Santana forces her away, Brittany pulling Quinn into a quiet room. There's alcohol and a lot of tears, and they eventually have to take her home, making up some excuse about her not feeling very well, which Mike accepts with some concern.
Tina asks a few more questions, realising something has to have caused the red around Quinn's eyes. "I'm fine," Quinn tries to assure her. "Just not feeling one hundred percent. I'll be okay. You two enjoy the rest of the reception. I'll see you when you're back from your honeymoon."
Tina pulls her into a hug, squeezing tightly enough that Quinn almost starts crying again. Then she pulls away, eyes drifting past Quinn's shoulder and widening. "Oh my God, she actually made it," she says, and Quinn knows she's speaking about Rachel, the ex-lab partner.
Quinn would turn to look herself, but Brittany has her wrist, and she's pulling her away. Far, far away, and Quinn has the truly weird thought that she wouldn't want Rachel to meet her in this state, anyway.
.
.
.
vii + i.
With shooting over on her latest film, Rachel tells herself she needs a break, which really means she finally gets to put some fresh produce in the refrigerator in her apartment in New York and stay long enough to consume it herself.
She also finally gets to spend some time with her friends, which starts with a surprise party Mike is throwing for his best friend. She has to make her way to Lower Manhattan where this best friend lives, her friends filling her apartment with themselves as well as some of her favourite things.
Tina tells her, "She went through a pretty bad breakup quite recently, so we're trying to cheer her up," like it should really matter to Rachel. "Mike really feels terrible about it."
"Why?"
Tina just hums through the phone. "Are you on your way now?" she asks. "Can you pick up a few things?"
"Sure," she says; "What do you need?"
The list is short, which Rachel appreciates, and she's able to pop into a café to pick up the extra pastries and another bodega for additional bottles of sparkling wine. It ends up being quite an armload, and she's borderline exhausted by the time she arrives at the correct building.
She's also late, which is why she's immensely relieved when she's able to slip in behind a woman and essentially follow her into the elevator.
"What floor?" the woman asks, eyeing Rachel's full hands.
"Oh, um, four, please," Rachel says, and the woman presses four and only four. "Oh?"
"Sorry, yeah, I'm headed there too," she says, and Rachel looks at her properly now, breath catching in her throat.
"Oh." She's beautiful, hazel-eyed and so very blonde. She looks a little amused by Rachel, which is a good look for her, and Rachel is suddenly dry-mouthed.
"Do you need some help there?" the woman asks. "They look heavy."
And, yeah, she's a gentlewoman, too. "Oh, you don't have to - "
"No, please, let me," she says, and she takes all the bags from Rachel, her forearms tensing, and, wow, okay, it's been a very long time since Rachel has been this attracted to a complete stranger.
"Thank you," Rachel says, breathing out. "I didn't think they'd weigh so much."
"The bottles?" she asks, just as they arrive on the correct floor. "Are you having a party or something?"
"Something like that," Rachel says as they step out and head to the left, falling into step beside each other. "My friends are throwing a surprise party for one of their friends. I'm just the delivery lady."
Her brow furrows. "A surprise party?"
"It's her birthday, I believe," Rachel says. "I've never met her, though. It might be awkward. I tend to be extra awkward in new situations."
"I'm sure you'll be fine," she says, and she sounds certain of it. "People can be surprising."
Rachel looks at her again, and she's looking right back. "I - yeah, I guess they can be," she agrees. "I'm a little surprised right now."
Her hazel eyes widen slightly. "Why's that?"
Rachel is so tempted to flirt. It's right there on the tip of her tongue, but it's also the moment they arrive at apartment 409, the address Tina sent her.
The realisation comes slowly, the two of them just standing there. Because the woman says, "This is me," and Rachel is struck by the very real truth that she just -
She just -
"Oh."
"You say that a lot," the woman says, smiling. "I better dust off my acting skills, huh? Apparently, there's a surprise waiting for me behind the door."
