Fic: The Fast and The Gleeful (2/7)
Title: The Fast and the Gleeful
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for language.
Spoilers: Absolutely none.
Summary: An attempt at this prompt
Quinn waited for Puck to turn away before leaning down and pressing a button on the underside of the dash. Near her feet, a small drawer slid out from under the seat containing a chrome-handled .45. Quinn took the gun and jammed it in the waist of her jeans, at the small of her back. She turned to Rachel, her expression deadly serious.
“Whatever happens, you stay in the car. No matter what they say, no matter what anyone does, you don’t get out of the car and you keep the doors locked unless I tell you. If anything happens to me, you get in the driver’s seat and just go. Okay?”
“I - I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.”
Quinn laughed mirthlessly. “Rach, if it comes to that, it’s really not going to matter, I promise. Drop it into first and hit the gas, don’t even worry about shifting. Clear?”
“Clear,” Rachel nodded.
“Good.” Quinn stepped out of the car, keeping her back to it, and shut the door with her foot. Rachel leaned over and nudged the lock shut, opening the driver’s side window a crack at the same time so she could hear what was going on outside.
“I told you to bring her out with you,” Puck pointed at Rachel.
“And I’m telling you, that ain’t happening. She’s not a part of this. Now, why don’t you tell me what you want, and why you’re bothering me with it?”
“Quinn, Quinn,” he shook his head, and suddenly there was a gun in his hand. Rachel gasped as he pointed it at Quinn. “I thought we had a deal, you and me. I stay out of your business, and you stay out of mine.”
“We do,” Quinn nodded calmly. “I’ve always kept my part of the bargain, and you know that.”
“Then why does one of my best suppliers tell me that you’ve cut a deal with him? A fifty-fifty split, no less, as if your doing business with him behind my back wasn’t insulting enough?”
“Wait, wait,” Quinn stared at him. “The Puerto Rican? Is that who you’re talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, bitch. You know it is.”
Quinn put her hands up defensively. “Hey, he told us he was done with you. Said he hadn’t got you to move anything in six months. If you’re still on his books, we’ll back off.”
“Not that easy,” he stepped closer, tracing a line down Quinn’s cheek with his pistol. “You don’t get to break the rules and walk away.”
“Listen to me - he told us-” he cocked the hammer on his pistol, and she froze.
“I don’t care. You should have known better. You got greedy, and you’re going to pay for it. You’re giving me Beth.”
Even with the gun in her face, Quinn shook her head. “Not in your wildest dreams, Puckerman. I’ll let her,” she tapped the window, indicating Rachel, “smash Beth to shit getting out of here before you’re ever going to touch her.”
“Well, aren’t you awfully brave,” he said mockingly. Looking her up and down, he sneered. “Such a hot little body, gone to waste - rumour has it you’ve never even been with a guy. Tell you what - I’ll be a nice guy and let you keep Beth, if you take a ride on Puck Junior.”
“I’d rather you shoot me in the face then to have to see your little needle-dick, Puck, much less touch it.”
Suddenly, the alley was awash with light blazing from three pairs of headlights. There was a deafening bang, and the bricks on the wall next to Puck’s car broke off and fell. “Puckerman!” Santana called. “Call your boys off, or I won’t miss with the next shot!” Puck turned, trying to see through the headlights, and Quinn took the opportunity. She drew her own gun and pressed it firmly to Puck’s groin.
“Drop that fucking piece, or you can say goodbye to Puck Junior,” she hissed.
“Bitch!” he shouted in frustration, but he dropped his gun nonetheless. Quinn kicked it under Beth with one foot, never letting the barrel of her gun drift from where it was pointed.
“Get back in your car and drive, Puck,” Quinn warned. “Or I swear Santana’s going to drop you. We’ll call things off with the Puerto Rican, and we’ll forget this bit of unpleasantness ever happened. Solid?”
“Not a chance, you little skank,” Puck snarled. “I’ll leave, but you better watch your back. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.” He backed away, arms in the air to let Santana know he wasn’t armed. “And you,” he shouted at her. “You better hope I never get a clean shot at you!”
