Your Ex-Lover Is Dead (5/5)
Title: Your Ex-Lover Is Dead (5/5)
Author: only_because3
Rating: T
Length: 12,013
Spoilers: None really. Though I do use elements discovered in 1x04
Summary: AU Set in the 1940s. “Have you ever thought about what you would’ve done if you hadn’t had Beth? What you’d be doing now if we hadn’t met?”
Author's Note: Final chapter! I have to say, I'm sad to see this end. I really enjoyed writing it. Though I think some of you may hate me for how this ends. I guess we'll see! As a warning, there's not a lot of Rachel (in fact, she doesn't appear until the epilogue). I am nervous about this chapter just because I'm not sure how well it flows with the rest of the chapters but it sort of takes on a different tone which was necessary. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!
--
She isn’t able to get to the train station and, as much as she wants to see Noah right away, she really wouldn’t be much help. Noah can walk, but not well; his leg is still rigid, causing him to walk slower than ever before and need constant support. She’s due to give birth any day now, her stomach so large and outstretched that she can practically feel her stretch marks growing deeper. She doubts she’d be able to support Noah on his way up the stairs now that she’s so off balance herself. So, much to everyone’s dismay, her father and Leah’s husband James went to pick Noah up from the train station. She knows he won’t be happy about this and that it will probably only make him feel worse, but there were no other people who would be able to get him from the train station and to the house. She hopes that the latkes she made for dinner and the rugalach Mrs. Puckerman brought help.
She sits at her vanity, hair curled slightly and pinned back on both sides. She wishes she could wear a nicer dress but, even with her girdle on, she can’t wear any of the dresses she knows Noah would love. She sighs, something that makes her girdle feel a little loose, only for a moment. She hates this thing. She swears her baby is being smushed and thinks she can feel every inch of the baby against her even though she’s loosened the laces on her stomach a lot. If her mother weren’t down the hall, she’d take the whole thing off. But she knows her mother will question her, tell her she’s not dressing proper, and she’d rather feel like she can’t breathe than hear her mother’s voice.
She glances at her bed in the reflection of the mirror and lets out an unsteady breath. She put on the other set of sheets they own, the blue ones that they received as a wedding gift from Noah’s great aunt. The white ones, the ones she laid on with Rachel, she soaked for two days. Now they’re folded and tucked underneath all the winter blankets in the linen closet. She wants to avoid using them for as long as she can. She’s not sure she can lay with Noah on those sheets, without the guilt eating away at her. She looks at the trunk at the foot of the bed and her eyes widen when she realizes she hasn’t put that blanket away yet. She’d been sleeping with it every night since Rachel left and thought she had put it in the trunk underneath her wedding dress but apparently she didn’t.
She returns her gaze to her reflection reaching for the red lipstick she saves for special occasions. Her mother thinks it makes her look easy but both Noah and Rachel have told her she looks beautiful when she wears it. It’s the final touch, her eyes already coated with mascara and the tiniest bit of eyeliner, powder on her face and blush already lining her cheek bones. She dabs some of the perfume she got on her 13th birthday on her wrists before dragging them along her neck as well.
It feels almost weird, dressing up again. Not that she hasn’t put on make up or perfume since Noah left (she’s done that nearly every day), but knowing that this is the first time in nearly nine months that her husband will see her is kind of daunting. She wonders if he’ll think she looks different (specifically fatter or maybe even tainted) or if he’ll look like someone she doesn’t recognize. She breathes in deeply, closing her eyes in order to clear her thoughts. Everything will be fine, she repeats to herself as she slowly opens her eyes. Another deep breath as she gives herself one last once over in the mirror. She stands up, buttoning the final three buttons on the cerulean dress and swallows thickly.
She can hear Beth’s laughter from down the hall, followed by her mother’s giggling. The windows are open, letting in a breeze that only appeared today, and she can hear a car passing by in front of the house if she really focuses on the sounds around her. The rumbling of the car gets louder, so loud that she realizes it can’t just be passing through. She picks up the blanket she laid under with Rachel and sets it into the trunk carefully as someone (probably Jenna) drops a pot in the kitchen.
“NOAH,” the young girl squeals and suddenly it’s not quiet at all in the house. It went from semi-hushed voices, everyone anticipating the return of her boy in relative silence, to noise that bounces off the walls. She can hear Mrs. Puckerman telling Jenna to calm down, Nana Puckerman yelling in Yiddish, her mother asking Beth if she knows who’s home, her father screaming outside for James to turn off the damn car before they roll back into the street (she finds it a little nice that her father hates Leah’s husband too, if only a little bit) and Leah calling for everyone to come down stairs.
She desperately wishes she could hear Noah’s or Rachel’s voice right now.
She shuts the trunk and then steps into the hallway, her mother already halfway down the stairs with Beth in her arms. Her mother may not care very much for Noah, but if being excited for his return makes Beth happy, then Judy Fabray is more than willing to indulge her granddaughter (at least when her husband isn’t around).
Quinn can see everyone filing out on to the lawn as she steps off the stairs, eyes focused on her father’s car. James pulls out Noah’s duffle, tossing it on to the lawn near the patch of grass that is always dry. Her dad opens the back door on the passenger side, bending down on his strong leg to throw Noah’s arm over his shoulders. James goes over to help but Russell waves him off, something that makes her sister frown and Quinn smirk. She leans in the doorway, the screen door held open with one of her potted plants, her arms crossed underneath her chest. Her father straightens out slowly, causing Judy to ask if his leg is all right. “I am fine Judy,” he grumbles, brow furrowed in a way that proves him a liar. But then Quinn can see the top of Noah’s head and suddenly, her father and husband are standing tall, looks of pain and triumph on their faces.
“Daddy, why don’t you let James help Noah,” Leah whines as her husband stands nervously next to her.
“What good would his flat feet do us,” her father barks and Quinn stifles a laugh. Maybe Russell won’t hate Noah as much anymore now that he’s fought in a war.
Noah looks up from the ground when they both walk from around the car. They stop once they reach the grass, leaning on each other for support, and his eyes instantly find her. Not his mother, not his sister, or even Beth. Her.
He’s so much thinner now, his jaw much more prominent than it was before. He looks… hardened, something her mother warned her about and called ‘the face of battle’. It scares her, afraid that Noah is no longer the boy she came to love. That she’ll become her mother, unhappy with her marriage and fearful of her husband.
(Why did Rachel leave her?)
The corners of his lips upturn, giving her a small smile before bringing his free arm up and letting it fall again, as if saying ‘Well?’ He arches an eyebrow when she stands idle on the porch and she can tell from her spot that something else is different about his face.
She walks, well, waddles over to him and when she gets close enough, she notices the scar slashing through his eyebrow. She frowns, hand raising to touch it hesitantly and he shakes his head. “It’s just a scar babe,” he says softly and she rolls her eyes because he should know that, to her, it will never be just a scar. Her fingertips brush over the scar lightly before she cups his cheek, smiling when he leans into her touch.
“I missed you Noah,” she whispers and when he smiles a little wider, she lets out a sigh of relief. Everything around her drops out of focus and the only thing she sees is her husband in front of her, his arm wrapped around her waist (bringing her closer and steadying himself at the same time). Her stomach presses against his and she feels the baby move beneath her skin, wonders if Noah can feel it too. He doesn’t say anything if he does, instead just brings his lips to hers.
It’s so familiar but so unbelievably different that she doesn’t respond at first. She’s too concentrated on the fact that his lips are chapped and rough and his mouth moves with less grace than before. He almost feels too heavy against her, his lips claiming dominance in a way that makes her miss Rachel on a day when she shouldn’t be thinking about her at all. But then he bites her bottom lip (something she’d scold him about doing in front of family if she was thinking properly) and tangles his hand in her hair and she inhales against his lips sharply. It makes his grip on her tighten and she finds herself wrapping her arms around his neck desperately as she feels the baby kick wildly against her skin.
--
Much later that night, after everyone has gone home, she stands in her kitchen. She wipes her wet hands on her apron, sighing as she looks out the window on the back door. Noah is sitting in a folding chair in the middle of their yard, his leg propped up on an old crate. Beth keeps going between the garden (picking flowers that are really nothing more than weeds according to Quinn) and her father who accepts the flowers with a tight smile. He doesn’t look angry, just out of place and a little dazed, causing her faded red lips to downturn. He tries to braid the flowers together, almost creating a crown for Beth when his fingers fumble and his large hands crush more than half of the small white and yellow petals.
He shrugs when Beth looks at him expectantly and she can tell just from the way her daughter is standing that she’s about to break into tears. She walks over to the door, hand clutching the brass doorknob in her hand but not calling attention to herself just yet. Normally, Beth never cries in front of Noah, or at the very least, doesn’t cry for very long when he’s around. But he barely moves in his seat, hands still folded on top of wilting weeds as he stares blankly at their daughter’s scrunched up face. Beth reaches for the plants in Noah’s lap, picking them up and let’s out a wail that she can hear even though the door is closed.
