Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise (8/8)
Title: Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise (8/8)
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Rachel/Quinn; Brittany/Santana; Artie/Tina
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up through "Sectionals"
Word Count (this part): 10,330
Word Count (total): 59,986
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] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7]
Song Referenced in This Part:
Crowded House - "Don't Dream It's Over"
The Who - "Baba O'Riley"
Oasis - "Wonderwall"
Lima, OH
Her fathers were sitting in the living room when she got home, having their bedtime snack of milk and cookies. They looked up as she entered, watching as she dropped her bags in the foyer, then wearily stumbled over to the couch, and into her Dad's arms.
"Welcome home, Bubbala," her Dad said.
That was all it took for her to become unraveled. She broke down; her small frame rattled with irrepressible sobs. Her Daddy quickly got up from his seat and went to her side, wrapping his arms around her. Rachel wept openly and riotously, unleashing all of her frustrations and pains in the arms of two loving parents. Her Dad stroked her hair while her Daddy rubbed her back; they said nothing, they just allowed their daughter to grieve. When Rachel finally settled down, her Daddy brought her a glass of warm milk and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Rachel sank into the couch, physically and emotionally exhausted, resting her head against her Dad's shoulder.
"I feel better," said Rachel weakly.
"Good," her Daddy replied gently. "You'll be okay."
"I'm sorry, kiddo." Her Dad planted a soft kiss on his daughter's forehead as he held her close. Then after a beat, he added, "But you know that you're still grounded, right?"
Rachel nodded. "Yeah," she sighed. "I know."
***
The house was dark and silent when Quinn got home.
She wanted to get to bed without waking her parents up, but when she attempted to tiptoe up the stairs, the door to her parents' bedroom creaked open. Russell Fabray stood in its entrance in his bathrob, hair disheveled and clutching a baseball bat in his hands. When he saw Quinn, the hostile gleam disappeared from his eyes, and it was replaced by something more like indifference.
"Oh," he said flatly. "It's you."
"It's me," Quinn said with a sheepish shrug.
"You woke me up. I thought you were a burglar."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Don't get smart with me," Russell said sharply. "It's late. Get to bed."
With that, he went back into his room, closing the door behind him. He hadn't even bothered to ask her where she'd been. She could pretend like that didn't hurt her, but the truth was that he was her father and she would never stop being hurt by his callousness. Through the closed door, she could hear her mother's voice and her father's reply:
"What is it, Russell?"
"It's nothing. Go back to sleep."
As Quinn slinked back to her room, she realized that was exactly what she was in this house: nothing.
***
Their junior year began two days later.
Rachel and Quinn didn't talk to each other, not even during glee practice. They shared an unspoken understanding where they both agreed that it would be easier for them to ignore one another - or at least pretend to, because the truth is that neither girl could stop glancing at the other out of the corner of her eyes.
It hurt Rachel the most when she saw that blank, vaguely forlorn expression on Quinn's face. It was the same she had worn during the summer, camped out in front of the Berrys' television watching The Twilight Zone.
It was like nothing had changed for Quinn at all. And this time, Rachel was all out of moves.
***
Now that they were out in the open, Brittany and Santana decided to tackle what they dubbed the "Coach Sylvester Problem" head-on. They arranged to meet her together in her office on the first day of school before Cheerios practice. They weren't sure what to expect, or what would happen when Coach Sylvester found out that two of her cheerleaders were involved. They had the faint idea that it wouldn't be anything good. Brittany loved cheerleading, Santana loved the social status that cheerleading gave her, and the idea of being forced to quit the Cheerios was abhorrent to both. But they agreed that the idea of giving up one another was worse.
They sat in Coach Sylvester's office and Brittany let Santana do all the talking. When Santana was done, Coach Sylvester peered at both of them coolly over the rim of her glasses. She stared at them for a good, long time.
"You know, coaching an internationally renowned cheerleading squad takes its toll. I make it look easy, but it's actually high-pressured, extraordinarily demanding and very stressful, so I do what I can to relax. Some people exercise, others read a book. Me, I prefer something lighthearted and fun; that's why I so treasure my afternoon sessions of Krav Maga with members of the Ohio State Patrol. Nothing unwinds me like crushing the windpipe of a 250-pound bear of a man and making him call me mama. So what you're telling me is that you had me cancel my Krav Maga today so that the two of you could inform me that you're going steady, is that it?"
"I'm confused," Brittany squeaked. "Are you mad at us or not?"
Coach Sylvester slowly removed her glasses, tapping its frame impatiently against her desk.
"Tell me, ladies, do you plan on distracting my performers and taking away precious training time by using Cheerios practice as recruitment grounds for your cult of sexual deviance?"
"No!" Santana protested. "Coach, we're in love-"
Coach Sylvester raised a hand to silence her.
"Will your newfound Sapphic love impede your abilities to execute a flawless pike jump?"
"No," they replied in unison.
"Do you have any designs to cut your hairs, stop bathing and dress yourselves in oversized cardigans until you both resemble the sexless, androgynous, unholy lovechild of William Schuester and Justin Bieber?"
"Um..." The girls exchanged confused looks. "No?"
"Then I fail to see why or how I should care about any of this. Congratulations, this meeting has proven to be a bigger waste of time than the time I saw Scott Baio at the Lima mall and flirted with him for an hour before I realized that he was just some lawyer from Orange County shilling his law blog."
"Who's Scott Baio?" Brittany whispered to her girlfriend.
"I think he's that senator who used to pose for Playgirl or something," Santana whispered back.
"Silence! I'm not done systematically destroying your fragile teenage egos," Coach Sylvester snapped. "For orchestrating such an egregious waste of my time, the two of you are going to give me fifteen laps around the football field right now. Now get out of my office."
Santana took Brittany's hand, giving it a soft squeeze, silently urging the blonde girl to hurry. The two of them quickly made their escape, still frightened of their Coach but a little relieved that they were still on the team. Coach Sylvester watched them leave, then put her glasses back on and turned her attention to the paperwork before her.
"Sneaky gays," she muttered to herself.
***
It's been two weeks since school started. It was a Monday afternoon, glee practice had just ended and the hallways were empty. Quinn was at her locker when she felt Finn's looming presence.
"You owe me," Finn said, and Quinn sighed with light exasperation.
She liked Finn - really, she did. When all was said and done, even if their romantic ventures were no more, she wanted to keep him as a friend. But the boy was so hopeless sometimes; his naivete sorely tested Quinn's patience and she was already worn out to begin with by everything else.
"What?" she asked with as much congeniality as she could muster.
"You owe me," Finn repeated. "By my count, you've taken a baby, a best friend and two girlfriends from me - one of them being you, of course, but I'm counting it. So the way I see it, you owe me. Big time." Her exasperation only deepened, although guilt was now rapidly gaining ground as the dominant emotion. She already knew all this; they both did. Why was he bringing this up now?
"I know that."
"So I need you to do something for me."
Quinn was starting to get a headache. But Finn was right (damn him!): she did owe him.
"Fine. What is it?"
"Come with me."
He turned and started to walk away without waiting to see if Quinn would follow. He led her down the deserted corridors, past endless empty classrooms. It was quiet in the school, and the dead calm was a little unnerving. Quinn began to grow anxious, because while she's pretty sure that Finn would never ask her to do anything ridiculous, it was unlike him to be so secretive about anything.
Finn stopped in front of the doorway to a familiar office.
"No," Quinn immediately said.
"Yes," Finn said firmly. "She's waiting for you."
"I won't do it."
"Yes, you will." To save them both a lot of time, Finn opened the door, and pushed her through.
"Hello, Quinn," Emma Pilllsbury greeted in a meekly cheerful voice. "Please, come in." But Quinn refused to move further into the room.
"Quinn, you need to get your crap together," Finn told her. "I'm sick of watching you mope. You need to talk to someone."
"You can't make me," answered Quinn stubbornly.
"You owe me. And this is what I want."
But Quinn's guilt only took her so far, and she now faced Finn with a defiant, determined look.
"No."
Finn took a step closer, lowering his voice so that Ms. Pillsbury couldn't hear him.
"If you don't do this, I will tell the whole school what you did with Rachel on your summer vacation."
Quinn blanched. "You wouldn't."
"Watch me." His voice was cold and his eyes were devoid of sympathy. Quinn had never seen him like that before. She had no way of knowing that Finn actually felt like he was about to pee his pants. He would never cross Quinn like that. For one, he wasn't that cruel. For two, he would like to live out the rest of his natural life with his genitals firmly attached to his body, thank you very much. But that was the whole point of bluffing.
Quinn chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated her options.
"And after this, we'd be even?"
"We'd be even," Finn confirmed.
Reluctantly, Quinn took a seat. Finn nodded at Ms. Pillsbury, then left the room, closing the door behind him. He heaved a huge sigh of relief. Walking down the hall, he pulled out his cellphone and called Rachel.
"You were right!" he proclaimed happily. "I survived."
***
Mr. Schue clapped his hands together to get the attention of the rambuctious teenagers he coached. It actually took several thunderous claps before he managed that feat.
"It's time for ballad selections again," Mr. Schue announced. "And I have the perfect song in mind. Rachel? Will you come up here?"
"Rachel gets the solo. What a shocker," Kurt mumbled underneath his breath. Displeased but not wanting to be overtly rude, he finished sending off a text to Simon then put his phone away to pay attention to Rachel's performance.
Rachel's feet dragged a little as she brought herself to the center of the room. It was hard not to notice the way she'd been carrying herself lately; her smile was less bright, her speeches less verbose. Although the latter proved to be a welcome change for the glee kids, they also found it disconcerting - but not enough to do anything about it.
The fact was that Rachel's frenetic enthusiasm was incredibly irritating most of the time and a dispirited, lethargic Rachel Berry made all of their lives easier. So they chose not to intervene. For each of them, it was almost an unconscious decision, because none of them were insensitive enough to turn away from a friend in need. They were good people, yet selfish and self-absorbed like many teenagers (and adults) tended to be; so as long as no one said anything and their consciences weren't explicitly confronted with the truth, it was just easier to ignore the shift in Rachel's attitude. Besides, while they might have felt bad for her, it wasn't as if any of them knew what to do in this strange situation.
Mr. Schue handed her the sheet music to the song, but Rachel didn't need it. The perpetually-on-loan band kids began to play. Rachel waited for her cue, and then began,
"There is freedom within, there is freedom without, try to catch the deluge in a paper cup. There's a battle ahead, many battles are lost."
As the words poured out, Rachel's thoughts were only one thing - one girl. The same who had constantly plagued her thoughts day and night. And now she couldn't help her flickering eyes from landing upon the object of her desire. For once, Quinn was looking back at her. So Rachel sang to her, the words full of meaning,
"But you'll never see the end of the road while you're traveling with me."
Quinn slid down in her seat and looked away as Rachel's voice rose at the chorus.
"Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over. Hey now, hey now, when the world comes in. They come, they come to build a wall between us. We know they won't win."
Her voice suddenly cracked on the last note, overtaken by a sharp sob. The band stopped playing as they witnessed Rachel Berry stop singing and burst into tears in the middle of a number. This was an unheard-of phenomenon. They all watched in stunned silence as Rachel cried softly in the middle of the room. Quinn stared at the floor, trying to burn a hole through it, perfectly aware that all the glee kids were watching her as much as they were watching Rachel.
"I'm sorry," Rachel said hoarsely, wiping at her eyes.
"Rachel?" Mr. Schue's brows were crinkled in concern. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, everything's fine. I just- I just really love Crowded House, okay?" Turning on her feet, Rachel fled the room. Mr. Schue looked absolutely bewildered, and looked to the remaining students for a clue.
"What's going on with Rachel?"
Everyone looked away, throwing out mutters of "Umm", "I don't know", "No idea", and from Puck, "I think she's on the rag."
"Is that right?" he asked skeptically. No one would meet his gaze. It felt as if an infected gash had been exposed, raw and rotten; each of them felt the shame of complicit guilt.
"I have to say that I'm really disappointed, guys," Mr. Schue lectured. "I thought that we were coming together as a team. Now, your teammate is obviously in a lot of pain, and you're all okay with sitting idly by? I know that you guys don't always get along, and I don't expect you to, but I really thought that you would have rallied together when it counted."
Nobody looked at him. Nobody spoke. Quinn was desperately trying not to blink, afraid that if she did, the tears pooling in her eyes would come trailing down. Mr. Schue, for all of his well-meaning impassioned speeches, failed to notice this.
"I guess I was wrong," Mr. Schue said quietly.
