Summary: [Faberry / AU post season 3] In college, Rachel swore that falling in love with Quinn was the easiest thing in the world. But like all things, love is complicated. With their divorce looming, Rachel decides to make a last ditch effort.
Author's Note: This is a little fic I wrote a while back. It's pretty sad and cheesy. Thanks for reading!
LIFE AFTER LOVE
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Quinn dropped the hefty volume of papers on their coffee table silently. At least it was their coffee table for now at least. Rachel picked up the papers, reading the bolded lines that seemed to scream at her:
DISSOLUTION (DIVORCE) OF MARRIAGE.
This was real and this was happening. Rachel wanted to cry, but Quinn was standing right there, and she felt selfish and weak and disgusting. So she blinked back the tears and choked out the words asking, "When do you need it signed by?"
/
After high school Quinn and Rachel parted ways happily, with Rachel going to the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts (NYADA) and Quinn going to Yale University. Rachel slipped the bus pass that Quinn gave her before they graduated into her desk drawer, promising to herself that as soon as she acclimatized to college and her schoolwork eased up, she would visit the blonde in New Haven.
/
Of course that never happened until Finn, Rachel's boyfriend, broke up with her when she came back to Lima during winter break. After so many years of believing in their fairy tale-like romance, Rachel thought she would be much more affected by the break up, but after two days of crying into her pillow and listening to her favorite Taylor Swift breakup songs, she was feeling okay. Which was weird.
Deep down, below her idealism and wishful thinking, she knew that they never would have worked out. Deep down, she knew that he was a six feet tall, small town guy and she was a 5'2", big city girl. Deep down, she knew that her dreams were bigger than him.
Excusing herself from a hilariously entertaining game of truth or drink to sneak back to her dorm to video chat with her boyfriend is–for lack of a better word–disheartening to say the least.
So when he told her that the distance between Lima and New York City was too much for him to deal with at the moment, she didn't say a word to protest.
She let her love for Finn go; her love for her dream was bigger.
/
Rachel promptly changed her relationship status to single on Facebook.
She got a variety of reactions: Santana said, "It's about time midget," Tina commented a sad emoji, Puck said, "So r u dtf now? (jk sorry bout the breakup babe)," and the rest of the glee club gave her their condolences.
Everyone except for Quinn.
/
Hey.
The Facebook message was properly punctuated and so very Quinn. Rachel furrowed her brow. It had been a month after her breakup and she had received nothing but radio silence from the blonde.
Hello Quinn, she wrote back.
I'm sorry about you and Finn.
Rachel tried not to roll her eyes. Quinn had never supported their relationship. She could very imagine Quinn smirking in satisfaction when she caught wind of the breakup.
I'm also sorry for the late message, Quinn continued. I don't check Facebook often.
It's quite alright Quinn. I have only recently grasped the mechanisms and true usage of social media recently, so I don't blame you for your lack of punctuality.
As verbose as usual, I see, Quinn teased.
There was a lull in the conversation. Rachel didn't know where the conversation was going so she sat back and let Quinn take the reins, watching curiously as the "..." symbol kept going on and off.
After a minute that felt like five, Quinn sent a message.
Do you want to hang out this weekend? I could take the bus up to New York.
Rachel bit the inside of her cheek. Her friendship with Quinn in high school was tentative at best. They never talked to each other very much, but when they did, it was intense and emotionally draining. Granted, it was better than how Quinn used to bully her in sophomore year, but she never got very close to the girl.
The message was... different. Quinn was always very confident, a quality that she and Rachel shared, but the message was strangely hesitant in a way that made Rachel soften.
Sure, she wrote back.
/
"Rachel, wake up!"
Rachel groaned sleepily, burrowing her face under her blanket, away from her screeching roommate. Her body was sore in all the wrong places because of her god awful, perfectionist dance instructor and she had only gotten three hours of sleep the night before. She was dead. Gone. Deceased.
"I love you a lot Carla. You are truly a wonderful roommate, but I question that fact when you pull stunts like this," Rachel grumbled. "Can't a girl who get some sleep around here?"
