115. you made a rebell of a careless man's careful daughter [4/?]
Title | you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter
Chapter | 4/?
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Santana Lopez. Santana/Rachel, Santana/Puck, hints of Puck/Rachel. Brittany, Jesse, Quinn, Finn, Mike, Kurt, Mercedes, Will Schuester [multiple pairings between all of the aforementioned].
Summary | The second this you need to know is that sometimes I forget, too.
Notes | This is an AU fic. It is based on the novel The Likeness by Tana French, which I read recently and absolutely adored. The writing is beautiful and the story is captivating. The general plot points are all credited to the author, but I have made quite a few changes based on my own ideas and/or the ships I plan on including in this story. The relationships between the various characters will become clearer as the story goes on. I do not own Glee, I only like to play with the characters.
Quinn hovers there for a moment, and then another. It's too long and I can't breathe - I don't know what Gracie would do in this situation, I have no idea at all.
But then Mike grins, his eyes shining bright, and he lopes forward and lets his hand linger over Quinn's back as he demands lightly, "What're you waiting for, Q?" He moves past her, and he hugs me.
His hug is the good kind, solid and grounding, and I squeeze him back, arms wrapped around him.
"Welcome home," he says. When he lets me go Quinn is still standing there, and in the second before she smiles something entirely heartbreaking flashes over her face.
"Gracie, hi," she says, rushing forward and throwing her arms around me.
Her hugs feels…like Rachel's, like the kind of hug you bestow upon someone you can't live without. It lasts for a long time but it isn't too tight. Her hair is in my face and her skin smells kitchen-good, like she's spent the day baking cookies.
"Hey, Quinn," I whisper and she clutches me tightly for an extra moment.
"Look at you," she breathes, a smile lighting up her face; Quinn in real life is much like Quinn in pictures and on video, a bit closed off until she trusts you but still genuine. "You don't know how much we missed you."
Finn steps forward, clearly too patient to wait any longer, and engulfs both of us in a hug, our heads tucked just under his arms. He's ridiculously tall and being hugged by him feels like being embraced by a giant teddy bear. He even manages to lift both Quinn and I an inch or two off the ground for a split second.
She laughs into his shoulder, eyes closed and smile wide against the fabric of his shirt, and I feel him drop a soft, subtle kiss onto the crown of my head. When I glance up at him he beams down at me, and wide and unassuming smile. "Missed your face, kid," he says lightly.
"And your body," Mike teases, hooking a finger into one of the belt-loops on my - Gracie's - jeans, which are a tiny bit baggy on me. "You look too skinny."
Jesse steps forward and silence falls for a moment. He'd been hanging back, and I'd noticed that, but I'd decided to let him make the first move, particularly since none of the others seemed bothered by his hesitance.
"Let's just say we missed all of you, Grace," he says in that charming, melodic voice of his. I've heard it before but in person, with his eyes fixed on mine, it's much more disarming.
"No hug, Jesse?" I tease, concentrating on making my voice into Gracie's, a little airier, a little more of a singsong rhythm in each of the words.
He extends an arm, gives me a silent nod.
His hug is gentle, his muscles relaxing nice and slowly as he digs his nose into my hair and just holds me. I let him end it, and as he pulls back he slips his fingers behind my ear, tucking my hair back tenderly.
"You scared us," he says solemnly.
I roll my eyes, "Sorry."
There is a beat of tension, just this tiny little beat, and then Quinn's arm hooks through mine and she smiles at me but her eyes slide toward Jesse. "Don't be sorry, goofball," she offers lightly, tugging me toward the house. "Come inside, come home…" Tossing her hair, she calls over her shoulder, "Finn…"
I look back and see that he's already got my bag of things, mostly full of the items they sent to hospitalized Gracie, in his hand. "Got it covered," he says with a lazy smile aimed at us.
And we go inside.
The air inside of Terra Firma seems to thrum with new energy. I run through blueprints in my head, mentally reviewing the quickest path to Gracie's bedroom, to the nearest bathroom, to the dining room, and I'm relieved that I can remember it all.
"It's…quiet in here," I remark carefully. I'm high-strung, more alert than I should be - but so are they.