Seeing that he had very little alternatives, Mr. Schue left the room to go look for Rachel. He found her in the empty cafeteria. She had stopped crying, although she was sniffling as she attempted to drown her sorrows with a packet of Oreos. He sat down beside her, and not wanting to push her too hard, waited for her to acknowledge his presence. She did so by offering him a cookie, which he took.
"Thank you," he said. She nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about," Rachel whispered.
"Rachel, no one loves Crowded House that much," Mr. Schue said. "Why don't you tell me what the problem is?"
She shook her head, but she had hesitated just long enough for Mr. Schue to feel confident enough to pursue the matter.
"I know that you and I have had our differences in the past, but I'm your teacher and I care about you," Mr. Schue began delicately. "Whatever's on your mind, you can tell me, and we'll figure it out together."
Rachel's bottom lip was beginning to quiver. Mr. Schue knew that whatever was troubling Rachel had to be bad, and it hurt him to see one of his students in so much pain. He rested his hand upon Rachel's shoulder.
"Rachel, it's okay."
His gentle demeanor worked. Rachel was in sore need of sympathy these days. Unable to contain herself, she started crying again. Mr. Schue patted her awkwardly, patiently waiting for her to regain control.
"I'm in love with Quinn," she finally managed to get out. Mr. Schue's mind struggled to comprehend this, but the words simply weren't making sense. Rachel might as well have said something like, "Hark! Feckless cats' pajamas scintillate scorpions."
"And Quinn would be... the new Irish exchange student that I haven't heard about yet?" he ventured hopefully.
"Quinn Fabray," Rachel added demurely.
"Ahh," Mr. Schue said slowly. He thought for sure that this was an elaborate prank, but he was pretty sure that Rachel wasn'tthat good of an actress. "Okay. Well. Does she know that?"
Rachel nodded.
"And... ah... do you know if she love you back?"
"I don't know," Rachel said miserably. "Although I think she must. Some of the things we did in bed - well, I know that I'm inexperienced, but I've read enough articles to know that most people wouldn't let just anyone do those things. So she must have loved me a least a little to let me do that stuff to her, right?"
Mr. Schue suddenly wanted to douse his brain in bleach.
"Umm," Mr. Schue said numbly because... well, how do you respond to something like that? "Rachel, I know that you were raised in a very open household, but there are some things that just never needs to be shared out loud. Or ever."
"Sorry," Rachel mumbled, only vaguely embarrassed.
"But I also know that you weren't raised to be a quitter," said Mr. Schue mildly. "What's the song that really brought glee club together?"
"Um... Push It?"
Mr. Schue sighed.
"Don't Stop Believin', Rachel," he said. "Remember that."
***
Ms. Pillsbury tirelessly labored to set up appointments with therapists for Quinn. Quinn lasted three sessions with the first one.
"He's a man who never had kids," Quinn complained. "How is he supposed to understand anything that I'm going through?"
"We can find you a woman therapist if you'd be more comfortable," Ms. Pillsbury offered.
The next one lasted two sessions.
"She reminds me of my grandma," Quinn said. "I can't discuss these things with someone who reminds me of my grandma."
The third one lasted one session.
"She doesn't know who Diana Ross is. I can't take her seriously."
The fourth one lasted fifteen minutes.
"Her office smelled like cats."
Ms. Pillsbury sighed. "Quinn, I'm afraid that we have limited options here."
"If I have to talk to anyone," Quinn started shyly. "Can't I just talk to you?"
Ms. Pillsbury blinked.
"Of course you can!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know that was something you wanted." She felt touched that Quinn trusted her enough to want to confide in her. She felt triumphant. High school guidance counselors can make a difference!
"Well, I wouldn't have to drive all over town after school," Quinn shrugged. "And at least I know that your office is clean."
***
In some ways, life was easier for Rachel now.
Mr. Schue's words had struck a chord with the glee kids. They rallied together to help Rachel in whatever ways they could.
Kurt and Mercedes refrained from making snide remarks, even when Rachel was being extra bossy and annoying.
Artie and Tina made it a point to sit with her during lunch.
Matt and Mike cornered Jacob and threatened him with physical harm if he didn't stop following Rachel around, trying to look up her skirt.
Santana and Brittany told the Cheerios to stop hassling her - for the most part.
Finn and Puck ambushed Karofsky together, locked him in the janitor's closet and refused to let him out until he agreed to a slushie ceasefire. It didn't work, and the next day both boys got hefty doses of slushie attacks throughout the day, but it was a valiant effort nonetheless.
Everyone praised her effusively during glee practice.
Life was easier for Rachel now, but every time she looked in Quinn's direction and she felt that awful tug of longing, she couldn't help but think that nothing was easy at all.
***
"Life isn't easy. Believe me, Quinn, it doesn't get easier once you're at my age. People will tell you that things get easier after high school and in some ways that's true, but in a lot of ways it's not. There will always be people who want to judge you. There are always expectations that you just can't live up to."
"So you're saying that things will always be this bad?"
"Absolutely not," Ms. Pillsbury said firmly. "I'm saying that you have to recognize the difference between when it's time to hunker down and hope for the best, and when it's time to stand up and do something, because things won't always magically work out for the best. Life is hard, so you just have to find a way to make things easier for yourself."
Quinn carefully contemplated those words.
"So what do I do?"
"Whatever you can."
That afternoon, when Quinn got home, she tore into her closet and packed two large suitcases. She picked up her phone and scrolled to a familiar number.
"Hi," she said nervously. "Can I stay with you for a little while?"
***
It was quite a shock for Rachel to walk into school on Monday morning and see Quinn standing at her locker, hair pulled back in a harsh ponytail, clad in the red-and-white of her old Cheerios uniform. For a moment, she thought for sure that Quinn was wearing an early Halloween costume. Temporarily forgetting their unspoken agreement to stay away from each other, she made a beeline for the ex-ex-Cheerio.
"What is that?" she asked bluntly. Quinn slowly closed her locker, then leaned against it. She regarded Rachel with a maddeningly blank calmness.
"What does it look like?"
"You're back on the squad?"
"It's something to do," Quinn said with a casual shrug. "But I'm not quitting glee. I can do both."
"But why would you?"
"Brittany and Santana are on the squad too. I don't see you interrogating them about it."
"That's different. You know it is."
Rachel never had the same antagonistic relationship with Brittany and Santana as she did with Cheerios Quinn. Anyway, Santana was consistently unpleasant in or out of uniform, and Brittany tended to follow suit unless Santana wasn't around, so Rachel always knew what to expect from those two, but she couldn't say the same for Quinn. Also, she'd never lost her virginity to either of them, so that was different too.
Seeing Quinn in uniform reminded Rachel of how things used to be between them. Although it wasn't that long ago that Quinn was a Cheerio who humiliated and terrorized Rachel at every opportunity, it was still difficult for Rachel to reconcile this image before her with the soft, vulnerable Quinn she had gotten to know and love, the one who wore her hair down and who laughed at Rachel's jokes when everyone else found them lame. The idea of having Quinn revert back to an enemy was intolerable. Quinn could guess what she was thinking.
"Things won't be like they were before. I'm with them, but I'm not with them. Glee's your ticket out of this town. This is mine."
"Oh," Rachel replied, mildly comforted. An awkward beat passed. "I, um... I hear that you're staying with Brittany."
"I hear that you're going to Homecoming with Finn," Quinn returned.
"As friends, yes."
"Well, then." Quinn forced a smile. "I guess that things are working out for the both of us."
***
Quinn spent Thanksgiving with Brittany's family. She called her parents out of a sense of obligation, but the conversation was short and awkward, and afterward Quinn regretted calling at all.
Santana came over later, and the three of them watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. It was a Thanksgiving ritual for Brittany and Santana even though Brittany found the Oompa-Loompas terrifying. The two of them knew the movie line-for-line and knew exactly when to make their quips and inside jokes. At times, Quinn felt like she was intruding and frankly, so did Santana. When Brittany left the room for more popcorn, Santana took the opportunity to gently drop a hint.
"You're being a real cockblock right now," she groused. "Brit and I should be making out already." Had this come from anyone else but Santana, Quinn might have felt abashed instead of completely unperturbed.
"Geez, Lopez," Quinn scoffed. "Can't you keep it in your pants for more than two hours?"
"You're kidding me, right? Have you seen my superhot girlfriend?" Santana contemplated her own question, then added, "On second thought, no. I don't want you getting any ideas."
"Don't worry," Quinn snorted. "Brit's sweet, but she's not my type."
Vaguely offended by Quinn's lack of enthusiasm for someone Santana considered to be the hottest thing since the creation of the sun, she said icily,
"That's right. I forgot that your taste trends toward circus freaks."
"Leave her alone," Quinn snapped impulsively without realizing that she had walked right into the trap. Santana smirked.
"Leave who alone?" asked Santana innocently. "I was talking about Finn and Puck. Who are you talking about?"
Quinn flushed deeply. "Forget it."
"You know that you're being a complete idiot, right?"
"Drop it, Santana."
"No. You're being really annoying about this. It's because of you two that we had to put up that 'There's No Crying In Glee Club' sign."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Like hell I don't. Brittany and I already did the hard part for you. We came out to everyone, we told Coach Sylvester, and we still rule the school because we're awesome. If we survive, so will you. And since you're not even living with your parents anymore, I don't know what your problem is. There's nothing scary about this."
"She went to Homecoming with Finn," Quinn muttered mournfully. She had refused to go, even though she was asked by Puck and then a sophomore basketball player. She would've spent the entire time glaring at Rachel and Finn anyway.
"They went as friends. Yeah, I know, I was shocked too - like, who would really want to be friends with that freakshow? But there you have it," Santana sneered, with more mocking than menace. "You'd have to be a special kind of stupid not to see that she's still hung up on you."
Quinn didn't know how to respond to that. It wasn't as if she couldn't see how much Rachel was suffering, it was more like she couldn't bring herself to believe it. She had expected Rachel to move on by now. Chia Pet Finn was right there for the taking.
"What do you care anyway?"
"I don't." Santana shrugged carelessly. "I just like pointing out what an idiot you are."
Brittany chose that moment to come back into the room with freshly made popcorn, and the subject was dropped. Quinn sat through fifteen more minutes of the movie before she excused herself, partly to give Santana and Brittany a little alone time. She put on her jacket and ducked out onto the back porch with her phone. Rachel picked up on the third ring.
"Quinn," came her breathless, uncertain voice over the line. "Is everything okay?" It stung Quinn a little that she couldn't just call up Rachel without the other girl thinking that there was something wrong. Even when paralyzed with fear at the thought of pursuing a romantic relationship, Quinn had never wanted their friendship to degrade so far. At that moment, she realized how much she missed her. More than the kissing or the cuddling or the sex, she missed Rachel, period.
"I, um, just wanted to call and wish you a Happy Thanksgiving."
Their conversation was short but not awkward, and afterward Quinn didn't regret calling at all. She felt like this was the right thing to do. At the very least, maybe this could be right step in getting their friendship back on track. She thought that maybe Rachel felt the same way.
Rachel didn't.
For Rachel, Quinn's one gentle, subtle act felt like a portentous, pivotal moment. This short conversation was an ember on the pile of dried-out kindling she had forced her feelings to become. It ignited everything she had strove to suppress, and she lay awake that night, burning with need and want and longing. She lay awake, thinking of Quinn's hands and hair and hips. She lay awake, thinking how there was no way she could carry on the way she had before.
She lay awake, hatching her brilliant plan to win Quinn Fabray.
***
"Rachel, Mercedes, Tina, Artie, Finn and Mike. Please make your way to the left side of the room," Mr. Schue announced. "Everyone else, on the right side."
"What's going on?" Kurt asked.
"Principal Figgins has asked us to perform a couple of songs at the McKinley winter show. Two songs, two competing groups. To make things a little bit more interesting, we're going to have the audience vote on the performances after the show, and we'll perform the winning song at sectionals this year. It's about time you kids learned a little something about independence and competitive spirit - without the use of pharmaceuticals this time, please."
Convincing Mr. Schue to split glee club into two groups had been easy, relatively speaking. Rachel had cornered him after glee practice and stated her case. Mr. Schue eyed the "There's No Crying In Glee Club" sign, and assented because he was afraid that Rachel would defy the sign if he refused. She also managed to convince him to let her hand-pick her group. She had a careful strategy in her selection. Puck, Brittany and Santana were out because they might tell Quinn what was going on. She left out Kurt in favor of Mike because Mercedes would be more pliable without an automatic ally. Tina and Artie wouldn't give her any trouble. Finn was a tough choice. It wasn't fair to ask him to do this, but in the end, she needed his voice and besides, she trusted his opinion. For the most part.