"You have a visitor, dumbass." Carla swatted her butt for emphasis.
"Who on earth would visit me?" Rachel turned her face onto her pillow to block out the light.
"Hi Rachel." The voice was even and familiar.
"Quinn?!" Rachel shrieked. Indeed, Quinn stood at her door looking as gorgeous as always with a smile on her lips. "Oh my gosh, I'm so, so sorry Quinn. I completely forgot that today was when you were visiting me. Normally I wouldn't forget, but this week has really hit me with such a large workload that I'm terribly lacking in sleep. I thought I took a 15 minute nap, but I suppose it's really a-" She peered at the clock quickly. "Four hour nap."
"It's okay," Quinn said. "I wasn't wasn't waiting long. Carla kept me company."
Rachel smiled at her roommate gratefully. "So just give me ten minutes to get ready, and I'll be right out!"
/
Ten minutes turned into thirty minutes, but Quinn didn't seem to mind all that much. Rachel apologized profusely just in case.
They walked through campus and Rachel pointed out buildings like a tour guide. "That's the dance studio, where that wicked witch of a dance instructor, Cassandra July, resides."
"Is that why you've been limping? Because of her dance class?"
Rachel's lips curved into a smile unknowingly. It was refreshing to talk to someone who was observant and seemed to be interested in what she was saying.
"Yes. She's been a total bitch. I don't understand why; I've been the model student. I think she has a prejudice against short people," Rachel said, a little miffed about it.
"I'm sure she'll warm up to you in the end," Quinn reassured her. Her hazel eyes looked sincere in the nighttime and Rachel couldn't help believing in her words.
Rachel's mind flashed to their junior prom when Quinn broke down about her insecurities about the future and Rachel told her, "You're the prettiest girl I've met Quinn, but you're a lot more than that."
Her words from two years ago still held true, even more so now.
/
They ended up going to Manhattan to visit the typical tourist spots as well as the Broadway district.
Rachel pointed up at the marquee of a theater and declared, "My name will be up there in less than four years."
Quinn laughed, nodding in agreement. "Of course."
They walked on aimlessly. Rachel commented on the occasional landmark.
"Are you still majoring in drama?" Rachel asked, realizing that she knew next to nothing about the blonde.
"No, I changed it to pre-law actually," Quinn said.
"Why the change?"
"I think I've done enough acting in my life," Quinn replied so quietly that Rachel strained to hear her above the noise of constant traffic. Rachel was surprised that Quinn was so honest to her about such a sensitive topic. After having to act like someone else for a huge chunk of her high school career to please her family's expectations, it made sense that Quinn would be a bit sick of acting.
Quinn cleared her throat. "Turns out, I'm pretty drawn to prosecution."
Rachel could already see Quinn in a power suit cross examining a witness with an unwaveringly steady gaze. She had been on the brunt of Scary Quinn for a time in high school, and that was enough to tell her that Quinn was not someone to mess with.
"You'll be great at it," Rachel said with surety. "You're going to clean up the streets with your awesome prosecution skills. I know it."
Quinn gave her a small smile, and Rachel thought about how nice it looked on her and how nice it was to be Quinn's friend.
/
They hung out every other weekend. Time was hard to come by with Quinn being a certified nerd who needed her study time and Rachel being involved in everything that had the word "musical" in the description. Still, they carved out time and one of them would take the bus down or up to the other and they would talk for hours about their week.
"So," Kurt drawled through the phone. "The rumors say that you've been talking with a certain Quinn Fabray lately."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "And who, may I ask, leaked this information?"
"A lady never tells her secrets," Kurt replied casually. "Your roommate Carla is a wonderful woman by the way."
"Fucking Carla," Rachel muttered.
"My, my," Kurt gasped. "Seems like the Big Apple has corrupted Rachel Berry. Enough of that, since when did you and Quinn... hang out? Without arguments?"
Rachel hummed. "As of three months ago." She picked up her framed photograph of the glee club at Nationals. "She's much nicer now. A bit more open with her emotions."