Finn shrugs. "It's been hard."
"But you're back now," Mike pipes up. He glances at his watch. "And dinner's almost ready."
Quinn shifts slightly, disentangling herself from me and moving toward Mike. "Take Gracie's bag upstairs so that she can freshen up, Finn?" She frames it like a question, accompanied by a pretty smile.
Finn swings the door of Gracie's bedroom open and lets me step inside first, following on my heels and loping over to the bed, where he deposits the bag carefully. He jams his hands into his pockets and rocks forward onto his toes, smiling at me. "Home sweet home."
I nod, looking around the room casually. It looks like the pictures I've seen: the bed, now made up for me with fresh sheets, the dresser and the closet, the laundry hamper in the corner and the bookshelf beneath the window. It's simple - I remember that it didn't take them long to search her room.
"Gracie?"
I blink and offer him the cheeky grin that Gracie has patented. "Sorry. I zoned out."
His smile fades slightly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah! Of course."
He tilts his head, examining my face. "Because it's okay if you're not." He chokes out a mirthless laugh. "None of us are really okay."
I take a couple steps toward him. "We'll all be okay. Aren't we always?"
"Yeah." Finn shuffles closer to me in turn. "You really can't remember anything?"
I give my head a quick shake and shrug helplessly. "I can't remember much after the morning of the accident. And after that all I've got is waking up in a hospital bed."
"And…before that?"
"What…?" I wonder softly, my words halting instantly when his hand moves to touch my cheek, his large palm soft against my skin, his thumb moving over the apple of my cheek.
He smirks at me and inclines his head toward the door. "Let's go eat."
Dinner is pretty easy.
The boys cook dinner (and tomorrow morning, I know, I will be expected to get out of bed when Quinn taps on my door so that I can help her make breakfast), and tonight it's spaghetti with homemade sauce and chocolate zucchini cake cooling on the kitchen counter.
Mike touches my back, fingers drumming gently against my spine. "Your favourites."
I bob into a teasing courtesy when he pulls my chair out for me. "You guys didn't have to."
Jesse takes his seat at the head of the table; Quinn and I sit on either side of him, Finn sits next to Quinn and Mike next to me. "Of course we did, Gracie."
Finn starts to pour wine into all of our glasses. Their cutlery is beautiful and most likely a relic inherited from the St. James family, all of the wine glasses bordered at their rims by a band of gold. I set my hand over it when Finn extends the bottle toward me - I can't get drunk tonight, not even tipsy, not even a bit off of my game. "Meds," I say, making a face.
Quinn's foot bumps gently against mine underneath the table, but when I look at her I see that her eyes are glued on Jesse's, communicating silently.
"We don't need to drink tonight," Mike says, his voice particularly low, as though he knows he's not in charge of this decision.
"Don't be crazy." Jesse grins at him but there's steel in his voice. "Gracie's fine." He nods to Finn. "Just a sip or two won't hurt her."
"Jesse - "
"I know that you're on antibiotics, Gracie, but I'm sure you can't be on codeine. As long as you make sure it's only a sip I know you'll be fine." His eyes linger too long on my face. "Don't you trust me?"
I roll my eyes. "Why wouldn't I?"
Across the table, I see Quinn take a sharp breath, but when I turn toward her I see that she's reaching up, tugging gently on Finn's sleeve. "Sit," she tells him.
When he looks at her, his smile is so tender that it takes my breath away, and I wonder -
Under the table, I kick her lightly, wondering if it's some sort of signal between the two girls. She arches an eyebrow at me, mildly unconcerned, obviously asking, are you okay?
I smile and nod and lift my fork to eat.
They carry the conversation and it's up to me to find the spots where Gracie fits in. They don't miss a beat, these people, when they're with one another, it's as seamless as anything I've ever seen. It's as seamless as Puck and I, when we're together.
"We took care of your tutorials for you, Gracie," Finn tells me happily, and then they launch into a conversation about how annoying the eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds they deal with all day are.
