Title: Identity
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: Cranking up to NC-17 for this chapter, due to some real unpleasantness. Hopefully nothing trigger-y, but best be cautious.
Spoilers: Up to and including 1x3 "Acafellas," but it's so AU that it's not likely to spoil anything.
Summary: AU. One morning at McKinley High, a girl who no one knows, who can't remember her own name, appears in the halls. She's short, blonde, and carrying a piece of paper that reads "Quinn Fabray."
Rachel put a finger to her lips, pointing upstairs to indicate that Quinn was still asleep, as she entered the living room hours later.
“Is she okay?” Tom asked, keeping his voice at a whisper.
“I think so.”
“What happened?”
“We were out at the cemetery - Quinn wanted to see the grave marker. But we were only there briefly, and a woman arrived and interrupted us. Quinn’s sister, as it turns out.”
“Oh,” James sat back on the couch. “Did she know?”
“Neither of them did, or does. Quinn doesn’t remember a sister, and Frannie was told that her sister was stillborn. It was quite shocking for them both.”
“Was she any help in locating their parents?”
“Unfortunately not,” Rachel frowned. “She and her mother have been out of touch for some time, and she believes their father is in prison in Mexico, for crime related to a gambling problem.”
“I’m surprised Quinn’s not with her sister,” Tom mused.
“It was far too overwhelming,” Rachel shook her head. “She could barely stand, even with me assisting her, when we left the police station. I invited Frannie to come for dinner tomorrow night - I thought Quinn might be able to cope better in a familiar environment.”
“I think that’s a good idea, Rachel.”
“No! NO!” the scream from upstairs split the quiet of the house as if to contradict Rachel’s words, and she didn’t bother even looking to her dads before rocketing up the stairs and into her room. Quinn was still asleep, but there were wet tears on her cheeks and she swung wildly at someone who wasn’t there. Rachel climbed into the bed, dodging a flailing arm to whisper in Quinn’s ear.
“Quinn! It’s me, Quinn, I’m right here,” her mind raced as she tried to recall the term of endearment Quinn had used the day before. “Mi amor,” she whispered as it came back to her, “Quinn, sweetheart, I’m here. Wake up, honey, please.”
Quinn jerked awake and sat up, looking wildly around the room. “Rachel?” she cried.
“I’m here, Quinn, I’m right here. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”
Quinn flopped back on the bed, crying quietly, and Rachel gathered her in her arms. “What were you dreaming about?”
Quinn shook her head. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Of course I want to know, Quinn, it obviously greatly upset you - what was it?”
“I know where the baby’s from,” she shuddered, her teeth chattering. “I didn’t - I didn’t want to. He made me.”
“Wait - made you? Quinn - did someone-” Rachel couldn’t bring herself to say the word aloud. Unable to answer aloud, Quinn nodded against Rachel’s chest.
Her vision tinged red at the edges with pure fury, Rachel rocked her gently. “Who - who did this to you, Quinn?”
“I don’t know!” Quinn cried. “I can’t see that part. I just - he made me!” she repeated.
“It’s all okay now,” Rachel assured her with a conviction she didn’t feel. “It’s all over now, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, okay? Not ever again.” Quinn clutched at her like a life preserver, and Rachel sang softly to her.
“You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine.
You make me happy,
When skies are grey.
You'll never know, dear,
How much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away”
Quinn was asleep again before the last line, but Rachel didn’t leave her this time. She sat, instead, holding the girl against her and plotting elaborate revenge fantasies against whoever had hurt her. Tom and James came upstairs nearly an hour later and Rachel met their gaze, her eyes smouldering.
“What was it?” James asked quietly.
“She, uh, she was having a nightmare. She had another memory come back, but,” Rachel choked back a sob. “It wasn’t a pleasant one.”
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“Her,” Rachel could hardly get the sentence out, “her baby. It was - that is, she, she remembered the circumstances of its conception. It - it was the product of a sexual assault,” Rachel trembled, “she doesn’t know who was responsible, however.”
James gasped, and Tom put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s good that you stayed with her, Rachel. Can we get you anything?”
“A heavy weapon, and someone to swing it at.”
“Get in line,” James growled, angrier than Rachel had ever heard him. “Anything else?”
