Fic: Identity (3/9) Part 2
Dinner was at Breadstix, which wasn’t a huge surprise, but Quinn had no complaints about the food, or the company in which she ate. Rachel’s dads had been tremendously happy for her, and she revelled in the feeling that she was finally getting closer to figuring out who she really was.
“Dad?” Rachel asked James while they waited for their meals.
“Yes, dear?”
“Did either of you ever meet the Fabrays? I mean, we’ve lived here my whole life, and the town’s not that big.”
“I’m afraid not,” he shook his head. “We probably passed them on the street, but I don’t remember ever speaking to them, and I certainly couldn’t pick them out of a lineup. They moved away a long time ago, after all.”
“Do you know where they lived?”
“Why, sweetheart?”
“I thought maybe we could drive past the house - find out if Quinn’s ever seen it?”
“I’ll ask around,” James promised.
“If the police let me have that money,” Quinn promised, “I’m totally going to pay you back for everything - you’ve been amazing to me, you know? I don’t think many people would invite a stranger in off the street and do what you guys have done.”
“I think we need a moratorium on you thanking us,” Tom teased. “We’ll discuss it, if you get that money. In the meantime, are you going to keep going to school with Rachel?”
“I guess,” Quinn mused. “I mean, if they’ll keep letting me wander campus without being enrolled.”
“Actually,” James cleared his throat, “we had a thought about that. We’re going to come with you girls to school tomorrow morning.”
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“So,” Quinn asked softly as the two of them watched television that night, “are we going to talk about it at all?”
“About what?” Rachel swallowed.
“Don’t do that - do something else, anything else, but please don’t pretend,” Quinn begged, “that you don’t know what I mean. Because it has to have meant something to you too, and if you pretend it never happened, then-” she trailed off, helplessly.
“I - I’m uncertain what to say. What I should say, or what you’re expecting me to say.”
“How about I just ask you some questions, then, and you can just answer them?”
“I suppose that would be acceptable.”
“Are you mad at me for kissing you?” Quinn sounded very small.
“No!” Rachel protested, taking her hand. “No, I promise. I’m a lot of things - confused, largely - but certainly not angry.”
“Did,” Quinn cleared her throat. “Did you like it?”
“Yes - a lot. Hence my confusion.”
“Could I kiss you again sometimes?” Quinn’s voice was barely audible.
“I would like that, a great deal.”
“Oh, good.” Relieved, Quinn did just that. “Don’t worry,” she promised. “I - I’m not asking for anything more than that. I’m confused too - I’m still trying to figure all this out - but I like you, Rachel. I like spending time with you. You make me smile.”
Rachel instigated the next kiss. “I like you too, Quinn. And as long as you promise to kiss me like that from time to time, I can be patient while we figure out exactly what we mean to each other, and what to do about it.”
“I can do that,” Quinn kissed her again. “So, what are watching?”
“Singin’ in the Rain.” Rachel brandished the remote for the dvd player and looked at her expectantly.
“Uh - what are you looking at me like that for?”
“Well, I thought you’d be excited,” she frowned, “which I now realise was absurd, since even if you’d seen it, you wouldn’t necessarily remember seeing it. I’m sorry.”
“You’ll just have to bear with me while you teach me how great it is,” Quinn smiled, putting an arm around Rachel and pulling her closer.
“I suppose,” Rachel giggled. “It will be a trial, but I’ll soldier on.”
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Friday’s dawn found them sharing a bed - Rachel’s this time, rather than the guest room, as they’d fallen asleep in front of the television. This time, however, Rachel’s alarm woke them in plenty of time to have a leisurely breakfast, interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.
James pushed back from the table and answered it to find a small woman in an absurdly bright pantsuit, wielding a clipboard. “Hello,” she said, too loudly. “We’re collecting signatures, and I hope we can count on yours.”
“Signatures for...” he prodded.
“We’re petitioning city hall!” she proclaimed. “The police are trying to obtain permission to exhume a grave in Gethsemani cemetery, and we’re demanding that the city put a stop to it!”
“What grave?” he asked, confused.
“Little Quinn Fabray - it’s inhuman, wanting to dig up that poor little baby! Let her rest in peace!” James looked back at Quinn, who quirked an eyebrow.
“Actually,” he said seriously, “Quinn Fabray is having breakfast with us right now, so I don’t think we need to worry too much about it.”
The woman’s face hardened. “If you don’t want to sign, you could have just said so. There’s no need to be insulting.” She turned and stomped away, approaching the neighbours’ house. James closed the door, shaking his head.
“Are you okay?” Rachel put a hand on Quinn’s shoulder.
“I’m fine,” Quinn smiled. “Really. It’s a little weird, sure, but - well, it’s not me down there, right? So if this’ll help clear things up, it doesn’t bother me. Actually,” she mused, “it sort of makes me want to go to the cemetery. How often do you get to dance on your own grave?”
Rachel slapped her on the arm. “That’s awful!”
“But kind of funny, though.”
“So,” Rachel changed the subject, addressing her dads, “you’re coming to school with us?”
“Yes,” Tom nodded. “We’re going to talk to your Principal and see if he’ll accept Quinn on a provisional basis until her documents and school records can be located.”
“But only,” James gave him a look, “if you want that, Quinn. We don’t want to force you to do anything.”
“I do - I mean, I should probably keep going to school for now. Isn’t that going to cost a fortune, though?”
“It’s public school,” Rachel corrected her. “There are fees for sports and things, but tuition is covered by taxes.”
“Oh. Well, then yes - I’d like that.”