Quinn tells a story about this one girl they've all apparently had experiences with, a girl named Alicia Smith that they simply can't stand, and they're all laughing near-hysterically. Mike extends his hand over the table, interjecting a point that throws Quinn into another fit of laughter and she reaches for his hand, squeezes it until both of their knuckles turn white. Finn is slouched way down in his seat, heat tipped back, laughing his full laugh, and I'm watching them, giggling along because they're beautiful, they really are, and this feels so much like a home that for a moment I nestle into the warmth of it, for a moment I want to belong here.
Then I glance at Jesse and it's like being doused in cold water. He's smiling, but he's watching me like he's trying to read my mind. His eyes aren't smiling.
I tilt one eyebrow up and ask softly, under the sounds of laughter, "Yes?"
His smile relaxes just a little at the corners. "You don't remember Alicia? You used to rant about her nearly everyday."
"What're you talking about!" Finn cries, having overheard, "Of course she remembers Alicia. The time she raised her hand…and asked if they were allowed crumbling snacks in the examination room…"
"Crumbling!" Mike exclaims, like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. He's pushed his plate aside and he's stretched out halfway across the table, diagonally, his forehead resting on Quinn's hand.
She runs her fingers through his hair affectionately and grins at me, her whole face bright with mirth. "And how she's always flipping her hair, right at the boys, so obviously…"
I giggle on cue. "Such a temptress," I say, and (thank god) that sets them off again. I turn my gaze toward Jesse, still giggling for effect. "I remember."
He inclines his head and his smile blossoms into something genuine and jesus christ all of a sudden he's the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. I laugh with him and wonder if Gracie felt that way, too.
Finn and Mike do dishes after we eat nearly all of the cake. Jesse disappears somewhere, leaving Quinn and I to sit at the dining room table. She sips her wine while I leave mine untouched, and we talk about nonsense. Over by the sink, Mike is flicking soap bubbles at Finn and the taller man is jumping away.
"Don't be such a girl!" I call to him, sticking out my tongue.
Mike lifts both hands from the sink, covered in bubbles, and turns toward us ominously.
"No, no, no!" Quinn says quickly, holding her hands out in protest, her eyes sparkling.
Mike glances at me. "What'd'you think, kid?"
"Spare me." I hold up my hands, like Quinn, in surrender. "I'm injured."
That's all it takes to ruin the moment. Quinn reaches out and tosses a dishtowel to Finn before he can even ask for it. Mike returns his hands to the sink. Jesse walks in, smiling as he rests a gentle hand on Quinn's head. She smiles, too, the moment he does it, this little private smile that makes me doubt myself, because I'm sure Gracie would have understood its meaning.
"I'm ready for you, ladies."
I stand up. "About time."
The living room is clearly their sanctuary. It's huge but cozy - there is a fresh fire blazing in the fireplace, undoubtedly courtesy of Jesse. Almost an entire wall of the room was covered with windows, but the thick curtains have been drawn almost fully, so that only about two feet of window-space remains uncovered. On the side of the room opposite the fireplace there is a grand piano - I remember Kurt mentioning that Finn could play.
There were multiple places to sprawl: the thick, comfy-looking Persian rug, either of the large armchairs, or the long couch covered with throw cushions. I move toward the couch on instinct and then freeze as I approach the coffee table, wondering suddenly what Gracie's instinct would be.
Thankfully, the others fill in the blanks for me. Finn comes into the room and flops into one of the armchairs with a contented sigh. Quinn moves past me, too, curling up like a cat in one corner of the couch. Mike kicks back on the floor in front of the other end of the couch, arranging pillows behind his back. The other armchair, the larger and the more imposing of the two, undoubtedly belongs to Jesse - and that's when I see the good-sized ottoman right by the fireplace, a collection of books gathered around it and on it, the spot where Gracie must sit.
"Sorry if your things are messed up," Quinn says, following my gaze to Gracie's thesis materials. "The police searched through everything. When we were allowed, I tried to organize everything back the way you'd it, but I couldn't quite remember…"
I sit cross-legged on the ottoman, settling in, the heat of the fire against my back. "You didn't have to do that, Quinn. I'm sure it's fine."
Jesse pokes at the fire for a moment before he moves to his chair, his fingers brushing my knee as he moves past me. "Were they kind to you, Gracie?" he inquires.
I blink, confused. "Who?"
