fic: September 13th 2026
TITLE: September 13th 2026
SPOILERS: All of season 1 but it’s an AU future piece.
RATING: G. Angst warning.
SUMMARY: Sometimes it lasts in love, and sometimes it hurts instead
WORDS: 1,400
PAIRINGS: Rachel/Quinn
NOTES: Listening to ‘Someone Like You’ by Adele too many times led to this. Unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. Be gentle.
You pull into the tree-lined street, slowing to a crawl as you pass houses, straining to read the numbers.
1657, 1659.
You’ve turned the radio off; the noise is distracting you from what you’re going to say, what you’ve planned to say. Though given the last time you two saw one another, you won’t be surprised if she refuses to come to the door.
1677, 1679.
You’re thankful that there aren’t any spaces directly outside her house and park in front of the house three along from hers. You look at the scrap of paper in your hand again before dropping it into your pocket and exiting the car, glancing up and down as you lock the doors.
It’s a nice neighbourhood. Kids are playing in the street, dogs are barking, the smell of barbecue wafts from someone’s backyard. You expected somewhere a little more… you pause realising that you have no idea what you expected. You just know that it isn’t this. You never pictured her having this life. Not with someone else anyway.
The front door is staring at you now and you wipe your palms on your coat before reaching to press the doorbell. The sound of a dog yapping inside precedes footsteps and voices and a loud laugh. Her laugh. You swallow as, through the distorted glass, her fuzzy outline draws closer. There’s a click as a lock is spun and the door opens. Your breath catches. Her jaw drops.
“Hi,” she whispers, hand rising to touch her cheek before sweeping her hair back behind her ear.
“Hey,” you say.
Then a white blur crashes between her legs and jumps up, paws against your thighs. You smile down at the dog and scratch behind it’s ears as she reaches to pull him away.
“He’s gorgeous,” you say as the dog dashes back into the house.
“Babe? Who is it?” a voice calls. A knife to your heart. This is a bad idea. Then footsteps, bare feet against hardwood. She’s taller than you expect. And blonde. You look over at her and try to smile, worried that you’re grimacing. You extend your hand and introduce yourself. Instantly, she hardens and places a hand possessively on the other woman’s shoulder.
“Sweetheart, can you give us a minute?”
Her voice is exactly as you remember it, not that you expected it to change much over the past three years. You wonder if she still sounds the same when she sings.
The tall blonde woman gives a quick nod and disappears back into the house calling for Jasper. The shorter woman glances over her shoulder before stepping outside and pulling the door closed. Her arms fold across her chest and she looks you in the eye.
“Why are you here?”
Her tone isn’t accusing. It’s surprisingly indifferent. But then, she’s an actress. You never could tell when she was genuinely annoyed at you. You retrieve an envelope from your pocket and hold it in both hands, running your thumbs over the seal on the back.
“She asked me to give you this,” you say, holding it out hesitantly. She glances down, softening when she sees the handwriting.
“You have my address. Why didn’t you mail it?”
You don’t respond immediately, knowing that she’d ask this. Scuffing the toe of your boot against the brickwork, you refuse to meet her eye. The sound of her opening the envelope causes your gaze to snap back up. She pulls out the note and the tickets. Two of them. Printed on green and black card. Her eyes flash as she reads over the text.
“I wanted to see you,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the words leave your lips. “I wanted to say…”
“Don’t,” she hisses, brushing a tear angrily from her cheek. “Don’t you dare.”
She unfolds the note and scans it quickly.
“She’s the lead,” she says quietly, a faint smile passing over her lips. “She’s doing okay? Grades?”
“Straight A’s,” you say quickly. She lapses into silence as she reads over the note and tickets again. “If you want to see her… before the show… we could arrange something.”
“That’s not the impression I got when you left,” she bites out.
“You left,” you respond and immediately regret it.
“You told me to!” she wipes away more tears, eyes meeting yours again. You feel the already fragile pieces of your heart start to splinter apart again and try to walk away. Her hand on your wrist causes you to stop. “Don’t.”
You hesitate before you turn back to look at her.
“Why are you here?” she asks again. The feeling of her palm pressed against your skin is like fire.
“You know why I’m here,” you say. She releases your wrist and sits down on the top step. Unsure, you hover awkwardly until she gestures for you to sit as well. “I still…”
“You don’t. You can’t,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at the house. “I am happy. I am happy with her. I’m happy here in this house and I’m happy with my life. Are you trying to ruin that by showing up? We haven’t spoken in three years. How did you think this was going to go?”