“Could you get me a soda? I’m a bit parched.”
“I’ll have one too,” Quinn whispered into her shoulder.
“Quinn!” Rachel jumped. “I’m so sorry - I didn’t realise you were awake, or I wouldn’t have been talking about you like you weren’t here.”
“It’s okay,” Quinn didn’t raise her head. “I’m glad you told them - I couldn’t have. A soda would be good, though.”
“Of course,” Tom promised. He and James disappeared down the stairs.
“Are you - no, that’s a stupid question, and I won’t ask it. What can I do, Quinn? Tell me - I’ll do anything, anything in the world.”
“Just stay with me,” Quinn trembled. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Remembering was supposed to be good - but everything that comes back is like another punch in the stomach, you know? It’s like there isn’t anything good about my old life to remember at all.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rachel whispered.
“Maybe I don’t want to know anymore. Maybe it’s better.”
“I don’t know if you can stop the memories, Quinn - you don’t need to force yourself to try and remember, though, either. Did you want me to call your sister? I can tell her not to come over tomorrow.”
“No,” Quinn shook her head. “That wouldn’t be fair to her. Just promise you’ll stay with me.”
“Always.”
James returned with two glasses of soda, and put a small pill on the bedside table. “That’s for you, Quinn - don’t take it if you don’t want it, but it’ll help you sleep.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. “I might try and stay awake for a few hours, though. I don’t want to dream anymore right now.”
“I understand. What can I get you two for dinner?”
“Is it dinnertime already?” Quinn blinked. She looked up at Rachel. “Could we go out? Just the two of us?” She looked back at James shamefacedly. “I’m sorry - it’s just-“
“Say no more,” he shook his head. “I’m sure the last thing you want right now is male company. Have a nice time, girls - hopefully the restaurants aren’t too busy just yet. We’ll see you tonight.” He disappeared back down the stairs.
“I hurt his feelings,” Quinn whispered.
“Absolutely not!” Rachel promised. “He understands, Quinn, I assure you. Where did you want to go?”
“Somewhere nice,” Quinn said. “I want to get dressed up, and I want to take you out to dinner, and I want to forget all of this for a while. I just want to be on a date with you. I’m sure that’s not the healthy way I’m supposed to deal with this, and I know it doesn’t make any sense, but-”
“I’ve got just the place,” Rachel pulled away, immediately missing Quinn’s warmth against her side. “I don’t need to understand it, Quinn - I’ll still respect it.”
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Even with the dark circles under her eyes and her slightly unsteady gait, Rachel thought Quinn had never looked more beautiful. The dress, picked from the selection she’d bought the second time she’d shopped with Rachel, was a dark green that brought out her eyes, cut low in the back and paired with dark stockings. She’d traded her tennis shoes for a pair of ballet flats, and she looked like a dream.
“Is this okay?” she asked shyly. “I don’t have heels or anything to go with this.”
“Much better than okay,” Rachel assured her. “You look exquisite.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Quinn smiled. Rachel wore a black dress that clung in all the right places, with low heels and a light sweater.
“Shall we?” Rachel offered her arm, and they walked outside - a taxi waited at the curb, and Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not taking you on a date and making you walk.”
“And the hits just keep on coming,” Quinn rolled her eyes as the waiter at the Main Street Bistro escorted them to their table - right next to one occupied by Santana and Brittany. Santana opened her mouth - and then winced, clutching her shin, as Quinn and Rachel took their seats. She scowled at Brittany, who just shook her head.
“Any recommendations?” Quinn looked through the menu. Rachel shook her head.
“I’ve never eaten here before - it was just the only fancy place I could recall in Lima.”
“I guess there’s no chance of me getting a drink?” Rachel shook her head, but Santana leaned over from the next table.
“What do you want? My dad knows the guy that owns this place. I can get you a drink.”
Quinn looked at her, trying to gauge whether she should reply or not. Finally, the desire for a drink won out. “A glass of wine. Red, preferably.”
“Cool. Anything for you, man-hands?” Quinn glared. “Sorry. Anything for you, Rachel?”
“I - uh, I’m not really a big drinker.”
“Two glasses of wine,” Quinn said. “Thanks, Santana.”
