Archive of Our Own

Rachel doesn’t know when exactly she had fallen in love with Lucy Quinn Fabray.

She doesn’t know when her heart had started to thump at a quirk of lips, or when her stomach had started to flutter at lines of literature quoted in excitement. But every time she so much as sees Quinn, her chest fills with so much affection it seems to swell out of her, and she wonders how the Hades it hasn’t burst yet.

Honestly, she blames Quinn for being too perfect.

Because somewhere between almost dying, fighting gorgons, saving gods, almost dying, getting betrayed, almost dying, losing friends, and almost dying again, she had managed to fall in love with hazel eyes and blonde tresses, smitten in every sense of the word.

She knows it exactly the moment she sees Kronos bring down his scythe on an already bleeding badly Quinn, and she completely disregards the monster lunging for her, the only thought running through her head being Protect Quinn.

She light-teleports faster than she has ever done in her meager seventeen years of life, just in time to see Kronos’ blade descend upon her, and she mummers, “I love you.”

And then there is darkness.

And pain. Definitely pain.

x.X.x

It’s her first dinner at Camp Half-Blood, and Finn is chattering away next to her, the unclaimed boy leading her to the pavilion fire as he instructs her to sacrifice a portion of her meal to one of the gods.

Naturally, she dedicates it to Barbra Streisand.

Finn just gives her a curious look and shrugs, and she settles down at the Hermes table next to him, barely crammed in with all the unclaimed.

She’s picking at her food when someone catches her eye, and she turns her attention to Cabin One’s table, where a blonde girl is sitting alone with her back ramrod straight and shoulders tensed.

All in all, she looks incredibly lonely, as if she’s bearing the entire world on her shoulders, and Rachel frowns at the sight.

Next to her, Finn sees where her gaze is directed, and he tugs on her arm with a nervous laugh. “Yeah, you don’t want to go anywhere near her.”

The words make Rachel turn to look at him with sharp but curious eyes, and she questions, “Why?”

Finn fumbles for a bit, like he doesn’t quite know how to proceed with the conversation, and a few moments later, Noah slips in next to them, most likely having smashed his way through to a spare spot at the crowded Hermes table.

Rachel briefly thinks that the boy hasn’t changed all that much from when they had known each other from temple years ago, his lazy grin exactly the same as before they’d lost contact, and she vaguely registers him saying “What’s up?” as her attention wavers back to the blonde sitting at table one.

She can’t help but study the unnamed girl thoughtfully, something about her drawing her in, and she gives a non-committal hum as a reply.

The girl certainly has a commanding presence that seems to just capture your attention – Rachel’s pretty sure she’s spotted more than a few people staring at her as well – but it’s more than that, she realizes after a beat. It’s in the way the blonde does these small little things, like picking up her dinnerware with such elegance that has Rachel enraptured, and she’s unable to tear her eyes away.

Soon, Rachel comes to the other realization that the girl seems to know she’s being watched too; her eyes are trained to her plate almost determinedly, and they glint harshly against the light of the pavilion, as if she’s intent on not acknowledging anything that’s going around her.

All in all, it’s like she’s quarantined off by an invisible wall, and the thought sparks a slight upset in Rachel’s stomach, making her frown even wider.

“Don’t let her Aphrodite voodoo get to you Rach,” her thoughts are interrupted by Noah’s gruff voice, and she has to blink to focus herself as he continues, “it takes a while to wear off and get used to.”

Confused, Rachel furrows her brow together. “It happens to everyone when they first see her,” Finn (not-so) helpfully supplies. “Her Aphrodite genes or whatever makes their brains go wack.”

“I deduced that perfectly fine on my own, thank you Finn,” Rachel says, with just the slightest bit of indignation to her tone. “But isn’t she at Cabin One’s table? Unless I’m mistaken, that’s Zeus’, not Aphrodite’s.”

Noah opens his mouth to reply, but Rachel seems to be on a roll, and she cuts him off before he can say anything. “I don’t understand why she’s isolated like this,” she almost demands, and she’s surprised how abrupt it comes out. “Did she do something wrong? Every camper seems to be watching her out of the corner of their eyes, but no one ever talks to her, what-”

“Look,” Noah sighs tiredly, like he’s had this conversation dozens of times before. “You’re still that girl my mom thought I would end up marrying, and I like you, so take this advice from me, yeah? She’s Zeus’ kid, legacy of both Athena and Aphrodite, like as in the prophecy child. Hanging around her won’t do you any favors.”

Rachel’s eyes narrow in immediate protest, and she retorts, “So you’re telling me that because she was born to the King of Olympus and apparently the subject of what I assume to be a dangerous prophecy, she was made an outcast? What kind of despicable logic is that?”

Noah’s eyes harden and his jaw tightens. “She did this to herself,” he says, voice cold. “She lures you in with her hazel eyes and stupid words and perf- it doesn’t matter. But when you get close enough to even think about knocking those walls of hers down, she’ll push you away like she does to everyone else. Lucy Quinn Fabray is fated to be alone.”

“So you just…gave up on her?” she whispers, incredulous.

It feels good to be able to put a name to the face though; Lucy Quinn Fabray – even her name sounds exquisite.

“Oh no…I know that look, and I’m not going to let you, of all people, think that they know anything about what happened,” Noah angrily snarls in response. “I fucking tried, okay? I fucking tried and she pushed me away like I was nothing!”

At his loud outburst, most of the table turns to look at the commotion, tentatively staring with interest. Noah’s too worked up to even notice though, and he surges forward only to be blocked by Finn intercepting. “Look dude, I think you need to cool off,” the taller boy says, blocking his way. “You don’t have to make a scene about this.”

A halted beat passes, and with a frustrated grunt, Noah turns to storm off in the direction of the arena, probably to let off some steam in the form of beating his cabinmates up.

There’s a few seconds of silence, and then Rachel’s saying lightly, “I still think that you’re being jerks.”

A whirlwind of thoughts rush through her mind, but she suppresses them as quiet chatter slowly fills up the dining pavilion once more, and Finn lets out a cheerless laugh.

“I know,” he answers.

“He loved her, didn’t he?” Rachel asks softly.

Finn gives her a sad smile. “A lot of us did.”

x.X.x

Well obviously, she doesn’t die, because where would the fun in that be?

She wakes up groggily to the sight of Quinn hovering over her, a concerned look on her face, and Rachel watches as it quickly morphs into quiet relief at her coming to.

Which of course, then morphs into narrowed eyes and a sharp glare.

“Rachel Berry, you are the most lovable idiot in the world, and I can’t believe that you fucking jumped in front of Kronos’ fucking scythe to save me,” Quinn practically growls out, though there’s a smile threatening to break out at the edge of her lips, and Rachel’s heart threatens to go into overdrive at the sight.

With sluggish movements, she sits up so as to see Quinn clearly, and she frowns immediately at the realization that she’s obviously still hurt from the fight with Kronos. “You’re bleeding!” she exclaims, wake awake now. “You should’ve found one of my siblings to heal you, what if it gets infec-”

“Rae, I’m fine.” Quinn waves her off with a nonchalant hand. “I already got enough healing that I’m not going to die any time soon, and you’re more important anyway.”

The easy declaration makes Rachel’s breath hitch, and it leads her to remember her ‘last words’, causing her to blush a cherry red. Her love confession certainly didn’t go as she had imagined, but then again, it was satisfyingly dramatic for her standards, so she can’t say she regrets it.

Now if only Quinn had actually heard her.

She hasn’t brought it up at all since Rachel woke up, so it’s a safe assumption to make, and the realization of it settles on her chest in a way that she can’t decide is relief or disappointment.

Creasing her brow, she pushes it to the back of her mind, because hello, Quinn has dried blood on her forehead and- Di immortales, is that blood leaking through her shirt?

Rachel’s alarm goes up considerably, and her thoughts immediately go to finding her cabinmate in charge of healing while she was out of commission and ripping them a new one for not taking care of campers (Quinn) properly.

“You okay there Superstar?” Quinn arches a brow, the familiar quirk of lips familiar and comforting, and Rachel huffs.

“For your information Quinn Fabray, no I am not!” She resists the urge to throw a fit (or well, one that’s bigger than the one that she’s throwing right now at least). “What is with you not getting appropriate healing, it seems like you never head to the infirmary after you thoughtlessly throw yourself into battle after battle, and Lucy Quinn Fabray do not give me that look, get your ass here right this instant so I can heal you!”

The faint but amused quirk of lips appears again, and it’s obvious that Quinn is resisting the urge to laugh. It makes Rachel grumble petulantly, no matter how much it thrills her that Quinn is smiling because of her, and she scoots over on the bed, motioning for Quinn to sit in front of her.

“Maybe I don’t like going to the infirmary because I only like it when you heal me,” Quinn says standoffishly right as Rachel begins to heal her, and her hands jolt from their position at Quinn’s back as her heart seems to skip eight beats at once.

Suddenly, it seems much harder to ignore the way toned back muscles flex underneath her palms, sending tingles down her arms, and she feels heat gather in her cheeks and her lower stomach.

At this point, blocking off her affections from her and Quinn’s empathy link is second nature to Rachel, even though she’s sure that Quinn would never abuse their trust and open the connection forcefully. Quinn winces at first contact, and she rushes to add more healing power, hands glowing a soft golden.

Quinn gives out a low chuckle, husky and breathy in a way that only she can do, and she points out, “You really shouldn’t be doing this you know. You literally just got stabbed in the stomach by a godly weapon, you need to be resting and not healing wannabe heroes.”

“Oh please, you were the one that-” Rachel stops mid-sentence. “Wait, how did you save Olympus again?”

“Maybe I didn’t,” Quinn says faux-mysteriously, a wise sage look plastered on her face. “Maybe we’re all dead and you’re on your way to Elysium, dreaming.”

At the words, Rachel rolls her eyes and pinches Quinn’s uninjured arm, drawing an offended yelp. “If we’re all dead, I highly doubt that the Titans would let me go to Elysium, Quinn.”

