Unspoken Words (1/?)
Title: Unspoken Words
Rating: PG (this one)/NC-17 (whole fic)
Length: 1000+
Spoilers: AU after Journey
Summary: Futurefic! Rachel knew it wasn't wise to take a shortcut through dark New York alleys late at night, but it was late, and she was drunk, and really, really had to get home.
Pairing: Eventually Faberry
Warning: Angst! ANGST!!!
Prologue
Chapter 1
Quinn slammed her hand down on the receptionist's desk, and gritted her teeth to stop from screaming like a maniac. She was over her HBIC attitude, she really was, but she it was times like this that she wished Glee club hadn't made her soft (She didn't notice the irony of how she wouldn't even have been in the hospital to see Rachel if it weren't for glee club) She was trying to be understanding, she really was. But how was she supposed to have PROOF that she'd gone to high school with THE Rachel Berry? It wasn't like she carried her yearbook around in her purse! And even then, the receptionist would probably just snap her gum, then tell her that it wasn't enough, Hun, sorry. She was sorely tempted to pull a pathetic spy-attempt by causing a harmless distraction, then sneaking behind the desk to take a peek at the rooming notes, but she was sure that it was illegal, and she didn't want to seem like a stalker (like the rest of the waiting room was).
Finally resigning herself to just sending flowers and a get well card (which would undoubtedly be lost in the sea of other such gifts), Quinn turned to leave. She'd taken long enough of a bathroom break already.
Later that night, Quinn was eating ice cream in front of her television set, spoon half in her mouth, when she saw herself on the screen, yelling angrily at the receptionist. It was only for about 3 seconds, but it was long enough for her to be mortified. How had she not noticed the cameras? Had she been that focused on seeing Rachel that she'd missed the camera crew? She was really losing her touch...
Unbeknownst to her, Rachel's dads were also watching that same newscast (from the privacy of Rachel's single room), and they looked at each other, both recognizing the blonde as the formerly bitchy ex-cheerleader Rachel had befriended in high school. They also knew that it had been Quinn that had placed the call that saved their daughter, because it really hadn’t been all that anonymous (the police have their ways), just unpublicized. So it was a complete surprise to Quinn when she picked up her phone the next morning to see 3 missed calls from an unknown number, and, when she checked her voice mail, a message from Rachel’s fathers, asking if she could please call back, because it would be nice for more of Rachel’s friends to be there for her when she woke up after surgery, and they’d be very grateful if she’d come, because they, too, could use a friendly and familiar face right now, and New York wasn’t all too full of those.
Quinn didn’t call back right away, first calling her assistant (“The fuc- Hello Miss Fabray, why are you calling me so early in the morning on a Saturday? Cancel all... Yes ma’am, I will. Even... Alright ma’am, I will.”), knowing full well that her day had been for apartment shopping, since her lease was ending, and she wanted a change of setting. At this point, she was pretty sure another twelve months in the same place was doable if she could see Rachel, if only to alleviate whatever that feeling was in her gut. She was pretty sure it was unease, guilt, worry, and nervousness mashed together in a blender, and shoved down her throat in a remarkably forceful manner. She had to see if Rachel was okay, and if she wasn’t, Quinn Fabray would not leave her side until she was.
After that, she took a shower, where she formulated the exact words she’d say to Rachel’s dads on the phone, because, damn it, she had to tell them that she could have saved Rachel, but she hadn’t, and regrets were a bitch. She had to tell them that all she’d done was call the police, like some sort of heartless person, and left their daughter for as good as dead in an alleyway. Hopefully, after that, they’d still let her see Rachel, because she had to apologize to the brunette as well.
Then, after dressing and admitting to herself that she was most definitely stalling, she finally picked up the phone again, and called the unfamiliar number on her phone back. A groggy voice answered, and when Quinn checked her alarm clock (belatedly), she winced. Calling at 8 in the morning was probably a bad idea... barely anything more than breakfast diners and coffee shops were open at this hour. She made a mental note to buy her assistant a latte and a biscotti on Monday as an apology for waking her up an hour before. She licked her lips, and spoke hesitantly.
“Hi... It’s Quinn Fabray. You called last night?”
There was a noise of affirmation, and the male voice that she heard in her ear was warm, but decidedly tired and ragged, probably due to stress. “We saw you on the news last night. You’ve grown up, Quinn.”
Quinn blushed. “I... that was, erm... well.” She coughed a little, and nearly missed the part about being put on speaker phone. decided that she’d just have to say what she had practiced in the shower. “Mr. Berry, I’d like to apologize.”
