Black Keys
Black Keys
Tagline: “A perfect rainbow never seemed so dull.”
Summary: Love and Lust. Determination and Desire. Feelings and Sex. Student and Teacher. Right and Wrong. Those lines just keep blurring for Rachel Berry lately.
Spoilers: None, seeing as how this story is completely, painfully AU
Rated: Mature Audiences Only!
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel. Rachel/Finn
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings and events thereof, are properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Chapter Three: All I Ask Of You
Rachel has always been excited about Glee club; she has always been eager to show up in a room of great acoustics and prove exactly how much of a star she is, no matter how badly she has been put down by the peers who torture her daily. She has always looked forward to singing the Broadway tunes perfectly matched for her vocals and allowing every emotion she ever kept inside to pour out of her in a melody of a four beats rhythm. But never, in her entire existence at McKinley High, has she been so excited about Glee club that she shows up twenty minutes early.
It is not about Glee club anymore, at least, not the kind that she has learned to know from William Schuester. It is not about sectioning off in groups and finding out how they perform together in a means of melodies and harmonies. It is not about overzealous choreography that seems to put most of the singers in a bad position of lighting and opportunity. Now it is about struggling, it is about challenges, about striving to be the best of the group, not the best group. Now, it is about preparation and self acceptance. No crutches. No excuses. No do-overs. Just one moment. Once chance to make it or break it.
The brunette sits in the front row in a pencil skirt and a red top, her legs crossed as she stares absently at the large clock on the wall, the minute hand carelessly ticking in what seems to be it's own slow pace. Biting her bottom lip, she brushes her curls away from her face, groaning in impatience as her eyes venture downward to the slightly ajar bag that sits at her side. The tan brim of the fedora extends slightly over the edge of her purse, just enough to catch Rachel's eye. She leans forward as she removes the fedora from the bag, her fingers carefully stroking the pattern on the brim, a warm smile playing upon her lips.
“It's raining. You'll catch a cold. Take care of yourself, Berry,” She can still hear her warm voice echoing through her head, the way the pleading vulnerability paints in her hazel swirls. For as awful, for as heartless as she is sure that people think she is, for the same no crap attitude that people cringe about, she knows that there is more heart, more caring to Quinn Fabray than she will ever let any one see. Perhaps, unintentionally, she is exactly what the Glee Club, what Rachel Berry needs.
Her trembling fingers trace the pattern against the brim as she tries to make sense of the warmth that pulses through her veins, the reaction in the pit of her stomach. It does not make sense, how someone so unusual, someone so new, could impact her life in such a way. She does not understand it, why she does not feel threatened, why she does not hate the idea of someone coming in and stealing her spotlight stealing her turf, but all she knows is that she likes the feeling she gets when the tall blond smiles in her direction. Like the missing puzzle piece finally coming together to create the most majestic piece of artwork.
However, she is snapped from her thoughts when the loud chuckles of her peers echo through the room. Glancing up from the fedora she finds the faces of Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Santana Lopez, and Brittany Pierce, all alight with laughter and wonderment that she simply does not understand. And she is not so sure that she would even want to in the first place.
“Well, well, look what we have here. Of course, the princess would show up early for class,” Noah teases with a bellowing laugh and Rachel groans, slipping the fedora back into the bag, careful not to grow her classmate’s suspicions. Laughing forcefully, she twists her fingers in her hair as her eyes find his and he smirks at her.
“Why you are even surprised Puck? You know that she likes to be the best. She has to outshine us all, make a good impression on Ms. Bitch,” Santana snaps, the words falling from her lips like poison, taking her usual seat in the back row beside of Brittany. A feeling surges through Rachel, one that she does not quite understand, a feeling of annoyance, of protectiveness, of pride and anger. She shrugs the feeling away, blaming it simply on knowing that it is understanding the pain of being an outcast, but unbeknownst to her, the reasoning is far deeper than she would ever understand. At least not now.
“You know, perhaps if you would take a moment out of your precious time, that you spend painting your nails or finding someone else to bully because they are far more of an exceptional person than you are, and put that unattractive personal pride of yours aside to realize that this world revolves around one single spot in the universe and maybe, just maybe, that spot is not you, Santana. Then you would realize that Ms. Fabray has more to offer us than what I am sure you have already assumed now. Maybe if you actually gave her a chance and did what was asked of you, you would realize that she is not that terrible of a person,” snaps Rachel, her eyes darting to the Latina sitting behind her. Santana scoffs with a hard roll of her eyes, a playful smirk playing upon her lips.
