Breath Against The Glass Chapter Six
Title: Breath Against The Glass
Author: Alex Foster
Word Count: 27,000+
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Rating: PG-13
Contains: Alcohol and drug use, underage characters (late teens), mild sexual situations, a few derogatory and misogynist terms (not prevalent), original characters, descriptions of body piercing, no character bashing.
Summary: Quinn reluctantly agrees to help Rachel get in touch with her inner rebel to prepare for a stage role. What follows is a series of weekends and late nights as both are pulled into each other's world. Season 3 AU. Punk!Quinn Accomplished!Rachel.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by FOX. Song lyrics belong to their respected writer/singers and record companies. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Chapter Six
She dreamed of Beth, as usual. It was bright and warm, a picnic blanket spread out on the grass, and Beth was beside her. They both wore white dresses but Quinn couldn’t see Beth’s face underneath her wide brimmed sun hat. Just the golden strands of hair that peeked out, matching her own.
It began to rain around them, the brightness not dimming in the slightest, but she didn’t care. Beth, with her back to Quinn, turned her head up to catch raindrops on her tongue.
They splashed against Quinn’s hand and she looked down at them sparkling in the almost sun. Bringing her fingers up, she tasted them.
It was honey.
Quinn opened her eyes and woke to something very real and slightly minty against her lips. Rachel’s mouth.
The shock of that alone was enough to bring her to full wakefulness. Leaving the feel of the dream behind, she brought one hand up to Rachel’s face and kissed back.
She was still in Rachel’s bed, the covers tangled in knots, but Rachel was frustratingly fully dressed she felt.
When they broke, Rachel sat back on her heels and smiled. "Good morning."
"Morning." Quinn pushed back against the headboard until she was upright. "So … this happened."
"Putting it mildly."
Quinn fidgeted. She had never really mastered this part. "How do you feel?"
"Parts of me are a little sore but in a good way. I expected to be really hungover but I’m not."
"You wouldn't be from such a small amount," Quinn said. "I've done a lot more than that in one night and I've never been hungover."
"Well now I know," Rachel said. "I’m sorry to wake you but I didn’t wish to be a cliché and leave a note. I have to go to the theater. It's very late."
"What time is it?" Quinn looked over at the clock. "Holy cr-"
"I took the liberty of texting your mother from your phone," Rachel said. "As you, I informed her that you had spent the night at a friend’s house and were perfectly safe. I had to do my best to imitate your texting style so you might want to double check I did it right."
"I’m sure you did fine. Thank you. My usual … Saturday night friends wouldn’t have done that."
"You also had a message delivered at three am saying ‘Yo, what you doin’, Bitch,’" from a Freakin’ Sal. I answered back: ‘Didn’t catch her name.’" Rachel looked pleased with herself. "‘Bitch.’"
Quinn’s eyes went wide. "What have I unleashed on the world?"
Rachel laughed and rolled off the bed. "I have to go, but I’d like to see you later."
"Okay."
"I told Martin you might be by and he said he’d leave the front lobby unlocked." Rachel grabbed her coat from where it had landed the night before, came back for a goodbye kiss, and added, "I left fresh towels in my bathroom if you want a shower and there is cinnamon quinoa with nuts and berries downstairs if you are hungry. Grab some while it is warm."
Like a whirlwind passing through, Rachel was gone and Quinn was alone with so very many thoughts. After a few moments of staring at the ceiling, and the gold stars glued there, Quinn got up and collected her boots and discarded coat from the floor.
In Rachel’s bathroom, using soap and shampoo that smelled incredibly familiar, Quinn took a quick shower. There wasn’t a spare toothbrush - probably a good sign for Rachel - so Quinn just used a dab of toothpaste on her finger and swished it around her mouth.
It was a weird line to hold behind, especially given the night before, but she couldn’t bring herself to use a strange toothbrush.
Quinn combed out her hair and dressed in the same clothes she’d worn previously. Now for the walk of shame … through the house that smelled like cinnamon and warm granola. Quinn frowned at that and glanced to the dining room. She didn’t have a clue what vegan quinoa was and didn’t really want to find out.
Not slowing, she headed straight for the door and very nearly made it.
