Angeles (Chapter Four)
The Day The Sky Caught Fire
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter 4: The history of the trade
London, England, 1338
It’s quiet when Rachel enters the kitchen, but she’s not completely surprised to see Santana there. The angel is staring out the window, watching silently as the storm approaches from the other side of the moor. The picture Santana is painting, one of calm and composure, has never felt so threatening.
Rachel knows that Santana is very much aware she is in the same room, but there is no acknowledgment, no hint that the angel knows she is even there. It’s as if she doesn’t even exist, and after their previous conversation, Rachel can’t help but find the attitude unsettling.
She stays quiet as she starts to boil a pot of water over the stove. The flames from the fire are almost comforting in the manner they dance and intertwine with each other. It gives her something to focus on other than Santana’s continued silence.
Her mother went out with Brittany, and while she should be concerned because of the storm approaching, it is also strangely comforting. She doesn’t want her sister or her mother to be involved with what she is about to do. She touches the edge of the wood. Quinn is - somewhere. Out, she supposes, but she doesn’t know for sure.
It would be so easy, she thinks to herself. Just a quick action, put the fire against Santana’s throat, and finally, I will get some control back, finally I will get answers to some of my ques-
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Santana says. “Now put the burning wood down before you lose an arm.”
Rachel instantly drops the piece of wood and whirls around to face Santana. The angel looks back, decidedly unimpressed. Rachel sighs, and the irritation she feels is mirrored on Santana’s face.
“Now that we have that out of the way,” Santana drawls, “why don’t you tell me why you just considered trying to hold burning wood against my throat?”
There is it, that familiar mark of arrogance typically seen on Quinn. It’s just the faintest hint of a smirk, like underneath the irritation Santana is actually finding the situation amusing for whatever reason. It’s gone shortly after, replaced by a mask of indifference, and the window for understanding Santana’s feelings slams closed.
“I don’t know who Quinn is anymore,” Rachel says quietly, and apparently it’s the right words because she finally has Santana’s full attention.
“She hasn’t changed.”
Santana’s response is short, abrupt. It’s a statement of the friendship the angels share, their unquestioning loyalty to each other that Rachel is actually only just beginning to understand how deep it runs. They’ve been there for each other when no one else has, and maybe even when no one else will be.
“She isn’t who I thought she was,” Rachel responds. Santana sighs from across the room.
“She’s actually pretty much the same person she’s always been, Rachel,” the angel points out. “She’s just arrogant enough to be charming. She is rash and temperamental and yeah, if you get her angry enough there’s a pretty big chance she’ll manipulate the sky so you get hit by lightning. She hates being told what to do and if you force her she’ll do the exact opposite.”
“That hasn’t changed, Rachel, you can’t pretend that what you saw was something new. It’s who Quinntus is. It’s who Quinn has always been.”
“Is that why she did what she did?” Rachel snarls. “Because it’s who she’s always been?”
Suddenly, Santana is in front of her, slamming her body against the wall. The angel’s body is rigid with tension, fueled by anger and wanting to defend her friend.
“You think Quinn wants this?” She hisses, her eyes black with anger. “You think she wants any of this? I promise you, Rachel, if Quinn has a choice in any of this she wouldn’t be here. You don’t get to be a martyr, Rachel, not when Quinn is tortured. You’re the ghost that won’t leave her alone. Don’t you dare blame Quinn for any of this.”
In that instance, Rachel knows without a doubt that if push came to shove, Santana would kill her in a heartbeat. She is fully aware that both of her angels have blood on their hands but perhaps for the first time she wonders what, exactly, is the trigger.
Something like regret, or maybe understanding, flickers in Santana’s eyes and she takes a step back, then another, until she’s back by the window. She leans against it, watching Rachel, but it’s a calmer look. The storm rages outside but in the kitchen, it has passed for the moment.
“Go on then,” Santana says, her voice breaking the silence that had fallen over the kitchen. “Why don’t you ask me what’s really on your mind?”
Rachel drops her gaze and stares at the floor. Santana scoffs as she turns her attention back to the window, watching the storm outside. She tilts her head slightly as she listens to Rachel’s breathing. The angels hear better than humans do and she has been through this before. She knows what to listen for.
“Does Quinn blame me for what has become of her?” Rachel asks quietly, still not looking at Santana.