You’re silent, head hanging low. Your heartbeat is uneven and you feel the blood rush around your ears. The world shifts slightly to the left.
“It’s not over. Not for me. I don’t know if it ever will be.”
“It’ll just have to be. You need to move on. You will be happy.”
“Are you really happy? We were happy. You and me and Beth. And it still fell apart.”
She places her hand on top of yours.
“I am happy.”
You exhale heavily and nod, feeling the world shift to the right this time. You push yourself off the steps and start to descend them. At the bottom, you turn back to face her, biting your bottom lip.
“May 9th 2012. August 22nd 2014. February 15th 2017.”
She frowns.
“Beth’s second birthday. The day you broke your arm. The day I proposed. The days when you promised you’d love me forever. I made mistakes. You made mistakes. But our biggest mistake was not trying hard enough. We let this go too easily.”
You close your eyes as a thousand memories flood your mind, memories you only let yourself remember when you’re alone in your bedroom at night, when Beth is fast asleep and when no-one can hear you when you start to cry.
“You’ll find someone else,” she says hollowly. “Someone like me. Someone better than me.”
“I don’t want someone like you,” you say, taking a step towards her. “I just want you.”
Before she can respond, you turn and walk back to your car as quickly as possible. You lock yourself inside and press your forehead to the steering wheel, choking back a sob that’s causing you physical pain. When the feeling finally passes, you start the car and pull away, speeding back to your house where your sixteen year old daughter is arriving home from school. You smile brightly and ask her about her day and rehearsals and piano lessons, never letting on where you’d been that afternoon.
**
You’re leaving the backstage area on opening night, making your way down the stairs at the side of the stage to take your seat in the front row when you see her. She looks up at you as you sit down but doesn’t speak. The lights go down a few seconds later and you turn to look at the stage, though your focus is anywhere but what’s happening there.
As your daughter makes her appearance on stage, bright green and dressed in black, you feel something swell inside you and have to stop yourself from breaking down in tears.
At the end of Beth’s first song, you feel her shift next to you and her hand snakes across your lap to take yours. You feel her fingers tangle with yours and she holds on tight. You risk a glance at her and find her staring back, a smile on her lips.
“September 13th 2026,” she whispers in your ear as the curtains close and applause is ringing through the auditorium. Beth takes a bow as you press a kiss to Rachel’s lips.
“September 13th 2026,” you whisper back.
SPOILERS: All of season 1 but it’s an AU future piece.
RATING: G. Angst warning.
SUMMARY: Sometimes it lasts in love, and sometimes it hurts instead
WORDS: 1,400
PAIRINGS: Rachel/Quinn
NOTES: Listening to ‘Someone Like You’ by Adele too many times led to this. Unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. Be gentle.
You pull into the tree-lined street, slowing to a crawl as you pass houses, straining to read the numbers.
1657, 1659.
You’ve turned the radio off; the noise is distracting you from what you’re going to say, what you’ve planned to say. Though given the last time you two saw one another, you won’t be surprised if she refuses to come to the door.
1677, 1679.
You’re thankful that there aren’t any spaces directly outside her house and park in front of the house three along from hers. You look at the scrap of paper in your hand again before dropping it into your pocket and exiting the car, glancing up and down as you lock the doors.
It’s a nice neighbourhood. Kids are playing in the street, dogs are barking, the smell of barbecue wafts from someone’s backyard. You expected somewhere a little more… you pause realising that you have no idea what you expected. You just know that it isn’t this. You never pictured her having this life. Not with someone else anyway.
The front door is staring at you now and you wipe your palms on your coat before reaching to press the doorbell. The sound of a dog yapping inside precedes footsteps and voices and a loud laugh. Her laugh. You swallow as, through the distorted glass, her fuzzy outline draws closer. There’s a click as a lock is spun and the door opens. Your breath catches. Her jaw drops.
“Hi,” she whispers, hand rising to touch her cheek before sweeping her hair back behind her ear.
“Hey,” you say.
Then a white blur crashes between her legs and jumps up, paws against your thighs. You smile down at the dog and scratch behind it’s ears as she reaches to pull him away.
“He’s gorgeous,” you say as the dog dashes back into the house.
“Babe? Who is it?” a voice calls. A knife to your heart. This is a bad idea. Then footsteps, bare feet against hardwood. She’s taller than you expect. And blonde. You look over at her and try to smile, worried that you’re grimacing. You extend your hand and introduce yourself. Instantly, she hardens and places a hand possessively on the other woman’s shoulder.
“Sweetheart, can you give us a minute?”
Her voice is exactly as you remember it, not that you expected it to change much over the past three years. You wonder if she still sounds the same when she sings.
