Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise (2/8)
Title: Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise (2/8)
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Rachel/Quinn; Rachel/Finn; Brittany/Santana; Artie/Tina
Rating: This part is G-rated, but it's going to get dirty (R/NC-17) at some point.
Spoilers: Up through "Sectionals"
Word Count: 7,094
Description: Rachel's answer to Quinn's melancholia is to take her on a summer road trip with the gleeks.
Note: The characters are fake, but the places are real. All the attractions mentioned in this story are actual places, if you ever find yourself on a cross-country road trip.
Previous Parts:
[ Part 1]
Songs Featured in this Part:
The Cure - "Just Like Heaven" (Original)
Gatsby's American Dream - "Just Like Heaven" (Cover)
Part of her brilliant plan to save Quinn Fabray involved Mike Chang.
After shadowing him for the better part of the day, she finally managed to catch him alone by the stingrays. He was leaning forward, peering into a pool of what's basically flattened fish. They (the glee kids, not the flatten fish) had originally planned on leaving Baltimore after Rachel completed her "Good Morning, Baltimore" song and dance (a number they completed 45 seconds of down Pratt Street before the cops told them to knock it off), but then someone (Rachel) mentioned "sharks" to Puck and "dolphins" to Brittany, and suddenly they were visiting the National Aquarium for the afternoon.
"Hi, Mike!" Rachel greeted enthusiastically.
Mike recoiled. It wasn't that he didn't like Rachel. It was just that, like everybody else, he thought that she might be a little bit crazy. Besides, while the two of them got along fine within the context of the group, they had never actually had a conversation with one another. Glee club was like a parallel universe. Outside of it, Mike was the well-liked football player while Rachel was regarded as a non-entity. But within glee, there was no question that Rachel was the star. And Mike? Well, he didn't even get Token Minority Status. He was the Other Asian. So for Rachel to now voluntarily approach him was, in a word, bizarre.
"Hey," he said nervously. He took a step back away from the stingray pool. He's pretty sure that Rachel wasn't crazy enough to push him in, but you just never know.
"I understand that you have a grandmother in Virginia."
"Yeah, Gammy lives in Ruther Glen." Then he was suspicious. "How did you know that?"
"I ran a very superficial and minimally invasive background check on you when you joined glee," Rachel replied nonchalantly. "Just enough to ascertain that you had no criminal convictions or an ambiguous immigration status that would otherwise adversely affect glee's - and therefore my - chances of success."
"Immigration status? I was born in Ohio!"
"Well, I know that now," Rachel said. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't single you out for your ethnicity. I run a background check on all of my co-stars, even when they're merely in a supportive background role."
"I am really creeped out right now."
"Anyway," Rachel pushed on. "I was thinking that since we're only a couple of hours away, we should visit her."
"You want me to... visit my grandma?" Mike looked understandably concerned. Even a little frightened. Somehow, the story of The Little Red Riding Hood came to mind. He's pretty sure that Rachel wasn't planning on eating his grandmother, but... you just never know.
"Yes. I know that you can't have very many chances to make the trip from Lima to visit her. I think she would be gravely disappointed if she knew that you were in the vicinity and didn't pay her a visit."
"Well, yeah, I guess," he said slowly, his voice thick with skepticism. "But what about New York City?"
"New York City will still be there tomorrow," she answered sharply. "Your grandmother may not be."
"Hey!"
"I'm only saying," Rachel said, more gently now. "The elderly are fragile. You should cherish every opportunity with your family while you still have the chance."
"I just don't get it. What's your interest in this?"
Rachel held back a triumphant smile. In anticipation of this question, she had prepared and rehearsed a heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, five-minute monologue on how she was estranged from her own grandparents due to their rejection of their gay son and how one should really cherish loving grandmothers when one has them. It was going to be an award-worthy performance. She was already gearing up the tear ducts.
"I understand the importance of extended family," she commenced. "When my dad came out to his mom-"
"Wait." Mike held up one hand and sighed in resignation. "If I go along with this, will you spare me the story?"
***
As far as anyone knew, it was Mike's idea to go to Ruther Glen, Virginia. Matt and Puck teased him mercilessly for being a "Grandma's Boy", but Mike took their teasing in good humor. Artie didn't say a word until Tina came to Mike's defense with,
"I think it's sweet."
"Really sweet," Artie said dryly. "If he were six and slept on Pokemon sheets."
Mike gave Artie a strange look. Not because he was particularly offended by what was said, but because it was so unexpected coming from Artie Abrams. To his credit, Artie instantly apologized, and nobody cared enough to pursue the matter.
If anyone thought that it was odd that Rachel barely protested the additional detour, they didn't say a word. Nobody wanted to rock that boat.
Rachel was thankful for that, because this was her plan and it was very simple: Get Quinn to California.
The actual execution would be a little bit more complicated. If she proposed going to California outright, Quinn would never go for it. The others probably won't either. She had to be subtle about it - or, at least as subtle as she could be. There was no doubt that someone, at some point, would figure out that they were slowly heading West instead of East. Rachel just hoped that it would be later rather than sooner, by which time they'd be halfway across the country and she could push them the rest of the way by sheer resolve alone.
On the bright side, she had ten bickering, strong-willed teenagers at her disposal, which meant that they weren't exactly focused on the big picture for the most part. Plus, none of them were dead set on New York City in the first place - they were just along for the ride.
Still, the plan was, she had to admit, slightly harebrained, more than a little unorthodox and deeply flawed.
But then again, so was everything else about glee club and things seemed to working out all right for them so far.
***
Ruther Glen, VA
Even though Mike's Gammy lived in a sprawling colonial, it was still a tight fit for eleven teenagers. There was some talk early on of dividing up the guest bedrooms and the available beds, which predictably led to more squabbling about who would get the beds and who would take the living room floor. In the end, they all decided to squeeze in together on the living room floor with various blankets and pillows. If one of them didn't have a bed, none of them would have a bed. It was a display of either camaraderie or pettiness, depending on who you asked.
Mike's Gammy baked them all sugar cookies. She sat them down in her den, played them Patsy Cline records and let them sing along as loud as they wanted. She seemed to take a shine to Tina in particular. Artie stared glumly at Tina and Mike and Mike's grandmother sitting cozily together on the couch. He wheeled himself away unnoticed, down the corridor, through the back door and out on to the porch where he could be alone for a little while. Except that he wasn't.
"Oh. Hey, Quinn," Artie said nervously. There was no use in hiding it. Mean Cheerio Quinn scared him. Hormonal Pregnant Quinn scared him. But this Quinn - Morose Lost Quinn - scared him the most of all.
"Hi, Artie," she replied, soft and dispirited. She was sitting on the softly swaying porch swings with a quilted blanket across her lap, staring out into the darkness.
"It was getting a little bit crowded in there." It was an inane comment to make, but it wasn't as if Artie had a repertoire of Quinn-approved topics to choose from. The fact was, he just didn't know what to say to her. The two of them had nothing in common besides glee. "Did you want to be alone?"
"It's a free country," she replied with a light shrug, which really wasn't much of an answer. Artie contemplated his choices: awkward silence with Quinn, or awkward staring with Tina, Mike and Mike's grandmother.
He wheeled himself over and settled himself next to the porch swing. It was very quiet, but he had to admit that it was kind of peaceful like this.
"Who are you hiding from?" Quinn suddenly asked.
"What? Who? Me?" Artie answered too quickly. "I'm not hiding." It was a bad lie and they both knew it. The fact was that Artie had been diligently avoiding Tina as much as possible. It's been months since she's told him about the fake stutter. She didn't even bother to fake it around the glee kids anymore. But Artie had carried on his cordial-but-distant act with Tina for so long that he didn't know how to stop.
The minutes passed.
"She doesn't like him," Quinn said. "Not like you think."
Artie didn't know what to say.
"But you're seriously delusional if you think she's going to sit around forever waiting for you to fix whatever it is you did."
"I did?" Artie was indignant - or, as indignant as Artie could get. "But she was the one who lied about-"
"I don't know happened between you two," Quinn interrupted. And I don't care was unsaid, but Artie got the message. "But you're obviously the one with the issues. Instead of taking cheap shots at Mike, maybe you should do something about it."
The words were out of Artie's mouth before he could stop himself.
"Like what?"
"You know her. Figure it out."
Artie tried to think of something. Sure, he knew the things that Tina liked. But he was pretty sure that he'd need more than a MAC gift certificate and a Jawbreaker CD to make everything better between them. He must have had a befuddled expression on his face, because he noticed Quinn watching him with a mixture of amusement and mild irritation.
"Why are you helping me?"
"We're friends." There was a twinge to cynicism to Quinn's tone.
"Yeah, but..."
Quinn sighed.
"Because, Artie," she replied, her tone much softer now. "I know what it's like to throw away something you love."