"You're joking, right?" Finn gawked at her. So did everyone else. The two groups had separated to discuss their performance; Quinn's group headed to the auditorium while Rachel's remained in the music room. It was then that Rachel made her proposal.
"No, I am not."
"You want to get up in front of the whole school and sing a love song to Quinn Fabray," Mercedes stated incredulously. "Good Christian Cheerio, ice princess Barbie-doll Quinn Fabray."
"Rachel, you know that I'm a fan of musical romantic declarations," Artie said as he gave Tina's hand a soft squeeze. "But this is suicide."
"I think it's cute," said Tina with a shy smile.
"It would be if it wasn't Quinn," Artie said. "Outing Quinn in front of the whole school will be the last thing any of us do before we end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. You know that she'll make sure that our bodies are never found."
"It won't be like that," Rachel replied. "We're making a political statement by singing love songs to same sex glee members. Gay rights is very topical. Mercedes and Tina will sing to Brittany and Santana; Mike, Finn and Artie will sing to the boys, and I get Quinn. We'll be the only ones who know what's really going on."
"I have to sing to a dude?" Finn winced. "In front of the whole school?"
"I wouldn't ask if I had another option." There was subtle desperation in her tone.
Rachel knew that Quinn had a soft spot for emotional musical numbers. The stakes were decidedly higher than when they sang "Keep Holding On" or "Lean On Me", but Rachel didn't know what else to do. Plus, she had a flare for making dramatic statements anyway.
"We can vote on this," Rachel added. "Since there are six of us and it's my proposal, I will abstain."
Mercedes went first. "Y'all know that I'm not against making a scene. But this is all kinds of crazy. I have to say no."
"I don't see the harm," Tina countered. "I say yes."
"Sorry, Rachel," Artie opposed. "But Quinn kind of scares me. I vote no."
"Whatever," Mike said easily. "I'm down."
All eyes fell upon Finn, the deciding vote. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. It sucked being asked to do this.
"Finn," Rachel pleaded.
"I want to tell you that I think this is going to end badly for you. Again," Finn finally said. "But I have a feeling that you won't listen to me anyway."
"I love her," Rachel said quietly. This was the first time that any of them had heard this admission. They didn't know whether to feel touched or uncomfortable.
"Yeah," Finn sighed. "I know."
The room was quiet as Finn mulled it over. It really sucked being asked to do this.
"Fuck it," he finally said. "Let's go for it."
***
They argued over song choices for three days. They might have agreed to help Rachel, but they also wanted their shot at winning. Also, as much as Rachel loved Quinn and wanted to get her back, there was still the matter of her elephantine ego and her delusional sense of grandeur. It took them forty-five minutes to explain to her why her version of "Just Like Heaven" would not make Quinn swoon.
"I'm sure your song is great," Tina explained patiently. "But I don't think Quinn will be happy with something that Artie already sang to me."
"But it's so good! It's so much better than Artie's crappy version!" Rachel's eyes darted to the boy in the wheelchair not three feet away. "No offense, Artie."
"Gee, why would I be offended by that?" Artie responded sardonically.
"Fine. How about 'Wind Beneath My Wings'?" Everyone groaned. Rachel was outraged. "What's wrong with 'Wind Beneath My Wings'?!"
"Rachel, we'll help you, but you need to let us have a say," Finn said. "It's not all about you. We need to have a crowd-pleaser that's going to win this competition."
"Who cares about a stupid competition?!" Rachel snapped.
They all stared in shock. Mercedes leaned toward Tina and whispered,
"Did she just say what I think she said?"
"I think there must have been a toxic gas leak," Tina said, slightly dazed. "We're all hallucinating. It's the only logical explanation."
"Think of it like this," Finn said to Rachel. "Do you really want to lose a singing contest to Puck?" Rachel considered this.
"Very well," she stated calmly. "But whatever song we pick, it better be romantic."
***
They settled on Oasis' "Wonderwall". Then the real nightmare began. Rachel was an utterly relentless slave-driver, obsessed with making every note of the song and every step of the choreography perfect. She called Finn early in the mornings to remind him to do his vocal warm-ups. She called Mike late in the night to go over the dance routine. She demanded rehearsals before school, after school and even during lunch. Some of them took to eating their lunch in bathrooms and closets just to have a moment's peace.
"What the hell is wrong with this girl?" Mercedes complained as she munched on a pizza bagel in a janitor's closet. She was crammed in there with three other people.
"You sort of have to admire her tenacity," Tina said. She started to unwrap her tuna sandwich, but then caught a glance of the blackened mop next to her and suddenly lost her appetite.
"She's like the Little Engine That Could," Artie agreed. "Only that in this version, the Little Engine is probably going to crash into the side of a mountain and kill everyone on board in a fiery explosion."
"Look on the bright side," Mike said through a mouthful of apple. "At least our deaths will be quick, and we wouldn't have to take the SATs."
***
"They're doing 'Baba O'Riley' by The Who," Mike reported to his teammates after they had asked him to do a little snooping. "Puck's taking lead."
"How did you find out?" Finn asked.
"Well, I followed Kurt home after school. I sat parked outside his house for three hours until he left, then I shimmied up the rain gutters, dropped in from the skylight with my awesome Asian ninja skills, and went through every single of paper in that house until I found the sheet music."
"Really?" Rachel's eyes were wide with admiration.
"No," Mike shrugged. "I just asked Matt."
***
Puck had a nice voice, but after two hours of listening to him imitate Roger Daltrey, Quinn wanted to claw his eyes out every time he opened his mouth. She wasn't alone in her sentiments, so they finally called it a day. Santana and Brittany were going to the movies; they extended an invitation but Quinn could tell by the look in Santana's eyes that she should decline. They offered her a ride, but Quinn turned that down too. It was a snowy December day in Lima and Quinn found great comfort in strolling through the slowly drifting flakes. Everything was beautifully blanketed in white; she derived a great sense of satisfaction from feeling the crunch of powdery snow beneath her boots. With everyone off the streets, sometimes it felt like she was the last person on earth.
As she walked down the street leading away from the school, she spotted a familiar chaired figure on the sidewalk, struggling futilely in the snow.
"Artie?" she called out as she approached. "What are you doing?"
Artie looked up at Quinn through his snow-spotted glasses, and he ceased to struggle. He seemed mortified.
"I, um, I think I'm stuck." He nodded down at one of his wheels caught and rendered immobile by the accumulation. Quinn knelt down and brushed at the snow until he could move the wheelchair. "Thanks," he mumbled.
"What are you doing out here?"
"I was trying to get to the convenience store on the corner." Artie spoke as if he had marbles in his mouth, thick and indistinct. He was so embarrassed that he couldn't quite meet Quinn's eyes.
"In the snow?" Quinn asked skeptically.
"We only have a week left before the winter show, so Rachel's making everyone stay late for rehearsal. Tina said that she had a craving for sour gummy worms. Mike volunteered to run out for some..."
"And you wanted to go instead."
"She's my girlfriend."
"And they let you?"
"Just because I'm in a wheelchair doesn't mean that I can't do things!" Artie retorted defensively. When Quinn crinkled her brows, he softened. "But, I mean, no. I told them that I had to call my mom. I thought that I'd be able to go and get back before the snow started sticking."
Quinn took a hold of the wheelchair's handles and began pushing him.
"What are we doing?" asked Artie.
"What does it look like? We're getting your girlfriend some sour gummy worms," Quinn replied. They went along in silence for a few feet. "You know that Tina doesn't care whether you can make snack runs for her, right?"
"I know," Artie mumbled. "But I do."
"It's not a competition."
"That's easy for you to say. You have legs."
"Don't say that. A lot of guys can walk, Artie, but you're twice the man they are."
"That's easy for you to say too. You're more about the berries than the nuts these days, aren't you?"
The words came out before he could stop himself. There was a harsh jolt as Quinn came to a stop. Artie held his breath, half-expecting her to tip him over. Instead, after a moment's silence, she resumed pushing the wheelchair, going at a slow, even pace.
"How is she?"
"Crazy," Artie said. "Cazier than usual."
"Yeah," Quinn breathed softly. "She gets so worked up about these competitions."
"She has a lot at stake," Artie replied, even though he knew that Quinn wouldn't understand exactly what he meant. Not yet, anyway.
Neither said anything more on the way to the store. Quinn stayed with him while he made his purchase, then wheeled him back to the school. She took him up the handicap ramp, and said goodbye to him at the door. Quinn started to leave, but stopped when she heard Artie call her name.
"You once told me that you knew what it was like to throw away something you love," Artie said. "I never thought that you'd be stupid enough to do it twice."
***
On the night of the show, Rachel's teammates were basked in confidence. It wasn't as if they didn't notice that their team had most of the vocal powerhouses. Kurt, Puck and Quinn had nice voices, but they weren't in the same range as Rachel or Artie. The dance routine might be a little awkward, but they were hoping that Mike's gravity-defying moves would balance out Finn's bumbling mess. They were all pretty damn sure that they weren't going to lose to a bunch of cheerleaders and jocks, so they were all rather relaxed before the show.
All of them except one, of course.
"Rachel, stop circling me!" Mike yelled. "I feel like a snack for Jaws."
They were gathered in the music room, waiting to go into the auditorium. They took a minimalist approach to wardrobe: the boys had on white tie-less suits, and the girls were in white v-cut dresses. In a futile attempt to calm her nerves, Rachel had taken to pacing the room in haphazard circles around randomly selected objects. She walked around the piano 31 times, a chair 28 times, Finn 13 times and now Mike. The current count was 11.
"You need to settle down there," Mercedes told her. "We don't need you having a stroke fifteen minutes before the show."
"I'm nervous!" Rachel whined. "What if this is a bad idea?"
"I already told you it was," Finn muttered.
"What if it doesn't work? What if I just embarrass her? What if she hates me after this?" Rachel was growing increasingly hysterical, to the point of near-hyperventilation. That simply wouldn't do. They needed their lead singer to be able to breathe. Finn took her hand in his and forced her to sit.
"Rachel, it's going to be okay," he reassured. "It's too late to change the routine anyway. We're just going to have to hope for the best."
Before Rachel could continue her freak out, Mr. Schue entered and announced that it was time for them to head to the auditorium. Rachel followed her teammates out the door, her feet heavy and dragging. Mr. Schue gave her an encouraging smile as she exited, which was appreciated but honestly didn't make her feel any better.
They filed into the packed auditorium and took their seats in the front row. The other glee kids were already there and seated. The two teams exchanged terse greetings. Rachel tried to catch Quinn's eye in order to gauge her mood, but the blonde resolutely refused eye contact. Rachel's heart sunk. That wasn't a good sign.
Principal Figgins began the show with a brief introduction. The first half ran like a variety show consisting of odd displays of contortions, dances, magic tricks and one awkward act of ventriloquism. Yet Rachel couldn't enjoy any of it. All she could do was steal glances at Quinn and fidget nervously in her seat. At last, it was time for the glee club to perform. Quinn's team was to go first, and they left their seats to make their way backstage. Puck winked at them as he passed by.
There was a brief lull as everyone waited for the next performance. Rachel stared at the thick black curtain on the stage, the conversational bubbling of the audience in her ear. They might as well have been a babbling brook or a buzzing hive; they were all only white noise. Rachel felt the acute beating of her heart, and was sharply aware of each second that ticked by. Just one more performance. Just one more song. Ten more minutes, and it'll be her up on the stage for the most important performance she's ever had and probably ever will have.
The curtains started to rise. Rachel tried to quell her frenzied nerves. She ought to at least set her neuroses aside a few minutes to pay attention to her teammates' performance.
The stage was unveiled. Brittany and Santana were on the left side; each standing before a microphone. Next to them, Kurt sat on a box drum. Puck and Matt stood to the right, each with an acoustic guitar strapped to them. Then there was Quinn, center stage, breathtakingly gorgeous in a crimson red dress that ended mid-thigh with thick red straps across creamy white shoulders. Even as Rachel became flooded with a healthy dose of hormones, she noted that it was strange to put the ostensible lead singer, Puck in the background.
Kurt started thumping a simple swinging beat against the box drum. Brittany and Santana clapped along. It didn't sound very much like "Baba O'Riley". His palm muting the strings of his guitar, Matt struck the strings, producing a rhythmic accompaniment. Puck began to play his guitar. Rachel recognized the chords immediately, and her heart seized wildly with excitement.
Quinn stepped up to her microphone. Her eyes met Rachel's. She smiled. And started to sing.
"When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around. Those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd."
It felt like a dream. So wonderful and surreal that Rachel had a hard time believing that it was true. But here they were. There Quinn was. In the back of her mind, Rachel thought that maybe it was a coincidence that Quinn was singing this song.
