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Chapter 13: Burial

Rachel had always wondered about the tradition of each person taking a turn shoveling dirt on to the casket.

It was not a constant wonderment or train of thought that refused to leave her mind, but whenever she attended a funeral, she would always be reminded of that tradition. Why did they do it? Why did everyone want to be a part of burying their loved one?

She didn't realize the answer until Beth's funeral, when she saw Quinn walk away without going near the pile of dirt.

It is that memory that makes Rachel raise the question to Quinn of returning to Beth's grave once again.

She is swallowed by regret at the words the second that Quinn's eyes glaze over, and her expression returns to that which reminds Rachel of days she'd rather forget, days she wonders if Quinn wishes to forget. But Rachel does not rescind the words. She leaves them to hang between the two of them, filling Rachel's room.

There is so little time left now that Rachel cannot rescind the question. Soon the both of them will be leaving to New York, and Rachel knows that neither of them will ever return to this god-forsaken town. Rachel knows she has done so little for Quinn, but she can do this much. She can help Quinn finally bury her daughter.

The girl that used to be their daughter.

Rachel does not know when she stopped calling Beth her own daughter in her mind. Was it the second after the collision, or was it not until the funeral was over and all the weight of what had transpired had crashed down on her that Rachel determined she no longer had the right? After all, a mother does not kill her daughter.

She does not know. She does know that a mother should never be given the chance to bury her child, but it is a task that must be undertaken when given. A child should have the comfort of being put to rest by her mother one last time, and Rachel cannot and could not give Beth that comfort.

But she does not press Quinn. She waits as every memory plays out in Quinn's mind, and she watches Beth's life in Quinn's dead eyes. They are eyes which always seemed so miserable to Rachel. The first time she had caught sight of Quinn, it was not her sneer or the Slushee that covered Rachel that drew her attention; it was Quinn's eyes, those hazel windows which showed nothing but pain and emptiness behind them.

That pain had once been lifted from Quinn, that emptiness filled, and though Rachel sees it fading away once again, she wonders if it will ever be gone the same as it had when they had held Beth between them as they slept on their bed.

Rachel does know one thing, however: she knows that there will be regret festering every time Rachel looks into Quinn's eyes, so long as Quinn has not done what has needed to be done.

Maybe Quinn realizes this when she nods her head.

Her daddy drives them there in what used to be Rachel's car, before the thought of a wheel being in her grasp had filled her with the insurmountable dread that she would end up killing some other member of someone else's family.

Her daddy waits in the car while she leads Quinn along the path which has never felt quite so long. Quinn's hand is limp within her own, and her eyes are being filled with so many painful emotions with every step they take. Rachel tries her hardest not to allow that pain to be reflected in her own eyes, to be the strong one for once and do this one good thing for Quinn, but there eyes have always been mirrors. There is no pain that cannot be found in both.

The pain all drops away when they come to the grave. Instead, it is like shutters have fallen over Quinn's eyes, and closed off everything that was there. There is only emptiness there.

The emptiness carries over to her voice as she asks where the picture is. She doesn't look away from the tombstone when Rachel pulls it out of her pocket, only nods.

Rachel does not return the photo to her pocket. She holds it out in front of her and looks at it. She has tortured herself with this picture ever since the day she plucked it from this grave, before the cleaning crew had come to wipe the blood away. Before, she had tortured herself with the knowledge that the picture for which she murdered Quinn's daughter was lost to her. She is not quite sure which is the more painful, but she knows that is a pain that will never compare to Quinn's. She has tried for so long to mirror that level of pain, to try and hurt herself as she has hurt Quinn, but it is an impossible task.

Besides, what right does a murderer have to grief?

But Beth deserves to have her mother grieve for her. She deserves to hear her voice one last time.

"Do you want to say something?" Rachel asks.

Her voice is quiet and as gentle as can be, but Quinn flinches nonetheless. The shutters lift for the briefest moment, and Rachel is left to drown in the deluge of misery that seeps out from underneath; misery she will never be able to match. Then they are closed off again, a wall built miles high.

"Do you want me to say something?" Rachel asks instead. She receives the slightest nod in return. "Okay."

She slowly sits in front of the grave, keeping Quinn's hand in her grasp. Quinn sits down next to her on the damp grass, a puppet to be moved according to Rachel's wishes.

(Rachel has robbed her of so much.)

