Let Me Sing To You Tonight: Out of My Hands - Part A
Title: Let Me Sing to You Tonight
Pairing: Rachel Berry&&Quinn Fabray
Rating: T
Part: 8/10
Previous parts: | 1 | 2| 3| 4| 5| 6A| 6B| 7|
Disclaimer: This is a work of my own mind, and reflects nothing of the included characters I've borrowed from the lucky ass who owns them. In other words, this is for fun, don't sue me!
Author's Note: Here’s the next part! Please leave your thoughts. :)
Weeks later, Quinn was burning out. She moved monotonously through her mornings because she tossed tirelessly through the nights. Most of the time, she put on the facade that nothing was wrong. If anyone asked, she was happy that Rachel was out of her life, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Denying it was like pretending that gravity didn't exist: she tried as mightily as she could, but she couldn't wish herself to fly away or fall off the face of the earth; it simply wasn't possible.
Santana and Brittany had taken to sleeping in Quinn's bed, at Brittany's request. The two of them would sleep on either side of her, as if to create a buffer to keep out the night terrors and protect the broken girl from what had happened. The dancer would hold the other blonde near her, stroking her arm affectionately or pressing sporadic kisses into her hair to try and put her to sleep. Still, hours later, when Quinn would find herself shaking from the silent sobs racking through her deteriorating body, it was Santana, not Brittany, that would hold her and keep her from sinking away from reality.
Quinn opened one eye at the signs of daybreak creeping in through her shut senses: she could avoid the light turned fleshy through her eyelids by burying her face in the pillow, but she couldn't avoid the sweet chirping of birds out the bedroom window. The girl rolled her eyes at the cheerful noise as she slipped soundlessly out of bed, keeping quiet so as not to wake the spooning couple taking over the other half of the bed. Tip-toeing softly into the kitchen, she rummaged quietly in the cupboards, not quite sure what she was looking for, but emitting a triumphant grunt when she succeeded in finding the largest glass she owned.
Humming softly, the blonde stifled a yawn as she dropped a few ice cubes into the oversized tumbler and filled it to the brim with water.
Quinn didn't realize what she was doing, not even when the water dribbled down her chin. Groaning, she swiped at her skin with her unoccupied sleeve. She swirled the inch of water left in the cup around mindlessly, but it was only when she began to circle the rim of the cup with the fingertips of her other hand that her thoughts turned to the last time she saw Rachel and how the brunette had explained her habit of drinking water when she was upset. The blonde felt her stomach flip, nausea washing over her in constant waves.
The tears sprung to her eyes, and she hadn't realized that she had dropped the glass until Santana's arms were around her, pulling her away from the broken shards and splinters and calling to her sleeping fiancée to come help. Quinn had had every intention of carrying on the way she had been, but when her first rational thought, even through her sobs, was that now she no longer owned a cup large enough for Rachel to drown her sorrows in, she finally had to admit it to herself.
As sick as it made Quinn to confess it, she missed Rachel.
The bell linked to the door broke the quiet of the café and Quinn looked up, breath catching in her throat. The sight of the confident man striding through the door had her heart lodging in her chest as panic washed over her.
Standing as tall as the day she had first seen him, Greg tugged on his shirt's sleeve nervously as his eyes scanned the near empty café until they fell upon her standing behind the counter. Quinn found herself frozen, her body glued to the spot as Rachel's director advanced towards her. Her mind screamed at her body to run in the opposite direction, but her legs stayed rooted to the spot as wide eyes found themselves unable to tear themselves away from one of the most terrifying sights of her life.
"Hello, there. Quinn, is it? I'm Greg, the director." He asked, smiling at the blonde disarmingly. Terror coursed through the blonde's veins, as she stood shell-shocked before the intimidating man.
Greg frowned, clearing his throat and shoving his hands in his pockets. "I- uh, I guess I should have known that you wouldn't want to see me." His eyes searched Quinn's face, his forehead crumpling in defeat as he tried once more. "Rachel talked to me. I wanted to-" Cutting off, the man straightened up and met Quinn's gaze once more, speaking more confidently. "I'm here to apologize."
The words rocked the blonde backwards and she found herself stumbling into a gentle but secure embrace as venom laced words cut through the air. "You can leave now, Greg." Kirsten hissed lowly, her grip on Quinn firm, even as the brunette moved to stand between the director and the frightened girl. "Rachel Berry isn't welcome here and neither are you."
Greg took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender as he sincerely pleaded, "I'm just here to talk. To apologize."
"Who do you think you are? Showing up here after everything you've done to her? You're no better than Berry and don't you for a second fool yourself into thinking you are. You both are the most despicable people I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." Kirsten gritted out, letting go of Quinn and moving closer to the intimidated man. "I'm going to tell you this one last time, Greg. Get the fuck out of here before I throw you out myself," the brunette threatened, her features darkening ominously as she bored holes into the director's eyes.
Licking his lips uneasily, he stepped back looking entreatingly in Quinn's direction. "I just wanted to help you understand, Quinn. I'm not here to speak on Rachel's behalf, just to explain that there's a little more under the surface and-"
"Get out!" Kirsten thundered suddenly, a closed fist coming down on the counter, the mugs resting on the end trembling from the force. The few patrons of the café jerked up at the sudden noise, one going as far as to gather his things and exit the café in a grumbling huff about proper times and places for such conversations.
Kirsten had had enough and she moved to head to the other side of the counter when a soft voice called back to her. Kirsten turned to Quinn, an eyebrow quirked up so high that the blonde would have been proud had it been under different circumstances.