“Sometimes,” Santana answers, very softly, still looking at the storm. “But you always were her weakness, so it’s not like we haven’t been here before.”
& & &
She finds Quinn exactly where she thought she’d be, brooding on the moor. Her blonde hair is sticking to her head and the rain isn’t doing anything to hide the miserable expression on her face. The scene looks completely tragic, and it has never described Quinn better.
“I don’t care what the village people have been saying,” Santana drawls as she sits down next to her friend. “The drowned look doesn’t work on you, Quinntus.”
Quinn glances over at her, and there’s a hint of something in her face, the faintest hint of a smile.
“Shut up,” Quinn says softly, and although she doesn’t say it, Santana is relieved Quinn’s voice isn’t emotionless. She can still feel, and that’s the important part.
“I feel too much,” Quinn interrupts, and Santana sighs.
“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” Santana starts softly. “Because I know you’re not. I know there’s absolutely no way you could ever be, not with what’s going on. But he’s here now, and I just need to know if there’s a possibility of you losing control.”
Quinn starts shivering at that. Santana sighs again as she moves closer to Quinn, letting her body heat warm her friend. The shaking becomes more violent as Quinn struggles to keep her composure even as the cold begins to lick at her bones.
“He’s back,” Quinn sniffles against Santana’s shoulder. “He’s back and it really is just like before and I don’t know what to do, I really don’t. Why did he have to come back?”
“You know why,” she answers.
They stay like that for a while, letting the rain and the cold become a part of them. The two angels have been through enough together over the centuries to just know that their friendship becomes even stronger without having to say anything. Sometimes, just being there is enough to understand what is happening to the other.
They’re both afraid but they’re afraid of different things. Quinn is afraid because like she said, they’ve both been here before. They’ve seen how this storyline plays out and there’s cause for concern because there’s only so many times Quinn can get hurt before there’s nothing left to break.
Santana is afraid because she remembers the first time she met Quinn, when she found the blonde on the ground, lost and vulnerable and alone. She remembers how long it took for Quinn to get over what happened, and she knows how thin a line Quinn has been walking since Athens, and how little it would take for the wind to start blowing in the opposite direction. Quinn has always been attracted to darkness, but she’s also been good at resisting temptation.
She’s not sure how long Quinn will continue to be able to make that claim.
“You’re starting to sound like them,” Quinn drawls, her voice tearing Santana out of her thoughts.
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Santana responds as she nudges Quinn with her shoulder, her eyes still fixed on the rain. “I’m much funnier.”
Quinn looks at her and she just looks so pitiful and not at all like what the prophecy has made her out to be. Not for the first time, Santana wonders if maybe they just got the wrong person because this version of her friend would probably self-destruct before she hurt anyone. She’s capable of darkness, sure, and sometimes Quinn craves it like any other addict, but she knows the price.
She’s paid it before.
“Come on,” Santana urges. “It’s going to snow soon and I’m freezing. Let’s just go back to the farmhouse, you can play with the fire again, and this will all seem much more manageable.”
Quinn sighs and gets up reluctantly. She leans against Santana on the entire walk back, and now her clothes are sticking to her and they’re both shivering from the cold, but maybe it’s the little things.
They’ll get through this eventually, Santana thinks. It’s just a question of time.
& & &
It’s snowing by the time they get back to Shelby’s farmhouse. They both look and feel miserable from the cold. Quinn migrates to the fire - there is something strangely soothing about watching the flames - whereas Santana migrates towards their makeshift bedroom. They have their own definitions of comfort.
Rachel stumbles when she walks past and sees Quinn lying on the ground in front of the fire. She’s facing the ceiling but her eyes are closed, and her first thought is absolutely terrifying - her precious, gorgeous broken angel has been taken away from her.
Quinn looks the very definition of tragic, which, from what she could understand from Finn’s remarks and Santana’s conversation, is actually pretty accurate. This angel has been through so much, being pulled in all these directions, and all of this because of something she had done a very, very long time ago, something she had no recollection of ever doing.
I’m sorry I ever hurt you, Rachel thinks, and she hopes her angel can hear her thoughts.
She walks softly towards her and judging by her angel’s deep breathing, Quinn is asleep. Rachel lies down next to her. She remembers what Santana had said before, about Quinn being afraid to dream because she remembers, and she hopes that whatever memories are haunting her in her sleep will leave her alone now that Rachel is there.