Mike glances up from the floor and answers for Jesse, "The police."
There is a defensive prickling along my spine that belongs solely to me and not to Gracie, so I try to squash it. "They were wonderful," I say as casually as I can.
"Wonderful?" Finn asks. He scoffs. "They weren't wonderful to us."
Quinn nods, and it might be the light of the fire but she looks a shade paler. "They treated us like suspects."
I feign shock. "That's ridiculous!"
Finn throws out his arms as if he'd been waiting the entire time for someone to say those exact words. "Isn't it!" he exclaims.
Jesse smirks tolerantly. "They were doing their job, Finn."
I bite my lip and rub at the spot of my fake wound. "Did they ever tell you what other suspects they had? Or who might have done this to me?"
"No," Quinn says, apologetic. "They didn't."
Blowing out my breath, I confess, "I just wish I knew."
She nods sympathetically. "Of course. So do we."
I make a show of looking at the books scattered around me as though I'm searching for a certain one. In my peripheral vision, I see Finn yawn, and I see Quinn give Jesse a look I instantly know I'll never be able to understand.
Their seating arrangement makes a great deal of sense as the quiet evening wears on. Quinn is sitting on the side of the couch closest to the fireplace so that she has light by which she can sew. I don't dare to ask her what she's making because it seems like Gracie would have known. Mike falls asleep on the floor; if he were on the couch he'd take up the whole thing and invade Quinn's space, so I understand now why he doesn't sit next to her. In his seat, Finn can stretch his long legs out in front of him in his chair, his foot bouncing to the beat of whatever music is in his head as he reads. And Jesse - well, his chair just suits him.
For my part, I've moved from the ottoman onto the floor so that I can rest my back against it and I have all my books in easy reach. Apparently that's an acceptable move, since only Jesse glanced up when I slipped down to the floor, and he threw me a half-smile before returning his attention to his book.
I wonder what time I'm allowed to go to bed, to disappear from their world and slip at least halfway back into mine, to call Rachel and tell her how this first evening has gone.
Mike snores; Quinn giggles so I do, too, and all of a sudden I'm not so eager to leave.
Just a minute longer.
tbc.
Chapter | 4/?
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Santana Lopez. Santana/Rachel, Santana/Puck, hints of Puck/Rachel. Brittany, Jesse, Quinn, Finn, Mike, Kurt, Mercedes, Will Schuester [multiple pairings between all of the aforementioned].
Summary | The second this you need to know is that sometimes I forget, too.
Notes | This is an AU fic. It is based on the novel The Likeness by Tana French, which I read recently and absolutely adored. The writing is beautiful and the story is captivating. The general plot points are all credited to the author, but I have made quite a few changes based on my own ideas and/or the ships I plan on including in this story. The relationships between the various characters will become clearer as the story goes on. I do not own Glee, I only like to play with the characters.
Quinn hovers there for a moment, and then another. It's too long and I can't breathe - I don't know what Gracie would do in this situation, I have no idea at all.
But then Mike grins, his eyes shining bright, and he lopes forward and lets his hand linger over Quinn's back as he demands lightly, "What're you waiting for, Q?" He moves past her, and he hugs me.
His hug is the good kind, solid and grounding, and I squeeze him back, arms wrapped around him.
"Welcome home," he says. When he lets me go Quinn is still standing there, and in the second before she smiles something entirely heartbreaking flashes over her face.
"Gracie, hi," she says, rushing forward and throwing her arms around me.
Her hugs feels…like Rachel's, like the kind of hug you bestow upon someone you can't live without. It lasts for a long time but it isn't too tight. Her hair is in my face and her skin smells kitchen-good, like she's spent the day baking cookies.
"Hey, Quinn," I whisper and she clutches me tightly for an extra moment.
"Look at you," she breathes, a smile lighting up her face; Quinn in real life is much like Quinn in pictures and on video, a bit closed off until she trusts you but still genuine. "You don't know how much we missed you."
Finn steps forward, clearly too patient to wait any longer, and engulfs both of us in a hug, our heads tucked just under his arms. He's ridiculously tall and being hugged by him feels like being embraced by a giant teddy bear. He even manages to lift both Quinn and I an inch or two off the ground for a split second.