"Open with her emotions? Are you sure we're talking about the same Quinn Fabray?" Kurt asked disbelievingly.
Rachel scoffed. "We've always had an...understanding I suppose. Our friendship in high school, though rocky, was emotionally fraught. With both of us mellowing out emotionally, we complement each other quite well."
"I won't believe it until I see it," Kurt said simply.
/
Carla was sleeping with her boyfriend tonight, so Rachel had arranged for Quinn to sleep over. It was a Saturday night and she had a queue of Netflix movies and a bowl of popcorn ready to go. All she was waiting for was Quinn.
On the dot at eight, Rachel heard a knock at the door. She opened it excitedly and was greeted with the sight of a slightly flushed Quinn.
"Hey Rach," Quinn greeted with a grin.
"Are you drunk?" Rachel asked. She wanted to be a little angry at Quinn, but she looked adorable with her cheeks tinged with red.
"I'm not drunk," Quinn said with a roll of her eyes. "Just a bit tipsy. My floor was doing shots and I thought it'd be a bit of harmless fun to drink two."
"Okay, just get in here before my RA sees you like this," Rachel said shutting the door and shaking her head disdainfully. "I can't believe an Ivy League institution is so relaxed about illegal substances."
"Just be grateful that I'm not taking Adderall or Xanax like the rest of my schoolyard chaps," Quinn joked.
Rachel turned off the lights, sat down next to Quinn on the bed, and pressed play on Funny Girl.
"I know, I know we've already watched this. I just wanted to watch it as inspiration for my audition on Monday. It's for-"
"Your school play," Quinn finished for her. "I know. It's all you've been talking about for weeks. I don't mind. I know that you don't have time to watch it tomorrow, so it's okay. I actually sort of like it. Don't tell anyone though," Quinn warned her with mirth in her eyes.
Rachel smiled thankfully and turned her attention back to the musical.
She mouthed the words to every song, even singing quietly for some bits of it. Rachel could see Quinn staring at her as she did this through the corner of her eye, but she wasn't sure what that stare meant. She never had any close female friendships, so she wasn't sure if this was normal or not.
Halfway through the movie, Quinn's hand slipped into Rachel's. This had also become a common occurrence. It was a natural action, their fingers interlacing perfectly and their palms meeting comfortably. It felt right, and Rachel tried not to think about it too much.
When it ended, Quinn paused the credits and turned to Rachel, quickly taking her hand out of the hold they were in.
"What's wrong Quinn?" Rachel asked with concern.
Quinn's hands clasped together tightly and she bit her bottom lip worriedly. Her eyebrows scrunched together. Quinn took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry," Quinn said suddenly. Rachel's thoughts raced through her mind as Quinn took another deep breath. Was Quinn going to break off their friendship? Was she too annoying for her? Did she ramble too much? "I never gave you a real apology. I'm sorry about everything I've done in the past to hurt you. From ordering slushies to calling you names, I'm sorry about it all Rachel. I know that I don't deserve it, but maybe one day you could forgive me."
Rachel opened up her mouth to say that she did forgive her—she forgave her completely—but Quinn continued.
"I realize now, that there was a reason for all the shit I did in high school. Something that went beyond insecurities and popularity and appearances," Quinn admitted. "I lied when I told you that my floor was doing shots. In truth, it was just a few friends and I drinking in my dorm."
Rachel wanted to ask why that was relevant, but she realized that this was an instance where her mouth was better off closed.
Quinn's clasped hands seemed to grow tighter, and her brow was even more tense. "I-I kissed one of them. A girl," Quinn clarified shakily.
Rachel felt her stomach drop and a sense of dread within her grew. Quinn kissed a girl, and that was totally, absolutely fine, but somehow it wasn't.
"It was the best kiss I've ever had," Quinn admitted. Rachel's stomach twisted even further and she felt sick.
"I think I'm gay Rachel," Quinn said with a trembling voice and shining eyes filled with unshed tears. "That meaningless kiss I had with that girl was better than any kiss I've ever had with a guy."