"Quinn! Come here, we saved a bowl for you." LeRoy Berry.
Perfect.
She put a practiced smile on her face and turned. "Hello, Mr. Berry. Good morning."
He waved that away. "More like early afternoon but who is splitting hairs? Come eat with us."
"Oh, I don’t think-"
Hiram peered out of the kitchen. "I made it and saved a bowl just for you, our daughter’s special friend."
Oh crap, Quinn thought as LeRoy led her back to the kitchen and breakfast nook.
"You don’t have a nut allergy, do you?"
"Um, no I don’t but if-"
Hiram moved to the table and held the chair for her. LeRoy guided her into it and dropped into a chair to her right. Smiling, Hiram sat to her left. Berrys surrounded her.
Cinnamon quinoa turned out to be a warm dish that was somewhere between the constancy of granola and oatmeal with pecans and berries sprinkled liberally over the top of the darkly colored food. It was sweet but not so much so that it was unpleasant after several spoonfuls. Quinn tried to eat fast without looking like she was rushing.
"We are so glad you are helping Rachel with her play," Hiram said.
"So glad," LeRoy echoed.
"Well, I-"
"Rachel is so trusting you see, and she needs people she can depend on to look out for her and not lead her astray."
Quinn chewed a pecan and tried to judge just what they thought she was doing with their daughter. Maybe they just figured she was giving acting lessons.
"Because the wrong element," LeRoy said, "by hurting Rachel would only be hurting themselves in the long run. Wouldn’t you say, dear?"
"I would say that, yes," Hiram agreed. Then after a moment added, "In the way that tarnishing anyone’s soul ultimately tarnishes us all in that metaphysical grand unification sense."
Yeah, Quinn thought, they knew.
"I … agree as well," she said. "I care very much about Rachel and would never want to see anything happen to her in a grand unification sense."
"That’s nice. I’m glad we all agree on that."
Hiram gestured to her bowl. "You like that? I could make more."
"It’s very good." Quinn made herself take another bite. "But this will be more than enough."
She felt a sudden sympathy for Finn and what the Fabrays had put him through. Then realized the Berrys had probably done the same thing to him as well. God, her life was a tangled mess.
~
After a little while of parental intimidation, the Berrys cut her free and Quinn found herself again behind the wheel of her car. Navigating through the suburbs she noticed all the driveways were full and realized with a small start that it was Sunday.
Fabray Sundays used to be very structured and precise. As far back as Lucy she always could count on the ritual of dressing in her church best and spending the morning in worship followed by a social afterward and then lunch at a restaurant in town.
As she drove, Quinn thought back to that time - before Russel left, before Beth, before a lot of things - and almost missed it. Oh it wasn’t the emotional abuse or rigid insistence that everything would be okay if they just kept up the appearance of being okay that she missed.
Sitting in the backseat while Russel drove, his blue suit clean and crisp, and the compressed wood smell of the church’s pew in front of her when she knelt on the padded kickstand. Those were good memories.
There were many other memories, not so good, that threatened to come back up along with the happy ones, but Quinn didn’t dwell on those. She wasn’t even sure why she was reminiscing. It wasn’t her first Sunday afternoon since parting ways with God.
Continuing past her house, Quinn drove several miles out of her way. In the opposite direction than Russel used to take all those years ago with a car full of Fabrays.
Her destination was a small single story building on the suburban outskirts. Sam had introduced her to it last year, when he was tired of the attitude their old congregation had during his family’s difficulties.
The parking lot was mostly empty by the time she arrived, service having ended hours earlier. Quinn didn’t care. She wasn’t really here for the ceremony. At least she didn’t think she was - this was the last place she expected to spend Sunday. Second, she corrected, to Rachel’s bed.
Inside the decor remained basic and simple with stained windows and tan carpet all the way up to the hard wood sanctuary. There were a couple of people still seated, praying, and others talking to each other near the side exits.
Quinn took a pew in the back, away from people. No one gave her a second glance despite her hair color and decidedly ungodly attire. This would be quite the scandal in Judy’s church.
She sat with her hands in her lap for a moment, unsure, and then knelt on the padded rest. Feeling sorely out of practice at this sort of thing, she bowed her head and tried to think of how to pray. Normally the pastor talked about all the people facing difficulties that needed their prayers and guidance back to the correct path.