“No problem. I’ll leave you two alone, I just happened to overhear - I’ll get the waiter to bring your wine.” She returned her attention to Brittany, and Quinn turned back to Rachel.
“I think I’ll have steak,” Quinn nodded decisively. “How about you?”
“The vegetable stir-fry looks nice,” Rachel indicated the table on the other side of theirs. “Quinn, I don’t mean to interfere with your decisions, but should you be drinking?” She looked over at Santana, well within earshot. “All things considered?”
“I’m only having a glass, I promise. Now, if this is a date,” Quinn heard Santana’s sharp gasp next to her, but didn’t look over, “then you should tell me about yourself.”
“Well,” Rachel smiled, “My name is Rachel Berry. I was born here in Lima - my fathers conceived by way of a surrogate.”
“Do you know anything about your birth mother?”
“No - I’ve never really asked about her. I think it would hurt my dads’ feelings. I’m Jewish, and I’m a vegan.”
“Didn’t you have eggs the first night I stayed at your house?”
“No, you had eggs - I got my dads to make some for you. Neither of them is vegan, by the way, in case you were wondering.”
“Well, Tom told me he liked cheeseburgers, so I didn’t think so.”
Conversation came to a halt as a waiter arrived with two glasses of wine and took their orders. Quinn took a long pull from the wine, smiling. “That is exactly what I needed. Do you like it, Rachel?” She sipped the wine carefully and made a face, and Quinn chuckled. “I take it that’s a no?”
“It’s not the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Rachel admitted. “I’m glad that you’re enjoying it, though.”
“So, what else do I need to know about Rachel Berry, future superstar?”
“I think you’ve gotten to know me pretty well over the last few days, Quinn - there’s not much I can tell you that you don’t know already.”
“Well, then,” Quinn chuckled, “there’s the small talk out of the way. What are we going to sing for Glee next week?”
“Well,” Rachel got more animated, as Quinn had known she would, “that depends. Normally, I’d vote for one of the classics. But I think your range might be better suited to a more modern piece. I’ve got a few ideas, actually - I’ll run through them with you at home, so you can listen to them.”
“Good call - telling me titles isn’t going to do much good.”
“I assumed as much.”
Their dinner arrived, and conversation was again curtailed. At some point, Santana and Brittany slipped out quietly, without either Rachel or Quinn noticing. When they asked for the check, though, the waiter shook his head. “It’s been paid.”
“What? By who?”
“Miss Santana,” he nodded at the empty table. “Have a lovely night, ladies.”
“Why would she do that?” Rachel asked as Quinn helped her into her sweater.
“I don’t know - she’s got some kind of angle, though. Look - I hope it was okay that I said we were on a date,” Quinn scowled. “I sort of forgot she was there until afterward - I’m sure it’ll be all over school by Monday.”
“That’s not a problem,” Rachel took her hand, leading her outside. “Whether it’s being a star or being your girlfriend, I’m not going to hide who I am from anyone. That’s just not me.”
Quinn kissed her - just a peck on the cheek, but it was enough to send a quiet thrill though the both of them.
“So - where to?” Rachel asked, flushed. “Where else can I take you?”
“The movies?” Quinn suggested. “I know we’re a bit over-dressed for it, but I’d like to sit in the dark with you for a while.”
“I don’t know what might be playing.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Quinn smiled. “The movie’s not really the point.”
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They’d sat, curled up together in the back of the theatre, and didn’t remember a thing about the film when the lights came back up. Quinn stretched. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “I needed this, a lot - to just feel normal for a few hours, you know?”
“It was my absolute pleasure,” Rachel smiled. “Can I take you home?”
“Pretty forward for a first date,” Quinn tapped her chin thoughtfully with one finger. “But in this case, I guess it’s okay.”
“You’re such a dork,” Rachel jabbed her in the side, making her squeal.
“I’m a dork?” Quinn was indignant. “Name the cast of Singin’ in the Rain.” Rachel did, and she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “See? Case closed.”
“Knowing the classics doesn’t make me a dork,” Rachel protested. “It makes me worldly.”
“You call it whatever makes you okay with it,” Quinn patted her head indulgently.
“You’re so mean.”
“And yet, you’re going to take me home anyway.”
“I suppose,” Rachel allowed grudgingly, grinning.