The dramatic sigh she’s treated to in response doesn’t even faze her. “As the princess wishes,” Quinn says playfully. “After you took the blade for me, I kind of flipped and went all powerful demigod mode on Kronos. I saved everyone, got branded as a hero, and I may have threatened your dad to heal you up right away so…if he comes knocking, I fully expect you to protect me with your life.”

So that’s why her body doesn’t hurt as she expects it to. Rachel can’t help but feel touched by the gesture, and one eye-roll at Quinn’s sarcasm and the blonde turning around to allow Rachel access to her other injuries later, she asks, “Why didn’t he heal you then?”

“He had other things to attend to I guess.” Quinn shrugs. “The other campers had to move me to another bed if they wanted to heal me more, and I didn’t want to leave your side, so I told them I’d be fine without further healing.”

“You’re an idiot,” Rachel says flatly.

“I know.” Quinn’s eyes gleam, and Rachel knows that she’s probably been given away by the blush she can feel heating her cheeks. “But if I’m going to be an idiot, I might as well have my priorities straight. And unfortunately for me, you’re just perpetually stuck at number one on that list.”

Even with the mock grumbling, the way Quinn says the words makes it seem like Rachel being her first priority is nothing at all, like it’s so natural that no afterthought needs to be given, and it makes Rachel’s breath catch as adoration seeps into her veins.

“I don’t know whether to smack you or hug you for your sweet yet immensely reckless behavior,” she finally loses the battle of fighting off her smile, “but I think I’ll settle for the former.”

She lunges forward with full intention of messing with the other girl for a bit, but Quinn quickly weaves out of her reach with an amused grin. “That’d be pretty counter-productive, don’t you think?” she baits. “And I know how much you love your efficiency-maxed schemes.”

“Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” Rachel narrows her eyes, halted in her pursuit now.

Quinn smirks. “You’d still be tinier.”

“You’re so in for it,” Rachel says with a laugh, and she pounces, tackling Quinn onto the medical bed with little worry now that the girl’s healed up. Adrenaline in her system, she proclaims, “Surrender, and you shall be spared the wrath of the great Rachel Barbra Be-”

She’s promptly overpowered and turned on her side.

Now finding herself trapped under the comfortable weight of Quinn’s body, she lets out a little squeal on reflex, and it draws a breathy laugh from her that tugs at her heartstrings.

“I think you forgot a few things in your coma.” Quinn’s eyes shine with mirth and affection as she pins Rachel’s arms to the bed. “One, I’m not ticklish, and two, when it comes to physical strength I come out on top, if you had forgotten about our last duel already.”

Rachel groans. “I loathe you.”

“You love me,” Quinn retorts, and at how devastatingly attractive she looks with her lips quirked upwards like that, Rachel can’t deny the way her body just churns to life, desperate for some kind of contact.

Yeah, I do, she thinks, and then Quinn is even closer, making Rachel breathe through her nose sharply. When in the world did that happen?

Quinn’s face hovers above hers with a strange expression adorned, as if trying to decide something, and the entire scene is reminiscent of something out of a cliché romcom, Rachel’s heart speeding into overdrive at their close proximity.

Except, she thinks to herself bitterly, in this one I’m the delusional best friend with the pathetic unrequited feelings who is just there to be comic relief.

It’s a depressing thought among a sea of ‘oh my gods, Quinn Fabray is on top of me why this is happening help me’, and her internal conflict just makes her freak out even harder as she contemplates the merits of dying on the spot.

But Quinn is right there, and the masochist in Rachel is loving this torture of having the object of her affections so deliciously within reach but ultimately unattainable, so she pushes everything to the back of her mind, resolving to enjoy the moment while it lasts.

Plus, dying with Quinn on top of her like this would actually be the most mortifying thing ever.

Her skin feels like it’s on fire, tingling the way it always does when she’s near Quinn, and she can’t help but dart her eyes down to kissable full lips. Not for the first time, she wonders how it would feel to press her own against them – they just look so soft, and if she just leans up the slightest bit then-

She torturously drags her eyes up to hazel eyes. If she keeps on focusing on their uneven breaths, or how good it feels to have Quinn’s chest pressed against her own, she’s going to do something she’s going to regret, she’s sure of it.

She already has Quinn as her best friend, and she’d rather be that than be nothing to her at all, so she’ll take what she’ll get – it has to be enough.

But chestnut meeting hazel is the worst mistake she could’ve made, because Quinn’s eyes were the first thing she had fallen in love with, and looking into that sea of endless gold does something inexplicable to her; her entire being whirls to life, an electric hum settling all the way from the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet, and it resonates within her so strongly that she’s convinced Quinn is somehow using her powers against her.

Quinn’s eyes are dark, burning almost feverishly, and the emotions that Rachel identifies flashing through them both terrify and excite her, simply because this is Quinn, who makes her mad with want just by existing, and then Quinn’s descending and Rachel’s leaning up and-

Santana and Brittany burst through the door, because apparently the universe hates her.

(Or loves her, depending on how you look at it.)

The two jerk apart, as if they had been hit by a shockwave, and Rachel thinks that they probably were to some extent, considering Quinn’s parentage and the unholy thoughts that were just running through her mind.

Quinn’s hair is all ruffled up, the blonde strands messy and out of place from their previous wrestling, and her chest heaves in a way that has Rachel squirming with want, Quinn’s eyes dark and pupils blown wide even under the intense light in the infirmary.

Quinn looks so damn hot like that, staring at her with hooded eyes shining with something that can only be described as hunger, and Rachel just knows that she’s going to go insane later as she puzzles and overanalyzes what this all means. The churn in her lower stomach becomes almost unbearable and she feels her body heating up even more, but she can’t bring herself to tear her gaze away, entrapped.

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you two’ve been dying to bone,” Santana intones, effectively breaking through the loud pounding of her heart in her ears. “But stop with the eye-fucking already, the sexual tension is disturbing at this point.”

At the words, Rachel finally gets ahold of herself and squeaks in embarrassment, and she feels her face flare up even more if it’s even possible. Quinn however, isn’t fazed by the crass daughter of Ares, and she doesn’t even look away from Rachel as she retorts, “Tartarus must be boring without you Satan.”

“Wrong religion thunder thighs,” Santana snarks in retaliation, and she rolls her eyes before explaining, “Sylvester sent us over to, and I quote, ‘Separate our residential vomit-inducers from fornicating and breeding even more of them into pitiful existence’. She’s calling an emergency Senior Council to report…casualties.”

At the reminder of how much they’ve lost not even a full day ago, the previous ribbing and teasing atmosphere of the room fades away into somberness immediately, and even Brittany, who’s usually always ready with optimism, is lackluster without a trace of a smile, lips pursed in grief.

Quinn looks away with her jaw set, eyes hard and pained with regret. “We lost Artie and Mercedes and so many people…I-I’m sorry. I-”

“You did the best you could,” Rachel cuts her off, reaching her arm out to her shoulder to offer what comfort she can. “We all did.”

“Don’t go making all of this about yourself Q,” Santana says, her unsteady voice betraying her composed disposition. “If you’re blaming yourself, then blame us too. They died an honorable death…it’s- it’s not up to us to stomp all over their legacy.”

Brittany elbows her girlfriend’s side and shoots her a look at her harsh wording, and she gives Quinn a subdued smile. “They’re in Elysium now, and I bet they’re really happy, so don’t be sad anymore, okay? Rachie’s still here isn’t she?”

As if to reinforce Brittany’s words, Rachel scoots closer and grabs Quinn’s hand to assure her that she’s not going anywhere any time soon, and Quinn leans into the touch instinctively, turning to look at her. 

“I almost lost you,” she chokes out, and the way the words come out low and broken strikes somewhere deep at Rachel’s heart; they’ve had so many close calls, and every time Rachel so much as thinks about how easily she could be living in a world without Quinn Fabray, everything in her being just aches and protests against the very possibility with a violent venom.

“But you didn’t,” she reminds, forcing herself to remember that she didn’t lose Quinn either, and a small smile dawns on her face. “You saved me.”

x.X.x

“…Run,” Lee Fletcher rasps out, and as Rachel watches the light drain from his eyes, he takes one last haggard breath, pushing his bow into her hands with the last of his strength.

At his side, his quiver shrinks into a pen cap, and Rachel feels the bow she’s tightly gripping shift back into its original form as well. It only means one thing, and the realization numbly crashes into Rachel like a tidal wave.

Lee’s dead.

Fear, grief, and panic bubbles up in her chest at the same time, and she faintly registers her body shaking, because- because shit, Lee, who was one of her first friends here, is- shit, he’s fucking gone.

Vaguely, she feels her left side groan with pain, but she can’t bring herself to move, paralyzed. A few feet away, the Nemean Lion growls, readying itself to pounce again, and Rachel morbidly wonders if she’s going to die here, feeling as if she’s staring into the face of Thanatos himself.

Her eyes are still trained on Lee’s body, and his facial expression is still pleading and desperate as he lies on the floor cold. Seeing it, something within Rachel snaps, and she forces herself to tear her gaze away from the boy, grabbing the pen cap determinedly as her body moves on autopilot.

She doesn’t know how to shift it or the bow, but then she hears the Greek word for Change echo in her mind, the only clarity shining through, and it’s then that she knows what to do.

Gods, please let this work.

She murmurs the word as clearly as she can, voice shaky, and in an instant, the pen and pen cap shift into a golden bow and quiver in her hands. With her heart beating out of her chest, she notes that they look different from when Lee had held them, and when she puts the quiver behind her back, its magic automatically attaches it to her, claiming her as its owner.

It’s then that it really occurs to her that oh gods, she’s really going to do this, and she feels even more hysteria build up within her as she nocks an arrow with an unsteady hand.

She’s never fired a bow before, the only time she’s ever been close to one being when Lee had demonstrated some stances at the archery field earlier. Somehow though, the bow feels right in her hands, the size and weight more attuned to Rachel than anything she’s ever felt. Taking a deep breath, she reminds herself that she’d be damned if she lets herself die here, so she tries her best to release the tension from her squared shoulders, and settles into the position that Lee had shown her earlier.