“Right. And you're Mother Theresa. Face it, Man Hands, Ms. Bitch is a bitch. A cold, heartless bitch who burnt out on Broadway so now she is here to make our lives a living hell. She is not a saint just because you think that she can carry a tune and she praises you for the fact that you have decent vocals,” Santana rolls her eyes in annoyance and Rachel shakes her head at the accusation.
“That tone is completely unnecessary. This is not about my amazing range and vocals,” Rachel states and Santana slaps her knee.
“Of course that is all you heard. Of freakin' course,” Santana groans, straightening out the ends of her skirt, refusing to make contact with the diva at this point. With a wrinkled brow, Rachel studies the Latina, fuming with annoyance but prided with such undeniable beauty. Sometimes Rachel did not understand how someone so beautifully passionate could be so hostile. Unnoticed, Mercedes, Kurt, Mike, Matt, Tiny and Artie have managed to mingle into the room now and are absently listening to the conversation.
“You are judging her all wrong. You don't understand her. But I suppose that is something that should not surprise me. She is complex and you would know nothing about being complex, now, would you?” Rachel retorts with a taunting laugh, brushing her brunette hair away from her face and Noah snorts a laugh.
“Would you open your eyes, Berry? I mean, just fucking open them for fucks sakes! And stop living in a fantasy world. Quinn 'fuck me' Fabray was a Broadway failure. Who in their right mind would give up Broadway to come here and teach some out of control teenagers about singing? She failed. She may have had a nice voice but obviously, fame is not her business. She is a Lima Loser just like the rest of us and she will take it out on us that she is now a Lima loser, that she was so close to having her dream but lost it. You may think she is this amazing Goddess because she was on Broadway but in case you haven't noticed, she isn't exactly drawing in the audiences every night, is she? She crashed, she burned and now she is nothing but a bitter wash up. Accept it,” Noah snaps and Rachel groans, grinding her teeth down hard. She opens her mouth to speak, but, however, the voice that comes out, is not her own.
“Alright. That is enough,” It is the voice of Quinn Fabray that echoes from the doorway as she stands, leaning against it, papers in hand. Suddenly, as if stating something unmentionable, the room falls to a ceasing quiet, so quiet that the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the clock. Studying the slender body in the doorway, the pained expression upon her face, Rachel Berry's heart shatters completely.
“Ms. Fabray, how long have you been standing there?” Noah asks, sheepishly looking down as he scratches his head absently. With a shaky breath, the blond shakes her head as she pushes herself forward, her eyes scanning the group of teenagers who have all managed to show up for rehearsal, despite their painful dislike for her.
“It doesn't matter. Because unlike the egotistical people that most of you are, I do not care if you like me or dislike me. I do not lay awake at night, crying because people don't care for me. I am not here to make friends, I am here to do my job. Just like all of you are here to do your job. I do not care about your opinions or your thoughts of me. But I do suggest you keep them to yourselves, just like I keep my thoughts of about you to myself. It is the professional thing to do,” Quinn instructs, opening the manilla folder as she shuffles through the papers.
“Aha! So you have been thinking about me! I knew you couldn't resist The Puck!” Noah laughs and Quinn snickers, turning around with a smile as she shakes her head.
“You are really just not used to girls saying no to you, are you, Noah? The ladies here in Lima must be really desperate,” Quinn quips with a laugh before she begins passing out the sheet music.
“So, it has been brought to my attention that Mr. Schuester likes for you to perform mostly contemporary music. With these mash ups and covers and whatever else he has you doing. He thinks that it will further your advancement in the competition, that it will get you noticed and perhaps he is right. But what Mr. Schuester fails to realize is that the advisers are not just looking for kids who can sing the Bieber fever but they are looking for kids who can sing well and sing classy songs. Which is why one female and one male lead is going to sing this,” Quinn explains, handing Rachel a sheet of the music with a smile before stepping back to observe the kids.
“Phantom of The Opera? Isn't that some lame ass Disney movie back in the 90's?” Noah questions, a bewildered look upon his face.
“Wow, Noah. I never pictured you as a Disney kid growing up. Please, enlighten me. Were you exposed to anything else besides the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse?” Quinn teases with a laugh.