“From what I hear, Puckerman, you’d just shoot too early anyway!”
Puck started toward her, but a well-placed bullet at his feet from Quinn’s gun made him stop in his tracks. He retreated toward his car, pointing an accusatory finger at Quinn. “I mean it! This isn’t over!”
“Just get in your car,” Quinn gestured with her gun. He did, and a moment later he and his escorts were driving away. The headlights at the other end of the alley dimmed, revealing the three cars driven by Finn, Santana and Brittany. “Santana, you crazy bitch!” Quinn shouted, laughing. “You’ve got some good timing!”
“That’s what Britt tells me!” Santana shouted back.
Sensing the danger had passed, Rachel unlocked Beth and climbed out her passenger door. “Quinn - what was that about?”
“Nothing,” Quinn couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to be here and see that. You’re safe, though - I’ll drive you home in a minute.” She walked away, meeting Santana halfway between their cars.
“You okay, boss?”
“I need a bath, but I’ll live. How’d you know he was coming after us?”
“Artie hacked the Puerto Rican’s manifest. As soon as I saw Puck’s name, I figured we’d better come check on you. What’s the dwarf doing here?”
“We were on a date, you knob. And don’t call her that. Also, how did you find us anyway?”
“Artie has a GPS bug on all of our cars - put ‘em on last time we changed the bumpers. Look, whatever you want to call her, you should take her home. I think it’s time we pay that little rat bastard a visit. I’ve got the jerry can, and Britt’s got the lighter, you know?”
“Yeah, I hear ya. Give me twenty, and we’ll go pay a social call. Thanks again for the assist, babe.”
“De nada,” Santana sauntered away, hopping in her car. The three of them peeled out of the alley, leaving Quinn and Rachel alone.
“Come on, get in and buckle up,” Quinn said tersely, and Rachel quietly followed her instructions. They drove back to the Berry home in silence, and Quinn didn’t even say goodnight when Rachel got out of the car. Rachel turned back just before she closed the car door.
“Please be extremely careful, Quinn. I’d be very unhappy if anything happened to you.”
Quinn nodded, but didn’t answer aloud. Rachel shut the door and Beth rocketed away into the night. She entered the house and quickly said goodnight to her dads before retreating to her room. She sat on her bed, shaking as the adrenaline of the night’s events wore off. When she finally crawled under the covers, sleep proved elusive. She thought of Quinn, and the others, and wondered for the thousandth time since they’d met what she should do. Every police siren outside made her jump, but finally she drifted off into a sleep littered with fragments of unpleasant dreams.
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Two panicked days passed - there was no sign of Quinn at school, and no contact of any kind between the two of them. Rachel tried going to the garage after school on the second day, but there was no answer at the door despite the noise she could hear inside. When she got home that afternoon however, there was an unpleasant surprise waiting for her, courtesy of her father.
“Rachel,” Leroy called her as she entered the house. “Could you come in here, please?”
She wandered into the kitchen, where Leroy sat on one side with a manila folder closed in front of him. “Sit down” he pointed at the other chair.
“Dad, I’m kind of tired-“
“I said,” his voice was cold. “Sit. Down.”
She did, and he slid the folder across the table. “You may or may not know, Rachel, that the NYPD has been putting up surveillance cameras in the old industrial districts. Lots of crime happens there, and they’re difficult areas to patrol. They had reports of shots fired in one of those areas a few nights ago, and so they reviewed the camera footage. When they saw who was on it, they sent it to me. And then I saw who else was on it.”
Rachel’s stomach dropped as she opened the folder - inside, large as life, was a frame grab from the camera of herself standing on one side of Beth as Quinn stood on the other.
“You see my dilemma,” Leroy glared at her. “Because it looks to me like my daughter is standing next to Quinn Fabray, the lead figure in my smuggling investigation. And given that you knew she was, because your father tells me you saw my case file, I’m really desperately hoping you can tell me that’s not you in that picture. Or that she kidnapped you, or something.”
“Daddy-” her eyes were filled with tears, but she couldn’t find a way to continue the sentence.