Rachel doesn’t know how long she lies there, holding Quinn’s hand. What she does know is that she wants to stay, and that she’ll always stay by Quinn’s side if it means her angel will stop hurting for a little while.
& & &
It’s still snowing outside when Quinn wakes up. It takes a while for her ability to focus to come back - with her heightened senses, it’s difficult to distinguish all the sounds and smells. She can hear Rachel’s heartbeat accelerate and a quick glance to her side shows that she’s awake and watching her.
“You were asleep,” Rachel says as means of an explanation and Quinn just stares at her because out of everything, that was the last thing she expected Rachel to say. “Are you ok? I… I know you don’t like sleeping.”
“Yeah,” Quinn answers quietly. “It’s… It’s bearable, when you’re there.”
Rachel doesn’t say anything else, but she does move closer. Even though Quinn is right next to the fire - Rachel must have added some wood when I was sleeping, she thinks - Rachel’s presence is enough to increase her body temperature. She’s not used to feeling this kind of warmth and its instinct that makes her move closer even though her heart is screaming at her to move away.
“I have some questions,” Rachel continues. “And maybe you can’t answer them, maybe you don’t know, I don’t know… But I’d like to ask them, because I want to know, I want to understand you. I want to understand us because right now I don’t know and I just need to.”
Quinn looks at her and God, it’s not that different from the first time Brittany and her found the angels after they fell from the sky. She looks lost, and a little hopeless, and just tragic enough that Rachel wants to start believing in fate, after all.
That maybe there could be a reason they found each other again, and it didn’t have to do with prophecies or the world ending, or bitter lovers who came back to settle a score from long ago… Maybe, Quinn came into her life because they were meant to be together.
“It was a very long time ago,“ Quinn eventually tells her, and Rachel blinks, unsure if her angel is reading her mind or just answering her question.
“I’m sorry I left you, before,” Rachel offers, and Quinn glances at her, and there’s something in those hazel eyes that, hidden behind the mystery, looks a lot like hope.
“Santana, well, she didn’t exactly tell me what happened, before…” She tries to continue but then stumbles over her words. “I don’t remember what happened between us, and I wish I did. I’m sorry I hurt you, Quinn, I am, and I’m sorry for whatever happened. I’m sorry I made you choose, I’m sorry I left.”
“You didn’t,” Quinn tells her as she sits up and looks out the window, at the snow continuing to fall. “I’m the one who left.”
“But why?” Rachel asks, stunned. “Santana and Finn, they keep saying how much you loved me. If that’s true, why did you leave me, before?”
Quinn turns to her and again, Rachel is reminded of how expressive those hazel eyes are. So many emotions are swirling in those eyes and Quinn is just trying so hard to bury them all and most of the time she succeeded, but sometimes, like now - the answers to the world are there, right in front of her.
“I left because you loved me back,” Quinn answers as she stands up and walks away, leaving Rachel alone by the dying fire.
& & &
Quinn doesn’t know why she goes back to the moor. To a certain degree she craves the solitude. She needs a place where it can be just her and her thoughts, where time has just stopped for an hour or so and she can still believe in all the things that have been taken away from her through the centuries.
She can’t be around Rachel, not right now. She makes her believe again and that’s just dangerous because she knows what happens to belief, and she knows how dangerous it is to believe in a person. It’s a curse, really, what has happened to her and Santana because they remember people, and those people always end up dying.
Quinn grits her teeth, frustrated, because now all she can do is think of the different lifetimes she’s been through, when she’s been drifting aimlessly, when all she wanted was a purpose and Santana helped in that sense because she was just as lost and lonely as she was in the beginning.
And then they became so sure and confident of themselves. Eternity breeds arrogance, and why shouldn’t it? They were better than the others. They had fought so many battles and the scars had healed because they were stronger, smarter than anyone else.
Neither Quinn nor Santana had ever known what it’s like not to be special. God had looked down on Quinn with that condescending tone and accused her of arrogance but is it still arrogance if it’s the truth? She is better.
No wonder she loathes mediocre lifestyles as much as she does, she thinks to herself. Her irritation rises as the wind picks up and she scowls at the sky, annoyed. Around her, the snow keeps falling.