"Oh, my God." Rachel is mortified. No. She's whatever is beyond mortified. "I just - I'm so sorry."
"That's okay," she says immediately. "I promise it's okay. I probably needed the head's up anyway. No wonder they all just magically disappeared from the hospital."
"Wait. You're also a surgeon?"
She turns her body to face Rachel properly. "I'd offer my hand, but they're both occupied," she says. "I'm Quinn. It's nice to meet you."
"Rachel," she says, a little dumbfounded.
"Ah. The infamous lab partner."
"The what?"
It's the moment the door opens, Tina appearing in the doorway and looking just as caught off guard as Rachel feels. "I thought I heard you," she says to Rachel, and then looks at Quinn. "But you are early."
Quinn shrugs, smiling innocently. "I got bored."
"You were having lunch with your sister."
"It was fucking boring."
Tina shakes her head, eyes dropping to where Quinn is holding the bags Rachel was asked to bring.
"I can explain," Rachel starts, and Quinn lets out a little laugh.
"This is already the best day," she tells Tina; "And we haven't even got to the cake."
Tina pulls her into a hug, eyes closing for a moment, and there's something so comforting about the moment that sparks a hint of jealousy in Rachel's gut. What's worse is she can't figure out which one she's more jealous of.
"Try to act surprised," Tina tells Quinn. "Mike's been planning this since we got back from Malta."
"Please tell me he wasn't actually thinking about me while you were on your honeymoon," Quinn says, relinquishing the bags when Tina takes them from her.
"I accepted a long time ago that you're a package deal," Tina says, voice a monotone, but she's smiling.
"I knew you loved me, too," Quinn says, shooting a fist into the air. "It's not too late, you know?" she says, "We can still ditch him."
Tina rolls her eyes. "All these years later and you still think you have a chance."
"I'm a catch," Quinn says, clearly affronted. Then she glances at Rachel. "You heard it here, you know?"
Tina glances between them, and then steps back again. "Rachel," she says, "Come inside." Then, looking at Quinn, she says, "Wait two minutes and then come inside."
It's an order, if ever they've heard one, and Quinn just shoots Rachel a wide-eyed look as Rachel drifts past her. Then the door closes behind Rachel and Tina, leaving Quinn outside. The entire thing is completely surreal, Rachel doesn't believe it's actually happening to her.
But then Tina turns to her and says, "She's caught you already, huh?"
"What?"
"Get into position," Tina just says. "Find a place to hide."
Rachel does just that, slipping behind a couch, crouching next to another blonde woman, who turns to her with wide eyes and says, "I know you."
It takes a moment, but Rachel recognises her as her once neighbour, who Rachel belatedly learned moved out just a year after moving in. "Hi."
Someone in the room says, "Ssh, she's coming," and Rachel turns her head, waiting. She knows this woman beside her, which means -
It means she's seen Quinn before. Her back and her profile and her forearms. She's been attracted to her before today, which is -
The door opens and about a dozen voices shout, "Surprise!"
Quinn does a very good job of acting surprised, accepting the well wishes and fielding hugs from left, right, and centre. Rachel gets lost in the middle of the initial chaos, finding herself in the kitchen and setting out all the pastries she brought. There are other snacks, too, and she focuses on getting the plates and glasses ready for the champagne.
She's still busy there when she feels a presence at her right, and she immediately knows it's Quinn. It sounds crazy, but she can already feel her. And the weirdest part is that it's a feeling that's familiar to her.
"Hello," Quinn says.
Rachel waits a beat before she looks at her, startling slightly by how close she's actually standing. "Hi."
"So," she says, "How awkward is it?"
Rachel smiles. "I mean, it'd probably be much more awkward if all your friends knew I actually ruined the surprise."
"I won't tell if you won't."
"We're already keeping secrets, huh?"
"Might as well skip to divorce, hmm?"