"Oh, baby, give me one more chance to show you that I love you. Won't you please let me back in your heart. Oh, darlin', I was blind to let you go."
But Rachel could swear that Quinn was looking right at her. Quinn took the microphone from its stand, and began to move across the stage.
"But now since I see you in his arms, I want you back. Yes, I do now."
She made her way down the stage's steps and into the audience. Then she was before Rachel. She crouched down. Her hand reached for Rachel's. Her touch was warm, and sent a shiver down the brunette's spine.
"Tryin' to live without your love is one long sleepless night," Quinn sang, her eyes locked with Rachel's. "Let me show you, girl, that I know wrong from right."
Tears pooled in Rachel's eyes, but the smile on her face was a mile wide. Quinn rose to her feet and moved down to the next person, Finn. She knelt to touch his hand too, but Rachel knew that it was for show. She now knew that this song was for her and only her. It was finally starting to sink in. Quinn had changed the song for her. All this time that Rachel was on pins and needles, planning her grand romantic gesture for Quinn Fabray, Quinn had been doing the exact same thing. She'd been playing a game of Spy v. Spy with Quinn and she didn't even know it.
Quinn moved down the line, briefly singing to every glee member, plus Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury, before retaking the stage for the final chorus. When the song ended, the audience erupted into wild applause. Rachel was instantly out of her seat. She reached backstage in less than a minute. She bobbed and weaved through the throngs of people, frantically trying to catch a glimpse of red in the crowd.
She felt a hand on her elbow. It was Finn.
"She's already back in the audience," he said. Without thinking, Rachel started moving toward the exit, but he tightened his grip on her. "No! We have a show to do, remember?"
For the first time in her life, Rachel was forced to take the stage. She looked for Quinn as soon as the curtains went up. Sure enough, there she was, still in that red dress. When their eyes met, and Rachel felt the presence and noises of the world drain away. She was dimly aware of the music striking up, and she automatically sang along, but words didn't seem important anymore.
As planned, their choreography involved approaching the other glee members in the audience. Artie rolled up to Puck. Tina sang to Santana. Mercedes crooned to Brittany. Mike was naturally paired with Matt. Finn awkwardly serenaded Kurt.
"By now you should've somehow realized what you're not to do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now."
And Rachel had Quinn.
***
With polite, perfunctory nods, Rachel pushed past the well-wishers and admirers. Their congratulations meant nothing. But she couldn't find her, and with every passing minutes, the anxiety built with intense pressure.
"We tied with the other team," Mercedes told her with disappointment. "Mr. Schue suggested that we do a mash-up of both songs at Sectionals."
"Uh-huh," Rachel answered in a tone that said whatever. "Have you seen Quinn?"
When Mercedes said no, Rachel moved away to seek out someone else who could tell her where Quinn was.
"Music room," Santana finally told her. Rachel tore out of the auditorium as fast as her little legs could carry her.
She frantically burst into the music room, half-expecting to find it empty, half-expecting to find a gigantic banner that says "Gotcha!"
But there was only Quinn, sitting patiently and demurely on the piano bench. Quinn took one look at the breathless brunette, and the first thing she said was,
"I love you."
The realization had came on so slowly that it was imperceptible. Quinn couldn't say when it happened, only that it did. There was no epiphany, no sudden stroke of clarity, and no bolt of lightning. It was a slow trickle amassing daily until it was a deep lake she couldn't refute or ignore.
"I'm sorry it took me so long, but I had to spend some time putting myself back together," Quinn continued. "For the longest time, I thought that things would be easier in the run long if I gave you up, no matter how much it hurt in the meanwhile - and god, it hurt. But I was wrong. Things don't get always get easier, and they don't just magically work out by themselves. I needed to do whatever I can to help myself. That means you. I was a coward and I stupidly threw you away. But now I see that there's really nothing scary about this.
"I was afraid of everything. What my parents would do, what people would think, what would happen if things don't work out, and what's going to happen when we go to college. And to be completely honest, I'm still worried. The odds are against us, Rachel. But I was very wrong about one thing. You are worth the risk, because I'm in love with you and I don't know how not to be.
"Because it's like that moment when you wake up and realize that it's a new day. The sun's on your face, the birds are singing and you feel rested and alive. All the mistakes you made belonged to yesterday and now here's another day to start fresh. Everything feels brand new and wonderful. That's what it's like when I'm with you. Always. All the time. I want that back. I want you back."
Rachel said nothing. It was starting to make Quinn nervous.
"I, just... I hope it's not too late," she said quietly. "I know that I hurt you, and I understand if-"
Rachel suddenly crossed the room in a few quick strides, taking Quinn into her arms and crushing her lips against the blonde's. Just like that, all the tension evaporated from Quinn's body. She eagerly parted her mouth, letting Rachel in. Rachel scrambled on top, her knees on the piano bench as she straddled Quinn's waist. Their bodies were so tightly molded together their dresses seemed to be a single weave of red-and-white.
A warm glow flowed through the girls as they touched; this was a balm on the gaping wounds they both carried since their road trip ended. Suddenly, nothing hurt. Nothing except for the clenching catch in their chests, but it wasn't an ache that anyone would mind.
Both were flushed and panting when they finally parted. Quinn rested her forehead against Rachel's, her fingers instinctively but hesitatingly playing with the hem of Rachel's hiked-up dress, because her newfound courage to act on her love for Rachel Berry did not extend itself to sex in public spaces (yet).
"Rach, listen," Quinn began gently. "It's not going to be easy. I'm getting help, but I still have a lot of things to work through. You're going to have to be patient and I know that's not fair-"
"I'm patient!" Rachel interrupted hastily. "I'm so patient! Aren't I always?"
"I'm not like Brittany or Santana. I'm not ready to announce everything to the world just yet."
"I know," said Rachel. "I don't care."
"It means that I can't take you home to meet my parents."
"That's probably for the best."
"I don't think I can take you to junior prom or anything."
"I find school dances to be trite anyway," Rachel replied promptly.
"We shouldn't hold hands or kiss in school."
"Public displays of affection are overrated."
"And we probably shouldn't have sex either."
"What?!"
Quinn grinned mischievously. "Just kidding."
Rachel pouted at the trick; the situation could only be remedied with physical contact, so Quinn pulled her back in for a kiss which turned into two and three and four. The minutes went by unnoticed by these two, for whom time and space meant nothing.
They were forced to part by the sound of footsteps and voices. Rachel reluctantly slid off Quinn's lap while the blonde smoothed out the front of her dress, attempting to look as innocent as possible. The glee kids stumbled through the door, exuberant with the rush of performance, their voices overlapping one another as multiple conversations carried on.
"I just helped my cheating, lying ex-girlfriend get with my other cheating, lying ex-girlfriend," Finn griped. "I'm gonna be pissed if I don't get to the good heaven after this."
"What's the good heaven?" Matt asked.
"The one with the dogs," Finn and Brittany chorused.
"How dare you!" Mike bellowed at Mercedes. "Miss Congeniality is vastly superior to Two Weeks Notice!"
"...one week before the show - one freakin' week! - she tells me that we gotta change the song," Puck was telling Tina and Artie. "She threatened to shave my mohawk if we didn't!"
"At least she didn't threaten to change your Cheerios uniform to gold pleather," Santana grumbled. "Pleather!"
When Quinn saw that the intruders were only their friends and not any random gossip, she visibly relaxed, then reached out to hold Rachel's hand. In front of them, she could be herself.
"Speak of the devil," Puck said when he saw Quinn. He spied the hand-holding. "Did you two make up?" The girls both nodded. "Did you kiss? Did I miss the kissing?"
"You missed a lot more than that," Rachel answered cheekily.
"No!" There might have been a genuine tone of distress in his voice. "Do it again!"
"Dream on," Quinn snorted.
"All of you, listen up," Puck growled, pointing a finger at everyone. "Any of you have something to say to someone, learn to use your damn words. We're not doing any more stupid musical grand gestures!"
There was a collective wave of protest.
"...For the rest of the year," Puck added reluctantly.
"For a month," Kurt offered.
"Six months," Puck countered.
When they all continued arguing, Rachel gently squeezed Quinn's hand.
"What do you say we hit the road?"
"Where to?"
"My bedroom."
Quinn knew exactly what to say to that.
***
Epilogue
Everyone foresaw doom. They even had a pool going.
"I give them two weeks and then Quinn succumbs to gay panic," Kurt predicted.
"Ten days," Santana said. "Before Berry does something creepy and/or stupid."
"A month," Puck said with a leer, joking but kind of not. "Then Quinn realizes what she's missing with a real stud like me."
He didn't appreciate the fact that they all promptly burst into hysterical laughter.
But they were all wrong. Everything was peaceful between the girls, aside from the occasional light bickering which always inevitably ended with make-up sex. Things were so peaceful that it was actually kind of dull - for the other people.
"You guys are so boring," Kurt moaned woefully. They had just told him how they celebrated their one-year anniversary: movie, dinner, cuddling. They left out the sex because they knew that he wouldn't be interested in hearing about that. "What's the point of having glee club's two biggest drama queens hook up if there isn't going to be any actual drama?"
Rachel and Quinn just looked at one another, exchanged a dopey smile which made Kurt groan in disgust, and snuggled closer.
They did have one major fight in the spring of their senior year; one that lasted three days. It started the day that Quinn got her acceptance letter to NYU. They were at Brittany's house (where Quinn still lived) when the letter came. Rachel, having already been granted an early decision acceptance to Juilliard, squealed loudly and threw her arms around her girlfriend.
"We're going to New York!" When Quinn didn't return her enthusiastic embrace, Rachel pulled back. "What's wrong?"
"I'm not going," Quinn mumbled.
"What?"
"New York is very expensive, especially a school like NYU. And Michigan already offered me a full ride..."
"Michigan?! What's in Michigan?!" Rachel cried shrilly. "No, you know what's not in Michigan? Me!"
"I just don't have the money," Quinn said with a helpless shrug. "My parents aren't paying for college and I don't want to be saddled with loans for the next fifteen years."
"I'm sure that my dads will be agreeable to-"
"Rach, no," Quinn said firmly. "I'm not taking money from your parents."
"Well, I don't care. You're not going to Michigan." Rachel knew that she was being childish, but she couldn't help it. Losing Quinn was a very scary but very real prospect.
"Rachel, please just listen-"
"No!" Rachel got up from the couch. "I am not receptive to any discussions about the future that doesn't involve you and I being together."
Her subsequent storm-out was really one of the finest she ever executed.
They fought about this for three days, alternating between bouts of screaming matches and giving each other the silent treatment. New York or Michigan. Michigan or New York. It was going to be one or the other, the end of their relationship or the beginning of the rest of their lives.
Neither contemplated the idea of going away to college while maintaining a long-distance relationship. Rachel didn't because she refused to consider any proposal that required Quinn being away from her. Quinn didn't because she knew the odds of success were extraordinarily slim. It was typical of their differences in ideals. Quinn was practical but cowardly; Rachel was romantic but absurd.
It was lucky that they loved each other enough to compromise.
"We'll see how much the scholarship is," Quinn proposed. The two of them agreed on a sum. "If it's equal to or more than that, I can go to New York."
"What if it's less?" Rachel worried.
"We'll work it out then," Quinn said, secretly believing that they wouldn't.
"We'll work it out," Rachel agreed, openly believing that they would.
So they hung their hopes and their future on a number. They were growing up.
The offer of scholarship arrived. It was a plain letter in a plain envelope. Quinn brought it to Rachel's house as soon as she saw it. They had agreed that they would open it together. Rachel had prepared a box of tissues and a tub of ice cream - just in case. Quinn opened the envelope, and took the letter out. Before she could unfold it, Rachel stopped her, clasping her hand over Quinn's.
"Quinn," she said.
"Yeah, Rach?"
"Let's stay together," Rachel said desperately. "Even if you have to go to Michigan, let's stay together. I know that you don't think that the long-distance thing could work, and maybe you're right, but can we try anyway?"
"Okay," Quinn whispered with a nod. It was only human to hope.
"And no matter what, I love you."
"I love you too."
They kissed. When they pulled apart, they smiled nervously at each other.
Rachel took away her hand.
With shaky hands and a pounding heart, Quinn unfolded the letter.
She scanned it quickly.
A slow smile started to spread.
In the end, they were going to New York City. And that was only the beginning.
If you’re loved by someone you’re never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it.
"Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise" - The Avett Brothers
Post-Fic Songs:
KT Tunstall - "I Want You Back"
The Avett Brothers - "Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise"
And just for fun:
Jackson 5 v. Oasis - "I Want Your Wonderwall" ("Wonderwall"/"I Want You Back" mash-up)
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Rachel/Quinn; Brittany/Santana; Artie/Tina
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up through "Sectionals"
Word Count (this part): 10,330
Word Count (total): 59,986
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] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7]
Song Referenced in This Part:
Crowded House - "Don't Dream It's Over"
The Who - "Baba O'Riley"
Oasis - "Wonderwall"
Lima, OH
Her fathers were sitting in the living room when she got home, having their bedtime snack of milk and cookies. They looked up as she entered, watching as she dropped her bags in the foyer, then wearily stumbled over to the couch, and into her Dad's arms.
"Welcome home, Bubbala," her Dad said.
That was all it took for her to become unraveled. She broke down; her small frame rattled with irrepressible sobs. Her Daddy quickly got up from his seat and went to her side, wrapping his arms around her. Rachel wept openly and riotously, unleashing all of her frustrations and pains in the arms of two loving parents. Her Dad stroked her hair while her Daddy rubbed her back; they said nothing, they just allowed their daughter to grieve. When Rachel finally settled down, her Daddy brought her a glass of warm milk and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Rachel sank into the couch, physically and emotionally exhausted, resting her head against her Dad's shoulder.
"I feel better," said Rachel weakly.
"Good," her Daddy replied gently. "You'll be okay."
"I'm sorry, kiddo." Her Dad planted a soft kiss on his daughter's forehead as he held her close. Then after a beat, he added, "But you know that you're still grounded, right?"
Rachel nodded. "Yeah," she sighed. "I know."
***
The house was dark and silent when Quinn got home.
She wanted to get to bed without waking her parents up, but when she attempted to tiptoe up the stairs, the door to her parents' bedroom creaked open. Russell Fabray stood in its entrance in his bathrob, hair disheveled and clutching a baseball bat in his hands. When he saw Quinn, the hostile gleam disappeared from his eyes, and it was replaced by something more like indifference.
"Oh," he said flatly. "It's you."
"It's me," Quinn said with a sheepish shrug.
"You woke me up. I thought you were a burglar."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Don't get smart with me," Russell said sharply. "It's late. Get to bed."
With that, he went back into his room, closing the door behind him. He hadn't even bothered to ask her where she'd been. She could pretend like that didn't hurt her, but the truth was that he was her father and she would never stop being hurt by his callousness. Through the closed door, she could hear her mother's voice and her father's reply:
"What is it, Russell?"
"It's nothing. Go back to sleep."
As Quinn slinked back to her room, she realized that was exactly what she was in this house: nothing.
***
Their junior year began two days later.
Rachel and Quinn didn't talk to each other, not even during glee practice. They shared an unspoken understanding where they both agreed that it would be easier for them to ignore one another - or at least pretend to, because the truth is that neither girl could stop glancing at the other out of the corner of her eyes.
It hurt Rachel the most when she saw that blank, vaguely forlorn expression on Quinn's face. It was the same she had worn during the summer, camped out in front of the Berrys' television watching The Twilight Zone.
It was like nothing had changed for Quinn at all. And this time, Rachel was all out of moves.
***
Now that they were out in the open, Brittany and Santana decided to tackle what they dubbed the "Coach Sylvester Problem" head-on. They arranged to meet her together in her office on the first day of school before Cheerios practice. They weren't sure what to expect, or what would happen when Coach Sylvester found out that two of her cheerleaders were involved. They had the faint idea that it wouldn't be anything good. Brittany loved cheerleading, Santana loved the social status that cheerleading gave her, and the idea of being forced to quit the Cheerios was abhorrent to both. But they agreed that the idea of giving up one another was worse.
They sat in Coach Sylvester's office and Brittany let Santana do all the talking. When Santana was done, Coach Sylvester peered at both of them coolly over the rim of her glasses. She stared at them for a good, long time.
"You know, coaching an internationally renowned cheerleading squad takes its toll. I make it look easy, but it's actually high-pressured, extraordinarily demanding and very stressful, so I do what I can to relax. Some people exercise, others read a book. Me, I prefer something lighthearted and fun; that's why I so treasure my afternoon sessions of Krav Maga with members of the Ohio State Patrol. Nothing unwinds me like crushing the windpipe of a 250-pound bear of a man and making him call me mama. So what you're telling me is that you had me cancel my Krav Maga today so that the two of you could inform me that you're going steady, is that it?"
"I'm confused," Brittany squeaked. "Are you mad at us or not?"
Coach Sylvester slowly removed her glasses, tapping its frame impatiently against her desk.
"Tell me, ladies, do you plan on distracting my performers and taking away precious training time by using Cheerios practice as recruitment grounds for your cult of sexual deviance?"
"No!" Santana protested. "Coach, we're in love-"
Coach Sylvester raised a hand to silence her.
"Will your newfound Sapphic love impede your abilities to execute a flawless pike jump?"
"No," they replied in unison.
"Do you have any designs to cut your hairs, stop bathing and dress yourselves in oversized cardigans until you both resemble the sexless, androgynous, unholy lovechild of William Schuester and Justin Bieber?"
"Um..." The girls exchanged confused looks. "No?"
"Then I fail to see why or how I should care about any of this. Congratulations, this meeting has proven to be a bigger waste of time than the time I saw Scott Baio at the Lima mall and flirted with him for an hour before I realized that he was just some lawyer from Orange County shilling his law blog."
"Who's Scott Baio?" Brittany whispered to her girlfriend.
"I think he's that senator who used to pose for Playgirl or something," Santana whispered back.
"Silence! I'm not done systematically destroying your fragile teenage egos," Coach Sylvester snapped. "For orchestrating such an egregious waste of my time, the two of you are going to give me fifteen laps around the football field right now. Now get out of my office."
Santana took Brittany's hand, giving it a soft squeeze, silently urging the blonde girl to hurry. The two of them quickly made their escape, still frightened of their Coach but a little relieved that they were still on the team. Coach Sylvester watched them leave, then put her glasses back on and turned her attention to the paperwork before her.
"Sneaky gays," she muttered to herself.
***
It's been two weeks since school started. It was a Monday afternoon, glee practice had just ended and the hallways were empty. Quinn was at her locker when she felt Finn's looming presence.
"You owe me," Finn said, and Quinn sighed with light exasperation.
She liked Finn - really, she did. When all was said and done, even if their romantic ventures were no more, she wanted to keep him as a friend. But the boy was so hopeless sometimes; his naivete sorely tested Quinn's patience and she was already worn out to begin with by everything else.
"What?" she asked with as much congeniality as she could muster.
"You owe me," Finn repeated. "By my count, you've taken a baby, a best friend and two girlfriends from me - one of them being you, of course, but I'm counting it. So the way I see it, you owe me. Big time." Her exasperation only deepened, although guilt was now rapidly gaining ground as the dominant emotion. She already knew all this; they both did. Why was he bringing this up now?
"I know that."
"So I need you to do something for me."
Quinn was starting to get a headache. But Finn was right (damn him!): she did owe him.
"Fine. What is it?"
"Come with me."
He turned and started to walk away without waiting to see if Quinn would follow. He led her down the deserted corridors, past endless empty classrooms. It was quiet in the school, and the dead calm was a little unnerving. Quinn began to grow anxious, because while she's pretty sure that Finn would never ask her to do anything ridiculous, it was unlike him to be so secretive about anything.
Finn stopped in front of the doorway to a familiar office.
"No," Quinn immediately said.
"Yes," Finn said firmly. "She's waiting for you."
"I won't do it."
"Yes, you will." To save them both a lot of time, Finn opened the door, and pushed her through.
"Hello, Quinn," Emma Pilllsbury greeted in a meekly cheerful voice. "Please, come in." But Quinn refused to move further into the room.
"Quinn, you need to get your crap together," Finn told her. "I'm sick of watching you mope. You need to talk to someone."
"You can't make me," answered Quinn stubbornly.
"You owe me. And this is what I want."
But Quinn's guilt only took her so far, and she now faced Finn with a defiant, determined look.
"No."
Finn took a step closer, lowering his voice so that Ms. Pillsbury couldn't hear him.
"If you don't do this, I will tell the whole school what you did with Rachel on your summer vacation."
Quinn blanched. "You wouldn't."
"Watch me." His voice was cold and his eyes were devoid of sympathy. Quinn had never seen him like that before. She had no way of knowing that Finn actually felt like he was about to pee his pants. He would never cross Quinn like that. For one, he wasn't that cruel. For two, he would like to live out the rest of his natural life with his genitals firmly attached to his body, thank you very much. But that was the whole point of bluffing.
Quinn chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated her options.
"And after this, we'd be even?"
"We'd be even," Finn confirmed.
Reluctantly, Quinn took a seat. Finn nodded at Ms. Pillsbury, then left the room, closing the door behind him. He heaved a huge sigh of relief. Walking down the hall, he pulled out his cellphone and called Rachel.
"You were right!" he proclaimed happily. "I survived."
***
Mr. Schue clapped his hands together to get the attention of the rambuctious teenagers he coached. It actually took several thunderous claps before he managed that feat.
"It's time for ballad selections again," Mr. Schue announced. "And I have the perfect song in mind. Rachel? Will you come up here?"
"Rachel gets the solo. What a shocker," Kurt mumbled underneath his breath. Displeased but not wanting to be overtly rude, he finished sending off a text to Simon then put his phone away to pay attention to Rachel's performance.
Rachel's feet dragged a little as she brought herself to the center of the room. It was hard not to notice the way she'd been carrying herself lately; her smile was less bright, her speeches less verbose. Although the latter proved to be a welcome change for the glee kids, they also found it disconcerting - but not enough to do anything about it.
The fact was that Rachel's frenetic enthusiasm was incredibly irritating most of the time and a dispirited, lethargic Rachel Berry made all of their lives easier. So they chose not to intervene. For each of them, it was almost an unconscious decision, because none of them were insensitive enough to turn away from a friend in need. They were good people, yet selfish and self-absorbed like many teenagers (and adults) tended to be; so as long as no one said anything and their consciences weren't explicitly confronted with the truth, it was just easier to ignore the shift in Rachel's attitude. Besides, while they might have felt bad for her, it wasn't as if any of them knew what to do in this strange situation.
Mr. Schue handed her the sheet music to the song, but Rachel didn't need it. The perpetually-on-loan band kids began to play. Rachel waited for her cue, and then began,
"There is freedom within, there is freedom without, try to catch the deluge in a paper cup. There's a battle ahead, many battles are lost."
As the words poured out, Rachel's thoughts were only one thing - one girl. The same who had constantly plagued her thoughts day and night. And now she couldn't help her flickering eyes from landing upon the object of her desire. For once, Quinn was looking back at her. So Rachel sang to her, the words full of meaning,
"But you'll never see the end of the road while you're traveling with me."
Quinn slid down in her seat and looked away as Rachel's voice rose at the chorus.
"Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over. Hey now, hey now, when the world comes in. They come, they come to build a wall between us. We know they won't win."
Her voice suddenly cracked on the last note, overtaken by a sharp sob. The band stopped playing as they witnessed Rachel Berry stop singing and burst into tears in the middle of a number. This was an unheard-of phenomenon. They all watched in stunned silence as Rachel cried softly in the middle of the room. Quinn stared at the floor, trying to burn a hole through it, perfectly aware that all the glee kids were watching her as much as they were watching Rachel.
"I'm sorry," Rachel said hoarsely, wiping at her eyes.
"Rachel?" Mr. Schue's brows were crinkled in concern. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, everything's fine. I just- I just really love Crowded House, okay?" Turning on her feet, Rachel fled the room. Mr. Schue looked absolutely bewildered, and looked to the remaining students for a clue.
"What's going on with Rachel?"
Everyone looked away, throwing out mutters of "Umm", "I don't know", "No idea", and from Puck, "I think she's on the rag."
"Is that right?" he asked skeptically. No one would meet his gaze. It felt as if an infected gash had been exposed, raw and rotten; each of them felt the shame of complicit guilt.
"I have to say that I'm really disappointed, guys," Mr. Schue lectured. "I thought that we were coming together as a team. Now, your teammate is obviously in a lot of pain, and you're all okay with sitting idly by? I know that you guys don't always get along, and I don't expect you to, but I really thought that you would have rallied together when it counted."
Nobody looked at him. Nobody spoke. Quinn was desperately trying not to blink, afraid that if she did, the tears pooling in her eyes would come trailing down. Mr. Schue, for all of his well-meaning impassioned speeches, failed to notice this.
"I guess I was wrong," Mr. Schue said quietly.