“God damn it, Rachel!” he slammed both hands on the kitchen table. “How could you do this? How could you be involved with a girl like that? We’ve taught you better!”
“She’s not like you think!” Rachel argued. “She’s nice to me! She’s kept me safe, and she donates lots of money to the school!”
“Rachel, we have eyewitness reports that she and her gang set a man on fire! I’m not sure who you think she is, but she’s a violent, dangerous criminal!”
“Who was the eyewitness?” she challenged. “It was probably Puck, and he’d just lie anyway!” she sat back in her chair, realising suddenly that she’d said too much.
“Who?”
Rachel looked away, keeping silent.
“Rachel, there’s two ways this can go. You can tell me what you know, everything you know, or I can arrest you and put you in a jail cell. I love you, baby girl, but this isn’t a joke. I need to know what you’ve found out.”
Rachel crossed her arms, staring sullenly.
“Fine,” Leroy stood up, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt. Hiram grabbed his arm.
“You can’t be serious,” he protested.
“I don’t want to,” Leroy insisted, “but she’s not giving me a choice. Maybe a night in lockup will wise her up. Stand up, Rachel. Put your hands behind your back.”
Rachel complied, and winced as her father handcuffed her. “Let’s go,” he nudged her forward and out the door toward his car.
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The next morning, when she was released from lockup after a terribly uncomfortable night in a cell by herself - her father conspicuous by his absence - there was a car waiting for her out front. She thought it looked familiar, but it wasn’t until the driver side window went down to reveal Santana looking out at her that she recognised it.
“Get in, Treasure Trail.”
“Why are you-”
“Because Quinn can’t get this close to the cops without getting arrested! Now, are you getting in, or am I leaving you here?”
Rachel looked up and down the street, evaluating her options, and finally got in. Santana sped away, checking her mirror for pursuit. “So, I hear you did time for us last night.”
“Where on earth did you hear that?”
“We’ve got ears, Berry. Same ears also tell us you wouldn’t give the cops anything.”
“That much is true,” Rachel confirmed.
“Well, maybe there’s hope for you yet,” Santana looked her up and down. “After a makeover, of course.”
“Where are we going?” Rachel looked out the window, not recognising the area.
“We had to relocate. We’re going to the new garage. Now sit back and shut up, and try not to touch anything - I’ve got some toys in this car that you wouldn’t want to play with.”
The ride was silent, Santana’s black Civic streaking through the city before finally pulling up outside the loading bay of an old warehouse. She grabbed her cell phone from a pocket on the sun visor and dialled a number. “Q,” she said once her call was answered, “it’s me. Six one nine.”
“Six one nine?” Rachel repeated.
“Means there’s no one following us. Now be quiet.”
The large loading bay door swung open, and Santana drove into it, parking between Beth and a red Chevy. “Out of my car,” she shooed Rachel, “before you get argyle on my seat.” Rachel complied, and Quinn was at her side before she’d even finished getting out. She pulled Rachel into a tight hug, then held her at arm’s length to get a look at her.
“Hey, Rach. I’m really sorry you had to spend the night in jail - are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Rachel promised.
“I can’t believe your own dad would do that to you.” Rachel froze. “Yeah,” Quinn nodded. “I know who your dad is. I lifted your ID the night you came to the race, and I had Artie do some digging. I know he’s gunning for me, him and his FBI pals.”
“Then why would you risk bringing me here?” Rachel asked wonderingly. “That’s got to be taking an incredible chance.”
“Because she’s fucking stupid,” Santana yelled from across the warehouse. Quinn flipped her off.
“Because I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Rachel asked, taking her first real look around the warehouse. All of their cars were inside, as well as a cube van loaded with boxes. “Wait, you’re leaving?”
“Can’t stay here anymore,” Quinn said sadly. “Between your dad and this shit going down with Puck, it’s just too much heat. We’re going cross-country, set up in San Francisco or something.”
“But you love it here! I mean, the school, and your first quarter mile-” she knew she sounded desperate, and part of her hated herself for it.
“I do, Rach - you have absolutely no idea how much. New York is my home, but your dad’s just the tip of the iceberg. If the FBI’s pointing him at us, it means they’ve gotten too close. They’ll move on us soon, and we can’t be here when that happens.”