The familiarity felt nice but that intent seemed wrong.
So instead Quinn smiled to herself, talked to God, and said ‘thank you’. And felt peaceful for the first time in a long time.
~
Rehearsal and lunch with Rachel that afternoon sparked a weekend routine of sorts.
During the week they kept to normal schedules - Rachel overachieved and co-captained glee while Quinn pretended to slack and ruled the Skanks with an iron fist. Rachel sang down the halls of the school while Quinn smoked behind it.
Friday nights were a different story. Rachel waited on her curb and Quinn picked her up once most of Lima started to fall asleep. Sometimes they hit The Runaway or one of the other haunts Quinn knew around town; other times they just drove the dark streets.
Every Saturday morning Quinn woke up early and took Rachel, complete with her backpack and thermos, to the Squareround Playhouse. While the cast rehearsed and Rachel debated Martin over stage direction Quinn watched from the rear seats.
The story line of the play began to take shape for her. Most of the first act hung on Patrick as he struggled with the idea of selling out his band when offered a label contract as a solo artist.
Rachel was his on and off again girlfriend that seemed to exist solely to spread anarchy in the lives of those around her in the small art community they lived in. She was a mess, secretly bitter about failing at her own goals of making it big, and frequently dragged the group to wild parties.
She was unabashedly bisexual and Rachel surprisingly underplayed that. Lindsey was new to the community and still bright and pure and had promise of showing her artwork in a gallery. Rachel’s drama stemmed more from whether she would corrupt Lindsey’s still hopeful view of art rather than some sort of love triangle between the three leads.
That was mentioned more for humor by Allen, the male lead’s best friend, because Patrick was such a sucker for Rachel even after she had cheated on him as well as other lovers multiple times.
The play really was good - Quinn found herself involved in the story, not just Rachel’s role. The acting talent was the best such a tiny theater could hope for in a small town, but they did their best. It was the script and Rachel that showed the most promise. They were beyond lucky to have her. For that reason Martin probably let her get away with co-directing the production.
Quinn found it very surprising that local talent had written the play. She even Googled the title once while Rachel and the others were cleaning up, thinking it must have been an indie play written somewhere else, but the only results were from the Squareround’s website and she couldn’t find the author’s name.
The rest of the cast seemed to get used to seeing Quinn with Rachel and eventually just accepted her as an early theatergoer they were performing for. LJ or TJ, she couldn’t tell which, even put a pastry aside for her before they started for the day.
A week before opening night, as Rachel was finishing tidying the stage, Quinn slipped from her usual seat and walked outside. She pulled a cigarette free and reached for her lighter as soon as she hit the cold air.
The lighter’s lid still made the satisfying clink when she closed it and Quinn savored that and the cigarette. This was her last chance for a smoke before she and Rachel grabbed a late lunch or they returned to the Berrys for an early dinner.
Quinn was hoping it was the former instead of the latter. Hiram and LeRoy hadn’t said or done anything beyond normal concern from parents about a new pink haired friend in their daughter’s life, and Quinn didn’t think it would go beyond that - knowing them probably the opposite - but she liked the late lunches better.
Rachel was usually still wound up from the excitement of the stage and it was infectious when she talked about various scenes and how on or off point she felt they were. It let Quinn relive some of the better times from glee club.
"Do you mind?" a voice asked behind her.
Quinn turned and saw Lindsey standing underneath the small marquee overhang with an unlit cigarette held between her fingers.
"Oh. No." Quinn dug out the lighter and flicked it to life for her.
Lindsey leaned in, took a deep drag as the cigarette lit, and nodded her thanks as she exhaled. "Us rebels have to stick together," she said.
"Right." Quinn looked her up and down and saw a young pretty woman with blonde hair wearing a fashionable jacket. She was about as far away from being a rebel as one could get.
"So you are Rachel Berry’s friend, huh?"
It was the first time in ever that she had been described that way, but she was in Rachel’s theater world now so… "Yeah, that’s me."
"What do you think of the play?"
"It’s good. You’re good - I was telling Rachel that after I saw you the first time."