The Nemean lion’s now running towards her at breakneck speed, and Rachel feels her heart quicken on reflex, but with her bow in hand, a strange lull of calm washes over her, as if there’s an invisible force telling her that there’s nothing to worry about.

She’ll never truly understand what goes on in her brain in that singular moment, but she actually believes it, and when the Nemean Lion draws near, she unleashes her arrow, mind and body completely in sync.

The arrow seems to chirp, flying forward in a straight path dead center, and it combusts into a sound wave right as it hits the lion’s skin, halting its charge and making it roar in pain.

Now, that probably should be a big red flag for Rachel to start running for the hills and check herself into an asylum, because what the Hades did she just do, but fueled by adrenaline, all she feels is that same calm from earlier, her senses almost disturbingly clear.

Which really, is just another sign that she’s gone completely crazy.

Before she can lose herself in thoughts of how she can utilize her newfound insanity to launch herself to Broadway stardom early though, the Nemean lion recovers and snarls at her, and her mind once again snaps to ‘oh Barbra I’m totally going to die here goodbye cruel world!’

Camp Half Blood really is shaping to be a really nice sidenote to put in her future memoir titled ‘The Path to Success for the Criminally Insane(ly Talented)’.

But as the Nemean lion readies itself to charge at her once more, Rachel wipes away the image of her book sitting on the best sellers list, and prepares to notch another arrow, praying for an opportunity to strike. Blood pumping, she watches the lion let loose a mighty roar, waiting for the right moment, and- there!

Seeing an opening, Rachel instinctively knows what to do, and she aims straight at its open mouth with a bated breath. Timing it just right, she exhales, and she lets the arrow go.

The arrowhead glows brightly, almost as if it’s alight with fire, and it seems to defy the speed of light as it zooms towards its target. Rachel can hardly believe her eyes as it hits right on target, and the Nemean Lion howls in pain, before quickly being devoured by a bright flash of light.

When it clears, all Rachel can see left on the field is scattering dust and a lion pelt in the spot where the Nemean lion had been, and she falls backwards onto her butt, finally given a reprieve to breathe.

She’s barely aware of the carnage all around her as she looks downwards, gaze oddly entranced by the bow in her hands. It’s golden and covered with beautiful inscriptions and carvings, and the intricate lines lead to the middle of the grip where a sun is inscribed.

But that’s not what makes Rachel balk the most; right in the middle of the sun is inscribed R.B., and she can only just comprehend it as everything that’s happened in the past twenty minutes starts to catch up with her.

She’s vaguely maybe definitely halfway to a panic attack when she registers the fact that by now, most of the campers have heard the ruckus and a small crowd has gathered around her, and even though they keep their distance it all still feels like too much, the only thing keeping Rachel stable at the moment her pure exhaustion, pain wracking her body everywhere.

Somewhere along the line, she starts glowing, like she’s a vampire or something, and she thinks that the campers around her must be seeing quite a sight, what with her bow and quiver and her glowing skin.

When she realizes that most of the campers are staring above her head, she looks up…and sees a hologram floating above her. She barely makes out an alight golden bow that has an arrow nocked, which is of course, as is expected by now, glowing.

And just like that, everything hits her at once.

Lee’s body is still lying limp on the ground next to her, and at the sight of it, all the adrenaline seems to leave her body, and she works to swallow down the gulp quickly building up in her throat.

The campers are still gaping at her, and there’s still residue dust kicking up in the air, and Lee’s body still looks fucking broken and battered, and then Rachel wants to scream at the sky, because a hero had just died, and all everyone’s doing is staring at her!

Evidently, her desperate prayers are answered, because soon, the crowd parts like the red sea, and Lucy storms in, wearing an irritated scowl that is betrayed by sorrowful eyes. Hands at her hips and jaw clenched, she barks out quick efficient orders, and campers rush to Lee’s body to attend to him.

If Rachel isn’t as shaken up as she is right now, she would be fascinated by the seamless way Lucy commands people, drawing attention wherever she goes without even doing much of anything. But she is, and so all she can do is wordlessly stare at Lee’s body as it is swiftly carried away in a shroud.

When all is said and done, it’s almost like his heroics had never happened, and the thought sends a tangible pain through Rachel’s body. The sting in her eyes becomes more pronounced, her throat tightening, and she fights the urge to curl in on herself. It’s simply not the time.

Casting a look to her surroundings in an attempt to put off her heavy thoughts for now, she sees that the campers have gone back to staring at the floating hologram still above her head, and godsdamnit Rachel just wants all of this to end already. Everyone is looking at her, and she feels exposed and weak and awkward and tired – Lee had died for her, and she just wants to go back to her little corner at the Hermes cabin and weep for the boy.

But then, Lucy abruptly drops to her knee before her, wearing a steely look, and Rachel can only stand dumbfounded, as Sylvester, who had been silently watching from the side, steps out and yells through her bullhorn, “It is determined!”

One by one, campers start to kneel as well, effectively creeping out Rachel even more, and for once, Sue Sylvester is completely serious. “Hail Apollo, Averter of Evil, All-Seeing, Sharp-Shooter, and Lightbringer,” she says. “Hail Rachel Berry, Daughter of the Sun God.”

Rachel passes out from being weirded out too much.

The pain from her bleeding side is probably a big factor too.

x.X.x

Things pass by in a flash. Soon, they’re standing in the rebuilt throne room, with the gods all sitting and looming over them.

Zeus starts to get up to talk to Quinn, but one withering look from her has him retreating to his seat with a regretful look, and Rachel feels Quinn shift uncomfortably from beside her. She reaches out to grab her hand in silent support, and Quinn squeezes lightly, stepping even closer so that they’re standing shoulder to shoulder.

Rachel unconsciously leans into the touch, molding her form to fit Quinn’s, and the girl pulls her flush against her body almost instinctively, as if she’s trying to shield her from the outside world. The purpose of the Council meeting is celebratory, but it feels far from it. It’s a reminder of how much they’ve lost, and Rachel can’t find it in her to allow herself a shred of accomplishment.

Rewards and gifts are given all around, and though there’s still a heaviness lingering in the air, the gloomy mood slowly lifts. Kurt gains Charmspeak, Rachel’s broken bow is given an upgrade, and everything is going relatively smoothly for a room full of disgruntled gods and their neglected demigod children.

…Until Zeus goes ahead and offers Quinn immortality.

Rachel’s heart stops.

Time seems to slow down around her, and if she isn’t one hundred percent sure Kronos is dead, she’d be pretty alarmed – not that she isn’t already. Her lungs seem to stop working as she forgets how to breathe, and her entire body tenses up, frame rigid. She knows that Quinn would never want to be a goddess, what with her still-there spite for them even after all these years, but the thought of Quinn becoming one and leaving everyone- leaving her behind has her scared beyond description, and her heart throbs painfully in her chest.

Looking to her left, she chances a glance at Quinn, but her face is blank. Rachel prides herself on her ability to read her no matter what, hard-earned after many near-death encounters, so when she sees Quinn’s face expressionless, it almost sends her into a fretted panic. It only becomes worse when she finds that Quinn’s blocked off their empathy link, none of her mental messages getting through.

She’s already accepted the fact that Quinn will never return her feelings, but if she disappears from her life completely, Rachel’s not sure if she would ever recover.

But then Quinn’s face relaxes and a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and Rachel resists the urge to smack herself for not believing in her. They had promised each other that they would never leave the other’s side, and Rachel whole-heartedly trusts in it, because Quinn has never lied to her before – they would follow each other to the ends of Tartarus if need be.

Quinn won’t leave her.

And she doesn’t. She goes far and beyond that.

Because amazing, beautiful, and absolutely perfect Quinn denies godhood and goes ahead to ask for equality instead, and Rachel wonders if it’s possible to fall more and more in love with someone with every breath of air and beat that passes.

Warmth blossoms all throughout every pore and fiber of her being, filling her heart with so much love and adoration she feels like she’s going to combust, and it takes every bit of her acting prowess to contain her wide grin.

Quinn looks straight at her when she says that she has plenty of things to live for, and when she smiles that special smile that Rachel knows is just for her, that sincere I’m smiling because of Rachel Berry smile that spans across her entire face, Rachel’s heart soars.

x.X.x

“I’ll do it.”

Quinn’s voice pierces through the silence of the Rec Room loud and clear, face determined and posture unyielding as always.

Gaze steely, she meets Sylvester’s sharp eyes without hesitation, and when no one answers her, Quinn – not Lucy, Rachel reminds herself yet again – repeats, “I’ll do it. I’ll find Poseidon’s trident or whatever.”

There’s an eerie still for even longer until Mr. Schue nervously shuffles his feet, and the satyr looks like he wishes he could be anywhere else than here. “But Quinn, it’s too dangerous, you’re going to-”

“No,” Sylvester cuts him off, bullhorn right in his ear. “A quest is demanded, and if Pikachu thinks she can saddle up and leave the kiddie pool to join the big kids, then by all means, let her.”

Mr. Schue looks as if he wants to protest, but he knows that the will of the gods isn’t his to defy, and head hung, he sighs and nods his acquiesce.

“I’m going with you Q,” Santana pipes up, voice defiant and fiery. “I got your back, remember?”

At that, Quinn softens just so slightly, and Rachel’s sure that she’s the only one able to tell due to her position, directly seated across the daughter of Zeus at the ping-pong table.

“Enough of this sentimental crap, it’s blinding my eyes,” Sylvester spits. “You still need a third member, and I know for sure it’s not gonna be Ms. Everything is happy and rainbows of your little Unholy Trinity, since she hasn’t been here a full month, which means IT VIOLATES CAMP RULES for her to go. Why? I don’t know, ask old Thunderpants upstairs!”

Thunder rumbles above them, and in response, the activities director simply rolls her eyes and aims her bullhorn at the sky, shouting, “Oh stuff it, it’s not my fault you didn’t read the fine print in our River Styx swore-on contract that I have unlimited right to insulting you!”

Rachel ignores the urge to gape at the clearly insane woman, and instead looks at the rest of the head counselors, wondering why isn’t anyone else volunteering to go. At everyone’s sudden muteness, Brittany looks downcast, and Santana’s jaw is clenched tightly as Quinn almost looks…resigned.