The wind masks the sound of the footsteps, distorting them a little as he walks along in the snow. Eventually, it’s the sound of him stepping on a branch that captures her attention. She watches the trees, waiting for him to emerge from the forest.
“I knew you’d come back,” Quinn says softly as Finn walks onto the moor.
& & &
He looks different than the last time she had seen him in the forest. Then, he had been governed by anger and resentment. The Finn standing in front of her is the one she remembers. The one who understands what happened that day because he had been there too, the one who once believed in the unconditional the same way she used to.
The only one who understands what being special truly means.
“You used to hate the cold,” Finn offers as a greeting as he sits down next to her, watching the snowstorm.
“Things change,” she shrugs. He glances at her before turning back to watch the snow fall around them.
“You haven’t, though,” he says quietly. “You haven’t changed at all, after all this time.”
Quinn doesn’t answer, but he knows from the way the muscles keep clenching in her jaw that he is getting to her. Finn sighs. She really hasn’t changed. She’s still the same girl he fell in love with all those centuries ago, the one he would have done anything for, the one who walked away…
“It’s… different, now,” Quinn tells him, her gaze fixed at something in the distance. He follows her gaze and can just about make out the village in the distance. Quinn doesn’t even have to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes.
“Surely you find this mediocre life, well, mediocre?” Finn asks, unable to keep the disdain from his voice. “I can almost smell how mundane everything is. How do you amuse yourself?”
Annoyance flickers across Quinn’s face, and a sudden gust of wind picks up next to Finn and snow falls on him. It melts as soon as it touches his skin, a subtle reminder to Quinn about the lifestyle she no longer lives.
“Is this how you pass your time?” Finn continues, goading her. “Playing with wind and fire?”
“Stop it,” Quinn growls softly, her irritation rising. Finn bites his lip in an effort to hide his smirk. It’s proving to be much easier than he anticipated, getting under Quinntus’ skin again.
“It must be driving you crazy,” he whispers against her ear, “having all this power inside of you and having to settle with playing with wind and fire. You were capable of such greatness, do you remember? Now look at you, a shadow of what you used to be.”
Quinn flinches at his words, and this time, Finn doesn’t make any effort to hide his smirk. Quinntus is many things, he reasons to himself, but luckily for him, she’s always been predictable once you knew her weaknesses. That much hasn’t changed over time.
With a subtle gesture of his hand, the wind suddenly picks up. It swirls violently towards the village, picking up enough force and momentum that it could destroy any resistance it comes across.
“Knock it off.” Quinn’s voice alternates between indifference and annoyance, and it only motivates Finn to push the line a little more.
“They’re humans, Quinntus,” he argues. “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Knock it off,” Quinn repeats in the exact same tone. “I’m not going to ask again.”
“Make me,” he provokes. Finally, it gets a smile out of Quinn.
Finn instantly stops smirking when he feels his air supply being cut down. He makes a gasping sound as his lungs struggle for oxygen. Her gaze is still fixed on the wind’s trajectory, a hint of interest hidden among the darkness.
“Ok,” he wheezes. “Ok, ok, I’ll make it stop.”
Instantly, the invisible grip around his throat is released. He gasps as oxygen rushes back into his lungs and turns to Quinn. She simply gives him a small smile in return as her eyes dart between his face and the village.
“The wind, Finn,” she reminds him softly. The wind dies down immediately, and for a minute, the only sound they can hear is the snow falling around him. It is dangerously silent.
“It’s a shame your little pet wasn’t here to see that,” he snarls at her.
“Finn,” Quinn sighs, “we just saw what I did to you. Must you really insist on testing my control right now?”
“Why don’t we test your knowledge of history instead?” He asks. “I mean, you do remember what happened last time we were in this situation, don’t you? You must remember how you gave everything, and I do mean everything up for her, and - well, not to bring up bad memories, but that still wasn’t enough for her, was it?”
“I remember,” Quinn says, very quietly.
“But she doesn’t,” Finn reminds her. “She doesn’t remember you at all. Your love was supposed to be epic. It was supposed to defy the Gods. She can’t even remember how she used to feel about you. She can’t even remember she chose you! But you remember, don’t you? You remember how you chose her, and that wasn’t enough for her.”
“What makes you think this time is going to be any different?” Finn continues, desperate to torment her enough so that the already fragile balance will tip back in his favor.