“But if you run, they’ll just find you again.”
“Not for a while. We’ll have time to get set up, get buried before they figure out where we went.”
“Can I ask you something?” Rachel’s voice was quiet.
“Sure - anything.”
“My dad told me - he said you set someone on fire. Is that true?”
“Absolutely not. I’m not going to lie to you, Rachel - we’re not nice people. We’re thieves and smugglers, and we’ve hurt people when we run jobs. But we’ve never killed anybody - we’ve never gone further than a broken bone or two.” Rachel searched her face for a lie, but didn’t find one.
“But the other night Santana said-”
“The gas can and lighter thing? Just a metaphor, Rach. I swear to you.”
Rachel thought for a moment. “Take me with you,” she finally said, quietly.
“What?” Quinn backed up three steps, her expression incredulous. “Don’t be insane. You’ve got a life here, Rach - you’re going to go to school, go to Julliard, and be famous. You just met me, like, not even a week ago, and you’re going to throw all of that away? I like you, Rachel, I really do - you’re hot, in a repressed kind of way, and you’re smart and talented, and maybe in another life we could have been something. But not in this one,” Quinn looked at her feet. “I’m sorry, Rach - but this really is goodbye. It has to be. Take care of yourself, okay?” she stepped closer and planted a searing kiss on her lips.
Rachel was still recovering from the kiss when Quinn turned away and shouted to Artie. “Open the door!”
The bay door opened, flooding the claustrophobic space with sunlight. Quinn turned back, a lopsided smile on her face. “There’s a cab waiting outside - don’t worry, it’s all paid for. Go home, Rachel. Get back to your life. Give me twelve hours to get out of town, and then tell your dad where this place is. Tell him that, as far as you know, we’re still here. It should get him off your case if he finds a few of our spare parts here, and then he’ll be tied in knots figuring out where we went.”
Almost against her will, Rachel’s feet carried her out the door. It swung closed behind her, and though she looked back for a final glimpse of Quinn’s face, the blonde looked studiously away from her until the door had shut.
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for language.
Spoilers: Absolutely none.
Summary: An attempt at this prompt
Quinn waited for Puck to turn away before leaning down and pressing a button on the underside of the dash. Near her feet, a small drawer slid out from under the seat containing a chrome-handled .45. Quinn took the gun and jammed it in the waist of her jeans, at the small of her back. She turned to Rachel, her expression deadly serious.
“Whatever happens, you stay in the car. No matter what they say, no matter what anyone does, you don’t get out of the car and you keep the doors locked unless I tell you. If anything happens to me, you get in the driver’s seat and just go. Okay?”
“I - I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.”
Quinn laughed mirthlessly. “Rach, if it comes to that, it’s really not going to matter, I promise. Drop it into first and hit the gas, don’t even worry about shifting. Clear?”
“Clear,” Rachel nodded.
“Good.” Quinn stepped out of the car, keeping her back to it, and shut the door with her foot. Rachel leaned over and nudged the lock shut, opening the driver’s side window a crack at the same time so she could hear what was going on outside.
“I told you to bring her out with you,” Puck pointed at Rachel.
“And I’m telling you, that ain’t happening. She’s not a part of this. Now, why don’t you tell me what you want, and why you’re bothering me with it?”
“Quinn, Quinn,” he shook his head, and suddenly there was a gun in his hand. Rachel gasped as he pointed it at Quinn. “I thought we had a deal, you and me. I stay out of your business, and you stay out of mine.”
“We do,” Quinn nodded calmly. “I’ve always kept my part of the bargain, and you know that.”
“Then why does one of my best suppliers tell me that you’ve cut a deal with him? A fifty-fifty split, no less, as if your doing business with him behind my back wasn’t insulting enough?”
“Wait, wait,” Quinn stared at him. “The Puerto Rican? Is that who you’re talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, bitch. You know it is.”
Quinn put her hands up defensively. “Hey, he told us he was done with you. Said he hadn’t got you to move anything in six months. If you’re still on his books, we’ll back off.”