He doesn’t do anything, just keeps staring until Quinn opens the door and calls for Beth to come inside. The little girl stomps her way over, tripping over her own feet a little, before she buries her face in Quinn’s legs. “We can try and make another one tomorrow. It’s bath time now okay?” She runs her fingers through Beth’s soft curls, smiling when she feels the little girl nod. She glances back at her husband, noticing that he’s still looking at the spot where Beth was standing. “Noah?”
Her mother told her she needed to expect this. She had pulled her aside in the kitchen earlier, busying herself with glasses as she spoke. “I know it all seems fine now, but he is different Quinn. You were young when your father changed so you probably don’t realize just how much Noah is changed,” she said, voice barely above a whisper as she poured lemonade into the glasses on the tray. “He’ll get angry easily, he’ll be silent more often than not… You need to be prepared for this.”
“I know Mother. You’ve been telling me this ever since he left,” she retorted and Judy just shook her head.
“He’s here now though. It’s no longer when he gets home, it’s now that you have to deal with this.”
She sighs and wipes the back of her hand over her forehead to get rid of the sweat already forming there. “Noah,” she yells and he blinks, this time looking over at her. He seems ever further away than he did when he was out of the country even though he’s in their backyard. “I’m going to give Beth her bath. Do you want help in before or do you want me to get you once I’m done?”
“What ever is easiest babe,” he says and she nods, grabbing Beth’s hand and turning around.
--
He slings an arm over her shoulder as she wraps her left arm around his waist. She glances up at his face and notices that he looks just as worried as she feels. “Why don’t I just sleep on the couch,” he asks.
She shakes her head, glancing behind him to look at their small couch. “You’ll never get comfortable. You’re too long to lay on it so you’ll probably have to sleep sitting up with your legs on the table.” The real question, she thinks, is why on Earth they told everyone to go home. Both her father and Mrs. Puckerman offered to stay but Quinn politely declined, wanting at least one night alone with her husband. “Come on. So long as you make use of the banister we should be fine.” He nods, gripping the polished wood as he sets his good leg on the first step. She steps up too, trying with all her might to steady him and take on some of his weight when he lifts his wounded leg.
He groans when he brings his leg up, wanting desperately to put pressure on the wounds. He falls on to his forearm on the banister in an effort to not crush his wife. “Just breathe baby,” she says, bringing her free hand up to cup his cheek briefly. “We can go as slow as you need to.” Her body starts hurting due to the awkward way she’s bent underneath Noah’s arm. Letting him sleep downstairs is definitely looking like a better option.
“I scared you earlier didn’t I?” She looks up at him, her eyebrows scrunching together in worry when she notices just how hard he’s breathing. He drops his arm and turns so that he can lean his back on the banister, Quinn following suit and letting go of his waist. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his head hanging as he redistributes his weight on his good leg.
“You just stared at her,” she says quietly as she settles against the plain beige wall, arms coming to rest under her chest. “And even when I called her, you just kept staring…”
“I don’t know why but I just… It’s hard not remembering everything I saw.” She wants to ask him what he saw, what exactly he was remembering and why he remembered something then, when all he was doing was making something for his daughter. She stays silent though because her mother told her to never ask about the war. No matter how curious she got, what happened during his service was absolutely none of her business and so she should bite her tongue whenever she got the notion to stupidly open her mouth. “There were so many kids Q… Some towns where they were the only people there. And we couldn’t do a fucking thing to help them.”
Her heart feels heavy and the baby starts quickly rapidly at the skin below her belly button. She feels like she could get sick if he continues talking about it. “You’re home now,” she manages to say, despite the swelling lump in her throat.
He nods, his face becoming less soft that it was before. “It’s just hard…”
“Will we become like my parents,” she asks after a few moments of silence, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth. She worries that they won’t get past this, much like her parents never did though they pretend that everything is normal. Now that her father appears to have taken a shining to Noah, she can see him trying to mold him into what he thinks a man should act like. Suddenly her future with Noah is filled with images of him downing scotch like water and becoming completely closed off from her. She honestly thinks she would die if she became her mother. And she knows that if she is doomed to live the life of a Fabray, something she’s still working very hard to escape, she’ll regret not fighting for Rachel to stay.
“I’d rather you leave me than have that happen,” he answers, causing her to drop her lip and smile slightly. “Your father is still an asshole, even if he has stopped referring to me as ‘The Jew’. And your mother looks like she’d rather be dead most of the time.” He holds out a calloused hand that she takes gingerly. “I’ve told you before, you deserve a hell of a lot more than what your parents have.”
“So we’ll be okay?”
“It might take some time,” he says, squeezing her hand softly, “but we’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Okay,” she breathes out, body finally relaxing against the wall behind her. She feels like finally sees her husband for the first time in nearly nine months even if she doesn’t exactly believe him. “Come on. I’ll create a makeshift bed for you in the living room. We’ll use the cushions from the couch and chair.” They return to their previous stance except this time they have only one step to conquer instead of a whole flight.
“Do you remember when we first moved in here? All the furniture wouldn’t be here till the next day but we wanted to be out of Ma’s house as soon as we could?”
She smiles, nodding her head as they step off the stairs. “I was about this far along then too.” They walk slowly into the living room and Quinn helps Noah ease down into the hard wood chair at the desk. She moves the coffee table flush with the edge of the couch before throwing the cushions to the rug in the center of the room. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you up the stairs.”
“S’okay babe. I wouldn’t want your water breaking because you have to support me,” he says, absently looking through the few pieces of paper that are out of place on the desk.
“It’ll be easier with your mom helping… And I guess my father. I can’t believe he offered to take you to your doctor’s visits.”
“He could just be saying that so he can take me somewhere and off me,” he laughs, picking up the letter than Quinn crumpled in her fist two weeks ago.
“I don’t think he’d be able to with his leg,” she remarks, kicking the cushions into a row, her face flushing as she disappears down the hall.
“Don’t need two working legs to shoot a gun Q,” he returns distractedly, looking at the newspaper that was underneath the letter in his hand.
“My father’s not going to kill you,” Quinn lectures as she walks back into the room, arms filled with blankets and pillows. “If he was going to, he would’ve done it already. Besides, he needs two legs to hide your body.” She helps him hobble over to the makeshift bed, bracing her feet on either side of his legs as he slowly sits down. She nearly topples over but he loosens his grip on her wrists as she leans back. “You’re sure you’ll be okay down here,” she asks, watching as he sets his leg on to the spare pillow before throwing the light blanket over him.
“It’s not like I could move somewhere else if I wasn’t.” She nods, tucking the hair that’s fallen from her clip behind her ear. She smiles a little when she feels him catch her arm as she turns to go, bringing her hand to him and kissing her palm.
(They sleep in separate rooms because it’s too much work for anyone to get him up the stairs for the rest of the week, up until Quinn’s water breaks when she’s washing dishes before Sunday mass.)
--
She finds it difficult to fall asleep most nights, something she’s sure is going to bite her in the ass once the baby’s born. It’s hard, trying to fall asleep in a room that’s barely recognizable to her anymore. Everything still looks the same but when she closes her eyes, she can only smell the soap wafting from the sheets. Before, the room would smell like Noah, something that was slowly replaced by the lingering smell of Rachel’s perfume during her husband’s absence. It unsettles her more than she’d like, especially since she knows that her husband is home, downstairs in fact, but their bedroom barely shows any sign of his return. Sometimes it still feels like he’s gone, especially since she’ll be in the middle of a conversation with him, only to find that most of her words have fallen on deaf ears. She knows that it’s going to take some time before things get back to some sort of normalcy, but she’s starting to feel even more alone than she did when he was in Europe.
She finds herself wondering if she did the right thing by staying with him, something that really surprises her. While he was gone, she discovered just how much she loved him though she simultaneously fell in love with someone else. Now that he’s back, though a bit broken (in more than one way), she should be thrilled. It’s so nice to be able to touch him again (being physical with Noah was always the thing that came the easiest) but this week has already taken such a toll on her that she can’t remember why she should stay with her husband. Most days they can sit through dinner happily, conversations continuing normally even though she can spot the differences (like how he devours his food quickly, how he practically guards it, and how he always seems to hear something outside). But she hates tip toeing around the months they spent apart, something that she does take some responsibility in. She doesn’t want to talk about Rachel anymore than he wants to talk about the war. And she hates that he’s been home for a week and he’s yet to even sleep in the same bed as her. She knows that if he could, he would, but she wonders if it would still feel like she’s sleeping in bed alone. If she would feel just as far away from him as she does when she sees him ignore Beth or tune her out when they’re talking. He is her husband and feeling so alone with him here makes her wish he’d just leave again. It’s too hard the way that it is now and she can’t help but think how much better she felt when it was Rachel here with her.