Seeing that he had very little alternatives, Mr. Schue left the room to go look for Rachel. He found her in the empty cafeteria. She had stopped crying, although she was sniffling as she attempted to drown her sorrows with a packet of Oreos. He sat down beside her, and not wanting to push her too hard, waited for her to acknowledge his presence. She did so by offering him a cookie, which he took.
"Thank you," he said. She nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about," Rachel whispered.
"Rachel, no one loves Crowded House that much," Mr. Schue said. "Why don't you tell me what the problem is?"
She shook her head, but she had hesitated just long enough for Mr. Schue to feel confident enough to pursue the matter.
"I know that you and I have had our differences in the past, but I'm your teacher and I care about you," Mr. Schue began delicately. "Whatever's on your mind, you can tell me, and we'll figure it out together."
Rachel's bottom lip was beginning to quiver. Mr. Schue knew that whatever was troubling Rachel had to be bad, and it hurt him to see one of his students in so much pain. He rested his hand upon Rachel's shoulder.
"Rachel, it's okay."
His gentle demeanor worked. Rachel was in sore need of sympathy these days. Unable to contain herself, she started crying again. Mr. Schue patted her awkwardly, patiently waiting for her to regain control.
"I'm in love with Quinn," she finally managed to get out. Mr. Schue's mind struggled to comprehend this, but the words simply weren't making sense. Rachel might as well have said something like, "Hark! Feckless cats' pajamas scintillate scorpions."
"And Quinn would be... the new Irish exchange student that I haven't heard about yet?" he ventured hopefully.
"Quinn Fabray," Rachel added demurely.
"Ahh," Mr. Schue said slowly. He thought for sure that this was an elaborate prank, but he was pretty sure that Rachel wasn'tthat good of an actress. "Okay. Well. Does she know that?"
Rachel nodded.
"And... ah... do you know if she love you back?"
"I don't know," Rachel said miserably. "Although I think she must. Some of the things we did in bed - well, I know that I'm inexperienced, but I've read enough articles to know that most people wouldn't let just anyone do those things. So she must have loved me a least a little to let me do that stuff to her, right?"
Mr. Schue suddenly wanted to douse his brain in bleach.
"Umm," Mr. Schue said numbly because... well, how do you respond to something like that? "Rachel, I know that you were raised in a very open household, but there are some things that just never needs to be shared out loud. Or ever."
"Sorry," Rachel mumbled, only vaguely embarrassed.
"But I also know that you weren't raised to be a quitter," said Mr. Schue mildly. "What's the song that really brought glee club together?"
"Um... Push It?"
Mr. Schue sighed.
"Don't Stop Believin', Rachel," he said. "Remember that."
***
Ms. Pillsbury tirelessly labored to set up appointments with therapists for Quinn. Quinn lasted three sessions with the first one.
"He's a man who never had kids," Quinn complained. "How is he supposed to understand anything that I'm going through?"
"We can find you a woman therapist if you'd be more comfortable," Ms. Pillsbury offered.
The next one lasted two sessions.
"She reminds me of my grandma," Quinn said. "I can't discuss these things with someone who reminds me of my grandma."
The third one lasted one session.
"She doesn't know who Diana Ross is. I can't take her seriously."
The fourth one lasted fifteen minutes.
"Her office smelled like cats."
Ms. Pillsbury sighed. "Quinn, I'm afraid that we have limited options here."
"If I have to talk to anyone," Quinn started shyly. "Can't I just talk to you?"
Ms. Pillsbury blinked.
"Of course you can!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know that was something you wanted." She felt touched that Quinn trusted her enough to want to confide in her. She felt triumphant. High school guidance counselors can make a difference!
"Well, I wouldn't have to drive all over town after school," Quinn shrugged. "And at least I know that your office is clean."
***
In some ways, life was easier for Rachel now.
Mr. Schue's words had struck a chord with the glee kids. They rallied together to help Rachel in whatever ways they could.
Kurt and Mercedes refrained from making snide remarks, even when Rachel was being extra bossy and annoying.
Artie and Tina made it a point to sit with her during lunch.
Matt and Mike cornered Jacob and threatened him with physical harm if he didn't stop following Rachel around, trying to look up her skirt.
Santana and Brittany told the Cheerios to stop hassling her - for the most part.
Finn and Puck ambushed Karofsky together, locked him in the janitor's closet and refused to let him out until he agreed to a slushie ceasefire. It didn't work, and the next day both boys got hefty doses of slushie attacks throughout the day, but it was a valiant effort nonetheless.
Everyone praised her effusively during glee practice.
Life was easier for Rachel now, but every time she looked in Quinn's direction and she felt that awful tug of longing, she couldn't help but think that nothing was easy at all.
***
"Life isn't easy. Believe me, Quinn, it doesn't get easier once you're at my age. People will tell you that things get easier after high school and in some ways that's true, but in a lot of ways it's not. There will always be people who want to judge you. There are always expectations that you just can't live up to."
"So you're saying that things will always be this bad?"
"Absolutely not," Ms. Pillsbury said firmly. "I'm saying that you have to recognize the difference between when it's time to hunker down and hope for the best, and when it's time to stand up and do something, because things won't always magically work out for the best. Life is hard, so you just have to find a way to make things easier for yourself."
Quinn carefully contemplated those words.
"So what do I do?"
"Whatever you can."
That afternoon, when Quinn got home, she tore into her closet and packed two large suitcases. She picked up her phone and scrolled to a familiar number.
"Hi," she said nervously. "Can I stay with you for a little while?"
***
It was quite a shock for Rachel to walk into school on Monday morning and see Quinn standing at her locker, hair pulled back in a harsh ponytail, clad in the red-and-white of her old Cheerios uniform. For a moment, she thought for sure that Quinn was wearing an early Halloween costume. Temporarily forgetting their unspoken agreement to stay away from each other, she made a beeline for the ex-ex-Cheerio.
"What is that?" she asked bluntly. Quinn slowly closed her locker, then leaned against it. She regarded Rachel with a maddeningly blank calmness.
"What does it look like?"
"You're back on the squad?"
"It's something to do," Quinn said with a casual shrug. "But I'm not quitting glee. I can do both."
"But why would you?"
"Brittany and Santana are on the squad too. I don't see you interrogating them about it."
"That's different. You know it is."
Rachel never had the same antagonistic relationship with Brittany and Santana as she did with Cheerios Quinn. Anyway, Santana was consistently unpleasant in or out of uniform, and Brittany tended to follow suit unless Santana wasn't around, so Rachel always knew what to expect from those two, but she couldn't say the same for Quinn. Also, she'd never lost her virginity to either of them, so that was different too.
Seeing Quinn in uniform reminded Rachel of how things used to be between them. Although it wasn't that long ago that Quinn was a Cheerio who humiliated and terrorized Rachel at every opportunity, it was still difficult for Rachel to reconcile this image before her with the soft, vulnerable Quinn she had gotten to know and love, the one who wore her hair down and who laughed at Rachel's jokes when everyone else found them lame. The idea of having Quinn revert back to an enemy was intolerable. Quinn could guess what she was thinking.
"Things won't be like they were before. I'm with them, but I'm not with them. Glee's your ticket out of this town. This is mine."
"Oh," Rachel replied, mildly comforted. An awkward beat passed. "I, um... I hear that you're staying with Brittany."
"I hear that you're going to Homecoming with Finn," Quinn returned.
"As friends, yes."
"Well, then." Quinn forced a smile. "I guess that things are working out for the both of us."
***
Quinn spent Thanksgiving with Brittany's family. She called her parents out of a sense of obligation, but the conversation was short and awkward, and afterward Quinn regretted calling at all.
Santana came over later, and the three of them watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. It was a Thanksgiving ritual for Brittany and Santana even though Brittany found the Oompa-Loompas terrifying. The two of them knew the movie line-for-line and knew exactly when to make their quips and inside jokes. At times, Quinn felt like she was intruding and frankly, so did Santana. When Brittany left the room for more popcorn, Santana took the opportunity to gently drop a hint.
"You're being a real cockblock right now," she groused. "Brit and I should be making out already." Had this come from anyone else but Santana, Quinn might have felt abashed instead of completely unperturbed.
"Geez, Lopez," Quinn scoffed. "Can't you keep it in your pants for more than two hours?"
"You're kidding me, right? Have you seen my superhot girlfriend?" Santana contemplated her own question, then added, "On second thought, no. I don't want you getting any ideas."
"Don't worry," Quinn snorted. "Brit's sweet, but she's not my type."
Vaguely offended by Quinn's lack of enthusiasm for someone Santana considered to be the hottest thing since the creation of the sun, she said icily,
"That's right. I forgot that your taste trends toward circus freaks."
"Leave her alone," Quinn snapped impulsively without realizing that she had walked right into the trap. Santana smirked.
"Leave who alone?" asked Santana innocently. "I was talking about Finn and Puck. Who are you talking about?"
Quinn flushed deeply. "Forget it."
"You know that you're being a complete idiot, right?"
"Drop it, Santana."
"No. You're being really annoying about this. It's because of you two that we had to put up that 'There's No Crying In Glee Club' sign."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Like hell I don't. Brittany and I already did the hard part for you. We came out to everyone, we told Coach Sylvester, and we still rule the school because we're awesome. If we survive, so will you. And since you're not even living with your parents anymore, I don't know what your problem is. There's nothing scary about this."
"She went to Homecoming with Finn," Quinn muttered mournfully. She had refused to go, even though she was asked by Puck and then a sophomore basketball player. She would've spent the entire time glaring at Rachel and Finn anyway.
"They went as friends. Yeah, I know, I was shocked too - like, who would really want to be friends with that freakshow? But there you have it," Santana sneered, with more mocking than menace. "You'd have to be a special kind of stupid not to see that she's still hung up on you."
Quinn didn't know how to respond to that. It wasn't as if she couldn't see how much Rachel was suffering, it was more like she couldn't bring herself to believe it. She had expected Rachel to move on by now. Chia Pet Finn was right there for the taking.
"What do you care anyway?"
"I don't." Santana shrugged carelessly. "I just like pointing out what an idiot you are."
Brittany chose that moment to come back into the room with freshly made popcorn, and the subject was dropped. Quinn sat through fifteen more minutes of the movie before she excused herself, partly to give Santana and Brittany a little alone time. She put on her jacket and ducked out onto the back porch with her phone. Rachel picked up on the third ring.
"Quinn," came her breathless, uncertain voice over the line. "Is everything okay?" It stung Quinn a little that she couldn't just call up Rachel without the other girl thinking that there was something wrong. Even when paralyzed with fear at the thought of pursuing a romantic relationship, Quinn had never wanted their friendship to degrade so far. At that moment, she realized how much she missed her. More than the kissing or the cuddling or the sex, she missed Rachel, period.
"I, um, just wanted to call and wish you a Happy Thanksgiving."
Their conversation was short but not awkward, and afterward Quinn didn't regret calling at all. She felt like this was the right thing to do. At the very least, maybe this could be right step in getting their friendship back on track. She thought that maybe Rachel felt the same way.
Rachel didn't.
For Rachel, Quinn's one gentle, subtle act felt like a portentous, pivotal moment. This short conversation was an ember on the pile of dried-out kindling she had forced her feelings to become. It ignited everything she had strove to suppress, and she lay awake that night, burning with need and want and longing. She lay awake, thinking of Quinn's hands and hair and hips. She lay awake, thinking how there was no way she could carry on the way she had before.
She lay awake, hatching her brilliant plan to win Quinn Fabray.
***
"Rachel, Mercedes, Tina, Artie, Finn and Mike. Please make your way to the left side of the room," Mr. Schue announced. "Everyone else, on the right side."
"What's going on?" Kurt asked.
"Principal Figgins has asked us to perform a couple of songs at the McKinley winter show. Two songs, two competing groups. To make things a little bit more interesting, we're going to have the audience vote on the performances after the show, and we'll perform the winning song at sectionals this year. It's about time you kids learned a little something about independence and competitive spirit - without the use of pharmaceuticals this time, please."
Convincing Mr. Schue to split glee club into two groups had been easy, relatively speaking. Rachel had cornered him after glee practice and stated her case. Mr. Schue eyed the "There's No Crying In Glee Club" sign, and assented because he was afraid that Rachel would defy the sign if he refused. She also managed to convince him to let her hand-pick her group. She had a careful strategy in her selection. Puck, Brittany and Santana were out because they might tell Quinn what was going on. She left out Kurt in favor of Mike because Mercedes would be more pliable without an automatic ally. Tina and Artie wouldn't give her any trouble. Finn was a tough choice. It wasn't fair to ask him to do this, but in the end, she needed his voice and besides, she trusted his opinion. For the most part.