When all the other head counselors seem unable to look away from the floor, Rachel realizes that no one is going to step up, and she looks to Noah.

His head is stubbornly angled, his arms crossed almost petulantly in a ‘what can you do’ fashion, and Rachel furrows her brow and stares at the boy, willing him into speaking up.

He doesn’t. Neither does anyone else, for that matter.

Rachel wants to scream in frustration, but since it’s not her place and she has as much right as Brittany to volunteer, all she can do is watch helplessly as Quinn and Santana prepare themselves to go on the quest alone.

She doesn’t know why she’s so fixated on Quinn – they haven’t even so much as talked, for gods’ sake – but every time she sees her eyes, hard and lonely, when she’s ostracized by the rest of the campers, Rachel’s heart pangs with remembrance of her own experiences, and she can’t help but feel empathy.

The image of Quinn’s sad eyes haunts her all the way to when she calls lights off, and she tosses and turns in her bed until the ungodly hours of the morning.

She can’t seem to get a wink of sleep, and when she can’t take the insistent feeling in her chest anymore, she impulsively sneaks out of the cabin, only to be stopped by Jesse St. James, just having returned from a midnight toilet break.

At the sight of her geared up and clearly about to go somewhere, her half-brother raises an eyebrow at her. “What are you doing?”

Caught red-handed, Rachel tightens her hold on the strap of her supply bag, and her heart beats loudly in her ears as she prepares herself to make a run for it. She’s about to book it when Jesse interrupts with a sigh, “I bet you’re off to be the so-called ‘hero’ and try to win Quinn’s affections, aren’t you?”

At being seen through so easily, Rachel’s unable to keep her shock at bay, but it seems like Jesse requires no answer from her as he continues, “They always do that, only to dejectedly come back with their tails between their legs and the realization that I’m the much better choice anyway. Well…that was one time, but my point still stands.”

Rachel can only stare at him, at a loss of what to say, and she isn’t sure whether to think him delusional or simply trying to give her a subtle out.

It’s then she realizes that it doesn’t matter though; Jesse is already halfway through the cabin door and waving her goodbye without much of a care. “Do try to come back in one piece; it’d be a shame if you perish and I have to take over the tiresome duties of head councilor, no matter how glorious it can be,” – it’s somewhere around here that Rachel decides that he’s simply off his rocker and insane, much like everyone she’s met at camp so far actually – “but off you go now, head counselor whose name I can’t quite remember right now. Queen Fabray awaits no one, you know.”

And with that, he disappears through the doors, leaving behind a dazed Rachel.

What in the Hades just happened?

It takes two seconds for her to start up again and get herself together, and she hurries to the camp entrance, shaking her thoughts off and focusing at the task at hand.

It’s by some stroke of luck that she manages to catch Quinn and Santana just as they’re about to depart, and the former hears her footsteps first, spinning around diligently on guard.

When she recognizes Rachel as a camper, she relaxes – well, as much as Quinn Fabray can – and she examines Rachel with narrow eyes. “What do you want?”

At Quinn’s intense gaze, Rachel’s breath catches, and she has to hold in her natural reaction to squirm under the scrutiny. She’s unwilling to back down though, driven by a strange strength in her chest that she can’t quite identify, and she sets her shoulders back in determination.

“I’m coming with you on your quest.”

Quinn’s brow quirks up curiously, like she’s been in this position before, and Rachel’s resolve doesn’t waver, raising her chin and meeting Quinn’s unspoken challenge.

Soon, she can sense something in her demeanor change, and it feels an awful lot like grudging respect. Quinn gives her a sharp nod, and she doesn’t say another word as she swiftly turns around, heading through the entrance without looking back.

Rachel’s broken out of her reverie – because oh my gods she really just did that without passing out or hyperventilating – by Santana barking out a laugh from next to her. “She likes you.”

Not quite processing the words, Rachel blinks, unsure what the contemplative look Santana has means, and Santana shakes her head, turning to leave as well. “You coming or what?”

It’s some perfect timing out of a clichéd movie how the sun is positioned perfectly to illuminate Quinn and Santana’s backs as they trudge onwards, and Rachel watches them for a few seconds, thinking to herself that like it or not, this is probably the daunting start of an epic quest.

Enjoying the drama of it for one more moment, Rachel grins, and she sets off.

x.X.x

They don’t talk about the almost kiss, or the unheard ‘I love you’.

And Rachel’s so thankful that Quinn’s still by her side that she can’t find it in her to care.

(Much. She still starts writing a song about it, because she’s Rachel Berry and it’s practically a given at this point.)

She’ll take Quinn however she can get her.

Time passes, and things settle down after the war as they always do. Pyres are lit, new cabins are built, and life moves on. It is how it is, no matter how much it pains Rachel to think about.

And as all things pass, she can almost imagine herself getting over Quinn. Almost.

But heavens know that she wouldn’t ever want to, or could for that matter – they’ve been through so much together that she really doesn’t know what she’d do without Quinn at her side, and it’s virtually impossible for Rachel to move on without distancing herself completely, considering the fact that Quinn just makes her fall deeper and deeper every day by simply existing.

They’re so codependent to the point where being apart from Quinn even for a day has her grumpy and sad like a lost puppy, and she can only find comfort in the fact that Quinn is the same way.

And if there’s something deeper to be read within that line of thought, Rachel ignores it, because it’s far too dangerous for her to hope and want.

Gods, she wants so badly.

Unable to bear the thought that the fallen might be forgotten, Rachel leads the campers in a quest to find every single name that had went down fighting for what they believed in, and their names are carved into a too-large-for-comfort rock near Zeus’ fist, the entire camp gathering in front of it to hold a minute of silence.

Afterwards, a feast is held in all the heroes’ honor, and like many times before, Rachel entirely handwaves aside camp rules to sneak over to Quinn’s table, using her light powers to render herself practically invisible.

She’s in position for a foolproof jump-scare when a light laugh sounds out, and Rachel internally groans at Quinn’s affectionate eyeroll. “Sit down Rach, you know you’ll never able to one-up me right?”

At her plan being thwarted, a full-blown pout forms on her lips, and Rachel huffs. She stops manipulating the light around her, sliding down onto the wooden bench, and she leans into Quinn’s side almost (definitely) petulantly.

Quinn’s arm automatically moves to its rightful – well, rightful in Rachel’s mind – place around the brunette’s waist, and Rachel snuggles into the girl’s warmth immediately, tired from archery practice earlier. Half-heartedly, she complains, “I despise your overpowered Atmokinesis powers.”

She’s met with an amused smile, and Quinn retorts, “Says the empath with light and fire powers.” It’s clear she’s distracted though, and Rachel doesn’t even need their empathy link to tell; her usually sharp and attentive gaze is unfocused, brow slightly furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asks, and she tries her best not to nuzzle into a pale neck drowsily – the scent of breezy mint and vanilla white oak that’s so uniquely Quinn is a surefire way to lure her to sleep, and she has to fight to keep her yawn at bay.

“It’s nothing,” Quinn casts aside, and she leans her head against Rachel’s, making the brunette sigh in content. She lets herself relish the moment for a few more seconds before reluctantly pulling away, and she nudges at Quinn’s side, forcing the other girl to look at her.

“This would go a lot easier if you weren’t so infuriatingly reticent with these things, you know.”

“And this would go a lot easier if you weren’t so endearingly stubborn,” Quinn counters easily, and she matches Rachel’s nonchalant tone with a shrug.

Narrowing her eyes, Rachel scowls childishly. “Your offhand compliments won’t work on me and you know I’ll just hound you until you talk, so really, I beseech you to save my wonderful voice for singing instead and just tell me.”

If the end of her sentence sounds out as just a tiny bit whiny, Rachel overlooks it, and she nods, satisfied with herself.

In response, Quinn just gives her a soft smile, and the sight of it makes Rachel grumble sullenly, knowing that she isn’t being taken seriously. She’s quickly distracted by Quinn taking her hand in her own and interlacing them together though, and she feels Quinn’s thumb absently rub patterns into her skin, the pavilion’s ambient chatter washing over them like calming white noise. “You’re kind of adorable, you know that?”

The attempt at changing the topic doesn’t go unnoticed by Rachel, but she lets it go for now – if it’s really that important, she knows Quinn will tell her, so instead she teases, “Only kind of?”

“I guess you’re right,” Quinn plays along with their charade, subtle relief showing on her face if you know where to look for it, and she seemingly mulls her thoughts over. “You’re not adorable at all,” she decides.

It makes Rachel gasp scandalously, and she shoots a mock-glare at the other girl. “Quinn Fabray, I demand you take that back right this instant!”

“Okay, okay,” Quinn finally laughs, and at the melodious sound, Rachel’s unable to suppress her grin as well. “You’re the adorable-st person to ever exist, happy now?”

“Considering that you just defied the English language for me, quite, actually,” Rachel shoots back playfully, and Quinn just shakes her head fondly, ending the conversation with a warm “oh what am I going to do with you’.

Rachel lets the blonde tuck her back into her side without complaint, and they eat in comfortable silence until Quinn admits, “…I got into Yale.”

It takes a second for it to sink in, but when it does, Rachel feels delight build up within her, and she pulls Quinn into an excitable hug, “What? That’s amazing Quinn, I’m so proud of you! When did you get the letter?”

“Day before my birthday, early admissions,” Quinn says, mind evidently elsewhere. “I was going to tell you, but then Kronos happened, and well…”

A thought creeps its way into Rachel’s brain, and she frowns. “Don’t tell me this is what’s getting you so upset?”

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” Quinn mumbles, and her eyes dart away to the remaining food on the table. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, it was dumb of me in the first place-”

“Quinn,” Rachel interrupts, looking at the blonde with caring eyes. “I’ll never judge you. You can tell me anything you’re comfortable with, you know that right?”

“Yeah,” Quinn exhales, shoulders scrunching up in a helpless expression. “I know…It’s just that I’ll be going to New Haven, and you’ll be going to NYADA, and I know we can teleport any time with our powers, but…it won’t be the same. I’ll miss you.”