Artie was taken aback. Quinn sounded... almost vulnerable, and that wasn't really an emotion he associated with Quinn Fabray, despite everything that had happened in the last year. He wanted to ask her more, but they were interrupted by Rachel, who was there to order them to bed.
"We have an early start tomorrow," Rachel told them.
"NYC?" Artie asked, his face lighting up a little.
"No. Puck and Matt want to see the NASCAR Hall of Fame. So we're going to Charlotte first." Rachel conveniently left out the part where she was the one who had 'casually' mentioned the museum's existence in the first place.
"And you're okay with this?" Quinn asked skeptically.
"If Mr. Schuester has taught me anything, it's that sometimes compromise is needed to make a team more successful," Rachel answered. But her performance was probably less than stellar, because Quinn still looked dubious. Growing nervous, she added, "Besides, it's a new museum, so they have that new museum smell!" That last tidbit certainly did nothing to alleviate Quinn's suspicions. But it was late and she was too tired to care.
"Whatever," she said with a yawn.
Obeying Rachel's directives, Artie started to head back inside, but stopped when he heard Quinn call his name.
"About your problem," she said. "We're all in glee club for a reason."
Artie stared. Then he understood. And smiled.
***
Charlotte, NC
"She certainly likes eyeliner," Kurt said, trying to be helpful. "Maybe you can work the Brandon Flowers vibe."
"Their songs are weird," Mercedes dismissed. "How romantic is it to be singing about looking like Jesus or coming out of cages or whatever?"
Artie now had a grand plan: Operation Tell Tina I'm Sorry For Acting Like A Jerk These Past Few Months And Get Us Back To Being Best Friends If Not Something More. ("Right," Kurt said. "How about we just go with 'Operation Tina' for now?") In order to execute said plan, he needed his friends. And frankly, Kurt and Mercedes found plotting and executing a Grand Romantic Gesture to be far more exciting than a NASCAR museum anyway. So they excused themselves from the NASCAR visit, and instead camped out at Mert's Heart & Soul for some scheming with a side of collard greens.
"Girls want romance," Mercedes now said. "You better show her some love. Some Musiq Soulchild. Maybe go old school with Brian McKnight."
"While I have no doubt that Artie's voice would be perfectly suited for the job, it can't be wise to have a skinny white boy in a wheelchair crooning R&B ballads," Rachel said. "You're just inviting the mockery."
"Okay. Her I kind of get." Mercedes gestured at Quinn. "Since the whole thing was kind of her idea or whatever. But why is she-" (she pointed to Rachel) "-here?"
"I am captain of the glee club," Rachel remarked. "It's natural that I should be involved with performance-related matters."
"Uh-huh." Mercedes' voice was dripping with sarcasm. "And that's the only reason?"
What was unsaid (but perfectly understood by all) was that Rachel was there because Quinn was. One was around the other so much that they were beginning to fuse together into a single entity in the glee kids' minds.
"Well, no one has as much experience in theatrics as I do," Rachel responded, somewhat flustered. "And since this is glee club, I think it would only be appropriate if Artie serenaded Tina with a Broadway classic. I suggest 'On the Street Where You Live' or for something a little more modern, perhaps 'I Should Tell You'."
"I don't know if she'd like it," Artie said doubtfully. Rachel was shocked. Appalled. Flabbergasted.
"Like? What's not to like? What's not to love?!"
Artie recoiled fearfully. Quinn, who sat slouched in her seat in a state of utter disinterest, cleared her throat lightly.
"I think we should let Artie pick the song. It's his show, and besides, he knows Tina the best."
Emboldened by Quinn's endorsement, Artie nodded.
"I do have a song in mind." Artie seemed almost confident. "But I'm going to need your help. I don't even know where I'm going to do this, but it has to be some place special."
"How about the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame?" Kurt suggested. "If we go back to Ohio-"
"No!" Rachel cried out. They all turned and stared, and Rachel scrambled for cover. "We're already out on the road and you want to go back to Ohio for this? You might as well just stage it in Artie's backyard. There's nothing special about that."
"Where would you suggest then?" asked Kurt, irritated but also a little curious.
"Don't worry," Rachel beamed. "I've got the perfect place. I know exactly where to go."
***
Crossville, TN
"I have no idea where to go," Rachel said miserably. She had been able to convince the others to keep heading west, promising that she knew of the perfect destination for Artie's plan to be carried off when she hadn't the slightest clue. Tomorrow she was going to have to give them an actual place to go.
"You realize that this is, like, the dumbest idea you've ever had, right?" Finn's voice on the other end of the phone. In the background, she could hear the sound of gunfire and screaming. She could see perfectly in her mind's eye Finn stretched out on his bed with both hands firmly on his Playstation controller and the phone cradled against his neck. "Quinn's going to kill you when she finds- Holy cow! I just blew that guy's arm off with my AK!"
Rachel thought that it might be a bad sign that Finn Hudson thought that this was a dumb idea.
"It's going to be fine once she sees the baby," she said, more for her sake than his. "I suspect that Quinn's despondency partly stems from the fact that she never got to say a proper goodbye to her child, as well as from carrying guilt from doubting whether she made the best decision for the baby. But once we get to Bakersfield, she'll see that the baby is happy and healthy. Then Quinn will realize that she made the right choice by giving her up. Additionally, when she sees that interacting with the baby and the adoptive family is less difficult than she imagined, she'll see that they can have a relationship. It doesn't have to be one or the other."
Silence on the other end. The seconds ticked by.
"Finn?"
"Sorry. Still here," Finn said. "I'm just thinking about all the things that are going to go horribly, horribly wrong with this."
"I'm not saying that everything will be perfect. But it'll be better."
"It's not going to work," Finn warned. "This is going to end badly. You know that, right? You can't meddle with people's lives like this, Rachel."
"I just need to get us to California."
"You can't lie to your friends like this," Finn scolded. "Just tell them the truth."
"I'm not lying. I may have ulterior motives, but I haven't forced them to go anywhere. I merely suggested a few choice destinations, and they decided to go. It's a democracy," she countered. "If you were here, we could just tell them the plan. They listen to you. They'd never listen to me."
"Well, you lie."
"Only when I have to and when it's for the greater good!" Rachel exclaimed indignantly. "Besides, this isn't about Quinn right now. I called you for help with Artie and Tina."
"I might have an idea," Finn said reluctantly. He didn't really want to be part of this Get-Quinn-to-California scheme, but on the other hand, he feared what kind of damage Rachel would do to Artie and Tina's relationship if she were left to her own devices.
He told her his idea, and they spent fifteen minutes discussing the logistics. They were still mid-discussion when Rachel suddenly heard the sound of a sliding keycard at the door. She interrupted Finn and whispered rapidly into the phone,
"I have to go. I'll call you later."
The last thing Rachel heard over the line was Finn's voice saying, "Bye, Driftwood."
She shut her phone and dropped it on to the bed just as Quinn unlocked the hotel room door and stepped inside.
"Who was that?" Quinn asked.
"No one." Rachel forced a smile so wide that her cheeks ached.
Quinn looked suspicious, but in the end, shrugged lightly and climbed under the covers. That night, they slept next to one another positioned a little closer than usual, with Rachel's arm flung over Quinn's abdomen. It was perhaps a little too intimate for friends, but they were only sharing the room with Brittany and Santana and those two were in no position to comment on other people's displays of affection.
***
Interstate 40
"I spy with my little eye... something white," Brittany said.
"Is it a cloud?"
"Yes! That means it's your turn, Quinn."
"No thanks."
"Okay. I'll go again. I spy with my little eye... something that starts with a c."
"Is it a cloud?"
"Yes! Yay, Rachel! Okay, your turn."
"Um... that's all right."
"Okay. My turn again. I spy with my little eye something... that's in the sky."
This continued for another ten minutes.
***
Memphis, TN
"Nonononononono! No no no no!" Rachel screeched, stomping around the small recording studio. "It's wrong! It's all wrong! We're going to do it again from the top!"
The Bass Player recoiled in fear. He was 46 years old, he had three ex-wives, he had toured with drugged out rock stars and faced off greedy record executives, but he had never, ever been as fearful of anyone as he was of this short-statured teenaged girl.
"Is she always like this?" he whispered to one of the teenagers, the boy with the ascot scarf and the perfectly coiffed hair.
"No," Kurt replied. "She's usually more hysterical."
None of the kids had the money to rent out a recording studio - let alone the historical Sun Studio - and hire musicians to help them carry off Artie's plan. But Finn had been right. A kid in a wheelchair with a "Help Me Win Back My Girl" story got you a lot of sympathy, especially when you had Rachel Berry delivering a teary narrative. The manager agreed to let them have a couple of hours and his buddies agreed to play a song that they already knew anyway. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It was a good deed and besides, a bunch of eclectic but good-looking and vocally-gifted teenagers was a spectacle that made the tourists happy. Of course, they didn't count on the demanding craziness that was Rachel Berry.