The tall blonde woman gives a quick nod and disappears back into the house calling for Jasper. The shorter woman glances over her shoulder before stepping outside and pulling the door closed. Her arms fold across her chest and she looks you in the eye.
“Why are you here?”
Her tone isn’t accusing. It’s surprisingly indifferent. But then, she’s an actress. You never could tell when she was genuinely annoyed at you. You retrieve an envelope from your pocket and hold it in both hands, running your thumbs over the seal on the back.
“She asked me to give you this,” you say, holding it out hesitantly. She glances down, softening when she sees the handwriting.
“You have my address. Why didn’t you mail it?”
You don’t respond immediately, knowing that she’d ask this. Scuffing the toe of your boot against the brickwork, you refuse to meet her eye. The sound of her opening the envelope causes your gaze to snap back up. She pulls out the note and the tickets. Two of them. Printed on green and black card. Her eyes flash as she reads over the text.
“I wanted to see you,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the words leave your lips. “I wanted to say…”
“Don’t,” she hisses, brushing a tear angrily from her cheek. “Don’t you dare.”
She unfolds the note and scans it quickly.
“She’s the lead,” she says quietly, a faint smile passing over her lips. “She’s doing okay? Grades?”
“Straight A’s,” you say quickly. She lapses into silence as she reads over the note and tickets again. “If you want to see her… before the show… we could arrange something.”
“That’s not the impression I got when you left,” she bites out.
“You left,” you respond and immediately regret it.
“You told me to!” she wipes away more tears, eyes meeting yours again. You feel the already fragile pieces of your heart start to splinter apart again and try to walk away. Her hand on your wrist causes you to stop. “Don’t.”
You hesitate before you turn back to look at her.
“Why are you here?” she asks again. The feeling of her palm pressed against your skin is like fire.
“You know why I’m here,” you say. She releases your wrist and sits down on the top step. Unsure, you hover awkwardly until she gestures for you to sit as well. “I still…”
“You don’t. You can’t,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at the house. “I am happy. I am happy with her. I’m happy here in this house and I’m happy with my life. Are you trying to ruin that by showing up? We haven’t spoken in three years. How did you think this was going to go?”
You’re silent, head hanging low. Your heartbeat is uneven and you feel the blood rush around your ears. The world shifts slightly to the left.
“It’s not over. Not for me. I don’t know if it ever will be.”
“It’ll just have to be. You need to move on. You will be happy.”
“Are you really happy? We were happy. You and me and Beth. And it still fell apart.”
She places her hand on top of yours.
“I am happy.”
You exhale heavily and nod, feeling the world shift to the right this time. You push yourself off the steps and start to descend them. At the bottom, you turn back to face her, biting your bottom lip.
“May 9th 2012. August 22nd 2014. February 15th 2017.”
She frowns.
“Beth’s second birthday. The day you broke your arm. The day I proposed. The days when you promised you’d love me forever. I made mistakes. You made mistakes. But our biggest mistake was not trying hard enough. We let this go too easily.”
You close your eyes as a thousand memories flood your mind, memories you only let yourself remember when you’re alone in your bedroom at night, when Beth is fast asleep and when no-one can hear you when you start to cry.
“You’ll find someone else,” she says hollowly. “Someone like me. Someone better than me.”
“I don’t want someone like you,” you say, taking a step towards her. “I just want you.”
Before she can respond, you turn and walk back to your car as quickly as possible. You lock yourself inside and press your forehead to the steering wheel, choking back a sob that’s causing you physical pain. When the feeling finally passes, you start the car and pull away, speeding back to your house where your sixteen year old daughter is arriving home from school. You smile brightly and ask her about her day and rehearsals and piano lessons, never letting on where you’d been that afternoon.
**
You’re leaving the backstage area on opening night, making your way down the stairs at the side of the stage to take your seat in the front row when you see her. She looks up at you as you sit down but doesn’t speak. The lights go down a few seconds later and you turn to look at the stage, though your focus is anywhere but what’s happening there.
As your daughter makes her appearance on stage, bright green and dressed in black, you feel something swell inside you and have to stop yourself from breaking down in tears.
At the end of Beth’s first song, you feel her shift next to you and her hand snakes across your lap to take yours. You feel her fingers tangle with yours and she holds on tight. You risk a glance at her and find her staring back, a smile on her lips.
“September 13th 2026,” she whispers in your ear as the curtains close and applause is ringing through the auditorium. Beth takes a bow as you press a kiss to Rachel’s lips.
“September 13th 2026,” you whisper back.