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Quinn was on Rachel the minute her bedroom door closed, kissing her fervently. For a moment all she could do was stand there and give in, but finally her conscious mind seized control and she pushed the other girl away, not forcefully but deliberately enough to get the point across.
“Quinn, stop.”
“Rachel - I need this.”
“I,” Rachel dodged a kiss, “I don’t think you do, Quinn. I think you’re trying to replace a bad memory with a good one. Yesterday you worried about going too fast, and now you’re all over me. That suggests-”
“You don’t want me,” Quinn’s eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t be silly - it’s inconceivable how much I want you. But if you do this for the wrong reasons, which I suspect is what you’re doing, you’re going to regret it. I don’t want either of us to do something we’ll regret tomorrow. I don’t want that between us.”
Quinn looked ready to fight, but the expression evaporated after a moment, and she looked like Rachel imagined she must feel - exhausted, and very small. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I think I would. Can we go to bed? I need you close to me right now.”
“Of course,” they changed - Rachel in the bathroom, Quinn in her bedroom - and crawled into Rachel’s bed.
“I’m so sorry,” Quinn whispered in the dark.
“For what?” Rachel’s confusion came through in her voice. “Trying to-“
“That I can’t,” Quinn’s voice shook, “that you can’t be my first. That I can’t give that to you.”
“Quinn Fabray,” Rachel’s voice rose sharply in volume, and she snapped the bedside lamp on. “Look at me, this instant!” she pulled her up, sitting across from her. “I’m only going to say this once, and I need you to hear every word I say.”
Quinn’s cheeks were damp with tears, but she met Rachel’s gaze unblinkingly.
“What happened to you was against your will. What you’re talking about isn’t something that can be taken from you - you have to give it freely for it to be real. And when that day comes, if you’re still willing to give it to me, I’ll take it gratefully - but don’t think for a second that it’s no longer yours to give, because it is. Do you understand me?” Quinn nodded. “Good,” she turned the lamp off. “Now, you really should sleep. You’re safe here, and I won’t let any harm come to you.” Quinn curled up against her.
“Goodnight, Rachel.”
“Goodnight.”
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Sunday morning was dark and cloudy, and the sky threatened rain. When Rachel woke, Quinn was sitting up next to her, watching the muted television with closed captioning turned on.
“Morning,” she smiled wearily. Rachel reached out and stroked her cheek, noticing that the dark circles under her eyes seemed bigger than the day before.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Not really,” Quinn shrugged. “I didn’t much want to.”
“You really need to sleep, Quinn - I’m sorry, I promised that I wasn’t going to interfere, but you’re going to make yourself ill if you don’t sleep.”
“I don’t want to dream,” she protested. “I don’t want to remember.”
“I know. But your subconscious is working at getting everything back, and if it doesn’t happen in dreams then it will almost certainly happen when you’re awake.”
“I don’t want it,” she insisted. “Any of it! Every memory I get back is just making it worse. I like this life,” she patted the bed. “I like what I have with you, what I am with you. This life I had - whatever it was, it’s not mine anymore. Whoever that Quinn Fabray, was, she doesn’t exist. I just want her to go away, you know? Just let it all go.”
“I wish it could be that easy,” Rachel pulled her close, stroking her fine hair. “But I don’t think it’s going to be. I think, no matter how hard you fight, it’s all going to come out eventually. What you don’t remember, the police will discover.”
“I’m tired of it,” Quinn confessed. “I’m tired of crying on you, and being hurt by the past. I’m just so tired.”
“I know. I understand, I do. Why don’t you just lie down for a while? I’ll stay here with you - it’s early, and we don’t have anywhere to be. The minute I see you’re having a bad dream, I’ll wake you up.”
“Promise?”
“I swear, Quinn. Lay down, okay?”
“Just for a little while,” she mumbled, sinking into the mattress. They traded positions then, Rachel watching the silent television as Quinn slumbered.
It was hours later that Rachel felt her stir even before she heard the soft whimper she made. Softly, Rachel ran a hand up and down her back until she woke, breathing heavily.
“Thank you,” Quinn whispered.
“I promised,” Rachel replied, as if that said it all. “What was it?”
“More bits and pieces. I’m not sure how they fit together yet.”
“Were they anything you want to talk about?”