“For?”
“I was the one who called the police two nights ago.”
“We know.” Quinn feels a shiver start at the top of her head, and slither down her spine. If they knew, then they probably hated her and they wouldn’t let her see Rachel, because she didn’t try to hel- “Thank you; you saved her life.”
“Wait, what?” She hadn't, she'd ignored someone in need, and had inadvertently hurt someone she claimed she was friends with. She decided to scrap her Berry-parent speech, and wing it instead. "I could have gone into the alley, I could have seen if she was all right. I just ignored her!"
"And to what means, Quinn? You might have been hurt in the process, then who would have called the authorities, preventing you both from dying? You saved her, Quinn, and we're eternally grateful."
Quinn was speechless. She'd expected having to grovel for forgiveness, not to be given love and thanks!
"Well, anyway," piped up Rachel's other dad, "we'd love it if you came to visit Rachel... She's not very lucid at the moment, but she'll be happy to see you. We will too; there aren't very many friendly faces in New York for us, so it'd be nice to see you."
She nodded, silently agreeing with the men, then realized that they couldn't see her. "I know what you mean..."
There was a small pause, then Quinn quietly told the men she'd be there in an hour, tops.
After hanging up, Quinn collapsed on her couch, completely stunned by the open forgiveness and blatant love the Berry's had given her. She had been so sure that they'd called her to rip her a new one, but that they'd opened up their arms to her, and to alleviate her guilt... It was a little much for the woman to handle, and she was pretty sure she'd spend the rest of her life making it up to them, even if they told her it was okay (which they undoubtedly would).
An hour later saw Quinn Fabray looking nervously at a hospital room door, clutching a little package to her chest. She hadn't seen Rachel in a long time, so she was hoping the starlet hadn't changed too much over the years. She screwed up her courage, and knocked lightly on the door. A quiet murmur that told her to enter had her taking a deep breath and opening the door as quietly as possible. Two tired looking men turned their heads and smiled warmly at her, but her eyes immediately shot over them to the prone girl on the bed, surrounded by machines.
“She’s sleeping right now... the pain medication is really amazing.” Quinn nodded absently, and walked over, fighting tears. Rachel looked... There was a a thick gauze covering on her throat, and tubes everywhere. Quinn placed her little package on the night table beside Rachel’s other get well presents, and reached out hesitantly, not wanting to disturb the girl. Quinn just needed to know if she was okay. Her fingers gently caressed Rachel’s cheek, and she collapsed into a heap of tears.
"I'm so, so sorry, Rachel," she sobbed. "I don't even know what I was doing..." She held her head in her hands. "I don't know what happened... I didn't know."
One of Rachel's dads reached over to pat Quinn on the shoulder. "We don't blame you, and she won't either."
A while later, Quinn looked up at him, eyes wet and shiny. "Will she be able to sing again?"
His face fell, crumpling in on itself, and she started in on a fresh batch of tears. All of Rachel’s dreams, all her everything, had been ripped from her, and Quinn had been in a position to save her, to save her dreams. All the two men could make out was blubbering, and the odd exclamation of how it was all Quinn's fault; how it was always Quinn's fault.
A heavy hand squeezed on her shoulder, and she tried her best to get herself together. When she had, she turned to who she remembered as Abraham. He pulled her up into a warm hug, and she sighed. He murmured in her hair and rubbed her back until she could breathe without her breath hitching, before pulling back, hands still on her shoulders.
"How about we three go for some coffee, and you tell us how life has been for Quinn Fabray for the past..."
"Eight years? I think?" She sniffled slightly. She looked over her shoulder at Rachel.
"She's not going anywhere, sweetie. She'll be here when we get back." She nodded absently, and let the two men led her out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rachel couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t quite muster the strength to open her eyes, and there was some sort of heaviness on her body that made everything harder than it usually was. Breathing was difficult, but luckily her subconscious still took care of that, only notifying her of its discomfort. Thinking was a little difficult too, so she stuck to just... listening. That wasn’t too hard.
When she’d first woken up, she’d heard voices, sad ones, and she didn’t know why, but she felt like she recognized them. There had been two men and one woman, and the woman had been sad. Her brain wasn’t functioning quite enough to understand the words of what was being said, but it was working enough to understand the feelings behind it all, and the woman had been devastated. Rachel had listened to the men converse with the woman, and then the voices faded away.