Quinn wiped her eyes. "Rach," Quinn said achingly softly, like her name was something precious and fragile, like a single flower. "I think I like you. Like, like like you. In a romantic way. And I think I've liked you since forever—since at least sophomore year. I think that's the reason why I acted so cruel to you. I had to stop these feelings from getting too big, but I don't think I could've stopped them. I don't think I could."
The dread in Rachel's stomach disappeared and a warmth replaced it. She had honestly never thought about Quinn in that way, but she couldn't deny that they just fit together. There was something about Quinn she just got, and there was something about herself that Quinn just got.
Rachel took Quinn's hands and held them with hers. The blonde's hands were thinner and longer, but they just fit. It was magic—the warmth that Quinn gave her. The safety. The comfort. It felt right.
"Can I kiss you?" Rachel asked. Quinn nodded despite the tears leaking from her eyes.
Rachel cradled Quinn's strong jaw and leaned in. Their lips met, and Rachel let out an internal sigh at how good it felt. Quinn's lips were so soft brushing against hers, and it was perfect. Rachel kissed Quinn more confidently, trying to convey that she forgave her for everything, that she liked her, that this was the best thing she had ever felt.
Rachel let out a small moan and released Quinn's lips.
"I like you too Quinn."
/
After the kiss, things stayed the same.
Except now, they say hello and goodbye with kisses.
Except now, at restaurants, they argue for the check.
Except now, they call each other "babe" and "baby."
Except now, when they log onto Facebook, they post embarrassing pictures of each other with cute captions.
Except now, when they go to karaoke bars, Rachel drags Quinn to sing a love song with her every time.
Except now, when Rachel wakes up, she gets a text from Quinn saying, "Good morning beautiful."
Except now, when Quinn goes to sleep, she gets a text from Rachel saying, "Sweet dreams gorgeous."
Except now, Quinn and Rachel are together, in every sense of the word.
/
Falling in love with Quinn is easy.
She's beautiful.
When she comes out of the shower, with her blonde hair limp and wet and her face freshly washed, Rachel has a hard time catching her breath, because damn. Her girlfriend's fucking hot.
She's smart.
Rachel doesn't have to deal with traditional homework too often, but when she does, her work is impeccable. She's a neat person after all. But Quinn's on a whole other level. She's got a system of colors for her highlighting, and her notes are precisely organized. She's always got two copies: one digital and one on paper. When she's not doing schoolwork or hanging out with Rachel or her friends, she's reading a thick tome, just soaking up knowledge in her downtime like a true nerd.
She's thoughtful.
On the day of her audition for the school play, Rachel gets a text from Quinn to look in her third drawer. It's a huge ziploc bag with two water bottles, some honey lemon cough drops, a packet of chamomile tea, and a container of honey.
The post-it note on the bag reads, "I know you freak out about your voice, so here's some supplies to help soothe it. I hope it helps. Break a leg baby. -Quinn"
It's sweet and caring, and Rachel just about melts right there.
She's Quinn, and that's perfect for Rachel.
So when Rachel accidently blurts out that she loves her over a phone call, Rachel isn't surprised at herself. Quinn is too lovely to not fall in love with.
It does surprise her when Quinn says it right back.
/
The papers aren't signed. Rachel knows that she should've gotten them signed a while ago, but she just—she just can't. When she touches those white sheets, she feels like her heart is sinking into her chest, disappearing and burning and aching at the same time.
So now she's here at what used to be their doorstep. She would rather not kid herself any longer. It's not theirs anymore. She has nothing to show for herself besides unsigned papers and deep bags under her eyes.
She can't sleep at the hotel she's staying at. It's not home. It's not Quinn.
She rings the doorbell. Quinn opens the door and lets Rachel in wordlessly. She looks tired, but she still looks gorgeous. Her lips are pursed, concealing all the anguish that Rachel caused her. It makes the guilt that Rachel feels burn worse.