“No, Noah. It is an opera about these two lovers. Raoul and Christine. But Christine is kidnapped one night by the Phantom as she is recalling stories of her late father because he has fallen in love with her after watching her many performances. He is upset about her love for Raoul and he wants her to be his bride for all eternity instead of Raoul's. He opens up to her while she is within his grasp as she awaits to be rescued by her great love Raoul and she soon realizes that the masked man who has always been known as the Opera Ghost is a genuine soul who has hidden his disfigured face for all of his life to avoid the stares and rude gestures. She loves him but she is not in love with him the same way that she is with Raoul. And in the end, he lets her go and be with Raoul because he loves her enough to want her to be happy, even if that means that she is happy with someone else. It is such a beautiful musical,” Rachel swoons, thumbing through the music in her hands and Noah rolls his eyes as Quinn smiles at her.
“Seen it a few times, have you?” jokes Quinn.
“My dads took me to watch it on Broadway once and ever since then, I have been waiting for a love like that. I have the musical purchased and soundtrack on my Ipod. Andrew Lloyd Webber is a phenomenal composer,” Rachel giggles with a smile and Quinn can only smile back at her, nodding her head as she glances at the papers in her hands.
“Right. Which is why you will be singing the role of Christine, Rachel. And the role of Raoul will be sung by.... Finn,” Quinn directs, her attention now turned to the football jock who sits beside of Rachel, cradling the wrinkled papers in his hands. Glancing up at the mentioning of his name, Finn stares at Quinn with wide eyes, shaking his head slightly.
“Oh no. No. This part is not meant for me. I-I mean my vocals. I can't.. I can't sing this song with Rachel. I.. um..” He forces a dry cough, “I'm sick and I would hate to ruin it for her.” He fakes another cough again and to this Quinn forces a laugh at this. Sometimes she wonders how Will Schuester got anything accomplished in this group of overly prided teenagers.
“So sorry to hear that, hopefully you will get well soon enough to shamelessly flirt with Rachel after rehearsal even though she is clearly not interested,” Quinn jabs, “how about you Noah?”
“What? Me? No. This is a chick opera. And while Puck does chicks, he does not do chick songs,” Puck states, pushing his hands out in front of him. Rolling her eyes dramatically, her hand curves at her waist as she looks around the group who all just somehow magically manage to avoid eye contact with her. Sighing, Quinn's eyes scan the sheet of music before she looks up at Rachel with a smile.
“Looks like it is you and me, Berry. Let's show them how it is done,” Quinn instructs, walking behind the marble piano as she sits down on the bench, her hands gently finding the keys that play the all too familiar tune. The brunette nervously walks over to the piano, glancing down at the music in front of her before adverting her attention to the instructor.
“Are you... are you sure you want to do this? This is a love song and I know that I have an open mind because my two dads are gay but...”
“Just sing, Berry,” laughs Quinn, amused at the fact that such a diva actually cares about what people would think about her. As the room falls silent, her fingers press against the white keys, the beautiful melody flowing from her fingertips and echoing through the acoustic room. Almost majestically, her body moves with the melody, shifting and gliding through the notes before her eyes become fixated upon the brunette.
“No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you.,” Quinn sings and when the words escape from her, the entire room is suddenly and very painfully awe struck at the beauty, at the sound of such depths and arrangements of notes, “Let me be your freedom. Let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you. To guard you and to guide you.” She sings to Rachel, counting the soft swirls of innocence and wonderment in her eyes as her hands continue to move through the arrangement of notes.
“Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you need me with you now and always. Promise me that all you say is true. That's all I ask of you,” Rachel sings, her voice soaring through the melodic arrangement, disregarding the papers to the side as she focuses solely on Quinn.
“Let me be your shelter, let me be your light, you're safe, no one will find you, your fears are far behind you,” serenades Quinn.
“All I want is freedom, a world with no more night And you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me,” Rachel sings, taking a careful step toward Quinn who is now shifting through another arrangement of powerful notes, her eyes perfectly fixated upon the brunette in front of her. The smile curls innocently upon her lips and she almost wonders if Rachel sees it until she sees the smile that is forming back.
“Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude, say you need me with you, here beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too, that's all I ask of you,” sings Quinn, closing her eyes for a moment as the notes flow through her.
“Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime, say the word and I will follow you,” Rachel smiles. Slowly, Quinn stands above the piano, her fingers still gliding and dancing across the keys before she hits the powerhouse of the harmony and their bodies, much like their voices, seem to almost collide.
“Share each day with me , each night, each morning,” they harmonize.
“Say you love me,” almost whispers Rachel as Quinn steps closer to her.
“You know I do,”
“Love me, that is all I ask of you,” they blend their voices together one last time as Quinn moves through the last arrangement of notes and the music, like the time, seemingly manages to fall away. Through the silence and labored breathing of the two singers, they can only stare at one another, a soft, confident smile curling upon their faces. Suddenly a burst of applause echoes from their peers and the two of them can only share a short laugh, before Quinn shifts through the paper and Rachel returns back to her seat. Both painfully shrugging away the situation, the moment, the surging feeling, both too painfully naïve to ignore the chemistry that suddenly every one, including a jealous Finn, has noticed.