Rachel's caught off guard by that, but definitely not put off. She barely knows this person, but she feels as if she already knows her. She feels familiar in a way she can't explain; even just her voice, gentle and unassuming. Definitely a doctor voice.
"It's amazing this is the first time I'm meeting you," Quinn tells her, but Rachel suspects there's something else she'd like to say. Because Rachel is looking at her, and Quinn is looking right back at her, as if they already know each other.
As if this isn't the first time at all.
"Were you at the wedding?" Rachel asks, because it feels like a gross misstep that Quinn wouldn't have been there. Although: "I know a lot of people missed it because of the weather."
"I was there," Quinn confirms. "Kind of wish I wasn't, though."
She frowns. That's unexpected. "Why?"
"Caught my girlfriend with one of her nurse friends," she answers a little flippantly. "Work is fucking awkward right now."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
Quinn shrugs, looking over the selection of pastries in front of them. "It's fine," she says. "I guess Emily and I just weren't meant to be."
Something niggles at the back of Rachel's brain, but it doesn't quite land. Well, not until Quinn lets out a little shout of victory and stretches her arm to reach for -
"Lemon and poppyseed is my favourite," she declares, and Rachel is transported to a moment in time that exists in her memory, but hasn't been terribly important until right now.
"Do you sing?" Rachel blurts, and Quinn looks at her as if she's lost her mind.
"Um. A little." She laughs softly, taking a bite of her muffin. "Not terribly well, but - "
"You sing for the kids at the hospital."
Her eyes go a little wide. "I - yeah. Sometimes." She frowns now. "Did Mike tell you that? He swore to me he wouldn't tell anyone."
"He didn't," she assures Quinn.
"Then how would - "
A voice calling Quinn's name cuts her off, and they both turn to see a stunning Latina woman looking pointedly at Quinn. "You have to open my gift now," she says, and Rachel swears she knows that voice. Those eyes.
Quinn gives Rachel an apologetic smile. "I better go," she says. "Santana can get violent sometimes."
Two memories rush at Rachel, a corridor in front of her apartment door, yes, but also a high school stadium bathroom. Rachel watches Quinn walk away, her eyes immediately searching for the other blonde woman. The one from behind the couch. The one Rachel swears she knows.
Her freaking neighbour. Rachel's pretty sure they're all from Ohio. What the hell? What the actual hell? What is happening? Who are these people?
She's still standing there when Tina arrives at her side, her own eyes on Mike, who has now joined Quinn and Santana as they marvel over one of the gifts Quinn has received.
"So," Tina starts. "You met Quinn."
"Seems like I did, yeah."
"She's pretty special."
"She does give off that vibe, doesn't she?"
Tina turns her head towards Rachel. "She's a little raw at the moment. Her ex burned her pretty badly, but I think - "
"You think what?"
"I think that she keeps looking at you," Tina says, and Rachel flushes. "It's not a look I've seen before, if I'm honest. Like she's trying to place you, or figure you out. Like she wants to know you." She pauses. "Like she already knows you."
Rachel doesn't say that she's convinced that Quinn maybe already does. What she does say is, "We literally just met."
"Yeah."
Rachel looks towards Quinn again, who is now seated on a couch, a gift bag in her lap, and the other blonde woman practically wrapped around her. Rachel feels a flash of something indecipherable, but then Quinn is meeting her gaze and then rolling her eyes, mouthing, Come save me, and Rachel really thinks about doing it. How, she doesn't quite know, but then Quinn's attention shifts again, and Rachel is stuck.
Like Tina said. Rachel is caught. It scares her so much that she stops breathing for a few precious seconds. She doesn't even know her.
But she does.
She does.
They've only just met, but she already knows it's just the beginning. She doesn't know how or why she knows this, but Quinn is here now, and that means something.
Rachel isn't going to ignore this moment. She never could, when it seems as if the Universe might just finally be working in her favour.
Fin