She laughs into his shoulder, eyes closed and smile wide against the fabric of his shirt, and I feel him drop a soft, subtle kiss onto the crown of my head. When I glance up at him he beams down at me, and wide and unassuming smile. "Missed your face, kid," he says lightly.
"And your body," Mike teases, hooking a finger into one of the belt-loops on my - Gracie's - jeans, which are a tiny bit baggy on me. "You look too skinny."
Jesse steps forward and silence falls for a moment. He'd been hanging back, and I'd noticed that, but I'd decided to let him make the first move, particularly since none of the others seemed bothered by his hesitance.
"Let's just say we missed all of you, Grace," he says in that charming, melodic voice of his. I've heard it before but in person, with his eyes fixed on mine, it's much more disarming.
"No hug, Jesse?" I tease, concentrating on making my voice into Gracie's, a little airier, a little more of a singsong rhythm in each of the words.
He extends an arm, gives me a silent nod.
His hug is gentle, his muscles relaxing nice and slowly as he digs his nose into my hair and just holds me. I let him end it, and as he pulls back he slips his fingers behind my ear, tucking my hair back tenderly.
"You scared us," he says solemnly.
I roll my eyes, "Sorry."
There is a beat of tension, just this tiny little beat, and then Quinn's arm hooks through mine and she smiles at me but her eyes slide toward Jesse. "Don't be sorry, goofball," she offers lightly, tugging me toward the house. "Come inside, come home…" Tossing her hair, she calls over her shoulder, "Finn…"
I look back and see that he's already got my bag of things, mostly full of the items they sent to hospitalized Gracie, in his hand. "Got it covered," he says with a lazy smile aimed at us.
And we go inside.
The air inside of Terra Firma seems to thrum with new energy. I run through blueprints in my head, mentally reviewing the quickest path to Gracie's bedroom, to the nearest bathroom, to the dining room, and I'm relieved that I can remember it all.
"It's…quiet in here," I remark carefully. I'm high-strung, more alert than I should be - but so are they.
Finn shrugs. "It's been hard."
"But you're back now," Mike pipes up. He glances at his watch. "And dinner's almost ready."
Quinn shifts slightly, disentangling herself from me and moving toward Mike. "Take Gracie's bag upstairs so that she can freshen up, Finn?" She frames it like a question, accompanied by a pretty smile.
Finn swings the door of Gracie's bedroom open and lets me step inside first, following on my heels and loping over to the bed, where he deposits the bag carefully. He jams his hands into his pockets and rocks forward onto his toes, smiling at me. "Home sweet home."
I nod, looking around the room casually. It looks like the pictures I've seen: the bed, now made up for me with fresh sheets, the dresser and the closet, the laundry hamper in the corner and the bookshelf beneath the window. It's simple - I remember that it didn't take them long to search her room.
"Gracie?"
I blink and offer him the cheeky grin that Gracie has patented. "Sorry. I zoned out."
His smile fades slightly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah! Of course."
He tilts his head, examining my face. "Because it's okay if you're not." He chokes out a mirthless laugh. "None of us are really okay."
I take a couple steps toward him. "We'll all be okay. Aren't we always?"
"Yeah." Finn shuffles closer to me in turn. "You really can't remember anything?"
I give my head a quick shake and shrug helplessly. "I can't remember much after the morning of the accident. And after that all I've got is waking up in a hospital bed."
"And…before that?"
"What…?" I wonder softly, my words halting instantly when his hand moves to touch my cheek, his large palm soft against my skin, his thumb moving over the apple of my cheek.
He smirks at me and inclines his head toward the door. "Let's go eat."
Dinner is pretty easy.
The boys cook dinner (and tomorrow morning, I know, I will be expected to get out of bed when Quinn taps on my door so that I can help her make breakfast), and tonight it's spaghetti with homemade sauce and chocolate zucchini cake cooling on the kitchen counter.
Mike touches my back, fingers drumming gently against my spine. "Your favourites."
I bob into a teasing courtesy when he pulls my chair out for me. "You guys didn't have to."
Jesse takes his seat at the head of the table; Quinn and I sit on either side of him, Finn sits next to Quinn and Mike next to me. "Of course we did, Gracie."