All of Rachel's stuff is packed up in neat boxes in their foyer. She was supposed to drop off the papers and pick up the boxes and get the fuck out of Quinn's life. It's weirdly final to see ten years of her life all taped up.
Rachel picks up two boxes to move to the trunk of the pickup truck she rented. Quinn retreats to the kitchen.
After two dozen or so trips back and forth, everything's loaded on the pickup bed.
"Did you sign the papers?" Quinn asks wearily with a tight frown on her face.
"No, but I'll get to it," Rachel says.
Quinn nods slightly and goes back to their—no, her—house.
Rachel settles into the truck and rests her forehead against the steering wheel as she lets out a heavy sigh. She's fucked up so badly, and now they're at the point of no return. There's nothing she could do at this point. She apologized and apologized and sent roses and roses and begged and begged, but the damage was done.
Rachel tries to start the truck, but the engine won't start. It's the battery; this has happened to her before.
She rings the doorbell to the house again. Quinn opens up with a scowl. "What?" she asks sharply.
"The engine is dead on the truck. Do you have a jump cable?"
"No. I don't." After a minute, Quinn lets out a deep breath. "Just put your stuff on the SUV and I'll drive you to the storage locker."
Rachel nods agreeably. "Thank you Quinn."
Quinn doesn't respond. She just goes to the SUV to pop the trunk and lay the seats down.
After the boxes are loaded, Rachel climbs into the passenger seat. Quinn silently shoves her phone into her hands to input the storage locker's address. Once Rachel's done typing it in, Quinn places the phone back on its holder on the dashboard, then she pulls out of the driveway aggressively, startling Rachel.
They're about five minutes into the journey when Rachel starts fidgeting. She's never done well with silence, especially tense silence. Most of her life has been surrounded by music.
"Could I turn on the radio?" Rachel asks politely.
Quinn nods, and Rachel pushes the knob, and the speakers start blaring out a Top 40 pop hit. Rachel's knee bobs with the beat, and she starts mouthing the words.
Then, the song changes. Its beat is electronic, but it's a bit dated. It's familiar, but Rachel can't place the initial seconds of the instrumental. However, she does see that Quinn's posture tensed up.
Cher's autotuned voice cuts through the instrumental, and it's unmistakable.
Rachel's knee is shaking to the beat vigorously now, and her mouth started to hum the pop song's tune. The humming increases in volume. She knows it's inappropriate, but she can't stop it, can't forget the memory the song brings her.
She can't forget how happy she felt. It was after her debut performance in an Off-Broadway show. It wasn't Broadway yet, but it was still a spectacular show, and she felt like she was on a cloud. Quinn had given her a bouquet of roses and an adorable note that said: "Rach: Break a leg baby. I know you're going to wow the crowd. -Quinn."
After receiving a standing ovation, she and Quinn hailed a taxi to Queens, where their favorite karaoke bar was. After years of forcing Quinn to sing with her, Quinn had finally broken down.
She remembers giggling as Quinn pulled her up on the stage. She remembers choosing "Believe" by Cher on a whim.
She remembers feeling so in love that when Quinn sang, "Do you believe in life after love? / I can feel something inside me say / 'I really don't think you're strong enough, no,'" she felt her knees buckling. This angel, this woman was hers.
She remembers that they couldn't finish the song because they were too busy kissing each other to sing. She remembers slamming a hundred dollar bill on the counter to pay for their beers. She remembers setting a record hailing a cab to get home.
She remembers and remembers and remembers. And now she has nothing because her wife—the woman she loves—can't even look at her.
"Rachel, can you please shut the fuck up?!" Quinn orders. "Stop humming. I hate this fucking song."
Rachel wants to shut up, but she can't. It's like her mouth is humming against her will; it's like her body wants to remember for her.
Quinn swerves to the right and parks sloppily. "What the hell is your problem?!"
She has the most intense scowl on her face, but her eyes betray her. They're tear stricken and she's crying silently.
It's horrible and beautiful and Rachel can't look away, but her humming stops.