"Listen," The Bass Player said to another kid, the one with the stupid-looking mohawk. "We're happy to help out your friend with his girl, but you guys need to do something about the crazy little howler monkey."
"Oh, Rachel? Yeah, sorry about that, dude," Puck gave the Bass Player a friendly thump on the back. "We'll get her muzzle."
"Muzzle?" The Bass Player repeated in confusion. He watched Puck pull aside the forlorn-looking blonde girl, whispering something in her ear. Quinn rolled her eyes, but nodded, then strolled over to Rachel, grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the room. When they came back, Rachel was much calmer.
"Everyone, please take your positions," Rachel announced to the room. "If it's okay with all of you, I think we should attempt the number again."
Everything went smoothly after that.
***
Tina wasn't an idiot.
She noticed when Artie, Mercedes, Kurt, Rachel and Quinn excused themselves from the NASCAR excursion in Charlotte - and frankly, it had hurt a little when they didn't ask her to join them. She was also pretty sure that she heard Kurt whisper the words "Operation Tina" to Puck later that night. Things got downright weird when they got to Memphis and everyone found something else to do, leaving Mike, Brittany and her to tour Graceland by themselves. Something was up, and Tina was reasonably sure that she was at the center of whatever was being planned. She repeatedly asked Mike and Brittany, who exchanged nervous looks.
"You can ask them at dinner when we meet up with them," Mike told her. "Now, let's go see Sun Studio before it closes."
The studio was pitch black from the outside. Tina wasn't sure that it was even open, but Mike and Brittany insistently guided her in. It was pitch black inside too.
"G- guys?" Her stutter was genuine this time. "I- I don't think we should be in here."
"It's fine," Mike said firmly. Tina was pushed and pulled through the darkness and plopped down on a stool. A light came on. Tina found herself staring through a window at the recording room where all of her friends were gathered. Rachel stood in the center.
"We're standing in the room with a history of beginnings," came Rachel's voice through the intercom. "This is where Elvis Presley recorded his first song. Where Johnny Cash was discovered, and Roy Orbison and Jerry Lee Lewis. This is the birthplace of rock n' roll. This is the place to take a look at something old, and this is the place to take a chance on something new." Rachel paused. "I didn't write this speech. I think my draft was much clearer in its metaphorical comparisons, but Artie wanted to keep it short."
"Rachel!" Artie whispered harshly from his corner.
"So if you're confused, it's not my fault," Rachel continued. "I tried to warn them."
"Rachel!" Kurt hissed.
"Basically, your friendship with Artie is the 'history' part," Rachel added hurriedly. "And the 'beginnings' thing is what comes next-"
"She gets it, Rachel!" Artie exclaimed. Tina nodded in agreement, eager to see what was next.
To everyone's chagrin, Rachel opened her mouth again. "And the whole rock n' roll thing is about-"
"Rachel," Quinn interrupted calmly. Rachel stopped.
"All right, well..." Rachel cleared her throat lightly. "Taking a chance on something new."
She moved to the back, and Artie, embarrassed but determined to get through this, wheeled himself to the center, an electric guitar across his lap. Looking through the paned glass, he caught Tina's eye. She smiled, faintly but encouragingly. Artie felt a surge of confidence. Riding high on that wave, he struck the first chord on the guitar, launching into an upbeat, slightly-modified version of a popular song. The band behind him joined in, and Artie began to sing, pouring all the feelings he had but couldn't convey into the song.
Show me how you do that trick
The one that makes me scream, she said
The one that makes me laugh, she said
And threw her arms around my neck.
Show me how you do it
And I promise you, I promise that
I'll run away with you.
***
What had started out as a celebration had turned into an impromptu dance party in the hotel room shared by Puck, Mike, Matt and Artie. Except that Artie wasn't there - and neither was Tina. The two of them had retreated to her room to talk in private about their friendship/relationship/whatever it was now.
"My boy Artie is totally getting some right now!" Puck crowed, raising his open hand up in the air for a studly high-five. Kurt stared at him like he'd suddenly sprouted two heads and put on a tutu. Mike and Matt shied away, doing that blend-into-the-background thing they do so well. Finally, Brittany took pity on him and slapped his hand gently.
"Go Artie!" Brittany parroted before Santana seized her by the arm and dragged her away while shooting dirty glares at Puck. Puck sought to appease Santana by magically producing bottles of liquor.
Half an hour later, they were all dancing to The Black Eyed Peas.
Twenty minutes after that, they were dancing and singing to Lady Gaga.
Forty minutes after that, Matt and Kurt were singing a duet to Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me".
Thirty-five minutes after that, Puck was belting out a slurred melody that suspiciously sounded like "Burnin' Up" by The Jonas Brothers but miraculously, no one was paying attention because they were all engrossed by their own rapidly escalating private drama.
Matt glared at Kurt as he indignantly declared, "But we didn't have time to perfect the choreography! They brought Tina to the studio too early!"
"That doesn't change the fact that it was sloppy," Kurt responded snippily.
"I saw how you were all over him!" Santana whispered furiously to Brittany.
"We were only hugging," Brittany whimpered. "He's so squishy to hug. And it's only Puck."
"Only Puck?!"
"HOW DARE YOU!" Mike was downright apoplectic as he bellowed at Mercedes. "Sweet Home Alabama is vastly superior to Legally Blonde!"
Quinn pulled Rachel into the bathroom, slamming the door tightly shut behind her, and locking it. If there was heavy furniture she could have used to make a blockade, she would have. Disorientated by the sudden movements and the alcohol she had consumed earlier, Rachel stood swaying in the middle of the bathroom, feeling the room spin all around her. She eyed the bathtub. It looked nice and sturdy. She staggered over and sat down on its edge. Almost instantaneously, she slipped off and over into the bathtub with a dull thud.
"Rachel?" Quinn ambled over from the door. "You all right?"
Rachel answered Quinn with a giggle. "What are you doing?"
"I'm getting away from those morons before I kill one of them."
"Oh." Rachel frowned, scrunching her nose tightly. It was the same face Brittany made when faced with fractions. "What am I doing?"
"You're getting away from those morons before I kill one of them. Now move over," Quinn demanded.
Rachel complied, and Quinn stepped into the bathtub, clumsily lowering herself until she was lying with Rachel side by side. It was a tight fit, but that was kind of the point. Rachel ended up enveloping Quinn in her arms, simply because she had nowhere else to put them. Quinn rested her head against Rachel's shoulder. They lay quietly together. Quinn could feel her head throbbing and her heart pounding - which, of course, could only be due to the fact that she'd had too much to drink and not because of any other external factors. Her body felt heated, but she didn't mind the warmth emanating from Rachel's torso. Still, cold, hard porcelain wasn't the most comfortable surface in the world, so Quinn shifted lightly to try and make herself more comfortable. Somehow, her lips ended up grazing the soft skin by Rachel's collarbone, which tickled the drunken brunette and sent a fit of shivers and giggles through her.
"What are you doing?" Rachel asked, mostly because she was genuinely having a difficult time processing anything at the moment.
"Nothing. What are you doing?"
Rachel thought carefully before answering. "I think you just kissed my neck."
"You're drunk. Or delusional. I think both, actually."
"I'm not saying I mind," Rachel explained. "I wouldn't judge you for it. I just wanted to know if you did."
"Ew, no! Gross, Berry!" It occurred to Quinn that her words might have more of an effect if she didn't have her entire body molded against Rachel Berry's at the moment. She thought about getting up. But it seemed like such an effort. "Just shut up and lie still, okay?"
Rachel obliged, but only for a little while.
"Are you having a good time?"
"My head hurts," Quinn complained. "And it's too loud out there." Then she conceded, with some reluctance, "But, yeah. I'm having a good time."
"Good."
With her head tucked against Rachel's shoulder, Quinn couldn't see the smile on the brunette's face, but she could feel it, like pure joy was radiating from the smaller girl's body. Quinn had always known that Rachel was the eager-to-please type, but it still gave her a thrill to know that Rachel was happy because she was happy.
"Thank you," Quinn said quietly. "For this trip. You didn't have to, and I know I was being a real brat about it at first... but you've just been so good about this whole thing. And you've been wonderful to me when you really, really don't have to be, but I just... I mean, thank you."
"Hmm?" Rachel responded hazily, her mind more preoccupied with the feel of Quinn's hot breath against her skin than with what Quinn was saying. Quinn sighed.
"Just shut up and lie still."
***
Spread across two booths at the Arcade Restaurant were ten kids. Eight of them were hungover. Seven of them had sunglasses on to shield them from the vicious rays of fluorescent lighting. Six of them hated Rachel Berry.
"Hoooow?!" Kurt moaned, his fingers curled tightly around his coffee cup. "How is she perfectly okay?!"
