fic: Jigsaw Pieces [7/15]
WORDS: 1K+
Chapter 7
Present Day
“Rachel.”
The voice is hazy. Hazy like a cloud. Hazy like a cloud made of cotton candy and sheep. Sheep.
“Rachel?”
Rachel’s eyes snap open and she stares up at the unfamiliar woman. In an unfamiliar room. The woman is holding a brown stone in each hand.
“You fell asleep,” the woman says helpfully.
The massage. That’s right. Rachel sighs happily. She feels like she’s floating. Floating on a cloud. More clouds. Making sure that a towel is wrapped around her, she sits up and stretches her back out, surprised when she feels none of the usual knots dotted around her shoulders. There’s a strange coiling sensation curling in her stomach which spreads outwards to her arms and legs. She feels utterly amazing.
“How do you feel?”
“Relaxed,” Rachel sighs again. “Happy. On top of the world. Amazing. Like a cloud.”
The woman gives her a perplexed look and helps Rachel down from the bed.
“I’ll let you change. Just come back to reception when you’re ready. No rush!” she says and backs out of the room. She closes the door and heads towards the front desk to retrieve the next envelope.
Rachel makes her appearance a few minutes later, a bounce in her step. She spots the envelope in Marcia’s hands and makes a beeline for it. Her stomach flips over with anticipation at Quinn’s next surprise. She’s actually surprised that her girlfriend has managed to keep all of this a secret, especially when Rachel’s best friend could fill Page 6 with all the gossip he manages to find out from his various sources.
Marcia hands over the envelope and Rachel tears into it eagerly. Three more jigsaw pieces sit at the bottom and another note.
See? They don’t all end in the big O.
Rachel blushes and tips the card away from the masseuse’s prying eyes.
Unless Marcia is as good at massages as I am.
Anyway…
Time to call the gossip queen and catch up.
He’ll be waiting with a plate of Boccone Dolce.
Love you x
Rachel grins so wide that it physically hurts. A dress, a necklace, a massage and now lunch with her best friend at her favourite restaurant in New York. Rachel briefly wonders if there’s some sort of ‘Best Girlfriend’ competition she can enter Quinn in.
“So?” Marcia and the receptionist ask in unison.
“She’s booked a table at Sardi’s,” Rachel squeals.
“She’s been leaving you notes all over New York then?” the receptionist asks. Rachel nods, gathering up her bag and sliding the latest envelope alongside the others.
“This is the fourth so far,” Rachel beams. “It’s a thing she does. The notes. This is the first treasure hunt she’s ever led me on though.”
“So romantic,” Marcia says, sighing. “My boyfriend is going to get a serious talking to when I get home tonight. He barely remembers my birthday.”
With the two women exchanging increasingly woeful stories about their boyfriend’s lacklustre attempts at romance, Rachel makes her exit. She hails a cab, heart clenching as they turn onto Broadway. Home. She passes by the theatre where her face smiles out from the bills next to the doors and shakes her head in disbelief.
‘How did this become my life?’ she thinks to herself. The cab draws to a halt and a sharply-dressed young man pulls open the door.
“Oh my god, it’s Rachel Berry,” he exclaims, wrapping her up in a bone-crushing hug. “You’re late.”
“I wasn’t given the schedule for today!” Rachel mutters, breaking out of Kurt’s embrace. She leans over to toss money at the cab driver through the window and turns back to her best friend. “What do you know?”
“Nothing!” he cries, holding up his hands. “I know nothing. Nothing about today or Quinn’s plans or the envelopes…” he draws out the last word, producing the next note from behind his back.
“I hate you,” Rachel says with a grin before leading him inside. She’s greeted, as always, with smiles and waves from people she recognises and some she doesn’t. Kurt keeps close to her, arm around her waist as they’re led to one of the best tables in the restaurant.
“So, how’s your morning been?”
“Outstanding,” Rachel nods enthusiastically after ordering a glass of ice water. “You told Quinn about the dress, right?”
Kurt nods, a bashful smile crossing his lips.
“And the necklace?” Rachel holds up the pendant for him to inspect.
“That’s all Quinn,” he says. “It’s like the Hanukkah one, isn’t it? But with a heart at the top…”
“And from Tiffany’s,” Rachel sighs happily. “She always promised she buy me things from Tiffany’s.”
“And what came after the necklace?” he asks, taking a glance at his menu.
“A massage at a place on 5th. My body is in heaven right now,” Rachel says, the heat from the stones still coursing through her body. “So after lunch, what’s happening? Do you know anything?”