She tucks an arm underneath her pillow, rolling over so that her back faces the open door. She wonders if she’d feel different if she’d been alone these past few months. If Rachel hadn’t come along, kept her company, and became so important to Quinn, she’d already be used to being alone and feeling incomplete. This distance in her marriage would feel bearable, maybe even normal. As happy as Rachel made her, she’s ruining the fragile relationship with her husband. Quinn knows that she’s at fault in all this too. After all, she pursued Rachel every step of the way, even if she knew it was wrong, but if Rachel hadn’t been so eager to be in her life, maybe Quinn wouldn’t have thought twice about her and then she wouldn’t feel so displaced in her own life.
She lets out a heavy sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as she hears the grandfather clock chime twice downstairs.
--
She wakes up to a soft hand on her shoulder. “Quinn.” She blinks slowly, turning on to her other side and smiling a little before yawning. Noah stands beside the bed, the bundle that is their son in the crook of his arm, his other arm leaning heavily on the wooden cane he’s been able to walk with. “I think he’s hungry.” She props herself up and unbuttons the first three buttons on her nightgown. He passes the baby to her before making his way over to his side of the bed.
“What time is it,” she asks roughly, looking down as Christopher latches on to her breast.
“Almost time for Beth to wake up.” She nods, eyes slowly closing as she pushes her messy hair back. “Are you going to make pancakes for breakfast?” Noah’s words pull her out of the half sleep she was drifting into and she tightens her grip on her son lightly, looking down as Chris suckles harder in response to her readjusting her arm.
“Of course baby,” she responds like always, like the ever-dutiful wife. She feels his hand palm her thigh and she can’t help the tired sigh that escapes her lips.
Noah’s been home for a month now, Christopher for three weeks. She works off only a few hours of sleep most days. Every day she wakes up to feed Chris, tends to Beth, makes breakfast, cleans the house, entertains Beth while she nurses Chris for the millionth time that day, makes lunch, cleans again, puts the kids down, does laundry, feeds Chris, makes dinner, cleans, bathes the kids, puts the kids to bed, then falls asleep for two hours until she has to feed the baby again before starting over again. Some days she’ll have to find time to tend to the garden or go to the store and it’s those days that she feels like she could collapse at any moment. She honestly doesn’t even know how she finds the time to bathe most days.
She loves her family, she does. Things with Noah are better now; He’s been able to walk a bit more and his… episodes have been getting shorter and a bit further in between (he actually hasn’t had one at all this week). The discontent she felt before still lingers (something that she doesn’t think will ever completely go away. After all, it was there before Noah left) but ultimately she realizes that Noah is back and that she made the right choice by staying with her husband. And her son, though a handful, is gorgeous and healthy and everything she could want, but it is all just so much. She’s only eighteen years old and she has no time to just sit down and breathe for one second.
(And god, it hurts so much to think that she doesn’t even know where Rachel is now.)
She feels her son start to push her away just as she hears Beth start to wake up down the hall. Noah squeezes her thigh, leaning in to kiss the space where neck and shoulder meet. “I’ll go get her while you burp him.” She nods, bringing the baby to her shoulder tiredly. Her husband pauses in the doorway, half his body already going toward their daughter, the other facing her. “Babe?”
“Hm?” She pats her son’s back firmly, already getting up slowly so she can throw her hair up as soon as she gets a burp.
“Are you okay? You look...” he trails off, not sure what to say and what won’t offend his still hormonal wife. She’s been taking it easy on him because he just came back, but he can tell when she’s getting short with him because she gets this look on her face that she only gets when she’s reached her wits end with Beth. He knows that everything has been overwhelming for her, especially since she’s had to do everything on her own during his time away, and he hasn’t really helped her in the least bit since he came back though he can’t be much help anyway. After all, this is the first week he’s trusted himself enough to hold Christopher while walking.
He looks so concerned about her that she puts a fake smile on her face as Chris burps, a small bit of regurgitated milk spilling on to her shoulder that she barely even feels she’s so used to it. “I’m fine. Get Beth please?” Before, she probably would have told him that she’s wasn’t exactly okay. She would’ve told him that she would really just like an afternoon away from all of them to sleep or maybe just a second alone so she could scream without worrying anyone. But her husband is recovering and her mother keeps reminding her that husbands’ needs go before their own.
It makes her sick to her stomach just how much she’s acting like her mother right now. She’s tried so hard to not become Judy Fabray but it seems like fate has other plans.
He nods, even smiles a little and she can tell by the almost relieved look on his face that he believes her. Before he would’ve called bullshit and that thought makes her slump against the headboard while Chris starts crying into her ear.
--
She’s at the sink washing the morning dishes silently, her eyes closed. She’s figured out that this is one of the ways she can get in a little more rest. Her body works on autopilot when it comes to things like dishes and laundry and so she gets through half the dishes blind. She focuses on Beth laughing behind her, followed by a deep chuckle stemming from Noah, all of their noise accompanied by the clanking of silverware against breakfast plates and Beth’s highchair. Christopher is in his carrier, making nonsensical noises every time he moves in his sleep, settling himself into the soft cushions surrounding him. Her family is okay and content and she finds herself scrubbing at the pot in her hand a little slower. So long as everyone is fine, she can keep her eyes closed a little longer.
“Didn’t you have a new friend? I thought you mentioned meeting a girl in one of your letters,” he says randomly, in between bites of his toast. Her eyes open wide, blinking rapidly at the bright light coming in from the window in front of her. The pot in her hand slips, a dull thump resonating beneath the soapy water.
“She left town a few weeks before you came home,” Quinn answers, not entirely sure if she’s lying to him or not. She really has no idea if Rachel stayed in Lima or if she left for California like she sometimes talked about doing, even before Finn died. “Her boyfriend was killed and she left.” She shrugs casually, hoping her voice isn’t betraying her because she can feel a lump forming in her throat, threatening to make her voice crack. “Can’t say I blame her.”
She can hear Noah continuing to eat behind her, unfazed by what his wife is saying, instead more focused on the hash browns on his plate. “Poor girl,” he says, voice laced with what sounds like legitimate sympathy for someone he doesn’t even know. He takes a bite of food, mouth full when he asks if Quinn knew what division he was apart of.
“I don’t really know… I’m not sure I even know what you were apart of.” She shuts off the water, drying her hands on her apron as she goes to check on her son. Chris is sleeping soundly, sucking lightly on his fist and she sighs as she smoothes his fine brown hair down. Her stomach growls as she walks over to the table, running her hand through Beth’s hair too before putting her hands on Noah’s shoulders. He shakes his head and, though she’s not looking at his face, she imagines he’s probably wearing a small smirk. (She’s never been good at remembering anything to do with the military and she doesn’t find it necessary to do so.) She reaches over her husband’s shoulder and plucks a piece of toast off his plate, taking a small bite before asking, “What about Hud? Is he still fighting or…?”
His fork pauses mid air and she feels his shoulder stiffen beneath her hand. Was that going too far? Is she not even allowed to talk about the person who seemed to be one of the only constants in his letters to her? Surely what they talked about in the letters shouldn’t be off topic. After all, she explained where Rachel went off to, shouldn’t she be afforded the same courtesy when it came to Hud? “You should probably go to the store today. We’re running low on meat and we could probably use some more eggs.” He sounds cold and his shoulders don’t relax even when he starts eating his food again.
She swallows hard, biting her bottom lip briefly before leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Of course. Will you be okay watching the kids if I go now?”
“So long as Chris has been fed, we should be able to manage without you for an hour or so.” There’s still a bit of bite in his voice but she can tell that he’s trying to force it down, to make things okay again.
She busies herself with cleaning Beth’s face and hands before letting her out of her chair. Noah finishes his plate, standing slowly with the help of his cane. He kisses her quickly before grabbing Chris’ Moses basket and following Beth as she wanders into the living room.
She comes back an hour later, her arm heavy from the groceries, she finds that Noah seems even worse than when she left. He won’t look at her, barely answers her, and eventually disappears out back for most of the day. She doesn’t follow him because she knows that will only make it worse and instead spends the entire day wondering why asking about Hud set him off so much. Even if the boy was dead like she suspected, she doubts that Noah would have gone this long without completely shutting down about it. There’s something else, something she doesn’t see just yet, and it worries Quinn as to what it could be.
--
She’s trying to sleep (she’s been awake for nearly 20 hours now) but Noah keeps tossing and turning next to her. He keeps alternating between shoving all the blankets off him and greedily stealing the bulk of them from Quinn. She stays silent with her back facing him as she listens to the clock tick, tick, tick until Noah lets out an angry sigh as he flops down on his side. “Noah,” she starts, turning to face him only to be met with his back. “You’ve been moving all night. You haven’t stayed still since you came to bed.”
