Fic: Identity (2/9)
The bank was closed, had been for nearly an hour, but a call from the chief of police was enough to bring the manager in on short notice. He was ancient, but his eyes were bright and clear when he dropped a file on the counter between himself and Quinn. “There you are,” he said kindly, “that’s the record of your account. It was opened six months ago, in person - unfortunately, the clerk that opened it no longer works here, or I’d call him in to confirm that it was you who opened it. There’ve been sizable deposits on a monthly basis ever since, and no withdrawals. The deposits were all by wire transfer.”
“Do you have surveillance tapes that go back as far as the date the account was opened?” Daniels asked.
The manager laughed. “Son, we have one camera that records in black and white. We keep our tape for a day, and then record over it. I’m afraid not.”
“How sizable were these deposits?” Daniels stood behind Quinn. She could feel him looking at her, but didn’t look back. Instead, she opened the folder to look at the total for herself and nearly fell out of her chair.
“Ay dios mio,” she whispered. “There’s, like, two hundred thousand dollars in this account.”
“We’re going to need to see the safety deposit box as well,” Daniels addressed the manager.
“Of course - does the young lady have her key?”
“No,” Quinn shook her head.
“Very well,” he nodded. “I’ll retrieve the master key - I’ll be right back.”
The rest of them looked at each other in turn. “I - is this mine?” Quinn indicated the folder. “Like, is it my money?”
“Well,” Daniels rumbled, “I can’t turn it over to you until we can be sure it’s not the proceeds of crime. But there’s a social security number in that file, which should help us track down who you really are. And we’ll get the bank to trace the deposits, see where they’re coming from. If there’s nothing illegal about any of it, then yes, it’s your money.”
The manager returned with the key. “Shall we?” He looked at Rachel and James. “I’m afraid the room is quite small - it’ll be cramped with all of us in there.”
“Will you be okay in there with the two of them?” Rachel whispered in Quinn’s ear. She nodded, taking Rachel’s hand and squeezing it tightly. The room full of safety deposit boxes was more than cramped - it was little more than a closet, with barely enough room to turn around. The manager unlocked the box and placed it in her hands before brushing past her and out the door.
“Let me know when you’re finished,” he called over his shoulder. Hands shaking, Quinn opened the box, expecting some great revelation - only to find that it was nearly empty. At the bottom, rattling against the box, was a single key. It was well-used, the finish worn off of both sides. Daniels cleared his throat. “May I?”
“Why not?” she agreed, trying to hide the bitter disappointment she felt. He took it, holding it by the tip, and she shut the box, sliding it back into its place in the crowded wall.
“Looks like a house key,” he mused. “Mind if I take this and have it tested for prints?”
“Sure,” she shrugged, dejected. A tear slid down her cheek, and she turned away, leaving the room and returning to the front counter. Rachel sprung up from her seat, taking Quinn’s hand.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “This was a waste of time. Can we go home? I mean,” she blushed, “can we go back to your house?”
“Dad?” Rachel called. “Can we leave, please?”
“Go ahead out to the car,” he threw Rachel his keys. “I’ll go make sure that Officer Daniels doesn’t need anything further.”
The night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy bank vault, and Quinn stopped on the steps. “Can we stay out here for a minute?”
“Sure,” Rachel agreed. “I’m sorry you didn’t find everything you were looking for. But now that the authorities have your social security number, that should facilitate figuring out who you are.”
“I guess. But this whole thing is so screwed up, you know? Whose money is that? Why do I have the same name as some dead baby? I just wanna know who I am, whose kid I’m carrying, so I can get on with my life.” She looked up at the sky, sighing. “The stars look different.”
Rachel stood on the step beside her and looked up. “How do you mean? Different than what? They’re the same stars that are usually up there, I think. What’s changed?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn sighed again. “Just different. I wonder - do I not want to remember? Is that my problem? Maybe I’m just a terrible person, and I’ve hurt so many people, and I’ve blocked it all out so I think I’m good.” She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back her tears.