“I don’t know a thing,” Kurt replies. “All she had me do was organise Melanie and the dress and turn up here, but she told me that I had to keep my afternoon free so I’m betting that whatever’s in here…” he holds up the envelope again, “… involves me too.”
Rachel moves to grab the envelope but Kurt holds it above his head with a triumphant look.
“Not until dessert is here,” he says and sits on the envelope.
“Don’t! You might bend the jigsaw pieces!”
Kurt stares at her in confusion.
“Pardon me?” he asks, retrieving the envelope.
“The jigsaw pieces!” Rachel repeats. Kurt gestures for her to continue. “Every envelope has jigsaw pieces in it. I have twelve pieces so far.”
“Really? Miss Fabray was mute on the subject of jigsaw pieces. Have you tried putting them together?” he asks, feeling the envelope now for the pieces. After finding the three, he puts the envelope down on the seat next to him.
“I haven’t exactly had much time,” Rachel says. “Maybe I should wait until I have all the pieces.” She frowns in contemplation. Kurt glances at his menu again and signals for the waiter to come over.
“Are you just having your usual, Rachel?” he asks, interrupting her thoughts. She nods and goes back to staring dreamily at the portraits on the walls. Kurt orders their food and waves a hand in front of the far away Rachel. “What are you thinking about?”
“High school,” Rachel snaps out of her reverie. “It’s a little surreal, right?”
“William McKinley High… surreal… I suppose so,” Kurt muses. Rachel pushes him away with a soft jab.
“I mean, what’s happened since then… you, me, New York… we’re in relationships, we’re both successful,” Rachel tails off, staring up at the portraits on the wall again. “Surreal.”
“Yes,” Kurt laughs. “It’s very surreal. And wonderful.”
“Definitely wonderful,” Rachel nods in agreement. “Have I ever thanked you for your Quinntervention?”
“We promised we’d never use that word again,” Kurt says nervously, glancing around the busy restaurant.
“She isn’t here!” Rachel says.
“She has ears like a bat, Rachel. Especially when it comes to that word.”
“Oh shush,” Rachel says. “Anyway, your Quinntervention backfired. Thankfully. If anything, it probably sped the process of us getting together along.”
“True,” Kurt says brightening. “Very true.”
The waiter interrupts them with plates of food and after a quick toast to each other’s health, they begin to tuck in, minds preoccupied with the memory of that day the week before their senior year started.
Chapter 8
Chapter 7
Present Day
“Rachel.”
The voice is hazy. Hazy like a cloud. Hazy like a cloud made of cotton candy and sheep. Sheep.
“Rachel?”
Rachel’s eyes snap open and she stares up at the unfamiliar woman. In an unfamiliar room. The woman is holding a brown stone in each hand.
“You fell asleep,” the woman says helpfully.
The massage. That’s right. Rachel sighs happily. She feels like she’s floating. Floating on a cloud. More clouds. Making sure that a towel is wrapped around her, she sits up and stretches her back out, surprised when she feels none of the usual knots dotted around her shoulders. There’s a strange coiling sensation curling in her stomach which spreads outwards to her arms and legs. She feels utterly amazing.
“How do you feel?”
“Relaxed,” Rachel sighs again. “Happy. On top of the world. Amazing. Like a cloud.”
The woman gives her a perplexed look and helps Rachel down from the bed.
“I’ll let you change. Just come back to reception when you’re ready. No rush!” she says and backs out of the room. She closes the door and heads towards the front desk to retrieve the next envelope.
Rachel makes her appearance a few minutes later, a bounce in her step. She spots the envelope in Marcia’s hands and makes a beeline for it. Her stomach flips over with anticipation at Quinn’s next surprise. She’s actually surprised that her girlfriend has managed to keep all of this a secret, especially when Rachel’s best friend could fill Page 6 with all the gossip he manages to find out from his various sources.
Marcia hands over the envelope and Rachel tears into it eagerly. Three more jigsaw pieces sit at the bottom and another note.
See? They don’t all end in the big O.
Rachel blushes and tips the card away from the masseuse’s prying eyes.
Unless Marcia is as good at massages as I am.
Anyway…
Time to call the gossip queen and catch up.
He’ll be waiting with a plate of Boccone Dolce.
Love you x
Rachel grins so wide that it physically hurts. A dress, a necklace, a massage and now lunch with her best friend at her favourite restaurant in New York. Rachel briefly wonders if there’s some sort of ‘Best Girlfriend’ competition she can enter Quinn in.
“So?” Marcia and the receptionist ask in unison.
“She’s booked a table at Sardi’s,” Rachel squeals.