Apparently the rules of flattery she learned from dealing with Rachel worked on all show people because Lindsey instantly brightened. "Really? Oh, I’m so glad. I’m taking acting classes at the community college and this is the biggest role I’ve ever had! You don’t know how grateful I am to Rachel for taking a chance on me."
Quinn frowned at the odd phrasing but shrugged and said, "I’d never know you didn’t have much experience. You play the up-and-comer very well."
"Thank you!" Lindsey leaned in conspiratorially. "Could you put in a good word with Rachel? I know it would mean something coming from you. I’d love to work with her again in one of her next projects."
Quinn snuffed her cigarette butt. "I don’t think that’s up to me. Or Rachel either for that matter."
"Don’t be so sure. A word from a show’s creator goes a long way with casting directors. It’s all about who you know, you know?"
"Not even a little," Quinn said.
Realization spread over Lindsey’s face and her mouth fell open in a perfect O shape.
"What?"
"I thought you knew - everyone did." Lindsey pointed at the theater over her shoulder. "Breath Against The Glass is a Rachel Berry original piece."
~
Quinn came to a stop just short of the stage and stared at Rachel moving around on it, understanding making her skin feel colder than it had outside. She thought back to those first days with her when Rachel had gushed about what a great opportunity this was for the local talent.
All the notes she’d written in the scripts for the other actors. The way she worked with Martin on the direction, preserving the original intent of the scenes she said.
That night in Rachel’s room she had seen the outline for the show on the inspiration corkboard and hadn’t even realized it. The sheet of paper with plot points written out and arrows to show how they fit together. And the Squareround's call looking for talent, she'd just assumed had been for actors.
Other less obvious things too. The way Rachel had wanted to learn how to play a bad girl, mentioning making character notes about the thing she saw around her. Turning to Santana when she thought Quinn might not help.
Oh God…
Quinn thought back to the story line of the play. Rachel’s character was the one in the group that was unable to break out and make it big. She was bitter with her lot in life and was threatening to corrupt the innocence of a fresh faced talent, the one with the best chance of rising above the group.
Cold skin started to turn numb.
"What’s wrong?" Rachel’s voice was chirpy and she was still riding the emotional wave of a successful rehearsal.
Quinn could only stare at her for a long moment. "You wrote this," she said at last.
"Oh." Rachel glanced down sheepishly. "You found out. I was hoping to keep it a secret for at least a little while longer. It wasn’t easy to keep them from publishing my name, but because I’m so young I thought it would only hurt the production. And I didn’t tell you because I know you think of me as a-"
"When the hell did you write a play?"
Sheepish gave away to slightly taken aback. "If you must know, it was after New York. Finn and I parted ways but no one in the club wanted anything to do with me. You were gone heaven knows where. I had a lot of time on my hands and no real outlet to express myself." She waved her hands around indicating the theater, as though that was all the explanation required.
"So you wrote a play about … me?" Quinn was aware the other actors were looking at her but she didn’t stop. She was already humiliated beyond the point of holding back now. "You are me and Lindsey is you."
"What? No. I mean you might have inspired certain themes, yes, but-"
"Oh my God." Quinn thought she might be sick right there in the front row. "All this time … what we … that night when you - oh my God."
"No, no. You are taking this the wrong way."
"Yeah, I see now that I have." She took a step back, then another, and bumped into Allen. Turning, she shoved him violently out of the way and started up the aisle.
Allen fell against several seats and hit the floor but she didn’t slow or look back.
"Quinn!" Rachel raced down the stage stairs and started after her. "Come back!"
"No, Rachel." Quinn pulled out her car keys and blinked away stinging in her eyes. "I don’t want to see you right now. Or ever again. Not here or at school. We are done."
She hit the lobby doors and kept on going through the parking lot.
Behind her, Rachel called out again. No hurt looks were going to work this time - Quinn saw now what a massive manipulation this whole thing had been. And how stupid she’d been to fall for it. Rachel was playing a role, a character she created just to prove to the world how much she considered Quinn a loser.
Quinn peeled out of the parking lot and hit the road directionless. She drove until she couldn’t see the theater in her rearview mirror any longer.
She made it several miles before the dashboard and street ahead of her turned blurry.