“You don’t even know if I’m going to NYADA yet,” Rachel points out, though if she’s being honest with herself it’s just a feeble attempt at stalling. Listening to Quinn talk like she’s her girlfriend is proving to be too much in one go, and her thoughts feel like a jumbled mess, the hopeful part of her clinging onto ‘I’ll miss you’ with everything she has.

But like a best friend would dummy, she reminds herself sternly. Not like…Not like how you really want it.

“They would be crazy not to accept you,” Quinn dismisses the notion without a second thought, and the gesture sends another tangible pang through Rachel’s heart – no one else has ever believed in her with as much conviction as Quinn has, and she silently curses the fact that Quinn Fabray is her person, even if it’ll never be in the way she wants and needs and secretly begs for.

Her throat too tight for her to conjure up an adequate response that isn’t a reckless sudden declaration of love, she just gives a hum of acknowledgement, and she winches when it comes out more of a strangled noise instead.

Quinn seems to take it as dissent though, and she offers, “If they don’t let you in, I’m sure the combined efforts of the entire Aphrodite cabin and I could charm some sense into them…or maybe the Ares cabin could beat some into them instead, I don’t care.”

The words make Rachel’s breath lift, and she can’t help her bashful curve of lips. “You’d do that for me?”

“Rachel, I’d do anything for you, remember?” Quinn smiles sweetly, and Rachel feels herself fall in love all over again.

Jaw set in determination, she lists, “At least two Iris Messages a day, teleporting whenever we have the time, and going to bed together no matter what.”

At the last part, she almost blushes, because I sound so much like I’m her girlfriend this is seriously happening ohmygods, but it’s all worth it when Quinn’s eyes light up in a way that they rarely do, and she welcomes the hug that Quinn enwraps her in with a fuzzy warmth in her chest.

“You’re perfect,” Rachel feels murmured into her hair, and when Quinn pulls away, she pecks her lightly on the cheek, sending a flush down her neck.

Quinn might drive her crazy with her tactile affections, but damn if it doesn’t feel good, and damn if Rachel doesn’t enjoy it.

x.X.x

Turns out, Rachel does get into NYADA.

She receives her letter a bit after that conversation with Quinn, and everyone throws an impromptu party for her and everyone else who had received good news for their college applications.

Most of the gang end up choosing New York-based universities, because after all, it is their city, and Quinn almost goes with Columbia before Rachel knocks some sense into her.

Life is good. Finals are over, Summer is coming up, and she’s making a trip with Quinn to visit her dads in Lima for a couple of days. It’s pretty much as good as it gets.

Now if only Rachel had Quinn in the way she wanted to.

But she shouldn’t be picky. At this point, she’s lucky to be alive and with her friends, living the life in New York. Anything more than that would simply be wistful thinking, and Rachel’s learned over the years that daring to hope too much only ends in disaster.

The doorbell rings at precisely nine in the morning, and Rachel practically trips over herself to get the door before Shelby does.

Raising an amused eyebrow at her, her mother stifles a grin at her ‘so obvious crush Eros is probably weeping’, as she had oh so wonderfully phrased it a few days before, and Rachel hastily looks away, blushing furiously as she opens the door.

Feeling lighter as soon as she sees Quinn, she shoots her a wide smile, chirping happily, “Good morning, Quinn! I trust the day has served you well so far.”

Quinn rubs at her eyes tiredly with a grumpy expression, but she manages to return a sleepy smile. “Morning Rae.”

Stifling a laugh at Quinn’s obvious dislike for the early hours of the day, Rachel takes her hand and leads her to the living room, and her heart flutters in content at the blonde’s presence near her. Quinn humors her by trudging along without a word – like she doesn’t know the apartment layout perfectly with what all the time she spends at the Corcoran-Berry household.

When they go to get Rachel’s bags for their three-day trip to Lima, Quinn can’t resist a snicker, and Rachel reluctantly follows her gaze to the mountainous pile of bags stacked up. Quinn sends her a ‘are you serious?’ look, and Rachel pouts, whining, “What?”

Appearing at the doorway, Shelby chuckles along with Quinn, and she hands over a (still rather large-sized) carry-on bag with a faint eye roll. “I knew this would happen, so I’d already packed the necessities for our dear Rachel here. Take care of my daughter for me, will you? Gods know that she would be lost without you.”

It makes them share a laugh as Rachel indignantly huffs, and she barely manages to stifle the urge to stomp her foot as she crosses her arms testily.

“Betrayed, by my own mother nonetheless!” she exclaims in mock-outrage, and she turns to Quinn with her – as Santana likes to call it – ‘big brown doe eyes that look fucking sad and make you feel like shit for fucking everything’ look. “Quinn, you don’t think that do you?”

Quinn knows her tricks well enough by now though, and the second she sees her eyes, she rapidly shakes her head, looking away determinedly. “Yeah no, I’m not falling for it this time, your guilt-trip empath voodoo can go to Tartarus for all I care, it got old years ago.”

Rachel pouts wider at that, and she makes a show of sighing. “Of all the people it doesn’t work on, it has to be you, doesn’t it?”

“Call it karma for my charmspeak not working on you,” Quinn snorts in return. “You ready yet? You can’t expect me to wake at eight in the morning and not crash on the nearest available bed, it’s actually inhumane.”

Rachel tries her best to keep her smile at bay. “What’s actually inhumane is your insistence on inhaling that monstrosity you call bacon,” she huffs instead. “Rest assured that the voices of the slaughtered innocent pigs you had a hand in killing will follow you to sleep, thank you very much.”

“That’d probably be better than most of the dreams I have,” Quinn jokes darkly, and Rachel softens, squeezing the hand still firmly in hers. Quinn seems to appreciate the gesture, squeezing back lightly, and in an attempt to rescue the mood, she jokes, “And plus, aren’t you the girl who has bacon in her fridge that she promised she’d cook as payment for forcing me to wake at such an ungodly hour?”

Rachel simply rolls her eyes, not attempting to put up much of a fight, and she hums her consent as she tugs Quinn to the kitchen. It’s a testament to how lost in their world they are that it’s then she only notices Shelby having retreated to her bedroom ages ago, and Rachel feels her cheeks heat, remembering her mother’s teasing about wanting to ‘give you two lovebirds your space.’

Willing herself to cool down, she takes out a pan from the cupboard, and Quinn pauses, giving her a look before asking, “You sure?”

It sends a warm rush through her heart, because even though she’s cooked bacon for Quinn a lot over the years – and on quests with limited supplies, Rachel hasn’t stuck to her veganism all that religiously either – Quinn always makes sure that she’s okay with it beforehand, and to Hades if it doesn’t make Rachel’s stomach giddy with butterflies.

She opens the fridge and gives an easy shrug. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

The smell of bacon quells any protest Quinn might have left, and the nearly salivating look on her face makes Rachel smile, settling into place in front of the stove. Immediately, she feels a pair of defined arms wrap around her waist and a lithe body snuggle into her, and she swears she feels soft lips brush across her neck, just that slightly as Quinn murmurs, “You’re amazing.”

“I know,” is her self-assured response, tone only a bit breathless from Quinn’s close proximity, and it draws out a laugh from the blonde.

“And so humble too.”

“Don’t you know it,” Rachel giggles, and she leans back into their embrace to revel in the comfortable warmth. “At least I can put my rather limited cooking skills to use though…I like doing things for you.”

Quinn stills for a second at that, and it makes Rachel heart skip a few beats as she contemplates if she needs to start panicking about saying the wrong thing. But then Quinn’s arms tighten their hold on her, and her hearts speeds for an entirely different reason. “You’re the best person I know, Rachel Berry,” Quinn finally says, voice soft like a confession, and maybe it is.

There it is again, Rachel thinks with scorn. You hope and want too much.

They stay like that as Rachel finishes frying the bacon and plates it, and at how utterly domestic the scene is, she can’t help the numb stab of yearning to her chest.

Unable to stop herself, she allows herself to pretend and daydream for a few precious moments that they’re more than friends, that this could be them sharing a meal together at home after a long day, that this could be their future and forever. A bittersweet taste builds on Rachel’s tongue, and she sighs as they sit at the dining table, reaching out a hand to grab the vegan sandwich Quinn had brought over to munch on.

Quinn notices her woe – a miracle considering bacon is right there – and raises a concerned brow. “You okay?”

“Just tired,” Rachel replies, and she tries her best to keep her voice from revealing anything. It’s true though; she’s just so tired of hiding her feelings and keeping her emotions blocked from their empathy link every day, and she’d call it mundane routine if being with Quinn wasn’t everything but.

When Quinn’s face turns into worry, it only makes the ache in Rachel’s heart worse, because this girl deserves so much and Rachel so desperately wants to be the person who can give her that.

“Are you sleeping well? Is it the nightmares again?” Quinn instantly questions, worried. “Lay down on the couch, I’m giving you a neck rub. I can IM your dads to tell them we’re going to be late if you want to, or we can-”

“Quinn,” Rachel grabs the taller girl’s arm, a half-smile on her face at Quinn’s rambles, and a fuzzy warmth runs through her heart at her thoughtfulness, “I’m fine, you don’t have to go through all that trouble for me. Now, hurry up and finish your breakfast so we can head to Lima, you know how Daddy gets when we’re late, he’ll tear Olympus down with worry.”

She can tell that Quinn wants to protest, but a pleading look from Rachel quells her dissent, and Quinn relents, “Okay, but I’m still giving you that neck rub when we get there and we’re going to bed early tonight, I’ll drag you there if I have to.”

Rachel tries painfully hard not to linger on ‘we’re going to bed’ instead of you, but of course she does, and it sends her head into a spin. “Thank you…For everything, really.”

“You’re stealing my line, Rach.” Quinn’s lips quirk, and her eyes seek hers out, as if she’s trying to convey her feelings through those mesmerizing hazels. “These three years have meant the world to me, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for staying in my life…I…I-”

“You what, Quinn?” Rachel asks, and she hates how desperate she sounds, deathly afraid of what she might hear in response.