“She’s been leaving you notes all over New York then?” the receptionist asks. Rachel nods, gathering up her bag and sliding the latest envelope alongside the others.
“This is the fourth so far,” Rachel beams. “It’s a thing she does. The notes. This is the first treasure hunt she’s ever led me on though.”
“So romantic,” Marcia says, sighing. “My boyfriend is going to get a serious talking to when I get home tonight. He barely remembers my birthday.”
With the two women exchanging increasingly woeful stories about their boyfriend’s lacklustre attempts at romance, Rachel makes her exit. She hails a cab, heart clenching as they turn onto Broadway. Home. She passes by the theatre where her face smiles out from the bills next to the doors and shakes her head in disbelief.
‘How did this become my life?’ she thinks to herself. The cab draws to a halt and a sharply-dressed young man pulls open the door.
“Oh my god, it’s Rachel Berry,” he exclaims, wrapping her up in a bone-crushing hug. “You’re late.”
“I wasn’t given the schedule for today!” Rachel mutters, breaking out of Kurt’s embrace. She leans over to toss money at the cab driver through the window and turns back to her best friend. “What do you know?”
“Nothing!” he cries, holding up his hands. “I know nothing. Nothing about today or Quinn’s plans or the envelopes…” he draws out the last word, producing the next note from behind his back.
“I hate you,” Rachel says with a grin before leading him inside. She’s greeted, as always, with smiles and waves from people she recognises and some she doesn’t. Kurt keeps close to her, arm around her waist as they’re led to one of the best tables in the restaurant.
“So, how’s your morning been?”
“Outstanding,” Rachel nods enthusiastically after ordering a glass of ice water. “You told Quinn about the dress, right?”
Kurt nods, a bashful smile crossing his lips.
“And the necklace?” Rachel holds up the pendant for him to inspect.
“That’s all Quinn,” he says. “It’s like the Hanukkah one, isn’t it? But with a heart at the top…”
“And from Tiffany’s,” Rachel sighs happily. “She always promised she buy me things from Tiffany’s.”
“And what came after the necklace?” he asks, taking a glance at his menu.
“A massage at a place on 5th. My body is in heaven right now,” Rachel says, the heat from the stones still coursing through her body. “So after lunch, what’s happening? Do you know anything?”
“I don’t know a thing,” Kurt replies. “All she had me do was organise Melanie and the dress and turn up here, but she told me that I had to keep my afternoon free so I’m betting that whatever’s in here…” he holds up the envelope again, “… involves me too.”
Rachel moves to grab the envelope but Kurt holds it above his head with a triumphant look.
“Not until dessert is here,” he says and sits on the envelope.
“Don’t! You might bend the jigsaw pieces!”
Kurt stares at her in confusion.
“Pardon me?” he asks, retrieving the envelope.
“The jigsaw pieces!” Rachel repeats. Kurt gestures for her to continue. “Every envelope has jigsaw pieces in it. I have twelve pieces so far.”
“Really? Miss Fabray was mute on the subject of jigsaw pieces. Have you tried putting them together?” he asks, feeling the envelope now for the pieces. After finding the three, he puts the envelope down on the seat next to him.
“I haven’t exactly had much time,” Rachel says. “Maybe I should wait until I have all the pieces.” She frowns in contemplation. Kurt glances at his menu again and signals for the waiter to come over.
“Are you just having your usual, Rachel?” he asks, interrupting her thoughts. She nods and goes back to staring dreamily at the portraits on the walls. Kurt orders their food and waves a hand in front of the far away Rachel. “What are you thinking about?”
“High school,” Rachel snaps out of her reverie. “It’s a little surreal, right?”
“William McKinley High… surreal… I suppose so,” Kurt muses. Rachel pushes him away with a soft jab.
“I mean, what’s happened since then… you, me, New York… we’re in relationships, we’re both successful,” Rachel tails off, staring up at the portraits on the wall again. “Surreal.”
“Yes,” Kurt laughs. “It’s very surreal. And wonderful.”
“Definitely wonderful,” Rachel nods in agreement. “Have I ever thanked you for your Quinntervention?”
“We promised we’d never use that word again,” Kurt says nervously, glancing around the busy restaurant.
“She isn’t here!” Rachel says.
“She has ears like a bat, Rachel. Especially when it comes to that word.”
“Oh shush,” Rachel says. “Anyway, your Quinntervention backfired. Thankfully. If anything, it probably sped the process of us getting together along.”
“True,” Kurt says brightening. “Very true.”
The waiter interrupts them with plates of food and after a quick toast to each other’s health, they begin to tuck in, minds preoccupied with the memory of that day the week before their senior year started.
Chapter 8