Next Chapter
Author: Alex Foster
Word Count: 27,000+
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Rating: PG-13
Contains: Alcohol and drug use, underage characters (late teens), mild sexual situations, a few derogatory and misogynist terms (not prevalent), original characters, descriptions of body piercing, no character bashing.
Summary: Quinn reluctantly agrees to help Rachel get in touch with her inner rebel to prepare for a stage role. What follows is a series of weekends and late nights as both are pulled into each other's world. Season 3 AU. Punk!Quinn Accomplished!Rachel.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by FOX. Song lyrics belong to their respected writer/singers and record companies. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Chapter Six
She dreamed of Beth, as usual. It was bright and warm, a picnic blanket spread out on the grass, and Beth was beside her. They both wore white dresses but Quinn couldn’t see Beth’s face underneath her wide brimmed sun hat. Just the golden strands of hair that peeked out, matching her own.
It began to rain around them, the brightness not dimming in the slightest, but she didn’t care. Beth, with her back to Quinn, turned her head up to catch raindrops on her tongue.
They splashed against Quinn’s hand and she looked down at them sparkling in the almost sun. Bringing her fingers up, she tasted them.
It was honey.
Quinn opened her eyes and woke to something very real and slightly minty against her lips. Rachel’s mouth.
The shock of that alone was enough to bring her to full wakefulness. Leaving the feel of the dream behind, she brought one hand up to Rachel’s face and kissed back.
She was still in Rachel’s bed, the covers tangled in knots, but Rachel was frustratingly fully dressed she felt.
When they broke, Rachel sat back on her heels and smiled. "Good morning."
"Morning." Quinn pushed back against the headboard until she was upright. "So … this happened."
"Putting it mildly."
Quinn fidgeted. She had never really mastered this part. "How do you feel?"
"Parts of me are a little sore but in a good way. I expected to be really hungover but I’m not."
"You wouldn't be from such a small amount," Quinn said. "I've done a lot more than that in one night and I've never been hungover."
"Well now I know," Rachel said. "I’m sorry to wake you but I didn’t wish to be a cliché and leave a note. I have to go to the theater. It's very late."
"What time is it?" Quinn looked over at the clock. "Holy cr-"
"I took the liberty of texting your mother from your phone," Rachel said. "As you, I informed her that you had spent the night at a friend’s house and were perfectly safe. I had to do my best to imitate your texting style so you might want to double check I did it right."
"I’m sure you did fine. Thank you. My usual … Saturday night friends wouldn’t have done that."
"You also had a message delivered at three am saying ‘Yo, what you doin’, Bitch,’" from a Freakin’ Sal. I answered back: ‘Didn’t catch her name.’" Rachel looked pleased with herself. "‘Bitch.’"
Quinn’s eyes went wide. "What have I unleashed on the world?"
Rachel laughed and rolled off the bed. "I have to go, but I’d like to see you later."
"Okay."
"I told Martin you might be by and he said he’d leave the front lobby unlocked." Rachel grabbed her coat from where it had landed the night before, came back for a goodbye kiss, and added, "I left fresh towels in my bathroom if you want a shower and there is cinnamon quinoa with nuts and berries downstairs if you are hungry. Grab some while it is warm."
Like a whirlwind passing through, Rachel was gone and Quinn was alone with so very many thoughts. After a few moments of staring at the ceiling, and the gold stars glued there, Quinn got up and collected her boots and discarded coat from the floor.
In Rachel’s bathroom, using soap and shampoo that smelled incredibly familiar, Quinn took a quick shower. There wasn’t a spare toothbrush - probably a good sign for Rachel - so Quinn just used a dab of toothpaste on her finger and swished it around her mouth.
It was a weird line to hold behind, especially given the night before, but she couldn’t bring herself to use a strange toothbrush.
Quinn combed out her hair and dressed in the same clothes she’d worn previously. Now for the walk of shame … through the house that smelled like cinnamon and warm granola. Quinn frowned at that and glanced to the dining room. She didn’t have a clue what vegan quinoa was and didn’t really want to find out.
Not slowing, she headed straight for the door and very nearly made it.
"Quinn! Come here, we saved a bowl for you." LeRoy Berry.