A visible struggle wages on the blonde’s face, and it’s apparent that this is important to her. Beyond their empathy link, Rachel’s empath powers have never worked on Quinn unless both their emotions were turned up to the max, and she can almost hear the calling of thoughts and feelings begging her to tune into them.

Rachel swallows down the suddenly tight feeling in her throat, and it’s all she can do to fend off the urge to delve into Quinn’s mind. She refuses to violate Quinn’s privacy like that, and she silently affirms to herself that she would never do such a thing, suppressing the memories that come up at the reminder of what her powers can do.

It’s then that the emotions raging within Quinn seem to reach an impasse, and she rearranges her face back into her usual aloofness as she finally sighs, “…It’s nothing.”

Rachel barely stops herself from visibly deflating, and she berates herself for wanting too much once more. “Okay.”

It’s all she can muster up the courage to reply, and she can’t help the disappointment that bubbles up in her chest as she internally scoffs at herself. Stop getting your hopes up Rachel, what did you think she was going to say, that she loves you? Get over yourself.

Quinn can’t seem to find words to continue the conversation either, and the rest of breakfast is spent in an awkward silence. It’s been a while since their easiness has been put so off-kilter, and Rachel wants to kick herself for pushing the issue, already missing their usual comfortable companionship.

Somewhere between her staring at her sandwich awkwardly and Quinn pushing her food around with her fork, Rachel thinks that gods, this is stupid, and then-

“I’m sorry,” they both blurt out at the same time.

A beat passes, both of them staring at the other’s apologetic face, and at how absurd the entire thing is, a giggle bursts out of Rachel. It’s all it takes for Quinn to start laughing at their silliness too, and when Rachel suggests “Truce?”, the blonde agrees, a soft smile back on her lips again.

They finish their breakfast quickly after that, and Quinn takes their bags as they prepare to head out. Rachel heart flutters at the gentlewomanly action, and Quinn just gives her that I’m smiling because of Rachel Berry grin, reaching out a hand to intertwine their fingers. “Come on, let’s not keep the Berrymen waiting shall we?”

 x.X.x

Rachel’s fathers welcome them warmly, and of course Rachel makes plenty of sulky remarks about how they seem to fuss over Quinn more than their own daughter, whining about how she was practically shoved away at the door in favor of the blonde.

Seeing her fathers again as she gets reacquainted with Lima gives her a fuzzy warmth in her chest, and they catch up on everything that had happened during the Summer with the same easy rapport as ever. Rachel tries not to gush too hard about how amazing of a leader Quinn was during the Battle of Manhattan – and promptly fails – and it’s odd, seeing Lima again now that she knows everything’s done with and settled down.

She’s so used to high stakes at this point that the thought of there being none makes her feel strange, and Lima is the epitome of that: if New York, Shelby, and Camp Half-Blood represent her demigod life after she had turned fifteen and was sent to camp for her safety, then Lima, Hiram, and Leroy represent everything before and the normalcy that had encompassed it.

Quinn seems to be the only stable constant throughout the two things, the bridge between her fantastical life-and-death adventures and her normal everyday life, and the epiphany hits Rachel suddenly.

When she’s with Quinn, she’s not the daughter of Apollo or the straight-A student with the amazing voice, she’s just Rachel, and it occurs to her then – it’s because Quinn is home, and Rachel doesn’t quite know what to do with that revelation.

She’s not given much time to dwell on it though, because with a blink of an eye its dinnertime, and Quinn comes out of the kitchen holding a giant plate of Rachel’s favorite vegan spaghetti. As soon as she eats her first bite, the diva pretty much moans in ecstasy, and she’s not alone in her relishing – Hiram doesn’t miss a beat in telling Quinn how great the dish is, and he cheekily adds on, “Rachel, remind me why haven’t you married her yet?”

Caught off-guard, Rachel just lets out a broken squeak, and she can only splutter as Quinn simply watches on the sidelines with an amused grin.

“Hiram!’ Leroy chides, and Rachel sighs in relief at having at least someone on her side, before, “now who am I going to send down the aisle?”

She dies from embarrassment.

(She wishes. If only things could be that simple.)

Dinner goes by in a flash, and soon, Quinn’s enforcing bedtime upon her.

It goes without saying that they’re staying in Rachel’s bedroom together, and Rachel’s fathers have long since understood that it’s just a common fact of demigod life that nightmares are easier to handle when there’s someone to help you get through them.

There’s probably something about unhealthy codependency to be found there, but at this point, Rachel can’t really find it in herself to care, and a small part of herself can’t help but find satisfaction in how all her want and need is reciprocated, if only just a little bit.

They finish getting ready for bed quickly, and Rachel tries to stay on her side of the bed and ignore the urge to snuggle up close, but it isn’t long until Quinn wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close to spoon her.

Rachel is helpless to resist, and she practically melts into the embrace, pushing her back flush against Quinn’s body. She feels Quinn bury her head in her hair and plant a light kiss on her neck, and sighing in content, Rachel allows herself to drift into slumber, praying to Hypnos for her dreams to be filled with hazels instead of reds.

But of course, it’s too much to ask, and she quickly finds herself lost in the realm of infinite darkness.

x.X.x

With a heavy grunt, Rachel fires off another arrow and finally finishes off the Empousa she’s fighting, letting out a breath as the monster disintegrates into dust before her.

She’s about to engage another one when she sees Quinn stumble out of the cave Ethan Nakamura had fled to, Sword of Hades in hand and blood dripping down her arm. Haggardly dragging the sword along the ground, she’s walking with a visible limb, and worry races through Rachel’s being immediately.

Mind preoccupied, she doesn’t even notice another Empousa sneak up on her with a dagger raised to strike, and before she can even process Quinn’s warning yell, she’s wrapped up in a protective embrace.

She doesn’t even need to hear the pained gasp that follows to know what had happened.

Quinn had gone and taken the blow for her.

Her heart stops as the blonde chokes out a weak “Rachel,” and when she goes slack in her arms, Rachel looks down to see the Empousa twist the dagger into Quinn’s back deeper, blood already starting to leak out of her armor.

The Empousa meets her eyes, a grin of cruel delight on her face, and Rachel doesn’t see red.

She doesn’t register anything at all, really.

It’s almost as if she disassociates from herself, the roaring howl in her ears becoming muted and dim along with everything else in her vision, and she feels her blood run cold.

Her hand rises to knock the Empousa away with a concentrated light blast, and it’s like she’s on autopilot as she sets Quinn down, casting a light barrier to shield the girl.

The sight of Quinn unconscious and heavily wounded doesn’t feel real, and Rachel’s heart constricts into something dark and ugly, her fingernails digging deeply into her palm and almost breaking skin. She homes in on where the Empousa had landed, and looking at the small crater a simple light blast had caused, a sudden realization runs through Rachel’s mind.

She’s powerful.

And she’s going to make this pathetic excuse of a monster pay for hurting Quinn.

Light envelops her right forearm, and sparks of fire cackle around her flaring arm as she slowly treks to the Empousa, brown eyes cold and hard. Kicking the monster in the chest as it makes a feeble attempt to get up, its pained hiss gives Rachel a twisted sense of gratification, and she sends her fist flying into its face with a sickening crack.

The Empousa lets out a screech, hissing and gasping in anguish, and it only seems to spur her on, Rachel’s hand reaching out to grab its collar and starting to heal it unconsciously. As Rachel releases all of her rage onto it, needing to make it understand how she’s hurting, she keeps it on the verge of death with her healing powers, and the cycle goes on and on and on, her demigod abilities that she swore to only heal with used to harm instead.

She doesn’t know how long she stays there, beating up the Empousa that’s barely clinging onto life, but out of nowhere, she feels a tentative hand touch her shoulder, and she freezes for a spilt second, body going rigid as she goes through the motions of fight-or-flight.

Evidently, she lands on the former, because her senses fry as a charge of energy bursts out of her, and it causes whoever had put their hand on her to fall harshly to the ground.

Finally releasing her grip on the Empousa, it falls limply to the ground, and when it crumbles into cinders, Rachel redirects her livid gaze to behind her, tightening her jaw.

“Rachel,” Kurt feebly calls as he gets back on his feet, “you’re not yourself. I know you’re upset-”

Her fist clenches. What right did he have, implying that he knew anything? In a fit of anger-fueled adrenaline, she advances on the boy, all sense lost, and he lets out a terrified yelp, hands instinctively coming up to shield himself.

The reaction makes Rachel stop right in her tracks, and a slimmer of rational thought returns to her. He’s…afraid of her?

Furrowing her brow, she takes in a sharp breath, and slowly, she relaxes, looking back on the small crater the Empousa had just been, chest rapidly rising and falling as what she had done dawns on her.

Fuck. What did she just do?

It was just an Empousa, but the fact that it could’ve so easily been a human makes her eyes widen in horror. The rush of power had felt so addicting, and the full scope of what she can do – and what destruction she can inflict – makes her swallow tightly, scaring even herself.

She had enjoyed torturing the Empousa like that, and the epiphany terrifies her.

Seeing her regain some semblance of control over herself, Kurt breathes a sigh of relief, and he tries again to get through to her. “Rachel…remember Quinn?” he stumbles over the word as if afraid it would set her off again. “She needs you.”

Quinn?

At the name, something seems to flash through Rachel, and the image of Quinn and the Empousa’s dagger twisting into her appears in her mind again. Another choked breath wracks through her body, and her heart jerks in its cage as she remembers another memory, of warm sunsets and soft promises.

They’re sitting on a hill near camp, not long after their latest near-death battle, and Rachel’s giving her a small quaver note carved from wood, Quinn giving her in return a bead in the shape of a book, carved in the same fashion.

“I’ll always be there for you.”

The remembrance of that shared promise is like a bucket of cold water splashing down on her, and like that, Rachel’s herself again, her pent-up anger and sadness dispersing and giving way to concern instead.

Quinn’s hurt right now, and she’d be damned if she let her feelings get in the way instead of putting the blonde first.

Rushing over to where she had left Quinn, Rachel finds her still knocked out, and seeing her on the ground like that sends a tangible pain at her chest. The wound has mostly been dealt with by her cabinmates, with the dagger taken out and blood flow stopped, and Rachel takes in a haggard breath, kneeling on the ground to start healing her.