He kneels in front of her. “She never chose you,” Finn pleads quietly. “But I did. I always did, and I promise, this time isn’t any different. It’s always been you for me. The… The Gods had said so themselves.”
He can see it in her eyes, the way she’s weighing her position. He can almost taste her indecision and it takes all of his will to not jump up and down in victory. He is close, oh so close to getting what he wants. He closes his eyes as he tries to find the entrance to Quinn’s mind. Just another minute…
Quinn leans forward just an inch, touching her forehead against his. The gesture is both comforting and needy, and something tightens in Finn’s chest.
“If you ever try to get into my head again,” Quinn whispers harshly, her voice barely heard above the sound of the snow falling. “I swear I’ll kill you myself.”
Finn jerks back, panting. Quinn stares back at him, her face a blank mask. It’s a familiar scene, not unlike the last real time he saw Quinn before she was taken away from him by that wretched pet of hers.
She blinks, though, and the mirage is gone, replaced by the image of a lost girl who just wants her world to make sense again. Quinn sighs as she gets up and starts walking towards the village.
“I really did love you, you know,” she says quietly, her back to him. “That hasn’t changed, either.”
“I know,” Finn sighs. “You just love her more.”
& & &
“Where have you been?” Santana hisses as soon as Quinn steps through the creaky door. “I have been worried sick! It’s snowing out there and you were gone for ages!”
Quinn’s expression is a cross between horror and amusement, and it’s comical enough for Rachel to start laughing from the other side of the room.
“It’s the snow,” Quinn stutters. “It triggers something in her. I haven’t been able to explain it, but I think it affects her brain somehow, and then she gets paranoid. It’s disturbing on many, many levels, and by that, I mean it disturbs me.”
“You didn’t answer my question!” Santana snaps.
“I was on the moor,” the blonde angel answers. Rachel watches, curious, as something flickers across Santana’s face.
“Is everything ok?” She asks, and there’s something about the way she phrases the question that suggests there is more to it.
“I’m fine,” Quinn responds. The two angels stare at each other as the tension rises. Quinn scoffs as she narrows her eyes at her. “I’m fine,” she repeats more firmly. “Now drop it.”
“You were gone a long time,” Rachel offers. Quinn turns her attention to her and there’s so many emotions just lingering under the surface but she can’t read any of them for sure.
“Like I said,” Quinn’s voice is flat, emotionless, “everything is fine.”
It’s not really, and there’s a part of Rachel that wants to fight her on that. She wants to yell at Quinn, demand where she has been for the past few hours, demand why she just left her this morning and didn’t bother to explain where she was going, she wants to -
She cuts her thoughts off when she notices the two angels looking at her. Santana looks amused, whereas Quinn looks - well, it’s hard to describe how Quinn looks, exactly. Intrigued? Confused?
“Aroused?” Santana offers snidely.
“Shut up,” Quinn snaps.
“Stay out of my head,” Rachel pleads. “It’s bad enough without having the two of you listening in to everything.”
“Oh, Quinntus here probably finds it enlightening,” Santana laughs.
“Shut. Up,” Quinn growls in response. “Actually, wait, you can gossip about me all you want, I’m going to bed.”
“Sweet dreams,” Santana says in a sing-song voice, and the last thing Quinn hears as she walks out the room is Rachel’s musical laughter.
She hears Rachel come into the room about an hour later. She pretends to be asleep but she likes listening to Rachel move around the room. She can picture it in her mind. She’s been around Rachel long enough to know her routine and there’s a degree of comfort in knowing that some things don’t change.
What does change, however, is Rachel’s movements. She hovers by Quinn’s bed. The angel tries to focus, tries to hear Rachel’s thoughts because she just wants to know what is happening right now, what is provoking this change of her.
Instead, Quinn just gets all these flashes of - Brittany’s eyes? It confuses her because she doesn’t understand why Rachel is thinking of the color blue right now and she wants to ask, she really does, except -
Rachel’s lips brush against her forehead.
“I’m sorry I didn’t love you enough when I knew you before,” Rachel says quietly. “But I love you now, and I hope that’s enough.”
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Disclaimers:
- Don't own Glee and am in no way affiliated with the show in any shape or form
- The title of the chapter is a line from "Angeles" by Elliott Smith
- Special thanks to Erika for looking it over