Rachel stood between the two booths, her hair neatly brushed, her eyes bright and her smile wide. In her hands she held a binder which she had dubbed The Trip Bible. It consisted of maps, brochures, pamphlets, information printed off the internet - anything and everything that might be marginally useful in planning a road trip. At the moment, she was trying to get everyone focused. She jabbered on excitedly about preferred routes, pre-scheduled bathroom breaks and possible points of interests assorted by descending order of importance. But as it turned out, these were not things that interested hungover teenagers - which was pretty much everyone besides Artie, Tina and Rachel. Artie and Tina were unaffected because they had missed the binge drinking last night, and Rachel was unaffected because... well, she's Rachel.
"We did like eight shots together last night!" Puck lethargically poked at the bowl of grits before him, wanting to have some but feeling his stomach churn at the thought of food. Rachel, on the other hand, had effortlessly consumed eggs and sausages plus one of Brittany's sweet potato pancakes. "I don't get it, man. I feel like shit and you're... you."
"She got up at six a.m. this morning," Santana grumbled. "She did seven laps around the hotel."
"Eight," Rachel corrected. "And don't feel bad, Noah. It's just simple genetics. Some people are naturally predisposed to rapid recovery from the effects of alcohol. Now, if we could all just focus for a moment-"
"Oh, God, make It stop!" Mercedes howled.
"Fine! I'll stop." Rachel reluctantly set the Trip Bible down on the table. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to use the washroom. I strongly encourage that each of you do the same before we leave. Quinn?" Quinn grunted with something vaguely resembling exasperation, but got up from the table and followed her.
"Why do girls go to the bathroom together?" Matt asked, watching the girls' retreating figures.
"Why do you think, bro? It's so they can get it on," Puck smirked.
"Why is your mind constantly filthy?" Mercedes scowled. "We just like having a little company. It's not because we 'get it on with' in the bathroom."
Brittany spoke up, "Actually, when Santana and I-"
"More coffee, B?" Santana hurriedly interrupted. Puck looked distinctly disappointed at the interruption.
"I think it's nice," Tina commented idly. "When girls go to the bathroom together, we get to gossip about the rest of you."
"You think everything's nice right now because you're in love," Kurt retorted. "Disgustingly, cuddling-ly in love." True to his point, Tina was resting quite comfortably at the moment with her head against Artie's shoulder. Tina blushed, and start to straighten up, but Artie took her hand, whispered a few words of reassurance in her ear and kissed her forehead. Tina relaxed, and rested against him once more.
"Who goes to the bathroom to talk?" Puck turned to Matt and Mike. "Girls are always going to the bathroom and buying clothes and watching each other change. And those sleepovers they have? Girls do the gayest shit."
"So..." Mike started hesitatingly. "You think Rachel and Quinn are getting it on right now?"
Suddenly, Puck was in no mood to talk about this further. He shrugged, muttered a quick "I dunno" and sought to change the topic.
"Brittany," he said. "What are you looking at?"
"Rachel's maps." Brittany was leafing through the Trip Bible. She looked up from them now, a look of utter confusion on her face. "You guys? When did we stop going to New York?"
Conversation halted as they considered the question. Of course, they were all perfectly cognizant of the fact that they ended up a thousand miles away from their initial destination, but none of them had ever stopped to consider how or why it happened. It had all seemed like a perfectly organic development. There was always some place "a few hours away" that someone just wanted to "stop by" at. Somehow, Memphis became a detour on the way from Lima to New York and none of them questioned it. These kids were talented at a lot of things. Keeping focus was not one of them. They needed Mr. Schuester's authority, or Finn's leadership, or Rachel's ambitious drive. Without any of these things, they just floundered.
It was Artie who broke the silence.
"I guess it just kind of happened that way. Or didn't happen." He squeezed Tina's hand, a goofy grin on his face. "Worked out for the best though, didn't it?" Kurt and Mercedes turned to one another and exchanged a look of disgust undercut by the slightest sliver of affection.
"Okay," Brittany said slowly. "But why are we going left?"
When everyone looked baffled, Santana translated, "She means west. West is on the left side of the map."
"At least she finally learned to tell her right from her left," Kurt muttered under his breath.
"Let me look at that." Puck took the Trip Bible from Brittany, and flipped through the maps. Rachel had highlighted the different possible routes they could take with different colors, but all the lines she drew ended up in the same place. Puck had never been there, but he recognized the name right away. This recognition caused a dark, forbidding bile to rise from the pit of his stomach and crawl through his body and limbs like an electrified eel. He slammed the binder shut.
"What's up?" Mercedes asked.
"Nothing," Puck lied casually with an easy shrug. "Just more of Rachel's nerdy bullshit. I swear that girl has a freakin' mental illness."
"Where are we going next?" Tina asked, a little nervously. "I'm having a lot of fun, but it's been almost a week. My mom wants to know when I'm coming back." Tina had been calling home every night, purporting to be calling from New York City and making up a new story each time of the things they did that day. She was starting to run out of tourist attractions to name.
"Why don't we ask the Puppetmaster?" Santana nodded toward Rachel's approaching figure, trailed closely by Quinn. Puck opened his mouth to object, but before he could, Rachel was tableside and Santana was asking, "Berry, where the hell are you taking us?" A flicker of concern clouded Rachel's expression, but it passed just as quickly as it came on.
"What do you mean?" Although she tried to keep it casual, there was a hint of tension to Rachel's tone. But you wouldn't be able to tell unless you were paying close attention, which no one was - except for Puck.
"I mean we've been roaming the country for a week and we're nowhere near New York City," Santana said.
"Well, that's not my fault," Rachel answered defensively. "I tried to keep all of you on task." Which wasn't a complete lie. She did try... at least at first.
"But where are we going next?" Artie asked. "We're obviously not going to New York anymore."
"Why are you all looking at me?" Rachel fidgeted uncomfortably, nervous about all the attention, and nervous about having to lie to everyone.
"Because." Mercedes rolled her eyes. "You plan everything. You schedule pee breaks!"
"I..." Although her mouth continued flapping, no more sounds came out of Rachel's mouth. She looked helplessly amongst the group, at all those inquisitive, curious eyes. She felt her throat tightening as she recalled Finn's words, "You can't lie to your friends like this." He was right, of course. She couldn't. All she had to do was tell them the truth. But then she turned and locked eyes with Quinn. In that instant, all the words that Rachel knew drained out of her, and all she could say was:
"I don't know."
Everyone exchanged confused looks. They were smart enough to figure out that something was going on here, but they didn't know what.
"I don't know," Rachel repeated, a little desperately this time. "But what does it matter? What's there to go back to Lima?" The responses were instantaneous and simultaneous.
"Summer job." "My dad." "Friends." "Classes." "My pool." "Warcraft." "My dog."
It seemed like everyone had an answer. Everyone except for Quinn. But Quinn was the only one Rachel was looking at. That was the giveaway. Suddenly, they all knew. They may not have known of Rachel's ultimate designs to get Quinn to California, but they knew that whatever was happening here was happening because of Quinn. And so did Quinn.
"Whatever. I'm bored." Quinn's feigned indifference usually came off better, but she was doing her best, given the circumstances. "I'm going to get a milkshake."
Rachel waited until Quinn was out of earshot, then started, "Let me explain-"
"Hold up," Mercedes cut her off. "You mean to tell us that you've got us wandering around aimlessly because Quinn Fabray doesn't want to go home?"
If Rachel had to admit it: yes. That was exactly it. Getting Quinn to California was at best a secondary motive, and a belated one at that. Rachel orchestrated this entire trip because of Quinn in the first place, to get her off the couch and out doing something. She wanted to have Quinn happy and smiling again, and that certainly wasn't going to happen in Lima, Ohio. The truth was, even if they had ended up in New York, Rachel would have stalled them to stay in New York or manipulated them into going elsewhere. If it wasn't California, it would've been Oregon or Canada or Zimbabwe - it didn't matter where as long as it wasn't Lima.
"You don't know what it's like for her," Rachel said sharply. Her back straight and her eyes fiery, any trace of nervousness was gone as she remembered why she was doing this in the first place.
"Can you imagine what she went through? She had a baby, and she had to give her up. Now she has to go back to that house every night, to those sorry excuses for parents who had kicked her out and who won't even look her in the eyes anymore. Being in Lima was hurting her too much. There are these little reminders everywhere. All she can see is the humiliation she went through last year; she sees her parents' judgment and rejection, and she sees the little girl that she gave up. This is just another summer for you, but it's been complete and utter hell for her. And so what if we don't have a set destination? It's a road trip, and we're all having fun, aren't we? This trip is good for her - it really is. I know she can still seem a little surly, but she's doing so much better. She needs this. She needs us."
Silence now. They digested Rachel's words. They all looked to one another, exchanging the basest of emotions through glances, and conveying their decisions to one another through the slightest of nods. A group consensus was reached without a word ever having been spoken.
"Rachel," Kurt said gently. "We just want to know where we're going next."