He turns on to his back, carefully watching for his left leg which is still beyond sore before looking at his wife. “I just can’t sleep.” She frowns as he closes his eyes tiredly because she knows it’s not going to help. Ever since breakfast she’s felt this weight return to her chest, the distance between her and Noah growing bigger than it ever had. He had never ignored her for that long and had never ignored their entire family for that long either. She knows now that bringing up anything to do with the war is off limits (exactly like her mother told her) and she’s okay with that. She felt sick with what very little Noah had already mentioned about the war and she probably couldn’t stomach some of the things he could tell her about what he and his war buddy went through. She just wishes that he would realize she didn’t mean anything by it and let them go back to how they were.
She blows a few strands of hair away from her eyes and briefly thinks of Rachel. She tries not to think of her very much, especially not when she’s in the same room as Noah, but it’s more difficult than she thought. Normally she has two kids begging for her attention and it’s easy to forget that the brunette was ever a fixture in her house. But with her husband refusing to say more than a few words to her, she can’t help but want the girl back in the house.
He rolls on to his side and she scoots closer to him, molding herself to his back as her arm snakes over his side. Touching him was always the easy part. It’s how they got into this life actually, and she sighs in relief when he doesn’t pull away from her. She laces her fingers with his clammy ones and kisses his back lightly. “You can still talk to me Noah… I’m still here.” He stiffens under her touch and it only causes her to squeeze his hand tighter. “Please don’t do this to me… I know that’s selfish but please don’t do this.” She rests her head in the space between his shoulder blades, breathing in deep as she closes her eyes. “I feel like we’re two steps closer to becoming my parents,” she whispers, feeling him relax against her.
He pulls away from her briefly, turning over once more so he can look at the blonde he’s known for half his life. “Why do you have Finn’s newspaper clipping?” Her eyebrows furrow in confusion and he continues. “I was looking through the desk earlier and saw it. Why did you save that clipping?”
“You ignored me for almost an entire day because I saved a newspaper clipping about someone you don’t even know? How do you even know I saved it because of Finn,” she asks as he begins to prop himself up.
“How do you know who Finn is? In all of my letters, I only called him Hud. There is no way you could know from the newspaper that that was him.” He relaxes against the headboard and pushes the blankets off him before reaching down to adjust the pillow beneath his knee.
Quinn swats his hand away and adjusts the pillow for him. She throws the blanket over his legs as she answers, “I… I didn’t know that he was Hud.” Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She saw them walk off together that day at the train station. She knew his last name was Hudson, that he was from Ohio but she never thought that Rachel’s boyfriend was the best friend her husband had made. It’s a little surreal, knowing now that while Quinn was with Rachel, Noah was with Finn.
“So then why did you keep it?! Was it someone else on the page? Because I looked at that list fifteen times and there isn’t a single person you could know on that list.”
“Why do you care so much that I kept it Noah,” she whispers, her fingers pulling at the loose threads on the blanket.
“Because that man got himself killed to save my life and the fact that you randomly kept the notice of his death scares the shit out of me Quinn.” She looks up quickly, eyes wide. She hadn’t known that. Had she, she would’ve made sure to never bring up the other man and would have gotten rid of the newspaper clipping. She honestly doesn’t even know why she kept it… He reaches for her hands and holds them in his lap. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. I know it’s hard for you to think about, let alone talk about. I wouldn’t have kept it had I known that he was Hud and that he...” She swallows hard, closing her eyes tight. She knew Noah had been in battle, that he’d been shot twice in the leg and to her, that was as close to death that he got. But to know now that he could be dead and Finn could be alive… She pushes the blankets off of her, reaching to the foot of the bed for her robe. “I’ll go throw it out.”
“No,” he says, grabbing her hand and tugging her back to her spot on the bed. She arches an eyebrow and he shakes his head. “No. I don’t want you to throw it away.”
“But you’re upset. So upset that you could barely be in the same room as me today.” He shakes his head again and opens his mouth only for nothing to come out. He doesn’t know how to articulate what he wants to say, isn’t sure how much he should allow himself to give away.
“How did you know him,” he asks again, noticing that she looks back down at her hands folded awkwardly in her lap. “Did you know Finn before we left?” She shakes her head. He lets out a sigh of relief and she almost wants to laugh.
“Did Finn ever talk to you about a girl?”
He almost gets a smile on his face when she says that. “We talked about you girls a lot. Her name was Rachel? I think. She was from Germany.”
Quinn nods, swallowing hard. “I talked to her after you two walked off that day at the train station. It’s stupid of me that I didn’t realize he was the Hud you were talking about. It’s just that no one here, not Rachel or his mother, ever referred to him as that.”
“I was the one who gave him the nickname. He called me Puck.” She can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s trying not to cry.
“You two were very close weren’t you?” Her eyes have adjusted well to the darkness and she can see his eyes start to glaze over and feel him pull away without actually letting go of her. She moves closer to him, unfolding her legs and mimics the way he sits against the headboard. She leans into his side and stares at the dresser on the wall opposite of their bed. “I was very close with Rachel…” She can tell by the way he exhales that he already knows what she means. He doesn’t push her away like she thought or yell at her for being unfaithful and it’s starting to dawn on her that they maybe Finn was just as important as Rachel. “She was over here nearly everyday you were gone. She helped me a lot, with Beth and the house, and me. And eventually we…” She swallows, shaking her head before she exhales. She can’t say it out loud. She can’t admit to him what she did even if she doesn’t regret it for a moment.
They sit in silence and she waits patiently. Noah has never been particularly good with emotions. It takes a lot for him to admit to things, especially to things that he knows will upset others or damn him in someone else’s eyes. He will always open up to her (though, since he’s been home, that’s changed a lot) and this is one thing that sets them apart from her parents and all the other people in this country right now. They talk about all of these things and yes, she has kept him in the dark about her life for the past nine months. But some things are harder than others to talk about and that’s why she’ll wait patiently for him to admit to her that there was someone else.
He lets out a shaky breath before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I love-” he cuts himself off, scoffing as the tears start to make their way down his cheeks. “Loved,” he corrects, “him.” It’s the one thing that he can think of to say, the most he’s willing to give away so candidly to his wife. He stomach feels like it’s in knots and he squeezes her hand as she waits for her response.
She buries her face into his shoulder. “I love her.”
He turns to look down at her, smiling a little even though he can’t seem to stop crying. “We’re one fucked up bunch aren’t we?” She laughs into his shoulder, not even caring that he cursed.
“We’re very lucky to have found each other then,” she mumbles into his skin before things grow quiet again. She feels heavy again in an entirely different way. She should be upset. Both of them have just admitted infidelities, even though neither of them could physically say it. But neither of them are upset or feel jealous and it makes her wonder if there’s something wrong with them. You aren’t supposed to love more than one person. You’re not supposed to be okay with the fact that your husband cheated on you. Maybe they don’t love each other. Maybe that’s why they’re both eerily okay with these admissions.
“So what happens now?” She doesn’t answer him, just lifts a hand to his face and brushes away his tears with the pad of her thumb. “I still love you ya know. I still want to be with you. I want to watch our kids grow and have you there…”
She smiles sadly and nods against his shoulder. “I still love you too… Do we… Do we talk about them? About what happened?”
He takes a deep breath and gives her hands a small squeeze. “I don’t think I can do that… At least not now. I couldn’t even look at that newspaper without getting upset.” As much as this would be considered pulling away from her, she gets it. She had never told Noah about Rachel and even now that he at least knows the tip of the iceberg, she’s not sure she wants to share Rachel with him.
“Let’s make a deal.” She lifts her head and he turns to look at her in the dark. “We don’t talk about it now. We don’t talk about it for a few months. Hell, maybe not even for a year or two. Maybe not ever. But if we ever feel the need to ask, after a proper amount of time of course, we’ll talk. We don’t have to tell everything but just… something.”
He nods. “And this doesn’t happen again right? I don’t…” He sighs, irritated that he can’t figure out how to phrase what he wants to say. “You’re my wife and I don’t want to share you with anyone else. I don’t want there to be another Rachel or another Finn or whoever. It’s just us from now on.”
“Okay,” she agrees, smiling a little as she does so. They do love each other, their love is just a little bit different and that’s okay. She finally feels at home with her husband. There’s no more real secrets and even though she knows it will still be hard for Noah to return to normal, she doesn’t feel like running anymore. She knows now that this is where she’s supposed to be.
He drops her hands and instead sticks his right hand out toward her. “Deal.” She places her hand in his, allowing him to firmly shake her hand. She kisses him softly after she lets go of his hand and then finds her way underneath the covers again. “We’re gonna be okay aren’t we?” He scoots down on the bed so he can lie down too and she sighs.