Which brought her to the moment she’s in, in near silence, where her tired and sluggish brain is attempting to make connections, because she was sure she recognized them. An epiphany came with the two men. It wasn’t too hard, because she’d grown up for.... many years, lots of years, listening to them talk. She’d know their voices anywhere, her brain just had to catch up sometimes, apparently. Abraham was the one with the deep voice, and gentle laugh, and hugs. Peter was the one with the big smiles, and funny jokes, and the putting-on of band aids. There was more, but her mind couldn’t quite reach that yet.
The woman, though, was different. There was something... familiar about her voice, about the brokenness and hurt, and the sounds of her tears. She’d heard it all before, once, many years ago. How many, she wasn’t sure, but she knew, knew, that this woman was someone that was from her past, whenever that was.
Rachel tried to wrestle with her sluggish mind, to remember, because, for some reason, she just knew that this woman was important. Something was there, and she wanted to find it. She wanted to get a name, a face, anything, but her brain proved too tired, and she fell back asleep.
TBC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Dearest readers, you may realize that I am writing about New York as a harsh and unloving place. I’m probably incredibly wrong, but I’m not pointing a finger at New York in particular, more big cities in general. I just moved into a big city from the burbs, and it’s very distressing how unfriendly and rigid people in the downtown core are. There is very little conversation, horrible driving, and general disinterest. There’s a distinct cynicism that exists everywhere. That, and just about everyone is either walking fast (that’s one thing I’m glad for) or plugged into their music. Smiles are few and far in between, and greeting strangers is taboo. People seem to be incredibly lonely.
That’s what I’m trying to show has happened to Quinn since getting to New York. She’s been sucked into this unloving atmosphere of the metropolis, and so when someone she doesn’t know is hurt, she doesn’t really do anything about it. She does, but not anything that will hurt her pocketbook or get in the way of her plans. She’s being snapped out of it now, because it turns out that the person in the alley was a friend, and so now she’s fully aware of how much she’s changed, and I think she’s going to try and make amends. Guilt does that to a person.
On another note, what do you think Quinn’s job should be? She’s obviously high enough on the corporate ladder to have an assistant... Also, how long have they been separated? I’ve made it tentatively 8 years, but what, dear readers, do you think?
A/N2: I’m using iWorks ‘Pages’. it says that ‘bitch’ should is bad, because it’s a “sexist expression. Avoid using to refer to women”. Haha!
[long author’s note is long]
Rating: PG (this one)/NC-17 (whole fic)
Length: 1000+
Spoilers: AU after Journey
Summary: Futurefic! Rachel knew it wasn't wise to take a shortcut through dark New York alleys late at night, but it was late, and she was drunk, and really, really had to get home.
Pairing: Eventually Faberry
Warning: Angst! ANGST!!!
Prologue
Chapter 1
Quinn slammed her hand down on the receptionist's desk, and gritted her teeth to stop from screaming like a maniac. She was over her HBIC attitude, she really was, but she it was times like this that she wished Glee club hadn't made her soft (She didn't notice the irony of how she wouldn't even have been in the hospital to see Rachel if it weren't for glee club) She was trying to be understanding, she really was. But how was she supposed to have PROOF that she'd gone to high school with THE Rachel Berry? It wasn't like she carried her yearbook around in her purse! And even then, the receptionist would probably just snap her gum, then tell her that it wasn't enough, Hun, sorry. She was sorely tempted to pull a pathetic spy-attempt by causing a harmless distraction, then sneaking behind the desk to take a peek at the rooming notes, but she was sure that it was illegal, and she didn't want to seem like a stalker (like the rest of the waiting room was).
Finally resigning herself to just sending flowers and a get well card (which would undoubtedly be lost in the sea of other such gifts), Quinn turned to leave. She'd taken long enough of a bathroom break already.
Later that night, Quinn was eating ice cream in front of her television set, spoon half in her mouth, when she saw herself on the screen, yelling angrily at the receptionist. It was only for about 3 seconds, but it was long enough for her to be mortified. How had she not noticed the cameras? Had she been that focused on seeing Rachel that she'd missed the camera crew? She was really losing her touch...
Unbeknownst to her, Rachel's dads were also watching that same newscast (from the privacy of Rachel's single room), and they looked at each other, both recognizing the blonde as the formerly bitchy ex-cheerleader Rachel had befriended in high school. They also knew that it had been Quinn that had placed the call that saved their daughter, because it really hadn’t been all that anonymous (the police have their ways), just unpublicized. So it was a complete surprise to Quinn when she picked up her phone the next morning to see 3 missed calls from an unknown number, and, when she checked her voice mail, a message from Rachel’s fathers, asking if she could please call back, because it would be nice for more of Rachel’s friends to be there for her when she woke up after surgery, and they’d be very grateful if she’d come, because they, too, could use a friendly and familiar face right now, and New York wasn’t all too full of those.