Part 3
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Rachel/Quinn; Rachel/Finn; Brittany/Santana; Artie/Tina
Rating: This part is G-rated, but it's going to get dirty (R/NC-17) at some point.
Spoilers: Up through "Sectionals"
Word Count: 7,094
Description: Rachel's answer to Quinn's melancholia is to take her on a summer road trip with the gleeks.
Note: The characters are fake, but the places are real. All the attractions mentioned in this story are actual places, if you ever find yourself on a cross-country road trip.
Previous Parts:
[ Part 1]
Songs Featured in this Part:
The Cure - "Just Like Heaven" (Original)
Gatsby's American Dream - "Just Like Heaven" (Cover)
Part of her brilliant plan to save Quinn Fabray involved Mike Chang.
After shadowing him for the better part of the day, she finally managed to catch him alone by the stingrays. He was leaning forward, peering into a pool of what's basically flattened fish. They (the glee kids, not the flatten fish) had originally planned on leaving Baltimore after Rachel completed her "Good Morning, Baltimore" song and dance (a number they completed 45 seconds of down Pratt Street before the cops told them to knock it off), but then someone (Rachel) mentioned "sharks" to Puck and "dolphins" to Brittany, and suddenly they were visiting the National Aquarium for the afternoon.
"Hi, Mike!" Rachel greeted enthusiastically.
Mike recoiled. It wasn't that he didn't like Rachel. It was just that, like everybody else, he thought that she might be a little bit crazy. Besides, while the two of them got along fine within the context of the group, they had never actually had a conversation with one another. Glee club was like a parallel universe. Outside of it, Mike was the well-liked football player while Rachel was regarded as a non-entity. But within glee, there was no question that Rachel was the star. And Mike? Well, he didn't even get Token Minority Status. He was the Other Asian. So for Rachel to now voluntarily approach him was, in a word, bizarre.
"Hey," he said nervously. He took a step back away from the stingray pool. He's pretty sure that Rachel wasn't crazy enough to push him in, but you just never know.
"I understand that you have a grandmother in Virginia."
"Yeah, Gammy lives in Ruther Glen." Then he was suspicious. "How did you know that?"
"I ran a very superficial and minimally invasive background check on you when you joined glee," Rachel replied nonchalantly. "Just enough to ascertain that you had no criminal convictions or an ambiguous immigration status that would otherwise adversely affect glee's - and therefore my - chances of success."
"Immigration status? I was born in Ohio!"
"Well, I know that now," Rachel said. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't single you out for your ethnicity. I run a background check on all of my co-stars, even when they're merely in a supportive background role."
"I am really creeped out right now."
"Anyway," Rachel pushed on. "I was thinking that since we're only a couple of hours away, we should visit her."
"You want me to... visit my grandma?" Mike looked understandably concerned. Even a little frightened. Somehow, the story of The Little Red Riding Hood came to mind. He's pretty sure that Rachel wasn't planning on eating his grandmother, but... you just never know.
"Yes. I know that you can't have very many chances to make the trip from Lima to visit her. I think she would be gravely disappointed if she knew that you were in the vicinity and didn't pay her a visit."
"Well, yeah, I guess," he said slowly, his voice thick with skepticism. "But what about New York City?"
"New York City will still be there tomorrow," she answered sharply. "Your grandmother may not be."
"Hey!"
"I'm only saying," Rachel said, more gently now. "The elderly are fragile. You should cherish every opportunity with your family while you still have the chance."
"I just don't get it. What's your interest in this?"
Rachel held back a triumphant smile. In anticipation of this question, she had prepared and rehearsed a heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, five-minute monologue on how she was estranged from her own grandparents due to their rejection of their gay son and how one should really cherish loving grandmothers when one has them. It was going to be an award-worthy performance. She was already gearing up the tear ducts.
"I understand the importance of extended family," she commenced. "When my dad came out to his mom-"
"Wait." Mike held up one hand and sighed in resignation. "If I go along with this, will you spare me the story?"
***
As far as anyone knew, it was Mike's idea to go to Ruther Glen, Virginia. Matt and Puck teased him mercilessly for being a "Grandma's Boy", but Mike took their teasing in good humor. Artie didn't say a word until Tina came to Mike's defense with,
"I think it's sweet."
"Really sweet," Artie said dryly. "If he were six and slept on Pokemon sheets."
Mike gave Artie a strange look. Not because he was particularly offended by what was said, but because it was so unexpected coming from Artie Abrams. To his credit, Artie instantly apologized, and nobody cared enough to pursue the matter.
If anyone thought that it was odd that Rachel barely protested the additional detour, they didn't say a word. Nobody wanted to rock that boat.
Rachel was thankful for that, because this was her plan and it was very simple: Get Quinn to California.
The actual execution would be a little bit more complicated. If she proposed going to California outright, Quinn would never go for it. The others probably won't either. She had to be subtle about it - or, at least as subtle as she could be. There was no doubt that someone, at some point, would figure out that they were slowly heading West instead of East. Rachel just hoped that it would be later rather than sooner, by which time they'd be halfway across the country and she could push them the rest of the way by sheer resolve alone.
On the bright side, she had ten bickering, strong-willed teenagers at her disposal, which meant that they weren't exactly focused on the big picture for the most part. Plus, none of them were dead set on New York City in the first place - they were just along for the ride.
Still, the plan was, she had to admit, slightly harebrained, more than a little unorthodox and deeply flawed.
But then again, so was everything else about glee club and things seemed to working out all right for them so far.
***
Ruther Glen, VA
Even though Mike's Gammy lived in a sprawling colonial, it was still a tight fit for eleven teenagers. There was some talk early on of dividing up the guest bedrooms and the available beds, which predictably led to more squabbling about who would get the beds and who would take the living room floor. In the end, they all decided to squeeze in together on the living room floor with various blankets and pillows. If one of them didn't have a bed, none of them would have a bed. It was a display of either camaraderie or pettiness, depending on who you asked.
Mike's Gammy baked them all sugar cookies. She sat them down in her den, played them Patsy Cline records and let them sing along as loud as they wanted. She seemed to take a shine to Tina in particular. Artie stared glumly at Tina and Mike and Mike's grandmother sitting cozily together on the couch. He wheeled himself away unnoticed, down the corridor, through the back door and out on to the porch where he could be alone for a little while. Except that he wasn't.
"Oh. Hey, Quinn," Artie said nervously. There was no use in hiding it. Mean Cheerio Quinn scared him. Hormonal Pregnant Quinn scared him. But this Quinn - Morose Lost Quinn - scared him the most of all.
"Hi, Artie," she replied, soft and dispirited. She was sitting on the softly swaying porch swings with a quilted blanket across her lap, staring out into the darkness.
"It was getting a little bit crowded in there." It was an inane comment to make, but it wasn't as if Artie had a repertoire of Quinn-approved topics to choose from. The fact was, he just didn't know what to say to her. The two of them had nothing in common besides glee. "Did you want to be alone?"
"It's a free country," she replied with a light shrug, which really wasn't much of an answer. Artie contemplated his choices: awkward silence with Quinn, or awkward staring with Tina, Mike and Mike's grandmother.
He wheeled himself over and settled himself next to the porch swing. It was very quiet, but he had to admit that it was kind of peaceful like this.
"Who are you hiding from?" Quinn suddenly asked.
"What? Who? Me?" Artie answered too quickly. "I'm not hiding." It was a bad lie and they both knew it. The fact was that Artie had been diligently avoiding Tina as much as possible. It's been months since she's told him about the fake stutter. She didn't even bother to fake it around the glee kids anymore. But Artie had carried on his cordial-but-distant act with Tina for so long that he didn't know how to stop.
The minutes passed.
"She doesn't like him," Quinn said. "Not like you think."
Artie didn't know what to say.
"But you're seriously delusional if you think she's going to sit around forever waiting for you to fix whatever it is you did."
"I did?" Artie was indignant - or, as indignant as Artie could get. "But she was the one who lied about-"
"I don't know happened between you two," Quinn interrupted. And I don't care was unsaid, but Artie got the message. "But you're obviously the one with the issues. Instead of taking cheap shots at Mike, maybe you should do something about it."
The words were out of Artie's mouth before he could stop himself.
"Like what?"
"You know her. Figure it out."
Artie tried to think of something. Sure, he knew the things that Tina liked. But he was pretty sure that he'd need more than a MAC gift certificate and a Jawbreaker CD to make everything better between them. He must have had a befuddled expression on his face, because he noticed Quinn watching him with a mixture of amusement and mild irritation.
"Why are you helping me?"
"We're friends." There was a twinge to cynicism to Quinn's tone.
"Yeah, but..."
Quinn sighed.
"Because, Artie," she replied, her tone much softer now. "I know what it's like to throw away something you love."