"You're joking, right?" Finn gawked at her. So did everyone else. The two groups had separated to discuss their performance; Quinn's group headed to the auditorium while Rachel's remained in the music room. It was then that Rachel made her proposal.
"No, I am not."
"You want to get up in front of the whole school and sing a love song to Quinn Fabray," Mercedes stated incredulously. "Good Christian Cheerio, ice princess Barbie-doll Quinn Fabray."
"Rachel, you know that I'm a fan of musical romantic declarations," Artie said as he gave Tina's hand a soft squeeze. "But this is suicide."
"I think it's cute," said Tina with a shy smile.
"It would be if it wasn't Quinn," Artie said. "Outing Quinn in front of the whole school will be the last thing any of us do before we end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. You know that she'll make sure that our bodies are never found."
"It won't be like that," Rachel replied. "We're making a political statement by singing love songs to same sex glee members. Gay rights is very topical. Mercedes and Tina will sing to Brittany and Santana; Mike, Finn and Artie will sing to the boys, and I get Quinn. We'll be the only ones who know what's really going on."
"I have to sing to a dude?" Finn winced. "In front of the whole school?"
"I wouldn't ask if I had another option." There was subtle desperation in her tone.
Rachel knew that Quinn had a soft spot for emotional musical numbers. The stakes were decidedly higher than when they sang "Keep Holding On" or "Lean On Me", but Rachel didn't know what else to do. Plus, she had a flare for making dramatic statements anyway.
"We can vote on this," Rachel added. "Since there are six of us and it's my proposal, I will abstain."
Mercedes went first. "Y'all know that I'm not against making a scene. But this is all kinds of crazy. I have to say no."
"I don't see the harm," Tina countered. "I say yes."
"Sorry, Rachel," Artie opposed. "But Quinn kind of scares me. I vote no."
"Whatever," Mike said easily. "I'm down."
All eyes fell upon Finn, the deciding vote. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. It sucked being asked to do this.
"Finn," Rachel pleaded.
"I want to tell you that I think this is going to end badly for you. Again," Finn finally said. "But I have a feeling that you won't listen to me anyway."
"I love her," Rachel said quietly. This was the first time that any of them had heard this admission. They didn't know whether to feel touched or uncomfortable.
"Yeah," Finn sighed. "I know."
The room was quiet as Finn mulled it over. It really sucked being asked to do this.
"Fuck it," he finally said. "Let's go for it."
***
They argued over song choices for three days. They might have agreed to help Rachel, but they also wanted their shot at winning. Also, as much as Rachel loved Quinn and wanted to get her back, there was still the matter of her elephantine ego and her delusional sense of grandeur. It took them forty-five minutes to explain to her why her version of "Just Like Heaven" would not make Quinn swoon.
"I'm sure your song is great," Tina explained patiently. "But I don't think Quinn will be happy with something that Artie already sang to me."
"But it's so good! It's so much better than Artie's crappy version!" Rachel's eyes darted to the boy in the wheelchair not three feet away. "No offense, Artie."
"Gee, why would I be offended by that?" Artie responded sardonically.
"Fine. How about 'Wind Beneath My Wings'?" Everyone groaned. Rachel was outraged. "What's wrong with 'Wind Beneath My Wings'?!"
"Rachel, we'll help you, but you need to let us have a say," Finn said. "It's not all about you. We need to have a crowd-pleaser that's going to win this competition."
"Who cares about a stupid competition?!" Rachel snapped.
They all stared in shock. Mercedes leaned toward Tina and whispered,
"Did she just say what I think she said?"
"I think there must have been a toxic gas leak," Tina said, slightly dazed. "We're all hallucinating. It's the only logical explanation."
"Think of it like this," Finn said to Rachel. "Do you really want to lose a singing contest to Puck?" Rachel considered this.
"Very well," she stated calmly. "But whatever song we pick, it better be romantic."
***
They settled on Oasis' "Wonderwall". Then the real nightmare began. Rachel was an utterly relentless slave-driver, obsessed with making every note of the song and every step of the choreography perfect. She called Finn early in the mornings to remind him to do his vocal warm-ups. She called Mike late in the night to go over the dance routine. She demanded rehearsals before school, after school and even during lunch. Some of them took to eating their lunch in bathrooms and closets just to have a moment's peace.
"What the hell is wrong with this girl?" Mercedes complained as she munched on a pizza bagel in a janitor's closet. She was crammed in there with three other people.
"You sort of have to admire her tenacity," Tina said. She started to unwrap her tuna sandwich, but then caught a glance of the blackened mop next to her and suddenly lost her appetite.
"She's like the Little Engine That Could," Artie agreed. "Only that in this version, the Little Engine is probably going to crash into the side of a mountain and kill everyone on board in a fiery explosion."
"Look on the bright side," Mike said through a mouthful of apple. "At least our deaths will be quick, and we wouldn't have to take the SATs."
***
"They're doing 'Baba O'Riley' by The Who," Mike reported to his teammates after they had asked him to do a little snooping. "Puck's taking lead."
"How did you find out?" Finn asked.
"Well, I followed Kurt home after school. I sat parked outside his house for three hours until he left, then I shimmied up the rain gutters, dropped in from the skylight with my awesome Asian ninja skills, and went through every single of paper in that house until I found the sheet music."
"Really?" Rachel's eyes were wide with admiration.
"No," Mike shrugged. "I just asked Matt."
***
Puck had a nice voice, but after two hours of listening to him imitate Roger Daltrey, Quinn wanted to claw his eyes out every time he opened his mouth. She wasn't alone in her sentiments, so they finally called it a day. Santana and Brittany were going to the movies; they extended an invitation but Quinn could tell by the look in Santana's eyes that she should decline. They offered her a ride, but Quinn turned that down too. It was a snowy December day in Lima and Quinn found great comfort in strolling through the slowly drifting flakes. Everything was beautifully blanketed in white; she derived a great sense of satisfaction from feeling the crunch of powdery snow beneath her boots. With everyone off the streets, sometimes it felt like she was the last person on earth.
As she walked down the street leading away from the school, she spotted a familiar chaired figure on the sidewalk, struggling futilely in the snow.
"Artie?" she called out as she approached. "What are you doing?"
Artie looked up at Quinn through his snow-spotted glasses, and he ceased to struggle. He seemed mortified.
"I, um, I think I'm stuck." He nodded down at one of his wheels caught and rendered immobile by the accumulation. Quinn knelt down and brushed at the snow until he could move the wheelchair. "Thanks," he mumbled.
"What are you doing out here?"
"I was trying to get to the convenience store on the corner." Artie spoke as if he had marbles in his mouth, thick and indistinct. He was so embarrassed that he couldn't quite meet Quinn's eyes.
"In the snow?" Quinn asked skeptically.
"We only have a week left before the winter show, so Rachel's making everyone stay late for rehearsal. Tina said that she had a craving for sour gummy worms. Mike volunteered to run out for some..."
"And you wanted to go instead."
"She's my girlfriend."
"And they let you?"
"Just because I'm in a wheelchair doesn't mean that I can't do things!" Artie retorted defensively. When Quinn crinkled her brows, he softened. "But, I mean, no. I told them that I had to call my mom. I thought that I'd be able to go and get back before the snow started sticking."
Quinn took a hold of the wheelchair's handles and began pushing him.
"What are we doing?" asked Artie.
"What does it look like? We're getting your girlfriend some sour gummy worms," Quinn replied. They went along in silence for a few feet. "You know that Tina doesn't care whether you can make snack runs for her, right?"
"I know," Artie mumbled. "But I do."
"It's not a competition."
"That's easy for you to say. You have legs."
"Don't say that. A lot of guys can walk, Artie, but you're twice the man they are."
"That's easy for you to say too. You're more about the berries than the nuts these days, aren't you?"
The words came out before he could stop himself. There was a harsh jolt as Quinn came to a stop. Artie held his breath, half-expecting her to tip him over. Instead, after a moment's silence, she resumed pushing the wheelchair, going at a slow, even pace.
"How is she?"
"Crazy," Artie said. "Cazier than usual."
"Yeah," Quinn breathed softly. "She gets so worked up about these competitions."
"She has a lot at stake," Artie replied, even though he knew that Quinn wouldn't understand exactly what he meant. Not yet, anyway.
Neither said anything more on the way to the store. Quinn stayed with him while he made his purchase, then wheeled him back to the school. She took him up the handicap ramp, and said goodbye to him at the door. Quinn started to leave, but stopped when she heard Artie call her name.
"You once told me that you knew what it was like to throw away something you love," Artie said. "I never thought that you'd be stupid enough to do it twice."
***
On the night of the show, Rachel's teammates were basked in confidence. It wasn't as if they didn't notice that their team had most of the vocal powerhouses. Kurt, Puck and Quinn had nice voices, but they weren't in the same range as Rachel or Artie. The dance routine might be a little awkward, but they were hoping that Mike's gravity-defying moves would balance out Finn's bumbling mess. They were all pretty damn sure that they weren't going to lose to a bunch of cheerleaders and jocks, so they were all rather relaxed before the show.
All of them except one, of course.
"Rachel, stop circling me!" Mike yelled. "I feel like a snack for Jaws."
They were gathered in the music room, waiting to go into the auditorium. They took a minimalist approach to wardrobe: the boys had on white tie-less suits, and the girls were in white v-cut dresses. In a futile attempt to calm her nerves, Rachel had taken to pacing the room in haphazard circles around randomly selected objects. She walked around the piano 31 times, a chair 28 times, Finn 13 times and now Mike. The current count was 11.
"You need to settle down there," Mercedes told her. "We don't need you having a stroke fifteen minutes before the show."
"I'm nervous!" Rachel whined. "What if this is a bad idea?"
"I already told you it was," Finn muttered.
"What if it doesn't work? What if I just embarrass her? What if she hates me after this?" Rachel was growing increasingly hysterical, to the point of near-hyperventilation. That simply wouldn't do. They needed their lead singer to be able to breathe. Finn took her hand in his and forced her to sit.
"Rachel, it's going to be okay," he reassured. "It's too late to change the routine anyway. We're just going to have to hope for the best."
Before Rachel could continue her freak out, Mr. Schue entered and announced that it was time for them to head to the auditorium. Rachel followed her teammates out the door, her feet heavy and dragging. Mr. Schue gave her an encouraging smile as she exited, which was appreciated but honestly didn't make her feel any better.
They filed into the packed auditorium and took their seats in the front row. The other glee kids were already there and seated. The two teams exchanged terse greetings. Rachel tried to catch Quinn's eye in order to gauge her mood, but the blonde resolutely refused eye contact. Rachel's heart sunk. That wasn't a good sign.
Principal Figgins began the show with a brief introduction. The first half ran like a variety show consisting of odd displays of contortions, dances, magic tricks and one awkward act of ventriloquism. Yet Rachel couldn't enjoy any of it. All she could do was steal glances at Quinn and fidget nervously in her seat. At last, it was time for the glee club to perform. Quinn's team was to go first, and they left their seats to make their way backstage. Puck winked at them as he passed by.
There was a brief lull as everyone waited for the next performance. Rachel stared at the thick black curtain on the stage, the conversational bubbling of the audience in her ear. They might as well have been a babbling brook or a buzzing hive; they were all only white noise. Rachel felt the acute beating of her heart, and was sharply aware of each second that ticked by. Just one more performance. Just one more song. Ten more minutes, and it'll be her up on the stage for the most important performance she's ever had and probably ever will have.
The curtains started to rise. Rachel tried to quell her frenzied nerves. She ought to at least set her neuroses aside a few minutes to pay attention to her teammates' performance.
The stage was unveiled. Brittany and Santana were on the left side; each standing before a microphone. Next to them, Kurt sat on a box drum. Puck and Matt stood to the right, each with an acoustic guitar strapped to them. Then there was Quinn, center stage, breathtakingly gorgeous in a crimson red dress that ended mid-thigh with thick red straps across creamy white shoulders. Even as Rachel became flooded with a healthy dose of hormones, she noted that it was strange to put the ostensible lead singer, Puck in the background.
Kurt started thumping a simple swinging beat against the box drum. Brittany and Santana clapped along. It didn't sound very much like "Baba O'Riley". His palm muting the strings of his guitar, Matt struck the strings, producing a rhythmic accompaniment. Puck began to play his guitar. Rachel recognized the chords immediately, and her heart seized wildly with excitement.
Quinn stepped up to her microphone. Her eyes met Rachel's. She smiled. And started to sing.
"When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around. Those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd."
It felt like a dream. So wonderful and surreal that Rachel had a hard time believing that it was true. But here they were. There Quinn was. In the back of her mind, Rachel thought that maybe it was a coincidence that Quinn was singing this song.