“Not that easy,” he stepped closer, tracing a line down Quinn’s cheek with his pistol. “You don’t get to break the rules and walk away.”
“Listen to me - he told us-” he cocked the hammer on his pistol, and she froze.
“I don’t care. You should have known better. You got greedy, and you’re going to pay for it. You’re giving me Beth.”
Even with the gun in her face, Quinn shook her head. “Not in your wildest dreams, Puckerman. I’ll let her,” she tapped the window, indicating Rachel, “smash Beth to shit getting out of here before you’re ever going to touch her.”
“Well, aren’t you awfully brave,” he said mockingly. Looking her up and down, he sneered. “Such a hot little body, gone to waste - rumour has it you’ve never even been with a guy. Tell you what - I’ll be a nice guy and let you keep Beth, if you take a ride on Puck Junior.”
“I’d rather you shoot me in the face then to have to see your little needle-dick, Puck, much less touch it.”
Suddenly, the alley was awash with light blazing from three pairs of headlights. There was a deafening bang, and the bricks on the wall next to Puck’s car broke off and fell. “Puckerman!” Santana called. “Call your boys off, or I won’t miss with the next shot!” Puck turned, trying to see through the headlights, and Quinn took the opportunity. She drew her own gun and pressed it firmly to Puck’s groin.
“Drop that fucking piece, or you can say goodbye to Puck Junior,” she hissed.
“Bitch!” he shouted in frustration, but he dropped his gun nonetheless. Quinn kicked it under Beth with one foot, never letting the barrel of her gun drift from where it was pointed.
“Get back in your car and drive, Puck,” Quinn warned. “Or I swear Santana’s going to drop you. We’ll call things off with the Puerto Rican, and we’ll forget this bit of unpleasantness ever happened. Solid?”
“Not a chance, you little skank,” Puck snarled. “I’ll leave, but you better watch your back. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.” He backed away, arms in the air to let Santana know he wasn’t armed. “And you,” he shouted at her. “You better hope I never get a clean shot at you!”
“From what I hear, Puckerman, you’d just shoot too early anyway!”
Puck started toward her, but a well-placed bullet at his feet from Quinn’s gun made him stop in his tracks. He retreated toward his car, pointing an accusatory finger at Quinn. “I mean it! This isn’t over!”
“Just get in your car,” Quinn gestured with her gun. He did, and a moment later he and his escorts were driving away. The headlights at the other end of the alley dimmed, revealing the three cars driven by Finn, Santana and Brittany. “Santana, you crazy bitch!” Quinn shouted, laughing. “You’ve got some good timing!”
“That’s what Britt tells me!” Santana shouted back.
Sensing the danger had passed, Rachel unlocked Beth and climbed out her passenger door. “Quinn - what was that about?”
“Nothing,” Quinn couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to be here and see that. You’re safe, though - I’ll drive you home in a minute.” She walked away, meeting Santana halfway between their cars.
“You okay, boss?”
“I need a bath, but I’ll live. How’d you know he was coming after us?”
“Artie hacked the Puerto Rican’s manifest. As soon as I saw Puck’s name, I figured we’d better come check on you. What’s the dwarf doing here?”
“We were on a date, you knob. And don’t call her that. Also, how did you find us anyway?”
“Artie has a GPS bug on all of our cars - put ‘em on last time we changed the bumpers. Look, whatever you want to call her, you should take her home. I think it’s time we pay that little rat bastard a visit. I’ve got the jerry can, and Britt’s got the lighter, you know?”
“Yeah, I hear ya. Give me twenty, and we’ll go pay a social call. Thanks again for the assist, babe.”
“De nada,” Santana sauntered away, hopping in her car. The three of them peeled out of the alley, leaving Quinn and Rachel alone.
“Come on, get in and buckle up,” Quinn said tersely, and Rachel quietly followed her instructions. They drove back to the Berry home in silence, and Quinn didn’t even say goodnight when Rachel got out of the car. Rachel turned back just before she closed the car door.
“Please be extremely careful, Quinn. I’d be very unhappy if anything happened to you.”