Rachel takes a deep breath. When she speaks, it is with the quiet affirmation that she can at least do this for Quinn.

"Hello, Beth," she says. The reaction is immediate in the sudden tightening of Quinn's hand around Rachel's, the closing of her eyes as to force the shutters back down. More pain Rachel has caused Quinn, pain which Rachel will never make up for.

But Rachel must continue. "Your mommy is here," she says. Another reaction, this time in the opening of Quinn's eyes as she looks over at Rachel with an inscrutable emotion in her eyes. Rachel has suspicions as to the cause, but she does not let it affect her. She must continue on, and do this for Quinn and Beth.

"She's here, but I'm going to talk for her, okay?" Rachel says. "I don't… I don't know what exactly she wants to say, but I'll try my best."

What would Quinn say? What is it that Quinn wishes to say to her daughter? How can Rachel possibly not what to say to a child in a time such as this?

"She wants you to know that she loves you very much," Rachel says. Yes, Quinn would always want Beth to know that. No matter what or when, Quinn would want to ensure that Beth knew she was loved. She never wanted her to doubt that fact as Quinn had so many times.

But what else? What else does Quinn wish to say that Rachel is failing to express for her? What else is Rachel robbing Quinn of the chance to say?

"She… She wants you to know that… that…"

Rachel blinks back tears. How can she fail at this? How can she let Quinn down at every opportunity? How can she ruin everything Quinn has given her?

"I… I'm sorry, I…" The words are painful to her. The words which do not come to her are more painful still. She cannot look to Quinn, cannot bear to see the disappointment crushing her in those hazel eyes, the hate growing there as Rachel destroys more and more.

"She… S-She wants… t-to…"

"Your mama wants you to know that she loves you."

Rachel's gaze snaps over to Quinn. Quinn is watching her, and her hand is tight around Rachel's. It is holding her there as she collapses.

"She can't talk right now," Quinn says, not taking her eyes off of Rachel. The shutters there are rising ever so slowly, but they are not hiding as much pain as they had before. There is something else there now. "It hurts too much for her to talk.

"It's like when she had to have her tonsils removed. Do you remember that? She carried around that big pad of paper and she would scribble everything she wanted to say down on it. She had me running ragged, getting things for her. I had to call your dad over to help take care of you, since I was too busy taking care of your mama. I remember you were so confused, wondering why she wouldn't say anything to you, and I was so exasperated telling her that just because she wrote 'I love you,' it didn't mean you understood it. You thought she was mad at you, and I was so mad at her because of that.

"But you remember that night? She brought you into our room, and she cuddled up with you in our bed, and she told you. She said, 'I love you,' the first thing she'd said since her surgery, because she couldn't bear you not knowing. Because she loved you so much."

Rachel is crying, trying vainly to stifle her sobs. She can't miss a single word of what Quinn has to say, even as Quinn herself cries. But her speech does not falter.

"We both love you, okay baby? All of us do. Your mommy loves you, your mama loves you, and your dad loves you. Everybody who's ever met you loves you, and we all miss you. We'll always miss you, and we'll always love you."

"Y-Yes!" Rachel says, suddenly finding her voice again. She has to speak. She has to let Beth know. She can't make this mistake. "I love you so much, Beth. We both love you. Your mommy and… and your m-mama… we both love you."

Quinn smiles at her, their fingers knitted together in their joined hands. "We're going to go away soon, okay baby? We're going to New York, just like we were always going to. But we'll come back. We'll always come back, and we'll tell you all about New York. We'll tell you all about your mama's Broadway debut, and we'll tell you all about my first book. You'll be the first to know. And your dad will be here too. You know him, he'll always be visiting and seeing how you're doing."

Quinn sucks in a breath, and Rachel finally sees the emotion in her eyes for what it is. Love.

"And m-maybe one day we'll tell… we'll tell you all about your baby brother or sister. And we'll tell you all about when I propose to your mama. And we'll tell you all about our wedding, and—and everything. You won't miss a thing. You won't have to miss us, even if we miss you.

"Okay, baby girl?"

The End

Author's Note:
So wow, was that hard to write. But I think it turned it pretty good. My schedule got all sorts of messed up near the end, leading to some lackluster chapters (I feel), but I actually really liked this last one.

I think I'm gonna take a break from writing for a little while as I plan out what my next story will be. I'll be back eventually, though.

Until then.