“Yeah. I think we are.” She believes it this time.
Epilogue
Author: only_because3
Rating: T
Length: 12,013
Spoilers: None really. Though I do use elements discovered in 1x04
Summary: AU Set in the 1940s. “Have you ever thought about what you would’ve done if you hadn’t had Beth? What you’d be doing now if we hadn’t met?”
Author's Note: Final chapter! I have to say, I'm sad to see this end. I really enjoyed writing it. Though I think some of you may hate me for how this ends. I guess we'll see! As a warning, there's not a lot of Rachel (in fact, she doesn't appear until the epilogue). I am nervous about this chapter just because I'm not sure how well it flows with the rest of the chapters but it sort of takes on a different tone which was necessary. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!
--
She isn’t able to get to the train station and, as much as she wants to see Noah right away, she really wouldn’t be much help. Noah can walk, but not well; his leg is still rigid, causing him to walk slower than ever before and need constant support. She’s due to give birth any day now, her stomach so large and outstretched that she can practically feel her stretch marks growing deeper. She doubts she’d be able to support Noah on his way up the stairs now that she’s so off balance herself. So, much to everyone’s dismay, her father and Leah’s husband James went to pick Noah up from the train station. She knows he won’t be happy about this and that it will probably only make him feel worse, but there were no other people who would be able to get him from the train station and to the house. She hopes that the latkes she made for dinner and the rugalach Mrs. Puckerman brought help.
She sits at her vanity, hair curled slightly and pinned back on both sides. She wishes she could wear a nicer dress but, even with her girdle on, she can’t wear any of the dresses she knows Noah would love. She sighs, something that makes her girdle feel a little loose, only for a moment. She hates this thing. She swears her baby is being smushed and thinks she can feel every inch of the baby against her even though she’s loosened the laces on her stomach a lot. If her mother weren’t down the hall, she’d take the whole thing off. But she knows her mother will question her, tell her she’s not dressing proper, and she’d rather feel like she can’t breathe than hear her mother’s voice.
She glances at her bed in the reflection of the mirror and lets out an unsteady breath. She put on the other set of sheets they own, the blue ones that they received as a wedding gift from Noah’s great aunt. The white ones, the ones she laid on with Rachel, she soaked for two days. Now they’re folded and tucked underneath all the winter blankets in the linen closet. She wants to avoid using them for as long as she can. She’s not sure she can lay with Noah on those sheets, without the guilt eating away at her. She looks at the trunk at the foot of the bed and her eyes widen when she realizes she hasn’t put that blanket away yet. She’d been sleeping with it every night since Rachel left and thought she had put it in the trunk underneath her wedding dress but apparently she didn’t.
She returns her gaze to her reflection reaching for the red lipstick she saves for special occasions. Her mother thinks it makes her look easy but both Noah and Rachel have told her she looks beautiful when she wears it. It’s the final touch, her eyes already coated with mascara and the tiniest bit of eyeliner, powder on her face and blush already lining her cheek bones. She dabs some of the perfume she got on her 13th birthday on her wrists before dragging them along her neck as well.
It feels almost weird, dressing up again. Not that she hasn’t put on make up or perfume since Noah left (she’s done that nearly every day), but knowing that this is the first time in nearly nine months that her husband will see her is kind of daunting. She wonders if he’ll think she looks different (specifically fatter or maybe even tainted) or if he’ll look like someone she doesn’t recognize. She breathes in deeply, closing her eyes in order to clear her thoughts. Everything will be fine, she repeats to herself as she slowly opens her eyes. Another deep breath as she gives herself one last once over in the mirror. She stands up, buttoning the final three buttons on the cerulean dress and swallows thickly.
She can hear Beth’s laughter from down the hall, followed by her mother’s giggling. The windows are open, letting in a breeze that only appeared today, and she can hear a car passing by in front of the house if she really focuses on the sounds around her. The rumbling of the car gets louder, so loud that she realizes it can’t just be passing through. She picks up the blanket she laid under with Rachel and sets it into the trunk carefully as someone (probably Jenna) drops a pot in the kitchen.
“NOAH,” the young girl squeals and suddenly it’s not quiet at all in the house. It went from semi-hushed voices, everyone anticipating the return of her boy in relative silence, to noise that bounces off the walls. She can hear Mrs. Puckerman telling Jenna to calm down, Nana Puckerman yelling in Yiddish, her mother asking Beth if she knows who’s home, her father screaming outside for James to turn off the damn car before they roll back into the street (she finds it a little nice that her father hates Leah’s husband too, if only a little bit) and Leah calling for everyone to come down stairs.
She desperately wishes she could hear Noah’s or Rachel’s voice right now.
She shuts the trunk and then steps into the hallway, her mother already halfway down the stairs with Beth in her arms. Her mother may not care very much for Noah, but if being excited for his return makes Beth happy, then Judy Fabray is more than willing to indulge her granddaughter (at least when her husband isn’t around).
Quinn can see everyone filing out on to the lawn as she steps off the stairs, eyes focused on her father’s car. James pulls out Noah’s duffle, tossing it on to the lawn near the patch of grass that is always dry. Her dad opens the back door on the passenger side, bending down on his strong leg to throw Noah’s arm over his shoulders. James goes over to help but Russell waves him off, something that makes her sister frown and Quinn smirk. She leans in the doorway, the screen door held open with one of her potted plants, her arms crossed underneath her chest. Her father straightens out slowly, causing Judy to ask if his leg is all right. “I am fine Judy,” he grumbles, brow furrowed in a way that proves him a liar. But then Quinn can see the top of Noah’s head and suddenly, her father and husband are standing tall, looks of pain and triumph on their faces.
“Daddy, why don’t you let James help Noah,” Leah whines as her husband stands nervously next to her.
“What good would his flat feet do us,” her father barks and Quinn stifles a laugh. Maybe Russell won’t hate Noah as much anymore now that he’s fought in a war.
Noah looks up from the ground when they both walk from around the car. They stop once they reach the grass, leaning on each other for support, and his eyes instantly find her. Not his mother, not his sister, or even Beth. Her.
He’s so much thinner now, his jaw much more prominent than it was before. He looks… hardened, something her mother warned her about and called ‘the face of battle’. It scares her, afraid that Noah is no longer the boy she came to love. That she’ll become her mother, unhappy with her marriage and fearful of her husband.
(Why did Rachel leave her?)
The corners of his lips upturn, giving her a small smile before bringing his free arm up and letting it fall again, as if saying ‘Well?’ He arches an eyebrow when she stands idle on the porch and she can tell from her spot that something else is different about his face.
She walks, well, waddles over to him and when she gets close enough, she notices the scar slashing through his eyebrow. She frowns, hand raising to touch it hesitantly and he shakes his head. “It’s just a scar babe,” he says softly and she rolls her eyes because he should know that, to her, it will never be just a scar. Her fingertips brush over the scar lightly before she cups his cheek, smiling when he leans into her touch.
“I missed you Noah,” she whispers and when he smiles a little wider, she lets out a sigh of relief. Everything around her drops out of focus and the only thing she sees is her husband in front of her, his arm wrapped around her waist (bringing her closer and steadying himself at the same time). Her stomach presses against his and she feels the baby move beneath her skin, wonders if Noah can feel it too. He doesn’t say anything if he does, instead just brings his lips to hers.
It’s so familiar but so unbelievably different that she doesn’t respond at first. She’s too concentrated on the fact that his lips are chapped and rough and his mouth moves with less grace than before. He almost feels too heavy against her, his lips claiming dominance in a way that makes her miss Rachel on a day when she shouldn’t be thinking about her at all. But then he bites her bottom lip (something she’d scold him about doing in front of family if she was thinking properly) and tangles his hand in her hair and she inhales against his lips sharply. It makes his grip on her tighten and she finds herself wrapping her arms around his neck desperately as she feels the baby kick wildly against her skin.
--
Much later that night, after everyone has gone home, she stands in her kitchen. She wipes her wet hands on her apron, sighing as she looks out the window on the back door. Noah is sitting in a folding chair in the middle of their yard, his leg propped up on an old crate. Beth keeps going between the garden (picking flowers that are really nothing more than weeds according to Quinn) and her father who accepts the flowers with a tight smile. He doesn’t look angry, just out of place and a little dazed, causing her faded red lips to downturn. He tries to braid the flowers together, almost creating a crown for Beth when his fingers fumble and his large hands crush more than half of the small white and yellow petals.
He shrugs when Beth looks at him expectantly and she can tell just from the way her daughter is standing that she’s about to break into tears. She walks over to the door, hand clutching the brass doorknob in her hand but not calling attention to herself just yet. Normally, Beth never cries in front of Noah, or at the very least, doesn’t cry for very long when he’s around. But he barely moves in his seat, hands still folded on top of wilting weeds as he stares blankly at their daughter’s scrunched up face. Beth reaches for the plants in Noah’s lap, picking them up and let’s out a wail that she can hear even though the door is closed.