Quinn nodded, but didn’t answer aloud. Rachel shut the door and Beth rocketed away into the night. She entered the house and quickly said goodnight to her dads before retreating to her room. She sat on her bed, shaking as the adrenaline of the night’s events wore off. When she finally crawled under the covers, sleep proved elusive. She thought of Quinn, and the others, and wondered for the thousandth time since they’d met what she should do. Every police siren outside made her jump, but finally she drifted off into a sleep littered with fragments of unpleasant dreams.
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Two panicked days passed - there was no sign of Quinn at school, and no contact of any kind between the two of them. Rachel tried going to the garage after school on the second day, but there was no answer at the door despite the noise she could hear inside. When she got home that afternoon however, there was an unpleasant surprise waiting for her, courtesy of her father.
“Rachel,” Leroy called her as she entered the house. “Could you come in here, please?”
She wandered into the kitchen, where Leroy sat on one side with a manila folder closed in front of him. “Sit down” he pointed at the other chair.
“Dad, I’m kind of tired-“
“I said,” his voice was cold. “Sit. Down.”
She did, and he slid the folder across the table. “You may or may not know, Rachel, that the NYPD has been putting up surveillance cameras in the old industrial districts. Lots of crime happens there, and they’re difficult areas to patrol. They had reports of shots fired in one of those areas a few nights ago, and so they reviewed the camera footage. When they saw who was on it, they sent it to me. And then I saw who else was on it.”
Rachel’s stomach dropped as she opened the folder - inside, large as life, was a frame grab from the camera of herself standing on one side of Beth as Quinn stood on the other.
“You see my dilemma,” Leroy glared at her. “Because it looks to me like my daughter is standing next to Quinn Fabray, the lead figure in my smuggling investigation. And given that you knew she was, because your father tells me you saw my case file, I’m really desperately hoping you can tell me that’s not you in that picture. Or that she kidnapped you, or something.”
“Daddy-” her eyes were filled with tears, but she couldn’t find a way to continue the sentence.
“God damn it, Rachel!” he slammed both hands on the kitchen table. “How could you do this? How could you be involved with a girl like that? We’ve taught you better!”
“She’s not like you think!” Rachel argued. “She’s nice to me! She’s kept me safe, and she donates lots of money to the school!”
“Rachel, we have eyewitness reports that she and her gang set a man on fire! I’m not sure who you think she is, but she’s a violent, dangerous criminal!”
“Who was the eyewitness?” she challenged. “It was probably Puck, and he’d just lie anyway!” she sat back in her chair, realising suddenly that she’d said too much.
“Who?”
Rachel looked away, keeping silent.
“Rachel, there’s two ways this can go. You can tell me what you know, everything you know, or I can arrest you and put you in a jail cell. I love you, baby girl, but this isn’t a joke. I need to know what you’ve found out.”
Rachel crossed her arms, staring sullenly.
“Fine,” Leroy stood up, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt. Hiram grabbed his arm.
“You can’t be serious,” he protested.
“I don’t want to,” Leroy insisted, “but she’s not giving me a choice. Maybe a night in lockup will wise her up. Stand up, Rachel. Put your hands behind your back.”
Rachel complied, and winced as her father handcuffed her. “Let’s go,” he nudged her forward and out the door toward his car.
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The next morning, when she was released from lockup after a terribly uncomfortable night in a cell by herself - her father conspicuous by his absence - there was a car waiting for her out front. She thought it looked familiar, but it wasn’t until the driver side window went down to reveal Santana looking out at her that she recognised it.
“Get in, Treasure Trail.”
“Why are you-”
“Because Quinn can’t get this close to the cops without getting arrested! Now, are you getting in, or am I leaving you here?”
Rachel looked up and down the street, evaluating her options, and finally got in. Santana sped away, checking her mirror for pursuit. “So, I hear you did time for us last night.”
“Where on earth did you hear that?”
“We’ve got ears, Berry. Same ears also tell us you wouldn’t give the cops anything.”
“That much is true,” Rachel confirmed.
“Well, maybe there’s hope for you yet,” Santana looked her up and down. “After a makeover, of course.”