“Alright, so I will see you all here tomorrow. Same place, same time and be prepared to sing something classy. Finn, I suggest you take some Delsym for that cough. It will clear it up in twenty-four hours!” Quinn instructs as she dismisses the class. The teens grumble, each discussing the song, the performance and what is happening after the game tonight and for a moment, one single moment, Quinn almost misses it. She misses the innocence, the wonderment, the curiosity, the freedom of it all. She misses throwing caution to the wind, she misses the way that it feels to dream and not hold anything back, she misses the way that it feels to mean something, to believe in love even when love isn't present. For a moment, Quinn is almost jealous.
For a moment, she almost wishes she had never...
“Ms. Fabray,” The voice of Rachel calls out to her and she turns around to find the brunette standing behind her, bag clutched under her shoulder. Quinn sighs, running her fingers through her hair before she turns her attention absently to the papers that are scattered around her.
“Are we making these after school specials a habit, Berry? Because you know this is high school and people do talk,” Quinn retorts, flipping through the sheet music, placing the next musical number in the front of the manilla folder as she contemplates who should have the lead. Rachel studies her for a long moment, the way that her golden hair falls gently down her back, the way that her small shaped face is framed with all the lines that tell a story of where she has been and a story of where she is going; she is intrigued by her, by her story. She is not a Lima Loser, no, Rachel shakes her head, she is something by far much more.
“I really enjoyed singing with you today. You have amazing vocal depths and nobody could have carried that arrangement like you did. It is always a welcome surprise to have someone who can harmonize with me without me overshadowing them. So, thank you,” Rachel exclaims and Quinn glances over at her, hazel eyes meeting a beautiful brown and she wrinkles her brow for a moment. Rachel Berry is the most complex creature that she has ever seen, this is truthfully so.
“Yeah. Sure. You're... welcome or whatever,” Quinn replies, shaking her head in confusion before she closes the manilla folder and reaches for her messenger bag to place it back inside. Sometimes she feels like she spends more time in McKinley High now than when she was actually a student, and sometimes, very much like now, she feels nostalgic about the freedom she once had. Because now she cannot do the things that she truly wants to.
“I have something that belongs to you,” Rachel breaks the silence as she opens her own bag that has been nestled at her side. Shuffling inside, she pulls out the brimmed fedora, running her fingers along the edge of it as Quinn turns to face her. Glancing down, she notices the fedora in her hand and she smiles.
“You know.. I heard you today. With.. Santana and Puck...”
“Santana and Puck are two very egotistical, ignorant people who think that the entire universe revolves around them and if one person dares to challenge that... I am sorry that you had to hear that. I am sure that you are not a Lima Loser and you are something, they are just jealous that...” Rachel rambles on before Quinn laughs, placing her hands on her shoulders as she grasps her tightly, stopping her. Brown eyes find a delicate pair of hazel and instantly, for a split second, the world manages to cease around them.
“Stop. Stop. Don't apologize for them. I just... I wanted to say thank you. It was really nice that you stood up for me the way that you did, especially considering.... nobody has ever done that for me before. Nobody has ever stood up for me or believed in me like that enough to protect me. And I know that I said that I didn't care about what they thought and I don't, I really don't because why should I care about what teenagers think about me, right?” Quinn pauses for a quick laugh, “but I just wanted to say thank you. It really... it means a lot to me.” The blond smiles with a soft nod of her head before she releases the brunette, turns on her heels prepared to leave.
“Oh! Wait, Ms. Fabray!” Rachel calls out to her and Quinn stops, turning around with a soft smile, “You forgot this.” Rachel states, reaching the fedora toward her. To this, the blond smiles with a quiet giggle, shaking her head as she bites her bottom lip. She takes the fedora from the brunette and places it atop of her head with a confident, beaming smile.
“No, you keep it. You look cuter in it than I ever would, away,” Quinn smiles, running her fingers along the brim of the fedora before she pulls her hand away, “you take care, Berry.” She winks before she turns, pushing the messenger's bag onto her shoulder and disappearing out the door. Rachel watches her for a moment until she disappears and then she lets out a breath of air and a wide smile spreads onto her face.
What is this feeling that aches in the pit of her stomach?
Well, she isn't entirely sure but she knows one thing for sure.
She certainly likes the feeling that Quinn Fabray leaves her with.