“You’ll probably have to write placement exams,” James warned. “To show you’re qualified to be in the same grade as Rachel is.”
“I take it back,” Quinn moaned, putting her head in her hands. “Maybe I don’t want to do this.”
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It took phone calls to the school board and to the Lima police to clarify Quinn’s situation, but in the end Figgins gave his permission.
“You may shadow Miss Berry again today,” he warned Quinn, “but as of next week you’ll need to write the placement exams.”
“Sure,” she agreed, nearly bouncing out of the office to join Rachel in the hall. “We’re good,” she grinned. “What’s first?”
“Bio.”
“On a Friday morning? Crap.”
“But on the plus side,” Rachel added cheerily, “you can officially join Glee Club now, which I must say I’m very excited about.”
Quinn felt a hand on her arm and whipped around, barely controlling the urge to run. Puck, it turned out, owned the hand in question, and she slapped it away angrily. “Don’t touch me,” she warned, her voice low. “Don’t you ever touch me, unless I ask you to. Which I never will. Clear?”
“Whatever, freak,” he dismissed her, walking away to rejoin his football teammates.
“Quinn?” Rachel whispered.
“I’m fine,” she tried to still her hands, which shook slightly. “At least I didn’t try to kick anybody this time, right?” she choked a bit on the last word, and Rachel hugged her.
“You’re doing great,” she whispered. “We’ll go to bio, and you can pretend the frog is Puckerman.” Quinn laughed.
“I’m not sure if that’ll make me more or less nauseous about it.”
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“Quinn!” Will greeted her excitedly as they entered the choir room. “Figgins tells me you’re officially enrolled now.”
Quinn shot a sweet smile at Santana, who was glaring at her from the back of the room. “Yes, Mister Schue - assuming I pass the placement exams next week. I wondered if - after Rachel has her solo, of course - I could audition for Glee?”
“Absolutely! We’d be glad to have you. Rachel, the floor is yours,” he gestured.
Quinn couldn’t have identified the song afterward - she barely heard a word of it. She watched, though, enthralled by Rachel’s passion. The way her lips seemed to caress every word that left her mouth, the adorable crinkle of her forehead when she shut her eyes to draw power and volume from her whole body - there wasn’t a part of the girl that wasn’t amazing. Quinn wriggled awkwardly on the uncomfortable choir room chair, feeling a very discernible low-down tickle as she watched the performance.
When the song was over, Quinn applauded along with everyone else - but the hungry look in her eyes stopped Rachel short for a second. When she took her seat their legs brushed, and Quinn barely held in a moan.
“Quinn?”
“Huh?” her attention snapped back to the front of the room. “Sorry, Mister Schue - drifted off for a sec there.”
“I was just asking if there was a particular song you wanted to sing.”
“Uh - is there any sheet music I could look through?”
“Sure,” Will retrieved a book from the piano and handed it to her. “Now, while Quinn chooses a song, let’s talk about next week’s assignment. After Rachel and Quinn’s performance yesterday, I think we need to talk about duets,” he wrote the word on the whiteboard. “It’s important that you guys - all of you - learn to work together, to trust each other. Sectionals aren’t too far away, and we need to be ready. We’re going to draw names, because I don’t want everyone pairing up with a person they’re already comfortable with.” There was a bang from behind him, and he jumped. Quinn blushed, picking up the book of music.
“Sorry.” Rachel looked intently at her - the colour had drained from her face, and she could see her hand trembling.
“Quinn-“ she whispered.
“Don’t,” Quinn shook her head. “Not now, please. I’ll tell you after, okay?”
“All right,” Rachel squeezed her knee.
“I’ve got one now,” Quinn announced. “May I?”
“Of course.”
Rachel was sure the others couldn’t see the subtle signs of strain as Quinn walked over to the piano to tell Brad what the song was, but she definitely could. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, and her smile was just a bit too wide.
“Okay,” Quinn said, too loudly. She winced and lowered her voice. “I remember most of this, I think, but it might be a bit sloppy. I’ve only seen it once,” she smiled at Rachel as the music began.
“Beautiful girl, you’re a lovely picture
Beautiful girl, you’re a gorgeous mixture
Of all that lies, under the big blue skies
My heart cries...
Beautiful girl, you're a dazzling eyeful
Beautiful girl, I could never trifle,
If I had you, you'd be my dream come true.
They may be blondes or brunettes
They are hard to resist
You surpass them like a queen
You’ve got those lips
That were meant to be kissed
And you’re over sweet sixteen
Oh, Beautiful girl, what a gorgeous creature
Beautiful girl, let me call a preacher
What can I do
But give my heart to you
A beautiful girl is like a great work of art.
She’s stylish, she’s chic and she also is smart.
For lounging in her boudoir, this simple plain pyjama.
Her cloak his trimmed with monkey fur to lend a dash of drama.
Anyone for tennis? This will make them cringe,
And you’ll knock ’em dead at dinner if your gown just drips with fringe.
You simply can’t be too modest at the beach or at the pool.
And in summer time it’s organdy, that’ll keep you fresh and cool.
You’ll never guess what loud applause this cunning hat receives,
And you'll never dream the things that you could hide within these sleeves.
A string of pearls with a suit of tweed, it started quite a riot.
And if you must wear fox to the opera, dame fashion says dye it.
Black is best when you are in court.
The judge will be impressed,
But white is right when you’re a bride
And you'll want to be well dressed.
Beautiful girl, for you I’ve got a passion
Beautiful girl, you’re my queen of fashion
I’m in a whirl, over my beautiful girl.”
Rachel very nearly swooned.