Quinn takes the moment to slow down her breathing, to try and stop her crying. She looks forward, her posture stiff.
"Do you?" Rachel asks quietly.
"Do I what?" Quinn asks curtly.
"Believe in life after love?" Rachel knows it's a dumb question, but she needs to know if Quinn loves her anymore, even if it's just a little bit.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now Rachel?"
"Do you?" Rachel presses.
"I don't-" Quinn sniffs harshly, wiping her eyes. Rachel knows it's her reflex to wipe away her tears and act like she's emotionless. It's the one thing she never forgot from her parents. Quinn releases a sigh. "I don't know."
It's honest, and it isn't the answer Rachel was looking for, but she'll take it.
"I don't think there is," Rachel admits hesitantly. "I think it's the end of the line for me. Without you, there's no point. There's no life after love."
"Guess you should've thought about that before you went behind my back and slept with Finn," Quinn snipes. Rachel flinches. It hurts a lot, but she deserves it.
"I'm so, so sorry Quinn. I can't ever apologize enough. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't help but love you," Rachel says passionately.
If anything, Rachel's words made Quinn even more angry. "I knew we were going through a rough patch, but why would you bring him into our home and fuck him? Why would you do that?" Quinn cries.
Rachel cries silently, letting Quinn vent, but Quinn suddenly grabs her wrist. "Why?!" Quinn asks furiously.
Rachel swallows thickly, realizing that Quinn wants an actual answers. "Our life became a revolving door," she starts.
"Oh, not with your fucking metaphors," Quinn warns her, but Rachel barrels on.
"Our life became a revolving door," Rachel says again. "When I went out to perform my shows, you were just arriving home from work. One going in, one going out, like a revolving door. I never saw you during the weekdays; I never saw you on weekends. You brought work home even though I begged you not to. It was always a new case that needed work," Rachel explains raggedly, wiping the tears away. "Maybe I put too much stock into fairytales, but I never thought that marriage would be like this. I felt worthless and alone and unattractive. My own wife wouldn't even look at me for more than five minutes. So I sought attention from someone else. I'm not proud of it, but that's how I felt."
"So it's my fault?" Quinn asks bitterly.
"No! But can you honestly say that you were there for the last two years of our relationship after you got on the 'fast track to becoming partner of the firm'?! You were checked out for a long time," Rachel shoots back.
"So that gives you the right to fuck Finn while I'm at a conference?" Quinn asks, her voice rising. "I let you into my heart. I let down all my walls. I. Let. You. In."
Quinn's eyes harden in fury. "I gave you my fucking heart. Do you know how hard that is? I can't even trust my parents or anyone, but I let you in. I let you in," she repeats brokenly. "And you crushed me. You broke me. For that, I fucking hate you. I hate you Rachel. I wish you would get the hell out of my life, because right now I feel like shit because I still have to look at my wife who cheated on me with her ex-boyfriend from high school!" She spits the last line like poison, and from her tone it may as well be, because it hurts Rachel just as deep.
"You know what's the worst thing about this? I know what you did was wrong, and I should probably kick you to the curb and hate you for the rest of my life."
Her eyes soften as they fill with tears and her mouth twists as a sob gasps out. "But I can't even do that, because I still love you, and I hate that I do," she whimpers out. "I don't know how to stop, but it hurts so much."
Rachel's relieved that Quinn still loves her, but mostly she's stunned speechless. She doesn't know what to do at this point. So she cries with Quinn for what feels like forever.
Then, an idea forms in her head. It's stupid, but fuck it. She's a hopeless romantic at heart.
Rachel takes Quinn's right hand gently. Quinn's red eyes look at her suspiciously and widen when Rachel's lips touch the back. Rachel kisses and kisses her hand gently.
"What are you doing?" Quinn asks roughly, her voice raw from yelling.
"Winning you back," Rachel says simply. "A kiss for every tear."
Quinn is still angry, but that earns her a watery smile. "You make it sound so easy when it's not."
Rachel shrugs, because Quinn is right, but it's a start.