“Hey,” Rachel turned and put her hands on Quinn’s shoulders. “Don’t think that. You couldn’t be a bad person.”
“How do you know?” she whispered.
“I can see it in your face.” Rachel’s gaze was fierce, and Quinn’s eyes were filled with the evening starlight. The cool night air whipped around them as the wind picked up, and Quinn leaned in, but whatever might have happened was interrupted when the door of the bank swung open and they hurriedly pulled away from each other.
“Come on, girls - we’ll pick you up dinner on the way home. Quinn, Mister Daniels says he’ll call the minute they find anything out, okay?”
“Sure,” Quinn nodded, following Rachel into the car. They shared the backseat, Quinn’s head resting on Rachel’s shoulder. Both of them snuck occasional furtive looks at the other, trying to discern just what had almost occurred on the steps of the bank, but neither of them broached the subject.
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It happened so fast that Quinn could barely remember it afterward - they’d walked into the Berry house, carrying her purchases and their dinner. James had reached into the closet and come out with a wire coat hanger, handing it to Rachel - and the world had simply gone away in an explosion of noise and colour. When she was aware of herself again, she was huddled in a corner and Rachel was whispering to her, trying to pry something out of her hands.
“Quinn - can you hear me? Quinn, put it down, okay? It’s okay, Quinn, just let it go for me, okay? Can you let it go?” She looked down at her hands and found a fireplace poker clutched firmly in them. With a gasp, she forced her hands open and dropped it - it made a solid thump as it hit the carpet.
“Rachel?” she whispered. “What happened?” She stared at the poker, horrified. “Oh god - did I-“
“No!” Rachel assured her in the same soft tones. “Oh, no, you didn’t hurt anyone. You just grabbed the closest thing you could find, you didn’t even swing it. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “How did I get over here?”
“Dad took a hanger out of the closet - he passed it in front of you, and you just - you started screaming. You hid over here, and you’ve just been rocking back and forth, repeating something over and over.”
“What?”
“Something in Spanish - it sounded like no mas, maybe?”
“No more,” Quinn said thickly. “God, Rachel, I’m so sorry - I don’t know what happened. Your dads must think I’m such a damned freak - do they want me to leave? I can leave.” she looked desperately at Rachel, who cupped her cheek with one hand, brushing away a tear with her thumb.
“Of course not. They know this isn’t easy for you - I’m just glad I was here.”
“Me too,” Quinn pulled her into a hug. “Thank you for, well, bringing me back - it was your voice.”
“Well, I do have an excellent voice,” Rachel teased. “Come on - let’s get out of the house. We’ll have dinner at Breadstix tonight.” She leaned back and extended her hand, pulling Quinn to her feet. They made their way to the door and threw on coats and shoes, and Quinn noticed that both James and his husband stayed well out of sight. She felt a pang of shame, knowing she’d frightened them both.
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The restaurant was mostly empty, and they got a booth in the corner. Rachel ordered them both sodas while Quinn flicked idly through the menu.
“What’s good?”
“Well, the breadsticks, obviously. I like their veggie burgers, but they’re not for everyone.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Quinn shut the menu.
“You really should eat something, though - there’s the baby to think about.” Quinn’s head snapped up, and Rachel worried she might have crossed a line, but her voice stayed soft when she answered.
“I guess. I’ll get a burger - not veggie, though,” she shuddered. They stared across the table at each other, sharing a moment that was interrupted when Santana dropped onto the seat next to Rachel, forcing her to scoot further into the booth. She didn’t even spare her a glance, focussing on Quinn instead.
“Hey.”
“Excuse me,” Quinn’s voice was low, nearly a growl. “We’re having dinner. I don’t remember inviting you to join us.”
“Relax,” Santana replied in Spanish. “I just wanted to ask how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine. And it’s rude to talk in another language in front of someone that doesn’t speak it.”