He doesn’t do anything, just keeps staring until Quinn opens the door and calls for Beth to come inside. The little girl stomps her way over, tripping over her own feet a little, before she buries her face in Quinn’s legs. “We can try and make another one tomorrow. It’s bath time now okay?” She runs her fingers through Beth’s soft curls, smiling when she feels the little girl nod. She glances back at her husband, noticing that he’s still looking at the spot where Beth was standing. “Noah?”
Her mother told her she needed to expect this. She had pulled her aside in the kitchen earlier, busying herself with glasses as she spoke. “I know it all seems fine now, but he is different Quinn. You were young when your father changed so you probably don’t realize just how much Noah is changed,” she said, voice barely above a whisper as she poured lemonade into the glasses on the tray. “He’ll get angry easily, he’ll be silent more often than not… You need to be prepared for this.”
“I know Mother. You’ve been telling me this ever since he left,” she retorted and Judy just shook her head.
“He’s here now though. It’s no longer when he gets home, it’s now that you have to deal with this.”
She sighs and wipes the back of her hand over her forehead to get rid of the sweat already forming there. “Noah,” she yells and he blinks, this time looking over at her. He seems ever further away than he did when he was out of the country even though he’s in their backyard. “I’m going to give Beth her bath. Do you want help in before or do you want me to get you once I’m done?”
“What ever is easiest babe,” he says and she nods, grabbing Beth’s hand and turning around.
--
He slings an arm over her shoulder as she wraps her left arm around his waist. She glances up at his face and notices that he looks just as worried as she feels. “Why don’t I just sleep on the couch,” he asks.
She shakes her head, glancing behind him to look at their small couch. “You’ll never get comfortable. You’re too long to lay on it so you’ll probably have to sleep sitting up with your legs on the table.” The real question, she thinks, is why on Earth they told everyone to go home. Both her father and Mrs. Puckerman offered to stay but Quinn politely declined, wanting at least one night alone with her husband. “Come on. So long as you make use of the banister we should be fine.” He nods, gripping the polished wood as he sets his good leg on the first step. She steps up too, trying with all her might to steady him and take on some of his weight when he lifts his wounded leg.
He groans when he brings his leg up, wanting desperately to put pressure on the wounds. He falls on to his forearm on the banister in an effort to not crush his wife. “Just breathe baby,” she says, bringing her free hand up to cup his cheek briefly. “We can go as slow as you need to.” Her body starts hurting due to the awkward way she’s bent underneath Noah’s arm. Letting him sleep downstairs is definitely looking like a better option.
“I scared you earlier didn’t I?” She looks up at him, her eyebrows scrunching together in worry when she notices just how hard he’s breathing. He drops his arm and turns so that he can lean his back on the banister, Quinn following suit and letting go of his waist. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his head hanging as he redistributes his weight on his good leg.
“You just stared at her,” she says quietly as she settles against the plain beige wall, arms coming to rest under her chest. “And even when I called her, you just kept staring…”
“I don’t know why but I just… It’s hard not remembering everything I saw.” She wants to ask him what he saw, what exactly he was remembering and why he remembered something then, when all he was doing was making something for his daughter. She stays silent though because her mother told her to never ask about the war. No matter how curious she got, what happened during his service was absolutely none of her business and so she should bite her tongue whenever she got the notion to stupidly open her mouth. “There were so many kids Q… Some towns where they were the only people there. And we couldn’t do a fucking thing to help them.”
Her heart feels heavy and the baby starts quickly rapidly at the skin below her belly button. She feels like she could get sick if he continues talking about it. “You’re home now,” she manages to say, despite the swelling lump in her throat.
He nods, his face becoming less soft that it was before. “It’s just hard…”
“Will we become like my parents,” she asks after a few moments of silence, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth. She worries that they won’t get past this, much like her parents never did though they pretend that everything is normal. Now that her father appears to have taken a shining to Noah, she can see him trying to mold him into what he thinks a man should act like. Suddenly her future with Noah is filled with images of him downing scotch like water and becoming completely closed off from her. She honestly thinks she would die if she became her mother. And she knows that if she is doomed to live the life of a Fabray, something she’s still working very hard to escape, she’ll regret not fighting for Rachel to stay.
“I’d rather you leave me than have that happen,” he answers, causing her to drop her lip and smile slightly. “Your father is still an asshole, even if he has stopped referring to me as ‘The Jew’. And your mother looks like she’d rather be dead most of the time.” He holds out a calloused hand that she takes gingerly. “I’ve told you before, you deserve a hell of a lot more than what your parents have.”
“So we’ll be okay?”
“It might take some time,” he says, squeezing her hand softly, “but we’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Okay,” she breathes out, body finally relaxing against the wall behind her. She feels like finally sees her husband for the first time in nearly nine months even if she doesn’t exactly believe him. “Come on. I’ll create a makeshift bed for you in the living room. We’ll use the cushions from the couch and chair.” They return to their previous stance except this time they have only one step to conquer instead of a whole flight.
“Do you remember when we first moved in here? All the furniture wouldn’t be here till the next day but we wanted to be out of Ma’s house as soon as we could?”
She smiles, nodding her head as they step off the stairs. “I was about this far along then too.” They walk slowly into the living room and Quinn helps Noah ease down into the hard wood chair at the desk. She moves the coffee table flush with the edge of the couch before throwing the cushions to the rug in the center of the room. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you up the stairs.”
“S’okay babe. I wouldn’t want your water breaking because you have to support me,” he says, absently looking through the few pieces of paper that are out of place on the desk.
“It’ll be easier with your mom helping… And I guess my father. I can’t believe he offered to take you to your doctor’s visits.”
“He could just be saying that so he can take me somewhere and off me,” he laughs, picking up the letter than Quinn crumpled in her fist two weeks ago.
“I don’t think he’d be able to with his leg,” she remarks, kicking the cushions into a row, her face flushing as she disappears down the hall.
“Don’t need two working legs to shoot a gun Q,” he returns distractedly, looking at the newspaper that was underneath the letter in his hand.
“My father’s not going to kill you,” Quinn lectures as she walks back into the room, arms filled with blankets and pillows. “If he was going to, he would’ve done it already. Besides, he needs two legs to hide your body.” She helps him hobble over to the makeshift bed, bracing her feet on either side of his legs as he slowly sits down. She nearly topples over but he loosens his grip on her wrists as she leans back. “You’re sure you’ll be okay down here,” she asks, watching as he sets his leg on to the spare pillow before throwing the light blanket over him.
“It’s not like I could move somewhere else if I wasn’t.” She nods, tucking the hair that’s fallen from her clip behind her ear. She smiles a little when she feels him catch her arm as she turns to go, bringing her hand to him and kissing her palm.
(They sleep in separate rooms because it’s too much work for anyone to get him up the stairs for the rest of the week, up until Quinn’s water breaks when she’s washing dishes before Sunday mass.)
--
She finds it difficult to fall asleep most nights, something she’s sure is going to bite her in the ass once the baby’s born. It’s hard, trying to fall asleep in a room that’s barely recognizable to her anymore. Everything still looks the same but when she closes her eyes, she can only smell the soap wafting from the sheets. Before, the room would smell like Noah, something that was slowly replaced by the lingering smell of Rachel’s perfume during her husband’s absence. It unsettles her more than she’d like, especially since she knows that her husband is home, downstairs in fact, but their bedroom barely shows any sign of his return. Sometimes it still feels like he’s gone, especially since she’ll be in the middle of a conversation with him, only to find that most of her words have fallen on deaf ears. She knows that it’s going to take some time before things get back to some sort of normalcy, but she’s starting to feel even more alone than she did when he was in Europe.
She finds herself wondering if she did the right thing by staying with him, something that really surprises her. While he was gone, she discovered just how much she loved him though she simultaneously fell in love with someone else. Now that he’s back, though a bit broken (in more than one way), she should be thrilled. It’s so nice to be able to touch him again (being physical with Noah was always the thing that came the easiest) but this week has already taken such a toll on her that she can’t remember why she should stay with her husband. Most days they can sit through dinner happily, conversations continuing normally even though she can spot the differences (like how he devours his food quickly, how he practically guards it, and how he always seems to hear something outside). But she hates tip toeing around the months they spent apart, something that she does take some responsibility in. She doesn’t want to talk about Rachel anymore than he wants to talk about the war. And she hates that he’s been home for a week and he’s yet to even sleep in the same bed as her. She knows that if he could, he would, but she wonders if it would still feel like she’s sleeping in bed alone. If she would feel just as far away from him as she does when she sees him ignore Beth or tune her out when they’re talking. He is her husband and feeling so alone with him here makes her wish he’d just leave again. It’s too hard the way that it is now and she can’t help but think how much better she felt when it was Rachel here with her.