Artie was taken aback. Quinn sounded... almost vulnerable, and that wasn't really an emotion he associated with Quinn Fabray, despite everything that had happened in the last year. He wanted to ask her more, but they were interrupted by Rachel, who was there to order them to bed.
"We have an early start tomorrow," Rachel told them.
"NYC?" Artie asked, his face lighting up a little.
"No. Puck and Matt want to see the NASCAR Hall of Fame. So we're going to Charlotte first." Rachel conveniently left out the part where she was the one who had 'casually' mentioned the museum's existence in the first place.
"And you're okay with this?" Quinn asked skeptically.
"If Mr. Schuester has taught me anything, it's that sometimes compromise is needed to make a team more successful," Rachel answered. But her performance was probably less than stellar, because Quinn still looked dubious. Growing nervous, she added, "Besides, it's a new museum, so they have that new museum smell!" That last tidbit certainly did nothing to alleviate Quinn's suspicions. But it was late and she was too tired to care.
"Whatever," she said with a yawn.
Obeying Rachel's directives, Artie started to head back inside, but stopped when he heard Quinn call his name.
"About your problem," she said. "We're all in glee club for a reason."
Artie stared. Then he understood. And smiled.
***
Charlotte, NC
"She certainly likes eyeliner," Kurt said, trying to be helpful. "Maybe you can work the Brandon Flowers vibe."
"Their songs are weird," Mercedes dismissed. "How romantic is it to be singing about looking like Jesus or coming out of cages or whatever?"
Artie now had a grand plan: Operation Tell Tina I'm Sorry For Acting Like A Jerk These Past Few Months And Get Us Back To Being Best Friends If Not Something More. ("Right," Kurt said. "How about we just go with 'Operation Tina' for now?") In order to execute said plan, he needed his friends. And frankly, Kurt and Mercedes found plotting and executing a Grand Romantic Gesture to be far more exciting than a NASCAR museum anyway. So they excused themselves from the NASCAR visit, and instead camped out at Mert's Heart & Soul for some scheming with a side of collard greens.
"Girls want romance," Mercedes now said. "You better show her some love. Some Musiq Soulchild. Maybe go old school with Brian McKnight."
"While I have no doubt that Artie's voice would be perfectly suited for the job, it can't be wise to have a skinny white boy in a wheelchair crooning R&B ballads," Rachel said. "You're just inviting the mockery."
"Okay. Her I kind of get." Mercedes gestured at Quinn. "Since the whole thing was kind of her idea or whatever. But why is she-" (she pointed to Rachel) "-here?"
"I am captain of the glee club," Rachel remarked. "It's natural that I should be involved with performance-related matters."
"Uh-huh." Mercedes' voice was dripping with sarcasm. "And that's the only reason?"
What was unsaid (but perfectly understood by all) was that Rachel was there because Quinn was. One was around the other so much that they were beginning to fuse together into a single entity in the glee kids' minds.
"Well, no one has as much experience in theatrics as I do," Rachel responded, somewhat flustered. "And since this is glee club, I think it would only be appropriate if Artie serenaded Tina with a Broadway classic. I suggest 'On the Street Where You Live' or for something a little more modern, perhaps 'I Should Tell You'."
"I don't know if she'd like it," Artie said doubtfully. Rachel was shocked. Appalled. Flabbergasted.
"Like? What's not to like? What's not to love?!"
Artie recoiled fearfully. Quinn, who sat slouched in her seat in a state of utter disinterest, cleared her throat lightly.
"I think we should let Artie pick the song. It's his show, and besides, he knows Tina the best."
Emboldened by Quinn's endorsement, Artie nodded.
"I do have a song in mind." Artie seemed almost confident. "But I'm going to need your help. I don't even know where I'm going to do this, but it has to be some place special."
"How about the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame?" Kurt suggested. "If we go back to Ohio-"
"No!" Rachel cried out. They all turned and stared, and Rachel scrambled for cover. "We're already out on the road and you want to go back to Ohio for this? You might as well just stage it in Artie's backyard. There's nothing special about that."
"Where would you suggest then?" asked Kurt, irritated but also a little curious.
"Don't worry," Rachel beamed. "I've got the perfect place. I know exactly where to go."
***
Crossville, TN
"I have no idea where to go," Rachel said miserably. She had been able to convince the others to keep heading west, promising that she knew of the perfect destination for Artie's plan to be carried off when she hadn't the slightest clue. Tomorrow she was going to have to give them an actual place to go.
"You realize that this is, like, the dumbest idea you've ever had, right?" Finn's voice on the other end of the phone. In the background, she could hear the sound of gunfire and screaming. She could see perfectly in her mind's eye Finn stretched out on his bed with both hands firmly on his Playstation controller and the phone cradled against his neck. "Quinn's going to kill you when she finds- Holy cow! I just blew that guy's arm off with my AK!"
Rachel thought that it might be a bad sign that Finn Hudson thought that this was a dumb idea.
"It's going to be fine once she sees the baby," she said, more for her sake than his. "I suspect that Quinn's despondency partly stems from the fact that she never got to say a proper goodbye to her child, as well as from carrying guilt from doubting whether she made the best decision for the baby. But once we get to Bakersfield, she'll see that the baby is happy and healthy. Then Quinn will realize that she made the right choice by giving her up. Additionally, when she sees that interacting with the baby and the adoptive family is less difficult than she imagined, she'll see that they can have a relationship. It doesn't have to be one or the other."
Silence on the other end. The seconds ticked by.
"Finn?"
"Sorry. Still here," Finn said. "I'm just thinking about all the things that are going to go horribly, horribly wrong with this."
"I'm not saying that everything will be perfect. But it'll be better."
"It's not going to work," Finn warned. "This is going to end badly. You know that, right? You can't meddle with people's lives like this, Rachel."
"I just need to get us to California."
"You can't lie to your friends like this," Finn scolded. "Just tell them the truth."
"I'm not lying. I may have ulterior motives, but I haven't forced them to go anywhere. I merely suggested a few choice destinations, and they decided to go. It's a democracy," she countered. "If you were here, we could just tell them the plan. They listen to you. They'd never listen to me."
"Well, you lie."
"Only when I have to and when it's for the greater good!" Rachel exclaimed indignantly. "Besides, this isn't about Quinn right now. I called you for help with Artie and Tina."
"I might have an idea," Finn said reluctantly. He didn't really want to be part of this Get-Quinn-to-California scheme, but on the other hand, he feared what kind of damage Rachel would do to Artie and Tina's relationship if she were left to her own devices.
He told her his idea, and they spent fifteen minutes discussing the logistics. They were still mid-discussion when Rachel suddenly heard the sound of a sliding keycard at the door. She interrupted Finn and whispered rapidly into the phone,
"I have to go. I'll call you later."
The last thing Rachel heard over the line was Finn's voice saying, "Bye, Driftwood."
She shut her phone and dropped it on to the bed just as Quinn unlocked the hotel room door and stepped inside.
"Who was that?" Quinn asked.
"No one." Rachel forced a smile so wide that her cheeks ached.
Quinn looked suspicious, but in the end, shrugged lightly and climbed under the covers. That night, they slept next to one another positioned a little closer than usual, with Rachel's arm flung over Quinn's abdomen. It was perhaps a little too intimate for friends, but they were only sharing the room with Brittany and Santana and those two were in no position to comment on other people's displays of affection.
***
Interstate 40
"I spy with my little eye... something white," Brittany said.
"Is it a cloud?"
"Yes! That means it's your turn, Quinn."
"No thanks."
"Okay. I'll go again. I spy with my little eye... something that starts with a c."
"Is it a cloud?"
"Yes! Yay, Rachel! Okay, your turn."
"Um... that's all right."
"Okay. My turn again. I spy with my little eye something... that's in the sky."
This continued for another ten minutes.
***
Memphis, TN
"Nonononononono! No no no no!" Rachel screeched, stomping around the small recording studio. "It's wrong! It's all wrong! We're going to do it again from the top!"
The Bass Player recoiled in fear. He was 46 years old, he had three ex-wives, he had toured with drugged out rock stars and faced off greedy record executives, but he had never, ever been as fearful of anyone as he was of this short-statured teenaged girl.
"Is she always like this?" he whispered to one of the teenagers, the boy with the ascot scarf and the perfectly coiffed hair.
"No," Kurt replied. "She's usually more hysterical."
None of the kids had the money to rent out a recording studio - let alone the historical Sun Studio - and hire musicians to help them carry off Artie's plan. But Finn had been right. A kid in a wheelchair with a "Help Me Win Back My Girl" story got you a lot of sympathy, especially when you had Rachel Berry delivering a teary narrative. The manager agreed to let them have a couple of hours and his buddies agreed to play a song that they already knew anyway. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It was a good deed and besides, a bunch of eclectic but good-looking and vocally-gifted teenagers was a spectacle that made the tourists happy. Of course, they didn't count on the demanding craziness that was Rachel Berry.