“Who, her? She’s not a someone. She’s a nobody.”
“That’s it,” Quinn snapped, switching effortlessly back to English. “Leave. I’m not going to ask twice.”
“Just know,” Santana warned, getting up, “if you’re planning to stick around, then hanging out with this loser is going to hurt your social standing. You don’t want to start at the bottom of the ladder, Q. Think about it.” She walked away, throwing a look back over her shoulder.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing,” Quinn assured her. “What a bitch.” The waitress arrived, taking their orders and placing a soda in front of each of them. Quinn sipped it, leaning back against the vinyl-covered seat. “So,” she asked, “why does everybody have it out for you? I don’t get it - you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”
“It’s a long story,” Rachel averted her eyes, looking down at the table.
“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Quinn smiled. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but if you want to - I’m here.”
“I can be, um, abrasive,” Rachel admitted, taking a drink of her soda. “I tend to speak my mind, which isn’t always advisable in high school. I’m aggressive in promoting myself, as I think one has to be when one wants to be a star, and I’m not afraid to criticise others, particularly in Glee, if I believe that they’re not performing adequately, or if they’re getting parts that they don’t have the range or skill for, and should clearly be given to me. As you can imagine, none of these things tend to endear me to others.”
Quinn nodded slowly, translating the rapid speech into smaller words in her head. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “I know I’ve only known you a couple of days, but that sounds nothing like the Rachel Berry that I’ve met.” Rachel met her eyes, curiosity etched on her features. “In the last couple of days, you’ve been generous to a fault. You’ve bought me clothes, fed me, and given me a place to live when I had nowhere else. You’ve talked me down from my little...episodes, or whatever you want to call them, and never been cruel or teasing about them. You’ve stood with me every step of the way. I think you’re a really good person, Rachel. You’re beautiful, and you’re kind. And I think if anyone doesn’t understand that under anything you might say or do, you only want the best for everyone, then they’re really kinda stupid.”
Rachel blinked back tears, marvelling - that was the most the blonde had said at once since they’d met. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Quinn insisted. “I’m not just, uh,” she frowned. “There’s a phrase, but I can only think of the Spanish version, and I don’t know how to translate it. Anyway, I’m not making things up, or flattering you, I’m just telling you what I’ve seen.”
The waitress interrupted again, but neither of them took their eyes off of each other as she put their burgers on the table. “Thanks,” Quinn murmured. She addressed Rachel again. “Do you think I could come to school with you again?” she asked nervously. “I’ll try not to embarrass you.”
“Quinn, you’ve never embarrassed me. I thought it was really very impressive how you shouted down a football player three times your size.” She smiled.
“It was stupid,” Quinn flushed. “He could have knocked me into next week. Probably would have, if I hadn’t surprised him. I was just so angry - I can’t believe that something like that happens in school, and that the teachers don’t do anything about it.” She took a small bite of her hamburger. “You’ll have to introduce me to the rest of the Glee people, too - I’ve only met Finn, and, uh,” she gestured to where Santana had been sitting.
“Santana,” Rachel supplied helpfully. “That’d be great. Maybe you could sing with me? I’m still trying to decide on a song for this ‘communication’ assignment.”
“I can’t help you there - I don’t remember much in the way of songs.” Rachel’s face fell, and she couldn’t help but add, “but if you can find something and teach it to me, I’ll try.”
“Really?” Rachel clapped her hands excitedly. “That’s so terrific! I have an extensive collection of sheet music, and-“
“Easy,” Quinn laughed. “Finish your burger first, okay?”
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They re-entered the Berry house, Quinn giggling at something Rachel had said, and found both James and Tom waiting for them. Quinn was instantly contrite.
“About before-“ she started, and Tom stopped her with a look.
“Don’t,” he insisted. “No more apologies, Quinn - we’re not upset with you, and whatever happened to you in the past certainly isn’t your fault. We just wanted to make sure that you were okay, that’s all.”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m good.”