She tucks an arm underneath her pillow, rolling over so that her back faces the open door. She wonders if she’d feel different if she’d been alone these past few months. If Rachel hadn’t come along, kept her company, and became so important to Quinn, she’d already be used to being alone and feeling incomplete. This distance in her marriage would feel bearable, maybe even normal. As happy as Rachel made her, she’s ruining the fragile relationship with her husband. Quinn knows that she’s at fault in all this too. After all, she pursued Rachel every step of the way, even if she knew it was wrong, but if Rachel hadn’t been so eager to be in her life, maybe Quinn wouldn’t have thought twice about her and then she wouldn’t feel so displaced in her own life.
She lets out a heavy sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as she hears the grandfather clock chime twice downstairs.
--
She wakes up to a soft hand on her shoulder. “Quinn.” She blinks slowly, turning on to her other side and smiling a little before yawning. Noah stands beside the bed, the bundle that is their son in the crook of his arm, his other arm leaning heavily on the wooden cane he’s been able to walk with. “I think he’s hungry.” She props herself up and unbuttons the first three buttons on her nightgown. He passes the baby to her before making his way over to his side of the bed.
“What time is it,” she asks roughly, looking down as Christopher latches on to her breast.
“Almost time for Beth to wake up.” She nods, eyes slowly closing as she pushes her messy hair back. “Are you going to make pancakes for breakfast?” Noah’s words pull her out of the half sleep she was drifting into and she tightens her grip on her son lightly, looking down as Chris suckles harder in response to her readjusting her arm.
“Of course baby,” she responds like always, like the ever-dutiful wife. She feels his hand palm her thigh and she can’t help the tired sigh that escapes her lips.
Noah’s been home for a month now, Christopher for three weeks. She works off only a few hours of sleep most days. Every day she wakes up to feed Chris, tends to Beth, makes breakfast, cleans the house, entertains Beth while she nurses Chris for the millionth time that day, makes lunch, cleans again, puts the kids down, does laundry, feeds Chris, makes dinner, cleans, bathes the kids, puts the kids to bed, then falls asleep for two hours until she has to feed the baby again before starting over again. Some days she’ll have to find time to tend to the garden or go to the store and it’s those days that she feels like she could collapse at any moment. She honestly doesn’t even know how she finds the time to bathe most days.
She loves her family, she does. Things with Noah are better now; He’s been able to walk a bit more and his… episodes have been getting shorter and a bit further in between (he actually hasn’t had one at all this week). The discontent she felt before still lingers (something that she doesn’t think will ever completely go away. After all, it was there before Noah left) but ultimately she realizes that Noah is back and that she made the right choice by staying with her husband. And her son, though a handful, is gorgeous and healthy and everything she could want, but it is all just so much. She’s only eighteen years old and she has no time to just sit down and breathe for one second.
(And god, it hurts so much to think that she doesn’t even know where Rachel is now.)
She feels her son start to push her away just as she hears Beth start to wake up down the hall. Noah squeezes her thigh, leaning in to kiss the space where neck and shoulder meet. “I’ll go get her while you burp him.” She nods, bringing the baby to her shoulder tiredly. Her husband pauses in the doorway, half his body already going toward their daughter, the other facing her. “Babe?”
“Hm?” She pats her son’s back firmly, already getting up slowly so she can throw her hair up as soon as she gets a burp.
“Are you okay? You look...” he trails off, not sure what to say and what won’t offend his still hormonal wife. She’s been taking it easy on him because he just came back, but he can tell when she’s getting short with him because she gets this look on her face that she only gets when she’s reached her wits end with Beth. He knows that everything has been overwhelming for her, especially since she’s had to do everything on her own during his time away, and he hasn’t really helped her in the least bit since he came back though he can’t be much help anyway. After all, this is the first week he’s trusted himself enough to hold Christopher while walking.
He looks so concerned about her that she puts a fake smile on her face as Chris burps, a small bit of regurgitated milk spilling on to her shoulder that she barely even feels she’s so used to it. “I’m fine. Get Beth please?” Before, she probably would have told him that she’s wasn’t exactly okay. She would’ve told him that she would really just like an afternoon away from all of them to sleep or maybe just a second alone so she could scream without worrying anyone. But her husband is recovering and her mother keeps reminding her that husbands’ needs go before their own.
It makes her sick to her stomach just how much she’s acting like her mother right now. She’s tried so hard to not become Judy Fabray but it seems like fate has other plans.
He nods, even smiles a little and she can tell by the almost relieved look on his face that he believes her. Before he would’ve called bullshit and that thought makes her slump against the headboard while Chris starts crying into her ear.
--
She’s at the sink washing the morning dishes silently, her eyes closed. She’s figured out that this is one of the ways she can get in a little more rest. Her body works on autopilot when it comes to things like dishes and laundry and so she gets through half the dishes blind. She focuses on Beth laughing behind her, followed by a deep chuckle stemming from Noah, all of their noise accompanied by the clanking of silverware against breakfast plates and Beth’s highchair. Christopher is in his carrier, making nonsensical noises every time he moves in his sleep, settling himself into the soft cushions surrounding him. Her family is okay and content and she finds herself scrubbing at the pot in her hand a little slower. So long as everyone is fine, she can keep her eyes closed a little longer.
“Didn’t you have a new friend? I thought you mentioned meeting a girl in one of your letters,” he says randomly, in between bites of his toast. Her eyes open wide, blinking rapidly at the bright light coming in from the window in front of her. The pot in her hand slips, a dull thump resonating beneath the soapy water.
“She left town a few weeks before you came home,” Quinn answers, not entirely sure if she’s lying to him or not. She really has no idea if Rachel stayed in Lima or if she left for California like she sometimes talked about doing, even before Finn died. “Her boyfriend was killed and she left.” She shrugs casually, hoping her voice isn’t betraying her because she can feel a lump forming in her throat, threatening to make her voice crack. “Can’t say I blame her.”
She can hear Noah continuing to eat behind her, unfazed by what his wife is saying, instead more focused on the hash browns on his plate. “Poor girl,” he says, voice laced with what sounds like legitimate sympathy for someone he doesn’t even know. He takes a bite of food, mouth full when he asks if Quinn knew what division he was apart of.
“I don’t really know… I’m not sure I even know what you were apart of.” She shuts off the water, drying her hands on her apron as she goes to check on her son. Chris is sleeping soundly, sucking lightly on his fist and she sighs as she smoothes his fine brown hair down. Her stomach growls as she walks over to the table, running her hand through Beth’s hair too before putting her hands on Noah’s shoulders. He shakes his head and, though she’s not looking at his face, she imagines he’s probably wearing a small smirk. (She’s never been good at remembering anything to do with the military and she doesn’t find it necessary to do so.) She reaches over her husband’s shoulder and plucks a piece of toast off his plate, taking a small bite before asking, “What about Hud? Is he still fighting or…?”
His fork pauses mid air and she feels his shoulder stiffen beneath her hand. Was that going too far? Is she not even allowed to talk about the person who seemed to be one of the only constants in his letters to her? Surely what they talked about in the letters shouldn’t be off topic. After all, she explained where Rachel went off to, shouldn’t she be afforded the same courtesy when it came to Hud? “You should probably go to the store today. We’re running low on meat and we could probably use some more eggs.” He sounds cold and his shoulders don’t relax even when he starts eating his food again.
She swallows hard, biting her bottom lip briefly before leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Of course. Will you be okay watching the kids if I go now?”
“So long as Chris has been fed, we should be able to manage without you for an hour or so.” There’s still a bit of bite in his voice but she can tell that he’s trying to force it down, to make things okay again.
She busies herself with cleaning Beth’s face and hands before letting her out of her chair. Noah finishes his plate, standing slowly with the help of his cane. He kisses her quickly before grabbing Chris’ Moses basket and following Beth as she wanders into the living room.
She comes back an hour later, her arm heavy from the groceries, she finds that Noah seems even worse than when she left. He won’t look at her, barely answers her, and eventually disappears out back for most of the day. She doesn’t follow him because she knows that will only make it worse and instead spends the entire day wondering why asking about Hud set him off so much. Even if the boy was dead like she suspected, she doubts that Noah would have gone this long without completely shutting down about it. There’s something else, something she doesn’t see just yet, and it worries Quinn as to what it could be.
--
She’s trying to sleep (she’s been awake for nearly 20 hours now) but Noah keeps tossing and turning next to her. He keeps alternating between shoving all the blankets off him and greedily stealing the bulk of them from Quinn. She stays silent with her back facing him as she listens to the clock tick, tick, tick until Noah lets out an angry sigh as he flops down on his side. “Noah,” she starts, turning to face him only to be met with his back. “You’ve been moving all night. You haven’t stayed still since you came to bed.”