"I-" Quinn found the words catching on the jagged edges of her heart, still lodged successfully in her chest and she cleared her throat, trying again with a glance at the devastatingly relieved man in front of her. "I think I want to talk to him, Kirsten."
Her co-worker looked on incredulously, moving in to speak urgently under her breath, as her eyes searched Quinn's face for any uncertainty. "Q, are you a hundred percent sure about this?"
Mustering up a small, weak smile, Quinn patted her friend's arm and moved to remove her apron. "I haven't been a hundred percent sure about anything for a while, Kirst. We'll talk right outside. If anything at all looks fishy, you have my permission to come running to my rescue to do whatever your heart desires."
Grumbling, Kirsten looked up at the man and bit out one last warning, assuring him that if he so much as made one wrong move, he would be castrated in the most painful way he could imagine.
Greg swallowed, nodding jerkily at the brunette as Quinn watched from the side. This man was nothing like the one she had met before. Recalling his acting chops, the question of authenticity arose immediately. He had been so intimidating, commandeering, and demanding at the auditions. In the coffee house, Greg had been seemingly genuine and sincere. But he was an actor, Quinn reminded herself and the fact of the matter was that she knew nothing about him.
Nodding curtly at the man, the blonde led him to a small set of tables and chairs outside the door of the café.
The director moved immediately to pull a chair out for the blonde, gesturing for her to sit down with a small smile on his face. Cocking her head to one side, Quinn deliberately reached over and pulled the other chair back noisily, slipping into the seat and watching the smile fall off of Greg's face.
Clearing his throat, the man smoothly recovered from the rejection and moved to sit down in the chair he had held out for Quinn. He folded his hands on the tabletop only to unfold them immediately and rub them on the thighs of his perfectly fitting jeans.
Laughing hesitantly, he looked up at Quinn briefly. "Sorry. I-I'm actually kind of nervous."
"Why?" It was the first word the blonde had spoken to the man and she uttered so quietly that had he not been watching her so intently, he would have missed it entirely.
"Ah- she speaks." Greg attempted feebly, then dropped the smile again as Quinn continued to scrutinize him from across the table. "A-Actually-" Clearing his throat, he deepened his voice and spoke a little louder, "Coming here was an impulse decision. I spoke to Rachel a few days ago, immediately after-" he paused, his face puckering unattractively as he struggled to find the right word.
"After she fucked me over, you mean." Quinn supplied, not a drop of humor to be found in her words.
"Y-Yeah. After that." Greg stammered, scooting forward in his chair to look curiously at Quinn. "I was just sitting in my office earlier and I couldn't get you out of my head. Everything Rachel told me, it just-it really brought me down, you know?" Knowing better than to expect a response from the girl by now, he continued on. "And I was just wondering if I was in your shoes-"
"You're not in my shoes." Quinn cut in, hissing at the director who looked very taken aback at the maliciousness flaring up in the blonde's eyes. "You put me in this position. You did this to me and don't you dare forget it."
"I-I won't." Leaning up, he rubbed his cheek roughly and let out a rough chuckle. "I think I'm in a little over my head, Quinn. I came to apologize. To let you know how sorry I was for letting Rachel take it as far as she did."
Quinn sat silently in her chair, looking up when Kirsten exited the coffee house with a single mug of steaming cocoa. Setting the mug in front of the blonde, the barista leaned down and pressed a soft kiss in her hair, whispering softly in her ear that she was just a second away should she need her. Smiling genuinely, Quinn squeezed her friend's hand briefly, grateful for the support and security Kirsten's loyalty provided.
As Kirsten breezed by Greg without even a glance of acknowledgement, he lifted a hand slightly in the air and called to her. "Actually, would it be possible to get the same thing she's-"
"Fuck off, asswipe." Kirsten interrupted, not even the slightest falter in her stride as she disappeared inside the café once more.
Clearing his throat, Greg slumped in his chair, "Duly noted. Your friend there-she's quite the um-well, she's definitely something." He finished lamely and dragged a hand through his graying hairs. "You're right, you know? I'm responsible for this. Just as much as Rachel, if not more."
Quinn dug her fingernails into the palms of her hand, willing to keep the involuntary wince at the brunette's name under control. She shook her head gently, desperately willing the warm chocolate gaze out of her mind and focused on Greg's rambling apology.
The man seemed to be bouncing from one thing to another, in no particular order and Quinn found herself more lost than before. Holding up a hand, she stopped his rambling and looked on curiously, with no malice in her gaze anymore. "Why are you here, Greg? Honestly."
He seemed to be slightly confused by the question if his furrowed brow was anything to go by. "I-I don't know. I just wanted to let you know that I was sorry and I guess explain the situation if I would be allowed to do so, that is."
The blonde immediately shook her head, letting out a sigh of disappointment. "I don't want excuses, Greg. If that's all you're here to offer me, I suggest you leave now and save your breath."
"No!" Greg instantly protested, shaking his head vehemently. "It's not an excuse. I'm not trying to shirk responsibility, here. That's the point I'm trying to get across here, though I can see that I'm not doing a very good job. I'm here to own up to my faults, Quinn. I'm here to explain what was going on in my head, in Rachel's, what it was we were trying to accomplish and how things spiraled out of everyone's control."
Panic surged through Quinn's body, realization dawning upon her that the answers to all of her questions were sitting right in front of her. Sensing the dread, Greg leaned in with another one of his disarmingly charming smiles. "You don't have to do any of this, Quinn. It's all just my way of letting you know you-"
"Start from the beginning." The blonde interrupted, eyes closed as she took slow deep breaths. Letting her eyes flutter open, she nodded once more, speaking more assuredly. "I want to know everything. All the details."
And so it began.