Finn starts to pour wine into all of our glasses. Their cutlery is beautiful and most likely a relic inherited from the St. James family, all of the wine glasses bordered at their rims by a band of gold. I set my hand over it when Finn extends the bottle toward me - I can't get drunk tonight, not even tipsy, not even a bit off of my game. "Meds," I say, making a face.
Quinn's foot bumps gently against mine underneath the table, but when I look at her I see that her eyes are glued on Jesse's, communicating silently.
"We don't need to drink tonight," Mike says, his voice particularly low, as though he knows he's not in charge of this decision.
"Don't be crazy." Jesse grins at him but there's steel in his voice. "Gracie's fine." He nods to Finn. "Just a sip or two won't hurt her."
"Jesse - "
"I know that you're on antibiotics, Gracie, but I'm sure you can't be on codeine. As long as you make sure it's only a sip I know you'll be fine." His eyes linger too long on my face. "Don't you trust me?"
I roll my eyes. "Why wouldn't I?"
Across the table, I see Quinn take a sharp breath, but when I turn toward her I see that she's reaching up, tugging gently on Finn's sleeve. "Sit," she tells him.
When he looks at her, his smile is so tender that it takes my breath away, and I wonder -
Under the table, I kick her lightly, wondering if it's some sort of signal between the two girls. She arches an eyebrow at me, mildly unconcerned, obviously asking, are you okay?
I smile and nod and lift my fork to eat.
They carry the conversation and it's up to me to find the spots where Gracie fits in. They don't miss a beat, these people, when they're with one another, it's as seamless as anything I've ever seen. It's as seamless as Puck and I, when we're together.
"We took care of your tutorials for you, Gracie," Finn tells me happily, and then they launch into a conversation about how annoying the eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds they deal with all day are.
Quinn tells a story about this one girl they've all apparently had experiences with, a girl named Alicia Smith that they simply can't stand, and they're all laughing near-hysterically. Mike extends his hand over the table, interjecting a point that throws Quinn into another fit of laughter and she reaches for his hand, squeezes it until both of their knuckles turn white. Finn is slouched way down in his seat, heat tipped back, laughing his full laugh, and I'm watching them, giggling along because they're beautiful, they really are, and this feels so much like a home that for a moment I nestle into the warmth of it, for a moment I want to belong here.
Then I glance at Jesse and it's like being doused in cold water. He's smiling, but he's watching me like he's trying to read my mind. His eyes aren't smiling.
I tilt one eyebrow up and ask softly, under the sounds of laughter, "Yes?"
His smile relaxes just a little at the corners. "You don't remember Alicia? You used to rant about her nearly everyday."
"What're you talking about!" Finn cries, having overheard, "Of course she remembers Alicia. The time she raised her hand…and asked if they were allowed crumbling snacks in the examination room…"
"Crumbling!" Mike exclaims, like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. He's pushed his plate aside and he's stretched out halfway across the table, diagonally, his forehead resting on Quinn's hand.
She runs her fingers through his hair affectionately and grins at me, her whole face bright with mirth. "And how she's always flipping her hair, right at the boys, so obviously…"
I giggle on cue. "Such a temptress," I say, and (thank god) that sets them off again. I turn my gaze toward Jesse, still giggling for effect. "I remember."
He inclines his head and his smile blossoms into something genuine and jesus christ all of a sudden he's the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. I laugh with him and wonder if Gracie felt that way, too.
Finn and Mike do dishes after we eat nearly all of the cake. Jesse disappears somewhere, leaving Quinn and I to sit at the dining room table. She sips her wine while I leave mine untouched, and we talk about nonsense. Over by the sink, Mike is flicking soap bubbles at Finn and the taller man is jumping away.
"Don't be such a girl!" I call to him, sticking out my tongue.
Mike lifts both hands from the sink, covered in bubbles, and turns toward us ominously.
"No, no, no!" Quinn says quickly, holding her hands out in protest, her eyes sparkling.
Mike glances at me. "What'd'you think, kid?"
"Spare me." I hold up my hands, like Quinn, in surrender. "I'm injured."