Quinn didn’t call back right away, first calling her assistant (“The fuc- Hello Miss Fabray, why are you calling me so early in the morning on a Saturday? Cancel all... Yes ma’am, I will. Even... Alright ma’am, I will.”), knowing full well that her day had been for apartment shopping, since her lease was ending, and she wanted a change of setting. At this point, she was pretty sure another twelve months in the same place was doable if she could see Rachel, if only to alleviate whatever that feeling was in her gut. She was pretty sure it was unease, guilt, worry, and nervousness mashed together in a blender, and shoved down her throat in a remarkably forceful manner. She had to see if Rachel was okay, and if she wasn’t, Quinn Fabray would not leave her side until she was.
After that, she took a shower, where she formulated the exact words she’d say to Rachel’s dads on the phone, because, damn it, she had to tell them that she could have saved Rachel, but she hadn’t, and regrets were a bitch. She had to tell them that all she’d done was call the police, like some sort of heartless person, and left their daughter for as good as dead in an alleyway. Hopefully, after that, they’d still let her see Rachel, because she had to apologize to the brunette as well.
Then, after dressing and admitting to herself that she was most definitely stalling, she finally picked up the phone again, and called the unfamiliar number on her phone back. A groggy voice answered, and when Quinn checked her alarm clock (belatedly), she winced. Calling at 8 in the morning was probably a bad idea... barely anything more than breakfast diners and coffee shops were open at this hour. She made a mental note to buy her assistant a latte and a biscotti on Monday as an apology for waking her up an hour before. She licked her lips, and spoke hesitantly.
“Hi... It’s Quinn Fabray. You called last night?”
There was a noise of affirmation, and the male voice that she heard in her ear was warm, but decidedly tired and ragged, probably due to stress. “We saw you on the news last night. You’ve grown up, Quinn.”
Quinn blushed. “I... that was, erm... well.” She coughed a little, and nearly missed the part about being put on speaker phone. decided that she’d just have to say what she had practiced in the shower. “Mr. Berry, I’d like to apologize.”
“For?”
“I was the one who called the police two nights ago.”
“We know.” Quinn feels a shiver start at the top of her head, and slither down her spine. If they knew, then they probably hated her and they wouldn’t let her see Rachel, because she didn’t try to hel- “Thank you; you saved her life.”
“Wait, what?” She hadn't, she'd ignored someone in need, and had inadvertently hurt someone she claimed she was friends with. She decided to scrap her Berry-parent speech, and wing it instead. "I could have gone into the alley, I could have seen if she was all right. I just ignored her!"
"And to what means, Quinn? You might have been hurt in the process, then who would have called the authorities, preventing you both from dying? You saved her, Quinn, and we're eternally grateful."
Quinn was speechless. She'd expected having to grovel for forgiveness, not to be given love and thanks!
"Well, anyway," piped up Rachel's other dad, "we'd love it if you came to visit Rachel... She's not very lucid at the moment, but she'll be happy to see you. We will too; there aren't very many friendly faces in New York for us, so it'd be nice to see you."
She nodded, silently agreeing with the men, then realized that they couldn't see her. "I know what you mean..."
There was a small pause, then Quinn quietly told the men she'd be there in an hour, tops.
After hanging up, Quinn collapsed on her couch, completely stunned by the open forgiveness and blatant love the Berry's had given her. She had been so sure that they'd called her to rip her a new one, but that they'd opened up their arms to her, and to alleviate her guilt... It was a little much for the woman to handle, and she was pretty sure she'd spend the rest of her life making it up to them, even if they told her it was okay (which they undoubtedly would).
An hour later saw Quinn Fabray looking nervously at a hospital room door, clutching a little package to her chest. She hadn't seen Rachel in a long time, so she was hoping the starlet hadn't changed too much over the years. She screwed up her courage, and knocked lightly on the door. A quiet murmur that told her to enter had her taking a deep breath and opening the door as quietly as possible. Two tired looking men turned their heads and smiled warmly at her, but her eyes immediately shot over them to the prone girl on the bed, surrounded by machines.