Even as her head pounds from overexertion and her entire being aches with guilt and regret and fury and pain, she feels for Quinn’s pulse, and when she finds it steady and beating, she finally breathes a sigh of relief.

She thinks that Quinn’s heartbeat is the most beautiful sound in the world, and for now, that’s enough.

x.X.x

The next thing Rachel knows, she’s standing in a living room that’s all too hauntingly familiar.

Shaking off the residue emotional overload from reliving the Empousa memory, she pushes all that away for now and focuses on the dreamscape she’s currently in, refusing to let herself drown in her what-ifs like she has so many times.

Looking to her right, she sees Russell, drunkenly waving around his broken wine bottle like every time she visits this memory, and that’s confirmation enough.

Rachel and Quinn’s empathy link is different from the ones Satyrs have. Since Rachel’s an Empath, the range of what it does is greatly increased, but it comes with a much more transparent link between the two parties involved, including shared dreams.

(Thank Barbra that Rachel had learnt how to block out sex dreams from their link on the first try, or else she probably would’ve died from mortification. It’s lucky that blocking those take much less energy than the heavy-hitting nightmares, where the emotional toll would almost destroy her.)

Rachel had admitted long ago that she felt guilty for both laying her baggage on the other girl and invading her privacy like that, and in response, Quinn had called her an idiot.

“I would take on all of your demons for you if I could,” she said, and no matter how many times Rachel replays it in her head, it never fails to make her heart flutter and swoon.

The loud noise of Russell kicking the wall jolts Rachel out of her thoughts, followed by heavy stomping up the stairs, and she sighs, resigned to how she’ll probably never get her heart to stop racing at this memory.

Hoping that Quinn wakes up before the entire thing gets to play out, Rachel scowls fiercely at the man that had no right calling himself a follower of God, and not for the first time, she desperately wishes she could deck him without her fist meeting thin air. She reluctantly passes through the door to Lucy’s room, her dream state allowing her to ghost through the solid wood, and she closes her eyes, mentally preparing herself for what comes next.

As she’s greeted with the sight of a shivering Judy Fabray holding six-year-old Quinn tightly, Rachel can’t stop the helpless whimper that comes out of her strangled throat, and she digs her fingers into her palm – no matter how many times she witnesses this scene, it always seems to pierce through her heart like shards of broken glass.

Quinn, untouchable Quinn, who is still Lucy here, looks so small and afraid, and Rachel distinctively remembers the first time she had seen this all unfold, heart going out to the blonde as she had bawled her eyes out.

The door’s kicked down from behind her, and Rachel tries her best to regulate her breathing as Russell throws his wine bottle to the floor angrily, shattering all over the ground. Judy takes the brunt of the glass cuts, but a few hit Lucy’s feet, and she gasps in pain.

Rachel’s heart breaks for the girl like all the times before, and her hand unconsciously reaches out in an attempt to do something, before clenching and sticking back to her side.

Judy wraps her arms tighter around Lucy’s waist, and Rachel wishes she could block out all the noises as she listens to the mummered, “It’s going to be okay, Lucy, we’ll be okay…” over and over again.

Frustration building up within her, Rachel can’t help but look away as Russell begins his onslaught of drunken kicks and fists while heatedly ranting, and she winces, hearing rather than seeing Judy doing her best to shield Lucy.

The pained groans and whimpers seem endless, and Rachel prays that it’ll be over soon. She wonders how Quinn is doing, as it has to be much worse, reliving this moment in person, and she heaves a shaky breath.

Having witnessed this dream too many times to count, it’s harrowing how she knows every beat and movement in and out, grimacing before something even happens. She knows that in two seconds, the blue shirt hanging in Lucy’s closet will slip and fall to the floor inaudibly, and she knows that right now, there’s a yellow bird perched on the tree outside the window.

She knows that in about twenty seconds, Judy will start begging Russell not to hurt Lucy.

She knows every frame and action in this memory, and that, in itself, is another form of excruciating torture.

Lucy starts crying, silent tears streaming down her face, and Rachel faintly registers her body shaking, physically wanting to wrap the weeping girl into her arms and hold her until it’s all over and then some. Seeing the pain and grief on her face is heart-wrenching, and the resigned look in her hazel eyes gets Rachel every single time, adding to the already raging emotions rampant from her previous dream.

Judy’s heartbreaking pleas are cut short with a slap, ringing loud and clear in Rachel’s ears, and Russell grabs her arm to forcefully fling her away from Lucy.

The woman hits the wall with a painful thud, and Lucy, scared and startled, starts backing away with her hands to prop herself up, eyes wide in concern for her mother. Groaning, Judy desperately pleads, “D-Don’t hurt her, please, she hasn’t done anything, she’s innocent!”

Rachel’s vision stings with unshed tears, and she bites down hard on her cheek in a fruitless attempt to focus on anything else but the sickening sounds. Judy’s begging goes unheard, and Russell advances on Lucy, sending a powerful kick to her stomach.

The girl cries out in pain, hunching over in the feral position, and the sounds of quiet sobs and pleads seem to never end, each ripping another hole in Rachel’s heart. Counting to ten, she hopes time will go by quicker, for both her own and Quinn’s sake, and she goes through her breathing exercises, knowing that the worst is yet to come.

Finally, the sound of a vase meeting resistance reverberates throughout the room, and Rachel watches as Russell stumbles a step, groaning in pain.

Filled with dread, Rachel can’t even find it in her to enjoy the horrid man getting some of what he deserves, and she simply watches as he turns around and snarls at Judy, who’s sporting an absolutely terrified look, face frozen in shock at what she just did. “You bitch!”

Picking up one of the bigger pieces of the glass debris, he growls and lungs for the petrified woman, and Rachel, out of instinct, can’t help but leap in front of Judy, only to feel a cold whiplash as Russell passes through her.

Gasping at the sensation, she staggers back to the wall. The feeling of something passing through her is probably one she’ll never get used to, the cold from an unknown chasm chilling, and she barely has time to react before Lucy is on Russell’s back, arms around his neck in a vice-grip as she screams, “Stop!”

Her hands start emitting a buzzing blue, sparks flying everywhere, and the smell of burnt flesh hits Rachel. Russell is screaming now, frantically trying to fling her off his back, but Lucy seems unable to let go. Judy is at the side, staring with dreadful eyes as she covers her mouth with her hands, and hearing steps from downstairs, Rachel forces herself to stay calm, repeating numbers in her head in painful repetition.

The disgusting visual of Russell’s steaming neck challenges her gag reflex, but somewhere deep within her, she thinks he had deserved every bit of pain that was coming to him, and soon, he falls to the floor in a boneless heap, neck marred by red and pinks.

Rachel can’t stop her cruel scoff. The man didn’t nearly suffer as much as Quinn and Judy did. Faintly, she hears the footsteps and hisses get louder, and right as Rachel tightens her jaw, the three dracanae slither in.

Lucy only stands before them, not even registering the monsters, and her gaze solely focuses on Russell’s limp body.

The dracanae growl, and the one in the middle sneers, bringing its sword up. Rachel’s heart speeds up, and Judy lets out a cry, warning her daughter. Maybe Lucy doesn’t sees the blow coming, or maybe she does and doesn’t care. Either way, the blow doesn’t hit her.

It hits Judy instead.

The garbled cry that sounds out makes Rachel flinch, and she watches as the woman falls forward, facing Lucy and trying to protect her even to her last breath.

Before she goes limp, Judy weakly mummers something that Rachel feels more than hears, and she inhales deeply in preparation for what comes next. I’m sorry.

Lucy looks from Russell’s body, to Judy’s, to the three dracanae, and Rachel exhales.

Quinn erupts in lightning.

x.X.x

“Rachel!”

She’s awoken by Quinn’s loud sob, and she can feel her own tears welling up as well.

Reaching for the body that’s already tightly wrapped around her, she tries to pull the blonde even closer, always closer, and she desperately forces more air into her lungs, feeling as if the entire room is caving in on her.

Everything – the Empousa, Russell’s everything, Rachel and Quinn’s guilt feeding each other through their empathy link – hits her all at once, and she lets out a pained gasp in reply.

“Quinn,” she mumbles the name over and over again, grasping at her shirt to tug her impossibly closer, and she shudders as sobs rake through her entire body.

Sometimes, she thinks it gets easier, but then again, does it ever really?

“Fuck,” Quinn says, a strangulated and broken note, “I-I can’t-”

“I know,” Rachel breathes against her collar, head buried in the blonde’s chest, and she can feel Quinn nuzzle into her hair, desperately breathing in her scent like it’s the air she needs to survive.

They stay like that for gods know how long, quietly sobbing their hearts out, and Rachel just wants to hide in Quinn’s embrace forever, greedily soaking up the warmth and comfort and never coming out.

But that would be selfish of her, and she’s been so selfish already.

‘Are you okay?’ she sends through their link, not trusting her voice to keep steady, and Quinn lets out this half-laugh half-sob that pulls at her heartstrings.

‘Hold me?’ she hears instead, and she understands. They’ve lived through those dreams – nightmares – so many times now that they’ve pretty much talked about all there is to talk about, and all they really can offer each other now is mutual comfort. Rachel just wants to be vulnerable for a while, and that’s what exactly she’ll do, burrowing closer as she indulges in Quinn’s touch.

‘Always.’

x.X.x

“-our blessings, Quinn,” she overhears the next day, emerging from the kitchen with a fresh batch of cookies and catching the tail end of Quinn and her fathers’ conversation.

The right and just person that she is, Rachel turns right back around and gives them their privacy.

(Who is she kidding, she’s Rachel Berry, of course she eavesdrops.)

“If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you,” Hiram says. “Well, you and our Rachel, of course.”

“Hopefully it goes off without a hitch,” Quinn replies, excitement in her voice, and Rachel perks up, curious. “The Fourth of July can’t come soon enough.”

Wait, what?

It’s common knowledge that that day is host to basically the biggest dating event at camp, the Fourth of July fireworks, which means- What the Hades?