That's all it takes to ruin the moment. Quinn reaches out and tosses a dishtowel to Finn before he can even ask for it. Mike returns his hands to the sink. Jesse walks in, smiling as he rests a gentle hand on Quinn's head. She smiles, too, the moment he does it, this little private smile that makes me doubt myself, because I'm sure Gracie would have understood its meaning.
"I'm ready for you, ladies."
I stand up. "About time."
The living room is clearly their sanctuary. It's huge but cozy - there is a fresh fire blazing in the fireplace, undoubtedly courtesy of Jesse. Almost an entire wall of the room was covered with windows, but the thick curtains have been drawn almost fully, so that only about two feet of window-space remains uncovered. On the side of the room opposite the fireplace there is a grand piano - I remember Kurt mentioning that Finn could play.
There were multiple places to sprawl: the thick, comfy-looking Persian rug, either of the large armchairs, or the long couch covered with throw cushions. I move toward the couch on instinct and then freeze as I approach the coffee table, wondering suddenly what Gracie's instinct would be.
Thankfully, the others fill in the blanks for me. Finn comes into the room and flops into one of the armchairs with a contented sigh. Quinn moves past me, too, curling up like a cat in one corner of the couch. Mike kicks back on the floor in front of the other end of the couch, arranging pillows behind his back. The other armchair, the larger and the more imposing of the two, undoubtedly belongs to Jesse - and that's when I see the good-sized ottoman right by the fireplace, a collection of books gathered around it and on it, the spot where Gracie must sit.
"Sorry if your things are messed up," Quinn says, following my gaze to Gracie's thesis materials. "The police searched through everything. When we were allowed, I tried to organize everything back the way you'd it, but I couldn't quite remember…"
I sit cross-legged on the ottoman, settling in, the heat of the fire against my back. "You didn't have to do that, Quinn. I'm sure it's fine."
Jesse pokes at the fire for a moment before he moves to his chair, his fingers brushing my knee as he moves past me. "Were they kind to you, Gracie?" he inquires.
I blink, confused. "Who?"
Mike glances up from the floor and answers for Jesse, "The police."
There is a defensive prickling along my spine that belongs solely to me and not to Gracie, so I try to squash it. "They were wonderful," I say as casually as I can.
"Wonderful?" Finn asks. He scoffs. "They weren't wonderful to us."
Quinn nods, and it might be the light of the fire but she looks a shade paler. "They treated us like suspects."
I feign shock. "That's ridiculous!"
Finn throws out his arms as if he'd been waiting the entire time for someone to say those exact words. "Isn't it!" he exclaims.
Jesse smirks tolerantly. "They were doing their job, Finn."
I bite my lip and rub at the spot of my fake wound. "Did they ever tell you what other suspects they had? Or who might have done this to me?"
"No," Quinn says, apologetic. "They didn't."
Blowing out my breath, I confess, "I just wish I knew."
She nods sympathetically. "Of course. So do we."
I make a show of looking at the books scattered around me as though I'm searching for a certain one. In my peripheral vision, I see Finn yawn, and I see Quinn give Jesse a look I instantly know I'll never be able to understand.
Their seating arrangement makes a great deal of sense as the quiet evening wears on. Quinn is sitting on the side of the couch closest to the fireplace so that she has light by which she can sew. I don't dare to ask her what she's making because it seems like Gracie would have known. Mike falls asleep on the floor; if he were on the couch he'd take up the whole thing and invade Quinn's space, so I understand now why he doesn't sit next to her. In his seat, Finn can stretch his long legs out in front of him in his chair, his foot bouncing to the beat of whatever music is in his head as he reads. And Jesse - well, his chair just suits him.
For my part, I've moved from the ottoman onto the floor so that I can rest my back against it and I have all my books in easy reach. Apparently that's an acceptable move, since only Jesse glanced up when I slipped down to the floor, and he threw me a half-smile before returning his attention to his book.
I wonder what time I'm allowed to go to bed, to disappear from their world and slip at least halfway back into mine, to call Rachel and tell her how this first evening has gone.
Mike snores; Quinn giggles so I do, too, and all of a sudden I'm not so eager to leave.
Just a minute longer.
tbc.