“She’s sleeping right now... the pain medication is really amazing.” Quinn nodded absently, and walked over, fighting tears. Rachel looked... There was a a thick gauze covering on her throat, and tubes everywhere. Quinn placed her little package on the night table beside Rachel’s other get well presents, and reached out hesitantly, not wanting to disturb the girl. Quinn just needed to know if she was okay. Her fingers gently caressed Rachel’s cheek, and she collapsed into a heap of tears.
"I'm so, so sorry, Rachel," she sobbed. "I don't even know what I was doing..." She held her head in her hands. "I don't know what happened... I didn't know."
One of Rachel's dads reached over to pat Quinn on the shoulder. "We don't blame you, and she won't either."
A while later, Quinn looked up at him, eyes wet and shiny. "Will she be able to sing again?"
His face fell, crumpling in on itself, and she started in on a fresh batch of tears. All of Rachel’s dreams, all her everything, had been ripped from her, and Quinn had been in a position to save her, to save her dreams. All the two men could make out was blubbering, and the odd exclamation of how it was all Quinn's fault; how it was always Quinn's fault.
A heavy hand squeezed on her shoulder, and she tried her best to get herself together. When she had, she turned to who she remembered as Abraham. He pulled her up into a warm hug, and she sighed. He murmured in her hair and rubbed her back until she could breathe without her breath hitching, before pulling back, hands still on her shoulders.
"How about we three go for some coffee, and you tell us how life has been for Quinn Fabray for the past..."
"Eight years? I think?" She sniffled slightly. She looked over her shoulder at Rachel.
"She's not going anywhere, sweetie. She'll be here when we get back." She nodded absently, and let the two men led her out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rachel couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t quite muster the strength to open her eyes, and there was some sort of heaviness on her body that made everything harder than it usually was. Breathing was difficult, but luckily her subconscious still took care of that, only notifying her of its discomfort. Thinking was a little difficult too, so she stuck to just... listening. That wasn’t too hard.
When she’d first woken up, she’d heard voices, sad ones, and she didn’t know why, but she felt like she recognized them. There had been two men and one woman, and the woman had been sad. Her brain wasn’t functioning quite enough to understand the words of what was being said, but it was working enough to understand the feelings behind it all, and the woman had been devastated. Rachel had listened to the men converse with the woman, and then the voices faded away.
Which brought her to the moment she’s in, in near silence, where her tired and sluggish brain is attempting to make connections, because she was sure she recognized them. An epiphany came with the two men. It wasn’t too hard, because she’d grown up for.... many years, lots of years, listening to them talk. She’d know their voices anywhere, her brain just had to catch up sometimes, apparently. Abraham was the one with the deep voice, and gentle laugh, and hugs. Peter was the one with the big smiles, and funny jokes, and the putting-on of band aids. There was more, but her mind couldn’t quite reach that yet.
The woman, though, was different. There was something... familiar about her voice, about the brokenness and hurt, and the sounds of her tears. She’d heard it all before, once, many years ago. How many, she wasn’t sure, but she knew, knew, that this woman was someone that was from her past, whenever that was.
Rachel tried to wrestle with her sluggish mind, to remember, because, for some reason, she just knew that this woman was important. Something was there, and she wanted to find it. She wanted to get a name, a face, anything, but her brain proved too tired, and she fell back asleep.
TBC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Dearest readers, you may realize that I am writing about New York as a harsh and unloving place. I’m probably incredibly wrong, but I’m not pointing a finger at New York in particular, more big cities in general. I just moved into a big city from the burbs, and it’s very distressing how unfriendly and rigid people in the downtown core are. There is very little conversation, horrible driving, and general disinterest. There’s a distinct cynicism that exists everywhere. That, and just about everyone is either walking fast (that’s one thing I’m glad for) or plugged into their music. Smiles are few and far in between, and greeting strangers is taboo. People seem to be incredibly lonely.
That’s what I’m trying to show has happened to Quinn since getting to New York. She’s been sucked into this unloving atmosphere of the metropolis, and so when someone she doesn’t know is hurt, she doesn’t really do anything about it. She does, but not anything that will hurt her pocketbook or get in the way of her plans. She’s being snapped out of it now, because it turns out that the person in the alley was a friend, and so now she’s fully aware of how much she’s changed, and I think she’s going to try and make amends. Guilt does that to a person.
On another note, what do you think Quinn’s job should be? She’s obviously high enough on the corporate ladder to have an assistant... Also, how long have they been separated? I’ve made it tentatively 8 years, but what, dear readers, do you think?
A/N2: I’m using iWorks ‘Pages’. it says that ‘bitch’ should is bad, because it’s a “sexist expression. Avoid using to refer to women”. Haha!
[long author’s note is long]