“Did you girls have a good dinner?”
“Yeah - I had a cheeseburger,” Quinn smiled tentatively.
“Ooh, I love their cheeseburgers!” Tom exclaimed. “And how good are those breadsticks?”
“I can see why Rachel picked there to eat,” Quinn agreed, shrugging out of her coat and handing it to Rachel, who waited with an outstretched hand. “I’m surprised it wasn’t more busy.”
“Try getting in there on a Saturday,” James warned. “So,” he smiled at Rachel as she rejoined them, “what are you two up to?”
“Quinn’s going to sing with me a little, I think.”
“Say no more!” James turned away with a flourish. “Come, Thomas - we must leave the artists to their work.”
“But of course, James!” they swept out of the room together.
“I see where you get your personality from,” Quinn whispered as they retreated up the stairs.
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“Duets, duets,” Rachel flicked rapidly through her books, as Quinn looked on in amusement. “I think we should try and find something that has Spanish and English, so we can make use of your talents to their fullest - and may I say that I think it’s very impressive that you’re fluent in two languages at such a young age?”
“Thank you,” Quinn smiled. “Any ideas?”
“Well, show tunes are probably out,” she tossed a book aside. “There’s one - it’s on the tip of my tongue. A-ha!” she cried, pulling a book from the stack she’d piled next to the bed. “It should be in here somewhere. There!” she pointed, passing the book over to Quinn. “What do you think?
“It’s a nice melody,” she agreed. Rachel stared at her.
“You can read sheet music?”
“I guess,” Quinn shrugged.
“Suddenly I’m worried about my position as the most talented person in Glee.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about - seeing as how I’m not in Glee.” She looked at the music again. “I like this. Should be perfect for your assignment.”
“Are you okay with just singing the chorus? The lines were spread a bit more evenly in the original performance, of course, but I thought you’d prefer to stick to the Spanish. If that’s not okay, though, I can rearrange it a bit-“
“No!” Quinn protested. “It’s your assignment; I’ll just sing the Spanish.” She passed the book to Rachel, who put it on a stand in the middle of the room. “Come on!” she insisted, pulling Quinn to her feet. Quinn let herself be pushed and pulled until the stand was an equal distance from either of them, and they stood face to face.
“Ready?” Rachel bounced on the balls of her feet.
“Ready,” Quinn agreed.
Rachel took a deep breath, and started to sing.
“Be careful with my heart, you could break it.
Don't take my love for granted, things could change.
Sometimes I go insane. I played the fool and you'll agree.
I'll never be the same without you here with me.”
Quinn joined with the chorus, quickly double-checking the words on the page.
“Cuidado con mi corazon
Me siento algo desnudo cuidado es mi corazon, mi corazon.”
“Be careful with my heart, you could break it
Don't take my love for granted, things could change
Sometimes I go insane, I played the fool
and you'll agree I'll never be the same
Without you here with me”
“Cuidado con mi corazon,
Carino no me lastimes cuidado es mi corazon mi corazon”
“If I could reach out to you
Nothing will stop me
Take your head in my hands
Tell me what would you do - kiss your eyes, sing you to sleep
Your voice sounds like a lullaby
Here's my heart, this time to keep
Here's my heart to keep”
“Cuidado con mi corazon,
Carino no me lastimes cuidado es mi corazon mi corazon
Cuidado con mi corazon
Me siento algo desnudo cuidado es mi corazon, mi corazon.”
They’d stepped closer together as they’d sung, and by the time Quinn was through her last line they were nearly face to face. Without hesitating, she leaned in and kissed Rachel forcefully.
Rachel froze. The feel of Quinn’s lips on her own, soft and warm, was like nothing she’d ever experienced. It felt like she’d been plugged into an electrical current, and her whole body seemed to light up at once. Something in her abdomen clenched, and she moaned into Quinn’s mouth. And then, just as suddenly as it had happened, the feeling disappeared. She opened her eyes - realising only then that she’d shut them - and found Quinn had stepped back, looking horrified.