"Listen," The Bass Player said to another kid, the one with the stupid-looking mohawk. "We're happy to help out your friend with his girl, but you guys need to do something about the crazy little howler monkey."
"Oh, Rachel? Yeah, sorry about that, dude," Puck gave the Bass Player a friendly thump on the back. "We'll get her muzzle."
"Muzzle?" The Bass Player repeated in confusion. He watched Puck pull aside the forlorn-looking blonde girl, whispering something in her ear. Quinn rolled her eyes, but nodded, then strolled over to Rachel, grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the room. When they came back, Rachel was much calmer.
"Everyone, please take your positions," Rachel announced to the room. "If it's okay with all of you, I think we should attempt the number again."
Everything went smoothly after that.
***
Tina wasn't an idiot.
She noticed when Artie, Mercedes, Kurt, Rachel and Quinn excused themselves from the NASCAR excursion in Charlotte - and frankly, it had hurt a little when they didn't ask her to join them. She was also pretty sure that she heard Kurt whisper the words "Operation Tina" to Puck later that night. Things got downright weird when they got to Memphis and everyone found something else to do, leaving Mike, Brittany and her to tour Graceland by themselves. Something was up, and Tina was reasonably sure that she was at the center of whatever was being planned. She repeatedly asked Mike and Brittany, who exchanged nervous looks.
"You can ask them at dinner when we meet up with them," Mike told her. "Now, let's go see Sun Studio before it closes."
The studio was pitch black from the outside. Tina wasn't sure that it was even open, but Mike and Brittany insistently guided her in. It was pitch black inside too.
"G- guys?" Her stutter was genuine this time. "I- I don't think we should be in here."
"It's fine," Mike said firmly. Tina was pushed and pulled through the darkness and plopped down on a stool. A light came on. Tina found herself staring through a window at the recording room where all of her friends were gathered. Rachel stood in the center.
"We're standing in the room with a history of beginnings," came Rachel's voice through the intercom. "This is where Elvis Presley recorded his first song. Where Johnny Cash was discovered, and Roy Orbison and Jerry Lee Lewis. This is the birthplace of rock n' roll. This is the place to take a look at something old, and this is the place to take a chance on something new." Rachel paused. "I didn't write this speech. I think my draft was much clearer in its metaphorical comparisons, but Artie wanted to keep it short."
"Rachel!" Artie whispered harshly from his corner.
"So if you're confused, it's not my fault," Rachel continued. "I tried to warn them."
"Rachel!" Kurt hissed.
"Basically, your friendship with Artie is the 'history' part," Rachel added hurriedly. "And the 'beginnings' thing is what comes next-"
"She gets it, Rachel!" Artie exclaimed. Tina nodded in agreement, eager to see what was next.
To everyone's chagrin, Rachel opened her mouth again. "And the whole rock n' roll thing is about-"
"Rachel," Quinn interrupted calmly. Rachel stopped.
"All right, well..." Rachel cleared her throat lightly. "Taking a chance on something new."
She moved to the back, and Artie, embarrassed but determined to get through this, wheeled himself to the center, an electric guitar across his lap. Looking through the paned glass, he caught Tina's eye. She smiled, faintly but encouragingly. Artie felt a surge of confidence. Riding high on that wave, he struck the first chord on the guitar, launching into an upbeat, slightly-modified version of a popular song. The band behind him joined in, and Artie began to sing, pouring all the feelings he had but couldn't convey into the song.
Show me how you do that trick
The one that makes me scream, she said
The one that makes me laugh, she said
And threw her arms around my neck.
Show me how you do it
And I promise you, I promise that
I'll run away with you.
***
What had started out as a celebration had turned into an impromptu dance party in the hotel room shared by Puck, Mike, Matt and Artie. Except that Artie wasn't there - and neither was Tina. The two of them had retreated to her room to talk in private about their friendship/relationship/whatever it was now.
"My boy Artie is totally getting some right now!" Puck crowed, raising his open hand up in the air for a studly high-five. Kurt stared at him like he'd suddenly sprouted two heads and put on a tutu. Mike and Matt shied away, doing that blend-into-the-background thing they do so well. Finally, Brittany took pity on him and slapped his hand gently.
"Go Artie!" Brittany parroted before Santana seized her by the arm and dragged her away while shooting dirty glares at Puck. Puck sought to appease Santana by magically producing bottles of liquor.
Half an hour later, they were all dancing to The Black Eyed Peas.
Twenty minutes after that, they were dancing and singing to Lady Gaga.
Forty minutes after that, Matt and Kurt were singing a duet to Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me".
Thirty-five minutes after that, Puck was belting out a slurred melody that suspiciously sounded like "Burnin' Up" by The Jonas Brothers but miraculously, no one was paying attention because they were all engrossed by their own rapidly escalating private drama.
Matt glared at Kurt as he indignantly declared, "But we didn't have time to perfect the choreography! They brought Tina to the studio too early!"
"That doesn't change the fact that it was sloppy," Kurt responded snippily.
"I saw how you were all over him!" Santana whispered furiously to Brittany.
"We were only hugging," Brittany whimpered. "He's so squishy to hug. And it's only Puck."
"Only Puck?!"
"HOW DARE YOU!" Mike was downright apoplectic as he bellowed at Mercedes. "Sweet Home Alabama is vastly superior to Legally Blonde!"
Quinn pulled Rachel into the bathroom, slamming the door tightly shut behind her, and locking it. If there was heavy furniture she could have used to make a blockade, she would have. Disorientated by the sudden movements and the alcohol she had consumed earlier, Rachel stood swaying in the middle of the bathroom, feeling the room spin all around her. She eyed the bathtub. It looked nice and sturdy. She staggered over and sat down on its edge. Almost instantaneously, she slipped off and over into the bathtub with a dull thud.
"Rachel?" Quinn ambled over from the door. "You all right?"
Rachel answered Quinn with a giggle. "What are you doing?"
"I'm getting away from those morons before I kill one of them."
"Oh." Rachel frowned, scrunching her nose tightly. It was the same face Brittany made when faced with fractions. "What am I doing?"
"You're getting away from those morons before I kill one of them. Now move over," Quinn demanded.
Rachel complied, and Quinn stepped into the bathtub, clumsily lowering herself until she was lying with Rachel side by side. It was a tight fit, but that was kind of the point. Rachel ended up enveloping Quinn in her arms, simply because she had nowhere else to put them. Quinn rested her head against Rachel's shoulder. They lay quietly together. Quinn could feel her head throbbing and her heart pounding - which, of course, could only be due to the fact that she'd had too much to drink and not because of any other external factors. Her body felt heated, but she didn't mind the warmth emanating from Rachel's torso. Still, cold, hard porcelain wasn't the most comfortable surface in the world, so Quinn shifted lightly to try and make herself more comfortable. Somehow, her lips ended up grazing the soft skin by Rachel's collarbone, which tickled the drunken brunette and sent a fit of shivers and giggles through her.
"What are you doing?" Rachel asked, mostly because she was genuinely having a difficult time processing anything at the moment.
"Nothing. What are you doing?"
Rachel thought carefully before answering. "I think you just kissed my neck."
"You're drunk. Or delusional. I think both, actually."
"I'm not saying I mind," Rachel explained. "I wouldn't judge you for it. I just wanted to know if you did."
"Ew, no! Gross, Berry!" It occurred to Quinn that her words might have more of an effect if she didn't have her entire body molded against Rachel Berry's at the moment. She thought about getting up. But it seemed like such an effort. "Just shut up and lie still, okay?"
Rachel obliged, but only for a little while.
"Are you having a good time?"
"My head hurts," Quinn complained. "And it's too loud out there." Then she conceded, with some reluctance, "But, yeah. I'm having a good time."
"Good."
With her head tucked against Rachel's shoulder, Quinn couldn't see the smile on the brunette's face, but she could feel it, like pure joy was radiating from the smaller girl's body. Quinn had always known that Rachel was the eager-to-please type, but it still gave her a thrill to know that Rachel was happy because she was happy.
"Thank you," Quinn said quietly. "For this trip. You didn't have to, and I know I was being a real brat about it at first... but you've just been so good about this whole thing. And you've been wonderful to me when you really, really don't have to be, but I just... I mean, thank you."
"Hmm?" Rachel responded hazily, her mind more preoccupied with the feel of Quinn's hot breath against her skin than with what Quinn was saying. Quinn sighed.
"Just shut up and lie still."
***
Spread across two booths at the Arcade Restaurant were ten kids. Eight of them were hungover. Seven of them had sunglasses on to shield them from the vicious rays of fluorescent lighting. Six of them hated Rachel Berry.
"Hoooow?!" Kurt moaned, his fingers curled tightly around his coffee cup. "How is she perfectly okay?!"