He turns on to his back, carefully watching for his left leg which is still beyond sore before looking at his wife. “I just can’t sleep.” She frowns as he closes his eyes tiredly because she knows it’s not going to help. Ever since breakfast she’s felt this weight return to her chest, the distance between her and Noah growing bigger than it ever had. He had never ignored her for that long and had never ignored their entire family for that long either. She knows now that bringing up anything to do with the war is off limits (exactly like her mother told her) and she’s okay with that. She felt sick with what very little Noah had already mentioned about the war and she probably couldn’t stomach some of the things he could tell her about what he and his war buddy went through. She just wishes that he would realize she didn’t mean anything by it and let them go back to how they were.
She blows a few strands of hair away from her eyes and briefly thinks of Rachel. She tries not to think of her very much, especially not when she’s in the same room as Noah, but it’s more difficult than she thought. Normally she has two kids begging for her attention and it’s easy to forget that the brunette was ever a fixture in her house. But with her husband refusing to say more than a few words to her, she can’t help but want the girl back in the house.
He rolls on to his side and she scoots closer to him, molding herself to his back as her arm snakes over his side. Touching him was always the easy part. It’s how they got into this life actually, and she sighs in relief when he doesn’t pull away from her. She laces her fingers with his clammy ones and kisses his back lightly. “You can still talk to me Noah… I’m still here.” He stiffens under her touch and it only causes her to squeeze his hand tighter. “Please don’t do this to me… I know that’s selfish but please don’t do this.” She rests her head in the space between his shoulder blades, breathing in deep as she closes her eyes. “I feel like we’re two steps closer to becoming my parents,” she whispers, feeling him relax against her.
He pulls away from her briefly, turning over once more so he can look at the blonde he’s known for half his life. “Why do you have Finn’s newspaper clipping?” Her eyebrows furrow in confusion and he continues. “I was looking through the desk earlier and saw it. Why did you save that clipping?”
“You ignored me for almost an entire day because I saved a newspaper clipping about someone you don’t even know? How do you even know I saved it because of Finn,” she asks as he begins to prop himself up.
“How do you know who Finn is? In all of my letters, I only called him Hud. There is no way you could know from the newspaper that that was him.” He relaxes against the headboard and pushes the blankets off him before reaching down to adjust the pillow beneath his knee.
Quinn swats his hand away and adjusts the pillow for him. She throws the blanket over his legs as she answers, “I… I didn’t know that he was Hud.” Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She saw them walk off together that day at the train station. She knew his last name was Hudson, that he was from Ohio but she never thought that Rachel’s boyfriend was the best friend her husband had made. It’s a little surreal, knowing now that while Quinn was with Rachel, Noah was with Finn.
“So then why did you keep it?! Was it someone else on the page? Because I looked at that list fifteen times and there isn’t a single person you could know on that list.”
“Why do you care so much that I kept it Noah,” she whispers, her fingers pulling at the loose threads on the blanket.
“Because that man got himself killed to save my life and the fact that you randomly kept the notice of his death scares the shit out of me Quinn.” She looks up quickly, eyes wide. She hadn’t known that. Had she, she would’ve made sure to never bring up the other man and would have gotten rid of the newspaper clipping. She honestly doesn’t even know why she kept it… He reaches for her hands and holds them in his lap. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. I know it’s hard for you to think about, let alone talk about. I wouldn’t have kept it had I known that he was Hud and that he...” She swallows hard, closing her eyes tight. She knew Noah had been in battle, that he’d been shot twice in the leg and to her, that was as close to death that he got. But to know now that he could be dead and Finn could be alive… She pushes the blankets off of her, reaching to the foot of the bed for her robe. “I’ll go throw it out.”
“No,” he says, grabbing her hand and tugging her back to her spot on the bed. She arches an eyebrow and he shakes his head. “No. I don’t want you to throw it away.”
“But you’re upset. So upset that you could barely be in the same room as me today.” He shakes his head again and opens his mouth only for nothing to come out. He doesn’t know how to articulate what he wants to say, isn’t sure how much he should allow himself to give away.
“How did you know him,” he asks again, noticing that she looks back down at her hands folded awkwardly in her lap. “Did you know Finn before we left?” She shakes her head. He lets out a sigh of relief and she almost wants to laugh.
“Did Finn ever talk to you about a girl?”
He almost gets a smile on his face when she says that. “We talked about you girls a lot. Her name was Rachel? I think. She was from Germany.”
Quinn nods, swallowing hard. “I talked to her after you two walked off that day at the train station. It’s stupid of me that I didn’t realize he was the Hud you were talking about. It’s just that no one here, not Rachel or his mother, ever referred to him as that.”
“I was the one who gave him the nickname. He called me Puck.” She can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s trying not to cry.
“You two were very close weren’t you?” Her eyes have adjusted well to the darkness and she can see his eyes start to glaze over and feel him pull away without actually letting go of her. She moves closer to him, unfolding her legs and mimics the way he sits against the headboard. She leans into his side and stares at the dresser on the wall opposite of their bed. “I was very close with Rachel…” She can tell by the way he exhales that he already knows what she means. He doesn’t push her away like she thought or yell at her for being unfaithful and it’s starting to dawn on her that they maybe Finn was just as important as Rachel. “She was over here nearly everyday you were gone. She helped me a lot, with Beth and the house, and me. And eventually we…” She swallows, shaking her head before she exhales. She can’t say it out loud. She can’t admit to him what she did even if she doesn’t regret it for a moment.
They sit in silence and she waits patiently. Noah has never been particularly good with emotions. It takes a lot for him to admit to things, especially to things that he knows will upset others or damn him in someone else’s eyes. He will always open up to her (though, since he’s been home, that’s changed a lot) and this is one thing that sets them apart from her parents and all the other people in this country right now. They talk about all of these things and yes, she has kept him in the dark about her life for the past nine months. But some things are harder than others to talk about and that’s why she’ll wait patiently for him to admit to her that there was someone else.
He lets out a shaky breath before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I love-” he cuts himself off, scoffing as the tears start to make their way down his cheeks. “Loved,” he corrects, “him.” It’s the one thing that he can think of to say, the most he’s willing to give away so candidly to his wife. He stomach feels like it’s in knots and he squeezes her hand as she waits for her response.
She buries her face into his shoulder. “I love her.”
He turns to look down at her, smiling a little even though he can’t seem to stop crying. “We’re one fucked up bunch aren’t we?” She laughs into his shoulder, not even caring that he cursed.
“We’re very lucky to have found each other then,” she mumbles into his skin before things grow quiet again. She feels heavy again in an entirely different way. She should be upset. Both of them have just admitted infidelities, even though neither of them could physically say it. But neither of them are upset or feel jealous and it makes her wonder if there’s something wrong with them. You aren’t supposed to love more than one person. You’re not supposed to be okay with the fact that your husband cheated on you. Maybe they don’t love each other. Maybe that’s why they’re both eerily okay with these admissions.
“So what happens now?” She doesn’t answer him, just lifts a hand to his face and brushes away his tears with the pad of her thumb. “I still love you ya know. I still want to be with you. I want to watch our kids grow and have you there…”
She smiles sadly and nods against his shoulder. “I still love you too… Do we… Do we talk about them? About what happened?”
He takes a deep breath and gives her hands a small squeeze. “I don’t think I can do that… At least not now. I couldn’t even look at that newspaper without getting upset.” As much as this would be considered pulling away from her, she gets it. She had never told Noah about Rachel and even now that he at least knows the tip of the iceberg, she’s not sure she wants to share Rachel with him.
“Let’s make a deal.” She lifts her head and he turns to look at her in the dark. “We don’t talk about it now. We don’t talk about it for a few months. Hell, maybe not even for a year or two. Maybe not ever. But if we ever feel the need to ask, after a proper amount of time of course, we’ll talk. We don’t have to tell everything but just… something.”
He nods. “And this doesn’t happen again right? I don’t…” He sighs, irritated that he can’t figure out how to phrase what he wants to say. “You’re my wife and I don’t want to share you with anyone else. I don’t want there to be another Rachel or another Finn or whoever. It’s just us from now on.”
“Okay,” she agrees, smiling a little as she does so. They do love each other, their love is just a little bit different and that’s okay. She finally feels at home with her husband. There’s no more real secrets and even though she knows it will still be hard for Noah to return to normal, she doesn’t feel like running anymore. She knows now that this is where she’s supposed to be.
He drops her hands and instead sticks his right hand out toward her. “Deal.” She places her hand in his, allowing him to firmly shake her hand. She kisses him softly after she lets go of his hand and then finds her way underneath the covers again. “We’re gonna be okay aren’t we?” He scoots down on the bed so he can lie down too and she sighs.
“Yeah. I think we are.” She believes it this time.
Epilogue