“Oh, god,” Quinn whispered. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I just - I’m sorry.” Without another word, she retreated from the bedroom and ran down the hall to the guest room. The door shut loudly behind her, leaving Rachel rooted to where she stood. She reached and up and touched the spot where Quinn had kissed her, staring wide-eyed into space.
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Rachel lay awake through most of the night, torn between approaching Quinn and running the other way. This feeling - whatever it was - was something entirely foreign, and she couldn’t decide how to react to it. Her contemplation was broken, however, by the sound of Quinn whimpering softly in the guest bedroom. Unable to ignore the sound, she crept quietly down the hall and eased the door open.
Quinn lay in a tangle of sheets, clutching protectively at her back with both hands. She was obviously caught in the grips of a nightmare, as she pleaded with someone who wasn’t there to please stop, promised that she’d be good. Rachel gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth as her mind made a series of rapid connections. The scars on Quinn’s back - long, thin scars, she remembered. The way she’d hidden when James brandished a wire hanger in her direction. The thought that there was a connection between the two was sickening, and Rachel had to retreat to the bathroom.
When she’d recovered, she returned to Quinn’s room and closed the door behind her, stopping to let her eyes adjust to the dark. When she could see again, she pulled the sheets back and crawled in next to the sleeping girl, putting a careful arm around her and whispering softly.
“mi corazon” she whispered, thankful that the lyrics to their duet were helpfully translated on the sheet music. “mi corazon.” Quinn stilled, her arms sliding away from her back. Rachel kept her arm where it was, gathering a pillow under her head with her other hand, and listened to Quinn’s breathing with a soft smile.
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Quinn awoke the next morning, the shaft of sunlight in her eyes a reminder that she hadn’t closed the blinds the night before. She started to move - and suddenly felt the extra weight lying on top of her. She looked down at the top of Rachel’s head, rising and falling with each breath she took. With a contented smile, she relaxed. She’d been sure, the night before, that she may never see the other girl again. She couldn’t explain why she’d been moved to kiss her, but nothing she could remember (which, admittedly, wasn’t much) had felt as right as that moment when their lips touched. Rachel had tasted of cola-flavoured lipgloss, and smelled faintly of vanilla.
The girl in question stirred, chocolate-brown eyes blinking sleepily up at her. “Hi,” she mumbled.
“Morning,” Quinn whispered. “Was there something wrong with your bed?” a tiny smile took the sting out of her words.
“You were having a bad dream,” Rachel poked her stomach with a finger. “I came in to try and-“
“Snuggle it out of me? It worked,” she added before Rachel could reply. “I remember that dream. And I remember a voice, and then it was a better dream. That was you?”
“Yes,” Rachel smiled. “Glad I could help.” Suddenly, over Quinn’s shoulder, she caught sight of the bedside clock. “Oh, no - we’re late!” she pushed the covers aside and hopped out of bed. “I’ll shower first, we’ll eat on the way, okay?” she ran from the room without waiting for a reply.
Smiling ruefully, Quinn stood and stretched, staring out the window at the quiet street. As much as the town was unfamiliar to her, she liked it. It was quiet and peaceful, not like - she stopped dead. “Think!” she hissed. The thought was right there, so close she could touch it. Lima was quiet, she thought deliberately, not like - “crap!” she smacked her forehead. All she could recover from the lost thought was a mental image of an old man, leading a cow across a dusty road. Which could have taken place in any town or village in any country in most of the world.
Rachel returned, fully dressed, to find her still looking out the window. “Quinn?”
“Sorry,” she shook her head. “Nearly remembered something. Do I have time to shower before we go?”
“If you hurry,” Rachel advised. Quinn quickly grabbed some clothes and scooted down the hall to the bathroom.