Rachel stood between the two booths, her hair neatly brushed, her eyes bright and her smile wide. In her hands she held a binder which she had dubbed The Trip Bible. It consisted of maps, brochures, pamphlets, information printed off the internet - anything and everything that might be marginally useful in planning a road trip. At the moment, she was trying to get everyone focused. She jabbered on excitedly about preferred routes, pre-scheduled bathroom breaks and possible points of interests assorted by descending order of importance. But as it turned out, these were not things that interested hungover teenagers - which was pretty much everyone besides Artie, Tina and Rachel. Artie and Tina were unaffected because they had missed the binge drinking last night, and Rachel was unaffected because... well, she's Rachel.
"We did like eight shots together last night!" Puck lethargically poked at the bowl of grits before him, wanting to have some but feeling his stomach churn at the thought of food. Rachel, on the other hand, had effortlessly consumed eggs and sausages plus one of Brittany's sweet potato pancakes. "I don't get it, man. I feel like shit and you're... you."
"She got up at six a.m. this morning," Santana grumbled. "She did seven laps around the hotel."
"Eight," Rachel corrected. "And don't feel bad, Noah. It's just simple genetics. Some people are naturally predisposed to rapid recovery from the effects of alcohol. Now, if we could all just focus for a moment-"
"Oh, God, make It stop!" Mercedes howled.
"Fine! I'll stop." Rachel reluctantly set the Trip Bible down on the table. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to use the washroom. I strongly encourage that each of you do the same before we leave. Quinn?" Quinn grunted with something vaguely resembling exasperation, but got up from the table and followed her.
"Why do girls go to the bathroom together?" Matt asked, watching the girls' retreating figures.
"Why do you think, bro? It's so they can get it on," Puck smirked.
"Why is your mind constantly filthy?" Mercedes scowled. "We just like having a little company. It's not because we 'get it on with' in the bathroom."
Brittany spoke up, "Actually, when Santana and I-"
"More coffee, B?" Santana hurriedly interrupted. Puck looked distinctly disappointed at the interruption.
"I think it's nice," Tina commented idly. "When girls go to the bathroom together, we get to gossip about the rest of you."
"You think everything's nice right now because you're in love," Kurt retorted. "Disgustingly, cuddling-ly in love." True to his point, Tina was resting quite comfortably at the moment with her head against Artie's shoulder. Tina blushed, and start to straighten up, but Artie took her hand, whispered a few words of reassurance in her ear and kissed her forehead. Tina relaxed, and rested against him once more.
"Who goes to the bathroom to talk?" Puck turned to Matt and Mike. "Girls are always going to the bathroom and buying clothes and watching each other change. And those sleepovers they have? Girls do the gayest shit."
"So..." Mike started hesitatingly. "You think Rachel and Quinn are getting it on right now?"
Suddenly, Puck was in no mood to talk about this further. He shrugged, muttered a quick "I dunno" and sought to change the topic.
"Brittany," he said. "What are you looking at?"
"Rachel's maps." Brittany was leafing through the Trip Bible. She looked up from them now, a look of utter confusion on her face. "You guys? When did we stop going to New York?"
Conversation halted as they considered the question. Of course, they were all perfectly cognizant of the fact that they ended up a thousand miles away from their initial destination, but none of them had ever stopped to consider how or why it happened. It had all seemed like a perfectly organic development. There was always some place "a few hours away" that someone just wanted to "stop by" at. Somehow, Memphis became a detour on the way from Lima to New York and none of them questioned it. These kids were talented at a lot of things. Keeping focus was not one of them. They needed Mr. Schuester's authority, or Finn's leadership, or Rachel's ambitious drive. Without any of these things, they just floundered.
It was Artie who broke the silence.
"I guess it just kind of happened that way. Or didn't happen." He squeezed Tina's hand, a goofy grin on his face. "Worked out for the best though, didn't it?" Kurt and Mercedes turned to one another and exchanged a look of disgust undercut by the slightest sliver of affection.
"Okay," Brittany said slowly. "But why are we going left?"
When everyone looked baffled, Santana translated, "She means west. West is on the left side of the map."
"At least she finally learned to tell her right from her left," Kurt muttered under his breath.
"Let me look at that." Puck took the Trip Bible from Brittany, and flipped through the maps. Rachel had highlighted the different possible routes they could take with different colors, but all the lines she drew ended up in the same place. Puck had never been there, but he recognized the name right away. This recognition caused a dark, forbidding bile to rise from the pit of his stomach and crawl through his body and limbs like an electrified eel. He slammed the binder shut.
"What's up?" Mercedes asked.
"Nothing," Puck lied casually with an easy shrug. "Just more of Rachel's nerdy bullshit. I swear that girl has a freakin' mental illness."
"Where are we going next?" Tina asked, a little nervously. "I'm having a lot of fun, but it's been almost a week. My mom wants to know when I'm coming back." Tina had been calling home every night, purporting to be calling from New York City and making up a new story each time of the things they did that day. She was starting to run out of tourist attractions to name.
"Why don't we ask the Puppetmaster?" Santana nodded toward Rachel's approaching figure, trailed closely by Quinn. Puck opened his mouth to object, but before he could, Rachel was tableside and Santana was asking, "Berry, where the hell are you taking us?" A flicker of concern clouded Rachel's expression, but it passed just as quickly as it came on.
"What do you mean?" Although she tried to keep it casual, there was a hint of tension to Rachel's tone. But you wouldn't be able to tell unless you were paying close attention, which no one was - except for Puck.
"I mean we've been roaming the country for a week and we're nowhere near New York City," Santana said.
"Well, that's not my fault," Rachel answered defensively. "I tried to keep all of you on task." Which wasn't a complete lie. She did try... at least at first.
"But where are we going next?" Artie asked. "We're obviously not going to New York anymore."
"Why are you all looking at me?" Rachel fidgeted uncomfortably, nervous about all the attention, and nervous about having to lie to everyone.
"Because." Mercedes rolled her eyes. "You plan everything. You schedule pee breaks!"
"I..." Although her mouth continued flapping, no more sounds came out of Rachel's mouth. She looked helplessly amongst the group, at all those inquisitive, curious eyes. She felt her throat tightening as she recalled Finn's words, "You can't lie to your friends like this." He was right, of course. She couldn't. All she had to do was tell them the truth. But then she turned and locked eyes with Quinn. In that instant, all the words that Rachel knew drained out of her, and all she could say was:
"I don't know."
Everyone exchanged confused looks. They were smart enough to figure out that something was going on here, but they didn't know what.
"I don't know," Rachel repeated, a little desperately this time. "But what does it matter? What's there to go back to Lima?" The responses were instantaneous and simultaneous.
"Summer job." "My dad." "Friends." "Classes." "My pool." "Warcraft." "My dog."
It seemed like everyone had an answer. Everyone except for Quinn. But Quinn was the only one Rachel was looking at. That was the giveaway. Suddenly, they all knew. They may not have known of Rachel's ultimate designs to get Quinn to California, but they knew that whatever was happening here was happening because of Quinn. And so did Quinn.
"Whatever. I'm bored." Quinn's feigned indifference usually came off better, but she was doing her best, given the circumstances. "I'm going to get a milkshake."
Rachel waited until Quinn was out of earshot, then started, "Let me explain-"
"Hold up," Mercedes cut her off. "You mean to tell us that you've got us wandering around aimlessly because Quinn Fabray doesn't want to go home?"
If Rachel had to admit it: yes. That was exactly it. Getting Quinn to California was at best a secondary motive, and a belated one at that. Rachel orchestrated this entire trip because of Quinn in the first place, to get her off the couch and out doing something. She wanted to have Quinn happy and smiling again, and that certainly wasn't going to happen in Lima, Ohio. The truth was, even if they had ended up in New York, Rachel would have stalled them to stay in New York or manipulated them into going elsewhere. If it wasn't California, it would've been Oregon or Canada or Zimbabwe - it didn't matter where as long as it wasn't Lima.
"You don't know what it's like for her," Rachel said sharply. Her back straight and her eyes fiery, any trace of nervousness was gone as she remembered why she was doing this in the first place.
"Can you imagine what she went through? She had a baby, and she had to give her up. Now she has to go back to that house every night, to those sorry excuses for parents who had kicked her out and who won't even look her in the eyes anymore. Being in Lima was hurting her too much. There are these little reminders everywhere. All she can see is the humiliation she went through last year; she sees her parents' judgment and rejection, and she sees the little girl that she gave up. This is just another summer for you, but it's been complete and utter hell for her. And so what if we don't have a set destination? It's a road trip, and we're all having fun, aren't we? This trip is good for her - it really is. I know she can still seem a little surly, but she's doing so much better. She needs this. She needs us."
Silence now. They digested Rachel's words. They all looked to one another, exchanging the basest of emotions through glances, and conveying their decisions to one another through the slightest of nods. A group consensus was reached without a word ever having been spoken.
"Rachel," Kurt said gently. "We just want to know where we're going next."
Part 3