Confusion and jealousy running rampant through her now, Rachel shakes her head, thoughts jumbled, and she turns around the corner, putting on a show face. “I’m done with the cookies, what’s going on?”

And of all things, Quinn blushes in reaction, like full on, rosy cheeks, blushes.

Rachel prides herself on being a terrific actress, but she can’t deny how her heart drops, and she’s pretty sure that her smile is just the tiniest bit psychotic right now.

She’s mostly come to terms with her unrequited feelings by now, but the possibility of Quinn falling for someone else had never really occurred to her before, and now that Rachel’s faced with it, she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.

Quinn notices, obviously, because she’s too perfect for her own good, and she sends through their link, ‘What’s wrong?’

Shaking her head slightly, Rachel wills herself to put on a smile. ‘I’m fine.’

The blonde arches a brow, and it’s clear she’s not buying it. ‘The last time you frowned and pouted that hard was when you found out I’d never watched Funny Girl before, so spill.’

Rachel bites her lip, not knowing how to reply, and thankfully, she’s saved by Leroy’s interruption. “Look girls, I know you have your soulmate-esque telepathy going on, but we old men aren’t privy to your demigod voodoo, so would you mind talking like normal people?”

Mind still ridden with thoughts of what she had overheard meant, Rachel just shrugs as a response, and Hiram rolls his eyes at his husband. “Says you, I’m having the time of my life watching them be cute together,” he waves aside.

“Glad I have your approval, Mr. Berry,” Quinn laughs, a little grin on her face, and all Rachel can do is laugh along weakly.

She really can’t do this today.

x.X.x

They still don’t talk about the almost-kiss and, they still don’t about the ‘I love you’.

Rachel finishes the song that she’s been working on about Quinn.

In other words, it means that Quinn starts spending less time with her, and more time with Sam.

Fucking Sam, with his stupid Poseidon legacy surfer boy attitude, and his aggravating haircut that he got last month that doesn’t make him look like JB, and is it wrong to say that Rachel hates him, just the slightest bit? It’s just, they’re like Barbie and Ken for Hades’ sake!

So yes, Rachel finishes the song.

It’s not like Quinn’s pulling away from her – in fact, she’s still as tactile as ever in a way that makes Rachel’s heart both soar and tumble – but whenever Rachel wants to hang out now, the other girl always seems to be busy, working on something with Sam.

Quinn’s apologized for it, saying that it’s super important, and Rachel has mostly accepted the fact that it probably has something to do with asking Sam out to the fireworks, but it still leaves a sour taste in her mouth, with the Fourth of July creeping up on them all-too-quickly.

In one of her fits of impulsion, Rachel agrees to performing at the concert that her cabin always holds before the fireworks, and she doesn’t really worry about the chance that Quinn might hear her song and work out her feelings, knowing that she would probably be busy with him during anyway.

The stage is her second home and performing is always cathartic for her, so she figures that maybe it’ll give her some closure, or at the very least a space to vent, and soon enough, she’s standing in the middle of the amphitheater ready to sing her little heart out. She feels the same rush of adrenaline that she does every time she prepares to perform, and from her position, she can see every face and person staring at her in anticipation. She breathes.

This is what she’s made for.

She lets the opening beats of the song flow through her, and she sings, releasing all the pent-up emotions and feelings that have been bubbling inside of her for three years now.

She’s staring me down with those electric eyes
No matter how hard I try,
I can’t escape that gaze tonight
That girl’s up in the atmosphere
That girl’s up in the atmosphere

All she can picture and think about while singing is Quinn, images of their first meetings flashing through her mind, and she hears the crowd cheering her on, fueling her.

She’s unsure whether the feeling in her chest is because of her emotional turmoil or just from the energy it takes to perform, but she’s determined to at least channel her drama into a show of a lifetime, and she draws in a breath, continuing.

And I’ve been catching myself thinking of it
It was 3 in the morning
Every day I chase after her
But I can’t catch lightning
No, I can’t catch lightning

She’s pouring her yearning heart out to a crowd that knows nothing, but being about to scream the words that’ve been bubbling within her for forever feels good, no doubt about it. Dancing around the kind-of stage along with a passionate fervor, she works up the crowd like a pro, and she revels in how they all dance along with her.

Loathe as she is to admit it, a small part of her sometimes resents how Quinn seems to lead her on, giving her all her time and attention in the world, and making her feel as if she’s worth everything and then some. It’s probably an unhealthy part of her that she needs to work out, but as she vents her emotions through song, she frankly can’t find it in herself to care.

She’ll make you believe everything she wants
Make you think that you’re the one
She will keep you there
That girl’s up in the atmosphere
She’s way up in the atmosphere

And I’ve been waiting, waiting, waiting for you
Anticipating
Chasing after things that you do
But I can’t catch lighting
No, I can’t catch lightning

Running through the chorus one last time, the crowd sings along with her, and she feels the familiar embrace of stage thrill, the highest of highs. There’s nothing quite like this, and her body heaves with heavy breaths as she finally closes out the song.

I can’t catch lightning.

The entire crowd is deafening in its volume, whoops and whistles and cheers filling the void in Rachel’s chest, and maybe in another world, Rachel would have gotten what she really wants in a picture-perfect fairy-tale ending.

But for now, she supposes saying goodbye with this song is good enough.

x.X.x

Hiding in one of the canoe lake houses until the enviable fireworks start, Rachel sits in the corner, sulking and brooding. It’s been ten minutes since she finished her song and snuck off to mope in private, and the adrenaline rush has long left her body.

She’s perfectly content to be left in her misery, totally not thinking about any romantic evening that Quinn and Sam are sharing, until she hears the door open, and she sighs, prepared to tell whoever it is to scram.

“Hey,” she hears the familiar voice, and Rachel’s head snaps up, greeted with the sight of Quinn leaning on the doorframe, face contemplative and arms crossed.

Rachel instantly puts together that Quinn knows, and she swallows tightly, words stuck in her throat as her heart races. She blew it, didn’t she?

A panicked ramble is on the tip of her tongue when Quinn pushes off the doorframe and walks closer, and Rachel freezes, everything so quiet that she swears she could hear a pin drop.

“You can’t catch lightning…but you can be struck by it.”

Quinn’s voice catches her by surprise, and Rachel barely has enough time to let her jaw drop in confusion before Quinn’s taken three long strides towards her, cupped her cheek, and crashed their lips together.

Rachel’s imagined this moment. Like, a lot.

But gods, it feels so much better in person.

The only word she can use to describe the kiss is electric, because Quinn’s lips are soft, pressing wonderfully against her own, and Rachel kisses back with fervor once she realizes what’s going on.

Which, to be honest, she still doesn’t really know, but holy shit Quinn Fabray is kissing her right now and even if this is a dream, she’s going to enjoy it and think and worry later.

She seems to run through every cliché as a beautiful symphony rages behind her, butterflies hammering against her stomach as her knees go weak, and Rachel’s pretty sure that there are actually explosions of fireworks happening, judging by the loud sounds coming from the beach’s direction.

Quinn’s lips work wonderfully against her own, and it’s everything she’s been imagining for the past three years and more. Every beat and moment of her seventeen years of life fade out of existence, leaving only them left, and a whimper escapes Rachel, hoping that this’ll never end.

“Fuck,” Quinn breathes as she pulls away at the sound of fireworks, and at how low her tone is, Rachel feels her entire body heat up even more. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

Still dazed by the kiss, Rachel just lets Quinn lead her outside, and the fireworks are just barely visible from where they are. “Made it just in time,” Quinn sighs in relief, and Rachel furrows her brow, her confusion only increasing when she sees the next fireworks blast into the air.

It’s…a heart with RBB x LQF in the middle.

What? She glances over to Quinn immediately, and she only finds the blonde softly smiling at her, cheeks tinted. Rachel opens her mouth to speak, brain not quite processing, and Quinn just shakes her head and makes a gesture towards the sky, telling her to continue watching.

Rachel does.

And promptly has her jaw drop as she sees the next fireworks burst into the sky, spelling out a string of words.

Go out with me?

Rachel spins on her heel to stare at Quinn, not believing her eyes, and her train of thought is incoherent as her heart thunders in her ears. The other girl would never be so cruel as to play such a prank on her, but that would mean…

“I hoped that your ‘I love you’ meant something, so I asked Sam to help me plan out the fireworks,” Quinn explains, shrugging with her half-smile, “and I suggested the trip to Lima because I wanted to get your dads’ blessings.”

Rachel’s brain whirls at a million miles per second, and just like that, everything falls into place.

“I thought you were planning something for Sam,” she blurts out, eyes wide.

“Wait, you thought I was into-” Quinn barks out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, no, just…no.”

It’s almost too good to be true, and Rachel can’t bring herself to tear her eyes away from the blonde, taking in her adorably cute expression, hesitant and hopeful all at once.

“So,” Quinn leads, a current of nervous undertone to her voice, “do you…do you wanna go out with me?”

A warm sensation blooms throughout her chest at the words she thought she would never hear in real life, and Rachel’s faced with the fact that out of everyone Quinn could’ve had, she chose her, planning all this out just for her. Love wells in her entire being, starting from her tippy toes all the way to her finger-pads, and she crashes into Quinn, mummering “Yes” into soft lips as if there was any doubt.

They trade kisses like that for a while, relishing and savoring and making up for all the lost time, and finally, one of them finds the strength to pull away, panting as they rest their foreheads together. They stay like that for a while, locked in their intimate embrace, until Rachel once again remembers that Quinn Fabray is her girlfriend now, and she can’t stop the wide grin that appears on her face. “Quinn, you know I appreciate theatrics as much as the next Barbra fanatic, and I applaud your effort, but did you have to make me suffer through all that heartbreak first?”

Quinn laughs softly, breath warm against her lips, and kisses her again. “It’s not my fault you were so oblivious.”

Gasping dramatically, Rachel gears herself up for a speech, but then Quinn claims her lips to shut her up, and well, who’s Rachel to deny her?

Being stuck down by the lightning bolt that is Quinn Fabray definitely wasn’t a part of her plan, but damn if Rachel isn’t lucky that she’d managed to catch her anyway.