"Oh, baby, give me one more chance to show you that I love you. Won't you please let me back in your heart. Oh, darlin', I was blind to let you go."
But Rachel could swear that Quinn was looking right at her. Quinn took the microphone from its stand, and began to move across the stage.
"But now since I see you in his arms, I want you back. Yes, I do now."
She made her way down the stage's steps and into the audience. Then she was before Rachel. She crouched down. Her hand reached for Rachel's. Her touch was warm, and sent a shiver down the brunette's spine.
"Tryin' to live without your love is one long sleepless night," Quinn sang, her eyes locked with Rachel's. "Let me show you, girl, that I know wrong from right."
Tears pooled in Rachel's eyes, but the smile on her face was a mile wide. Quinn rose to her feet and moved down to the next person, Finn. She knelt to touch his hand too, but Rachel knew that it was for show. She now knew that this song was for her and only her. It was finally starting to sink in. Quinn had changed the song for her. All this time that Rachel was on pins and needles, planning her grand romantic gesture for Quinn Fabray, Quinn had been doing the exact same thing. She'd been playing a game of Spy v. Spy with Quinn and she didn't even know it.
Quinn moved down the line, briefly singing to every glee member, plus Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury, before retaking the stage for the final chorus. When the song ended, the audience erupted into wild applause. Rachel was instantly out of her seat. She reached backstage in less than a minute. She bobbed and weaved through the throngs of people, frantically trying to catch a glimpse of red in the crowd.
She felt a hand on her elbow. It was Finn.
"She's already back in the audience," he said. Without thinking, Rachel started moving toward the exit, but he tightened his grip on her. "No! We have a show to do, remember?"
For the first time in her life, Rachel was forced to take the stage. She looked for Quinn as soon as the curtains went up. Sure enough, there she was, still in that red dress. When their eyes met, and Rachel felt the presence and noises of the world drain away. She was dimly aware of the music striking up, and she automatically sang along, but words didn't seem important anymore.
As planned, their choreography involved approaching the other glee members in the audience. Artie rolled up to Puck. Tina sang to Santana. Mercedes crooned to Brittany. Mike was naturally paired with Matt. Finn awkwardly serenaded Kurt.
"By now you should've somehow realized what you're not to do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now."
And Rachel had Quinn.
***
With polite, perfunctory nods, Rachel pushed past the well-wishers and admirers. Their congratulations meant nothing. But she couldn't find her, and with every passing minutes, the anxiety built with intense pressure.
"We tied with the other team," Mercedes told her with disappointment. "Mr. Schue suggested that we do a mash-up of both songs at Sectionals."
"Uh-huh," Rachel answered in a tone that said whatever. "Have you seen Quinn?"
When Mercedes said no, Rachel moved away to seek out someone else who could tell her where Quinn was.
"Music room," Santana finally told her. Rachel tore out of the auditorium as fast as her little legs could carry her.
She frantically burst into the music room, half-expecting to find it empty, half-expecting to find a gigantic banner that says "Gotcha!"
But there was only Quinn, sitting patiently and demurely on the piano bench. Quinn took one look at the breathless brunette, and the first thing she said was,
"I love you."
The realization had came on so slowly that it was imperceptible. Quinn couldn't say when it happened, only that it did. There was no epiphany, no sudden stroke of clarity, and no bolt of lightning. It was a slow trickle amassing daily until it was a deep lake she couldn't refute or ignore.
"I'm sorry it took me so long, but I had to spend some time putting myself back together," Quinn continued. "For the longest time, I thought that things would be easier in the run long if I gave you up, no matter how much it hurt in the meanwhile - and god, it hurt. But I was wrong. Things don't get always get easier, and they don't just magically work out by themselves. I needed to do whatever I can to help myself. That means you. I was a coward and I stupidly threw you away. But now I see that there's really nothing scary about this.
"I was afraid of everything. What my parents would do, what people would think, what would happen if things don't work out, and what's going to happen when we go to college. And to be completely honest, I'm still worried. The odds are against us, Rachel. But I was very wrong about one thing. You are worth the risk, because I'm in love with you and I don't know how not to be.
"Because it's like that moment when you wake up and realize that it's a new day. The sun's on your face, the birds are singing and you feel rested and alive. All the mistakes you made belonged to yesterday and now here's another day to start fresh. Everything feels brand new and wonderful. That's what it's like when I'm with you. Always. All the time. I want that back. I want you back."
Rachel said nothing. It was starting to make Quinn nervous.
"I, just... I hope it's not too late," she said quietly. "I know that I hurt you, and I understand if-"
Rachel suddenly crossed the room in a few quick strides, taking Quinn into her arms and crushing her lips against the blonde's. Just like that, all the tension evaporated from Quinn's body. She eagerly parted her mouth, letting Rachel in. Rachel scrambled on top, her knees on the piano bench as she straddled Quinn's waist. Their bodies were so tightly molded together their dresses seemed to be a single weave of red-and-white.
A warm glow flowed through the girls as they touched; this was a balm on the gaping wounds they both carried since their road trip ended. Suddenly, nothing hurt. Nothing except for the clenching catch in their chests, but it wasn't an ache that anyone would mind.
Both were flushed and panting when they finally parted. Quinn rested her forehead against Rachel's, her fingers instinctively but hesitatingly playing with the hem of Rachel's hiked-up dress, because her newfound courage to act on her love for Rachel Berry did not extend itself to sex in public spaces (yet).
"Rach, listen," Quinn began gently. "It's not going to be easy. I'm getting help, but I still have a lot of things to work through. You're going to have to be patient and I know that's not fair-"
"I'm patient!" Rachel interrupted hastily. "I'm so patient! Aren't I always?"
"I'm not like Brittany or Santana. I'm not ready to announce everything to the world just yet."
"I know," said Rachel. "I don't care."
"It means that I can't take you home to meet my parents."
"That's probably for the best."
"I don't think I can take you to junior prom or anything."
"I find school dances to be trite anyway," Rachel replied promptly.
"We shouldn't hold hands or kiss in school."
"Public displays of affection are overrated."
"And we probably shouldn't have sex either."
"What?!"
Quinn grinned mischievously. "Just kidding."
Rachel pouted at the trick; the situation could only be remedied with physical contact, so Quinn pulled her back in for a kiss which turned into two and three and four. The minutes went by unnoticed by these two, for whom time and space meant nothing.
They were forced to part by the sound of footsteps and voices. Rachel reluctantly slid off Quinn's lap while the blonde smoothed out the front of her dress, attempting to look as innocent as possible. The glee kids stumbled through the door, exuberant with the rush of performance, their voices overlapping one another as multiple conversations carried on.
"I just helped my cheating, lying ex-girlfriend get with my other cheating, lying ex-girlfriend," Finn griped. "I'm gonna be pissed if I don't get to the good heaven after this."
"What's the good heaven?" Matt asked.
"The one with the dogs," Finn and Brittany chorused.
"How dare you!" Mike bellowed at Mercedes. "Miss Congeniality is vastly superior to Two Weeks Notice!"
"...one week before the show - one freakin' week! - she tells me that we gotta change the song," Puck was telling Tina and Artie. "She threatened to shave my mohawk if we didn't!"
"At least she didn't threaten to change your Cheerios uniform to gold pleather," Santana grumbled. "Pleather!"
When Quinn saw that the intruders were only their friends and not any random gossip, she visibly relaxed, then reached out to hold Rachel's hand. In front of them, she could be herself.
"Speak of the devil," Puck said when he saw Quinn. He spied the hand-holding. "Did you two make up?" The girls both nodded. "Did you kiss? Did I miss the kissing?"
"You missed a lot more than that," Rachel answered cheekily.
"No!" There might have been a genuine tone of distress in his voice. "Do it again!"
"Dream on," Quinn snorted.
"All of you, listen up," Puck growled, pointing a finger at everyone. "Any of you have something to say to someone, learn to use your damn words. We're not doing any more stupid musical grand gestures!"
There was a collective wave of protest.
"...For the rest of the year," Puck added reluctantly.
"For a month," Kurt offered.
"Six months," Puck countered.
When they all continued arguing, Rachel gently squeezed Quinn's hand.
"What do you say we hit the road?"
"Where to?"
"My bedroom."
Quinn knew exactly what to say to that.
***
Epilogue
Everyone foresaw doom. They even had a pool going.
"I give them two weeks and then Quinn succumbs to gay panic," Kurt predicted.
"Ten days," Santana said. "Before Berry does something creepy and/or stupid."
"A month," Puck said with a leer, joking but kind of not. "Then Quinn realizes what she's missing with a real stud like me."
He didn't appreciate the fact that they all promptly burst into hysterical laughter.
But they were all wrong. Everything was peaceful between the girls, aside from the occasional light bickering which always inevitably ended with make-up sex. Things were so peaceful that it was actually kind of dull - for the other people.
"You guys are so boring," Kurt moaned woefully. They had just told him how they celebrated their one-year anniversary: movie, dinner, cuddling. They left out the sex because they knew that he wouldn't be interested in hearing about that. "What's the point of having glee club's two biggest drama queens hook up if there isn't going to be any actual drama?"
Rachel and Quinn just looked at one another, exchanged a dopey smile which made Kurt groan in disgust, and snuggled closer.
They did have one major fight in the spring of their senior year; one that lasted three days. It started the day that Quinn got her acceptance letter to NYU. They were at Brittany's house (where Quinn still lived) when the letter came. Rachel, having already been granted an early decision acceptance to Juilliard, squealed loudly and threw her arms around her girlfriend.
"We're going to New York!" When Quinn didn't return her enthusiastic embrace, Rachel pulled back. "What's wrong?"
"I'm not going," Quinn mumbled.
"What?"
"New York is very expensive, especially a school like NYU. And Michigan already offered me a full ride..."
"Michigan?! What's in Michigan?!" Rachel cried shrilly. "No, you know what's not in Michigan? Me!"
"I just don't have the money," Quinn said with a helpless shrug. "My parents aren't paying for college and I don't want to be saddled with loans for the next fifteen years."
"I'm sure that my dads will be agreeable to-"
"Rach, no," Quinn said firmly. "I'm not taking money from your parents."
"Well, I don't care. You're not going to Michigan." Rachel knew that she was being childish, but she couldn't help it. Losing Quinn was a very scary but very real prospect.
"Rachel, please just listen-"
"No!" Rachel got up from the couch. "I am not receptive to any discussions about the future that doesn't involve you and I being together."
Her subsequent storm-out was really one of the finest she ever executed.
They fought about this for three days, alternating between bouts of screaming matches and giving each other the silent treatment. New York or Michigan. Michigan or New York. It was going to be one or the other, the end of their relationship or the beginning of the rest of their lives.
Neither contemplated the idea of going away to college while maintaining a long-distance relationship. Rachel didn't because she refused to consider any proposal that required Quinn being away from her. Quinn didn't because she knew the odds of success were extraordinarily slim. It was typical of their differences in ideals. Quinn was practical but cowardly; Rachel was romantic but absurd.
It was lucky that they loved each other enough to compromise.
"We'll see how much the scholarship is," Quinn proposed. The two of them agreed on a sum. "If it's equal to or more than that, I can go to New York."
"What if it's less?" Rachel worried.
"We'll work it out then," Quinn said, secretly believing that they wouldn't.
"We'll work it out," Rachel agreed, openly believing that they would.
So they hung their hopes and their future on a number. They were growing up.
The offer of scholarship arrived. It was a plain letter in a plain envelope. Quinn brought it to Rachel's house as soon as she saw it. They had agreed that they would open it together. Rachel had prepared a box of tissues and a tub of ice cream - just in case. Quinn opened the envelope, and took the letter out. Before she could unfold it, Rachel stopped her, clasping her hand over Quinn's.
"Quinn," she said.
"Yeah, Rach?"
"Let's stay together," Rachel said desperately. "Even if you have to go to Michigan, let's stay together. I know that you don't think that the long-distance thing could work, and maybe you're right, but can we try anyway?"
"Okay," Quinn whispered with a nod. It was only human to hope.
"And no matter what, I love you."
"I love you too."
They kissed. When they pulled apart, they smiled nervously at each other.
Rachel took away her hand.
With shaky hands and a pounding heart, Quinn unfolded the letter.
She scanned it quickly.
A slow smile started to spread.
In the end, they were going to New York City. And that was only the beginning.
If you’re loved by someone you’re never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it.
"Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise" - The Avett Brothers
Post-Fic Songs:
KT Tunstall - "I Want You Back"
The Avett Brothers - "Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise"
And just for fun:
Jackson 5 v. Oasis - "I Want Your Wonderwall" ("Wonderwall"/"I Want You Back" mash-up)