Perfect.
She put a practiced smile on her face and turned. "Hello, Mr. Berry. Good morning."
He waved that away. "More like early afternoon but who is splitting hairs? Come eat with us."
"Oh, I don’t think-"
Hiram peered out of the kitchen. "I made it and saved a bowl just for you, our daughter’s special friend."
Oh crap, Quinn thought as LeRoy led her back to the kitchen and breakfast nook.
"You don’t have a nut allergy, do you?"
"Um, no I don’t but if-"
Hiram moved to the table and held the chair for her. LeRoy guided her into it and dropped into a chair to her right. Smiling, Hiram sat to her left. Berrys surrounded her.
Cinnamon quinoa turned out to be a warm dish that was somewhere between the constancy of granola and oatmeal with pecans and berries sprinkled liberally over the top of the darkly colored food. It was sweet but not so much so that it was unpleasant after several spoonfuls. Quinn tried to eat fast without looking like she was rushing.
"We are so glad you are helping Rachel with her play," Hiram said.
"So glad," LeRoy echoed.
"Well, I-"
"Rachel is so trusting you see, and she needs people she can depend on to look out for her and not lead her astray."
Quinn chewed a pecan and tried to judge just what they thought she was doing with their daughter. Maybe they just figured she was giving acting lessons.
"Because the wrong element," LeRoy said, "by hurting Rachel would only be hurting themselves in the long run. Wouldn’t you say, dear?"
"I would say that, yes," Hiram agreed. Then after a moment added, "In the way that tarnishing anyone’s soul ultimately tarnishes us all in that metaphysical grand unification sense."
Yeah, Quinn thought, they knew.
"I … agree as well," she said. "I care very much about Rachel and would never want to see anything happen to her in a grand unification sense."
"That’s nice. I’m glad we all agree on that."
Hiram gestured to her bowl. "You like that? I could make more."
"It’s very good." Quinn made herself take another bite. "But this will be more than enough."
She felt a sudden sympathy for Finn and what the Fabrays had put him through. Then realized the Berrys had probably done the same thing to him as well. God, her life was a tangled mess.
~
After a little while of parental intimidation, the Berrys cut her free and Quinn found herself again behind the wheel of her car. Navigating through the suburbs she noticed all the driveways were full and realized with a small start that it was Sunday.
Fabray Sundays used to be very structured and precise. As far back as Lucy she always could count on the ritual of dressing in her church best and spending the morning in worship followed by a social afterward and then lunch at a restaurant in town.
As she drove, Quinn thought back to that time - before Russel left, before Beth, before a lot of things - and almost missed it. Oh it wasn’t the emotional abuse or rigid insistence that everything would be okay if they just kept up the appearance of being okay that she missed.
Sitting in the backseat while Russel drove, his blue suit clean and crisp, and the compressed wood smell of the church’s pew in front of her when she knelt on the padded kickstand. Those were good memories.
There were many other memories, not so good, that threatened to come back up along with the happy ones, but Quinn didn’t dwell on those. She wasn’t even sure why she was reminiscing. It wasn’t her first Sunday afternoon since parting ways with God.
Continuing past her house, Quinn drove several miles out of her way. In the opposite direction than Russel used to take all those years ago with a car full of Fabrays.
Her destination was a small single story building on the suburban outskirts. Sam had introduced her to it last year, when he was tired of the attitude their old congregation had during his family’s difficulties.
The parking lot was mostly empty by the time she arrived, service having ended hours earlier. Quinn didn’t care. She wasn’t really here for the ceremony. At least she didn’t think she was - this was the last place she expected to spend Sunday. Second, she corrected, to Rachel’s bed.
Inside the decor remained basic and simple with stained windows and tan carpet all the way up to the hard wood sanctuary. There were a couple of people still seated, praying, and others talking to each other near the side exits.
Quinn took a pew in the back, away from people. No one gave her a second glance despite her hair color and decidedly ungodly attire. This would be quite the scandal in Judy’s church.
She sat with her hands in her lap for a moment, unsure, and then knelt on the padded rest. Feeling sorely out of practice at this sort of thing, she bowed her head and tried to think of how to pray. Normally the pastor talked about all the people facing difficulties that needed their prayers and guidance back to the correct path.