“No,” she shook her head. “Not yet. Not until they make sense.”
“I accept that. Are you hungry?”
Quinn frowned. “Urgh,” she managed, clapping a hand to her mouth as she rolled out of the bed and ran for the bathroom. Rachel followed, gathering her hair and holding it back as she was sick. One fervent teeth-brushing later, Quinn agreed to some breakfast.
“Just some crackers or something, though, my stomach’s still doing summersaults.”
“Do you want to stay up here, then? I’m pretty sure my dads are cooking, and the smell-“
“I’ll survive,” Quinn assured her. They threw on two heavy terry-cloth robes from Rachel’s room and ventured downstairs.
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The day passed quickly with their late start and, too soon for Quinn’s liking, they were waiting for Frannie to arrive. She fidgeted nervously from foot to foot, radiating tension, and Rachel put a hand on top of her head.
“Steady, girl.”
“Shut up. I’m not a dog,” but Quinn smiled.
“It’s going to be okay, I promise - she’ll love you, she just wants to get to know you better.”
“But I don’t know me. How am I going to tell her anything? Which tidbit should I lead with? That I’m pregnant but I don’t know who the father is, or that I have two hundred thousand dollars but no idea where it came from?”
“Well, those are certainly options,” Rachel nodded, “or you could just start with asking her about your family.”
“I guess,” Quinn nodded. The peal of the doorbell made them both jump, and James emerged from the kitchen to answer the door.
“Miss Fabray,” he greeted her.
“Please, call me Frannie.”
“Lovely to meet you, Frannie - I’m James. Tom is in the kitchen, finishing dinner” she stepped inside, kicking off her boots.
“You have a lovely home,” she looked around. “Quinn - how are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Nice to see you again, Rachel.”
“And you.”
“Did you want to give me the tour, Quinn, or should we eat first?”
“I, uh,” Quinn looked panicked, and Rachel took her hand.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
“Let’s have dinner,” Quinn pointed her toward the kitchen.
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“So, Frannie,” asked Tom, “what do you do?”
“I’m a junior investment analyst with Credit Suisse.”
“Very impressive,” James nodded. “Were you following in your mother’s footsteps, then?”
“Sort of - she was a tax accountant with H and R Block. At least, after she divorced Russell. He wasn’t big on her working outside the house. But after she threw him out, she went back to school for her accounting certificate, and got herself a good job.”
“H and R Block?” Rachel interjected. “Do they have offices in Mexico?”
“Mexico?”
“Isn’t that where you said you moved?”
“Oh! Oh, no - I’m sorry, I should have been clearer. After Lima, all three of us moved to Cleveland. After Mom threw Russell out, he went to Mexico and eventually got himself arrested. We lived in Cleveland until I went to college.”
“Can you tell me about her?” Quinn asked, almost inaudibly.
“Mom? Sure - she’s smart. Much smarter than me, ‘cause she finished school at her age without any help. She’s confident, and hard-working, but she always seemed just a bit sad to me, like there was something missing from her life. I always thought she missed Russell, or at least missed having someone, since she never dated again after him. Now, of course, I guess it might have been you.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
“About a year and a half. It’s not like we had some big falling out or anything, but we’re living on opposite sides of the country. She moved to Arizona while I was in college, and I ended up getting a place on the east coast. We’ve called each other, exchanged cards, that kind of thing, but we haven’t had the time for a lot of face-to-face visits.”
“And Dad?”
“He’s - well, Quinn, as much as I’m trying, it’s hard for me to say anything good about him. More than anything, I remember him as a mean man. He drank, and he hid a violent temper behind a lot of Christian rhetoric. His gambling - I didn’t know this part until years later, of course - was totally out of control. I think mom said by the time they divorced, he owed something like a hundred thousand to the bank. And those were just his legit debts - apparently he owed a small fortune to bookies and stuff too. Mom said once he would have had to sell half his body to pay it all back.”
Something tickled at the back of Quinn’s mind, but it was gone too quick to focus on.
“And what about you, Quinn?” Frannie looked at her. “I mean, I know the police told me you don’t remember much, but what can you tell me about you?”
“I’m pregnant,” Quinn blurted. She looked at Rachel, who could only shake her head with a bemused grin. “Well, shit.”