“Where are we going?” Rachel looked out the window, not recognising the area.
“We had to relocate. We’re going to the new garage. Now sit back and shut up, and try not to touch anything - I’ve got some toys in this car that you wouldn’t want to play with.”
The ride was silent, Santana’s black Civic streaking through the city before finally pulling up outside the loading bay of an old warehouse. She grabbed her cell phone from a pocket on the sun visor and dialled a number. “Q,” she said once her call was answered, “it’s me. Six one nine.”
“Six one nine?” Rachel repeated.
“Means there’s no one following us. Now be quiet.”
The large loading bay door swung open, and Santana drove into it, parking between Beth and a red Chevy. “Out of my car,” she shooed Rachel, “before you get argyle on my seat.” Rachel complied, and Quinn was at her side before she’d even finished getting out. She pulled Rachel into a tight hug, then held her at arm’s length to get a look at her.
“Hey, Rach. I’m really sorry you had to spend the night in jail - are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Rachel promised.
“I can’t believe your own dad would do that to you.” Rachel froze. “Yeah,” Quinn nodded. “I know who your dad is. I lifted your ID the night you came to the race, and I had Artie do some digging. I know he’s gunning for me, him and his FBI pals.”
“Then why would you risk bringing me here?” Rachel asked wonderingly. “That’s got to be taking an incredible chance.”
“Because she’s fucking stupid,” Santana yelled from across the warehouse. Quinn flipped her off.
“Because I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Rachel asked, taking her first real look around the warehouse. All of their cars were inside, as well as a cube van loaded with boxes. “Wait, you’re leaving?”
“Can’t stay here anymore,” Quinn said sadly. “Between your dad and this shit going down with Puck, it’s just too much heat. We’re going cross-country, set up in San Francisco or something.”
“But you love it here! I mean, the school, and your first quarter mile-” she knew she sounded desperate, and part of her hated herself for it.
“I do, Rach - you have absolutely no idea how much. New York is my home, but your dad’s just the tip of the iceberg. If the FBI’s pointing him at us, it means they’ve gotten too close. They’ll move on us soon, and we can’t be here when that happens.”
“But if you run, they’ll just find you again.”
“Not for a while. We’ll have time to get set up, get buried before they figure out where we went.”
“Can I ask you something?” Rachel’s voice was quiet.
“Sure - anything.”
“My dad told me - he said you set someone on fire. Is that true?”
“Absolutely not. I’m not going to lie to you, Rachel - we’re not nice people. We’re thieves and smugglers, and we’ve hurt people when we run jobs. But we’ve never killed anybody - we’ve never gone further than a broken bone or two.” Rachel searched her face for a lie, but didn’t find one.
“But the other night Santana said-”
“The gas can and lighter thing? Just a metaphor, Rach. I swear to you.”
Rachel thought for a moment. “Take me with you,” she finally said, quietly.
“What?” Quinn backed up three steps, her expression incredulous. “Don’t be insane. You’ve got a life here, Rach - you’re going to go to school, go to Julliard, and be famous. You just met me, like, not even a week ago, and you’re going to throw all of that away? I like you, Rachel, I really do - you’re hot, in a repressed kind of way, and you’re smart and talented, and maybe in another life we could have been something. But not in this one,” Quinn looked at her feet. “I’m sorry, Rach - but this really is goodbye. It has to be. Take care of yourself, okay?” she stepped closer and planted a searing kiss on her lips.
Rachel was still recovering from the kiss when Quinn turned away and shouted to Artie. “Open the door!”
The bay door opened, flooding the claustrophobic space with sunlight. Quinn turned back, a lopsided smile on her face. “There’s a cab waiting outside - don’t worry, it’s all paid for. Go home, Rachel. Get back to your life. Give me twelve hours to get out of town, and then tell your dad where this place is. Tell him that, as far as you know, we’re still here. It should get him off your case if he finds a few of our spare parts here, and then he’ll be tied in knots figuring out where we went.”
Almost against her will, Rachel’s feet carried her out the door. It swung closed behind her, and though she looked back for a final glimpse of Quinn’s face, the blonde looked studiously away from her until the door had shut.