The familiarity felt nice but that intent seemed wrong.
So instead Quinn smiled to herself, talked to God, and said ‘thank you’. And felt peaceful for the first time in a long time.
~
Rehearsal and lunch with Rachel that afternoon sparked a weekend routine of sorts.
During the week they kept to normal schedules - Rachel overachieved and co-captained glee while Quinn pretended to slack and ruled the Skanks with an iron fist. Rachel sang down the halls of the school while Quinn smoked behind it.
Friday nights were a different story. Rachel waited on her curb and Quinn picked her up once most of Lima started to fall asleep. Sometimes they hit The Runaway or one of the other haunts Quinn knew around town; other times they just drove the dark streets.
Every Saturday morning Quinn woke up early and took Rachel, complete with her backpack and thermos, to the Squareround Playhouse. While the cast rehearsed and Rachel debated Martin over stage direction Quinn watched from the rear seats.
The story line of the play began to take shape for her. Most of the first act hung on Patrick as he struggled with the idea of selling out his band when offered a label contract as a solo artist.
Rachel was his on and off again girlfriend that seemed to exist solely to spread anarchy in the lives of those around her in the small art community they lived in. She was a mess, secretly bitter about failing at her own goals of making it big, and frequently dragged the group to wild parties.
She was unabashedly bisexual and Rachel surprisingly underplayed that. Lindsey was new to the community and still bright and pure and had promise of showing her artwork in a gallery. Rachel’s drama stemmed more from whether she would corrupt Lindsey’s still hopeful view of art rather than some sort of love triangle between the three leads.
That was mentioned more for humor by Allen, the male lead’s best friend, because Patrick was such a sucker for Rachel even after she had cheated on him as well as other lovers multiple times.
The play really was good - Quinn found herself involved in the story, not just Rachel’s role. The acting talent was the best such a tiny theater could hope for in a small town, but they did their best. It was the script and Rachel that showed the most promise. They were beyond lucky to have her. For that reason Martin probably let her get away with co-directing the production.
Quinn found it very surprising that local talent had written the play. She even Googled the title once while Rachel and the others were cleaning up, thinking it must have been an indie play written somewhere else, but the only results were from the Squareround’s website and she couldn’t find the author’s name.
The rest of the cast seemed to get used to seeing Quinn with Rachel and eventually just accepted her as an early theatergoer they were performing for. LJ or TJ, she couldn’t tell which, even put a pastry aside for her before they started for the day.
A week before opening night, as Rachel was finishing tidying the stage, Quinn slipped from her usual seat and walked outside. She pulled a cigarette free and reached for her lighter as soon as she hit the cold air.
The lighter’s lid still made the satisfying clink when she closed it and Quinn savored that and the cigarette. This was her last chance for a smoke before she and Rachel grabbed a late lunch or they returned to the Berrys for an early dinner.
Quinn was hoping it was the former instead of the latter. Hiram and LeRoy hadn’t said or done anything beyond normal concern from parents about a new pink haired friend in their daughter’s life, and Quinn didn’t think it would go beyond that - knowing them probably the opposite - but she liked the late lunches better.
Rachel was usually still wound up from the excitement of the stage and it was infectious when she talked about various scenes and how on or off point she felt they were. It let Quinn relive some of the better times from glee club.
"Do you mind?" a voice asked behind her.
Quinn turned and saw Lindsey standing underneath the small marquee overhang with an unlit cigarette held between her fingers.
"Oh. No." Quinn dug out the lighter and flicked it to life for her.
Lindsey leaned in, took a deep drag as the cigarette lit, and nodded her thanks as she exhaled. "Us rebels have to stick together," she said.
"Right." Quinn looked her up and down and saw a young pretty woman with blonde hair wearing a fashionable jacket. She was about as far away from being a rebel as one could get.
"So you are Rachel Berry’s friend, huh?"
It was the first time in ever that she had been described that way, but she was in Rachel’s theater world now so… "Yeah, that’s me."
"What do you think of the play?"
"It’s good. You’re good - I was telling Rachel that after I saw you the first time."
Apparently the rules of flattery she learned from dealing with Rachel worked on all show people because Lindsey instantly brightened. "Really? Oh, I’m so glad. I’m taking acting classes at the community college and this is the biggest role I’ve ever had! You don’t know how grateful I am to Rachel for taking a chance on me."
Quinn frowned at the odd phrasing but shrugged and said, "I’d never know you didn’t have much experience. You play the up-and-comer very well."
"Thank you!" Lindsey leaned in conspiratorially. "Could you put in a good word with Rachel? I know it would mean something coming from you. I’d love to work with her again in one of her next projects."
Quinn snuffed her cigarette butt. "I don’t think that’s up to me. Or Rachel either for that matter."
"Don’t be so sure. A word from a show’s creator goes a long way with casting directors. It’s all about who you know, you know?"
"Not even a little," Quinn said.
Realization spread over Lindsey’s face and her mouth fell open in a perfect O shape.
"What?"
"I thought you knew - everyone did." Lindsey pointed at the theater over her shoulder. "Breath Against The Glass is a Rachel Berry original piece."
~
Quinn came to a stop just short of the stage and stared at Rachel moving around on it, understanding making her skin feel colder than it had outside. She thought back to those first days with her when Rachel had gushed about what a great opportunity this was for the local talent.
All the notes she’d written in the scripts for the other actors. The way she worked with Martin on the direction, preserving the original intent of the scenes she said.
That night in Rachel’s room she had seen the outline for the show on the inspiration corkboard and hadn’t even realized it. The sheet of paper with plot points written out and arrows to show how they fit together. And the Squareround's call looking for talent, she'd just assumed had been for actors.
Other less obvious things too. The way Rachel had wanted to learn how to play a bad girl, mentioning making character notes about the thing she saw around her. Turning to Santana when she thought Quinn might not help.
Oh God…
Quinn thought back to the story line of the play. Rachel’s character was the one in the group that was unable to break out and make it big. She was bitter with her lot in life and was threatening to corrupt the innocence of a fresh faced talent, the one with the best chance of rising above the group.
Cold skin started to turn numb.
"What’s wrong?" Rachel’s voice was chirpy and she was still riding the emotional wave of a successful rehearsal.
Quinn could only stare at her for a long moment. "You wrote this," she said at last.
"Oh." Rachel glanced down sheepishly. "You found out. I was hoping to keep it a secret for at least a little while longer. It wasn’t easy to keep them from publishing my name, but because I’m so young I thought it would only hurt the production. And I didn’t tell you because I know you think of me as a-"
"When the hell did you write a play?"
Sheepish gave away to slightly taken aback. "If you must know, it was after New York. Finn and I parted ways but no one in the club wanted anything to do with me. You were gone heaven knows where. I had a lot of time on my hands and no real outlet to express myself." She waved her hands around indicating the theater, as though that was all the explanation required.
"So you wrote a play about … me?" Quinn was aware the other actors were looking at her but she didn’t stop. She was already humiliated beyond the point of holding back now. "You are me and Lindsey is you."
"What? No. I mean you might have inspired certain themes, yes, but-"
"Oh my God." Quinn thought she might be sick right there in the front row. "All this time … what we … that night when you - oh my God."
"No, no. You are taking this the wrong way."
"Yeah, I see now that I have." She took a step back, then another, and bumped into Allen. Turning, she shoved him violently out of the way and started up the aisle.
Allen fell against several seats and hit the floor but she didn’t slow or look back.
"Quinn!" Rachel raced down the stage stairs and started after her. "Come back!"
"No, Rachel." Quinn pulled out her car keys and blinked away stinging in her eyes. "I don’t want to see you right now. Or ever again. Not here or at school. We are done."
She hit the lobby doors and kept on going through the parking lot.
Behind her, Rachel called out again. No hurt looks were going to work this time - Quinn saw now what a massive manipulation this whole thing had been. And how stupid she’d been to fall for it. Rachel was playing a role, a character she created just to prove to the world how much she considered Quinn a loser.
Quinn peeled out of the parking lot and hit the road directionless. She drove until she couldn’t see the theater in her rearview mirror any longer.
She made it several miles before the dashboard and street ahead of her turned blurry.
Next Chapter