lakakskskskddfoal

8/9/2019 lakakskskskddfoal

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/lakakskskskddfoal 1/16

--

Quinn stumbled into her apartment only about half awake and back aching from the bag full of booksslung across it. She rolled her head on her shouldersand dropped her bag onto the floor in the entryway,shuffling towards the kitchen. Coffee. She neededcoffee. And food. Food would be good.

She had a final in about four hours and she didn’t

trust herself to sleep. If she fell asleep now, she’dpass out for her entire final, fail her evidence exam,get kicked out of school, never become a lawyer andnot have enough money to buy that diamondnecklace she wanted to buy Rachel for their anniversary.

On top of that, her father had called earlier to give her his weekly speech about the importance of gradesand Quinn’s life choices and whether or not she’dmade up her mind about his job offer or not. Theconversation, like all conversations with her father, lefther irritable and stressed and she really needed to gether final over and done with so she could sleep for about six hundred hours.

She was running on autopilot, focused solely on her refrigerator and little else, so she didn’t notice that her kitchen lights were on and that there were clankingnoises coming throughout the apartment.



Which is why when she stepped into her kitchen andsaw Rachel standing at the counter, she nearly had a

heart attack.

“Shit!”

Rachel gasped and spun towards her. “Quinn!”

“What the hell?”

It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy to see her girlfriend.She was really happy. It was just that she couldn’tfigure out why Rachel was here and she wasdesperately running dates through her head trying tofigure out if they had plans she had forgotten or if itwas some holiday she hadn’t remembered. Lawschool had fried her brain, it wouldn’t have been the

first time she had accidentally ditched Rachel.

“Hey,” Rachel said, calmer this time as she took theoven mitt she had on one hand off and threw it on thecounter.

That was about the time the smells in the kitchen hither and her stomach growled loudly. Rachel wascooking. Something delicious by the smell of it andQuinn hadn’t had real food in days. Hot Pockets andRed Bull had been her standard meal in the library.She didn’t have time for anything else.



Rachel walked towards her and Quinn finally let her brain register the sight of her girlfriend, dressed in thispair of short-shorts that Quinn absolutely loved on

Rachel and Quinn’s favorite sweatshirt, her school’slogo big and bold on the front. There was a smudge of flour on Rachel’s cheek and her hair was swept up ina messy bun, strands falling all around her face.

She looked gorgeous and perfect and everythingQuinn needed to see right now. All that exhaustionfrom staring at the tiny black words for hours upon

hours rushed out of her.

“What are you doing here?” Quinn asked as Rachelstepped in front of her and gave her a quick kiss.

“Making you food,” Rachel answered simply, smiling.

“Making me food?”

“Yes,” Rachel agreed. “Brittany mentioned that sheand Santana had barely seen you these past weeksand you were probably holed up in the library,starving yourself to good grades.”

Quinn nodded slowly and blinked. “So you came over here in the middle of the night to make me food.”

“Yes,” Rachel said. “After watching you go throughthis twice now, I knew Brittany was absolutely correctin her guess about what you were up to and I realized



that the reason you keep showing up to our dates withbags under your eyes and your clothes wrinkled wasbecause you’ve been living in the library.”

“So you made me food,” Quinn repeated, her eyesstill wide.

Rachel laughed and the sound settled warmly inQuinn’s stomach. “Yeah,” she murmured, sliding her hands around Quinn’s waist. “You have a final in themorning, right? I figured you’d stop by here first.”

“How long have you been here?” Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel’s neck and pulled their bodiescloser.

“Just a few hours,” Rachel answered. “I stopped atthat all night grocery down the street and then

convinced Hal to let me in.”

Hal was the doorman at Quinn’s building and he andRachel were constantly locked in a battle of wills.Rachel had been on a campaign to get the older, gruff man to warm up to her while the other man continuedto question her presence in Quinn’s apartment andsometimes refused to acknowledge he had seen her before.

Then her brain actually caught up to the conversationand she was able to put two and two together.



“How did you get here?” Quinn asked, pulling awayslightly to look down at Rachel.

“I walked,” Rachel replied. “And took the subway.How else?”

“Rachel,” Quinn said darkly. “It’s the middle of thenight.”

Rachel removed her arms and pulled away, walkingover to the oven and opening it, grabbing her

discarded oven mitt as she did it. “So?”

“So,” Quinn responded, watching as Rachel pulled acasserole dish out and set it on the counter. Quinn felther mouth water at the sight. “You shouldn’t be out byyourself at this time of night.”

Rachel looked at her like she was absurd beforewalking over to the refrigerator and pulling out a bottleof water. “You were,” she argued.

“That’s different.”

“How?” Rachel twisted the cap off the bottle andhanded it to Quinn, leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms as she observed her.

“It just is,” Quinn said, tipping the bottle against her lips and letting cool liquid slide down her throat.



“They do teach you how to argue in law school,right?” It was said amused and light and Rachel wassmiling at her softly.

“Rachel,” Quinn intoned. “You shouldn’t be out thistime of night. Especially in your neighborhood.”

“Quinn, I’ve lived in this city for nearly six years, Iknow what I’m doing.” Rachel pushed off the counter and went to the cabinet, pulling out plates and settingthem down.

In her head, she understood what Rachel was saying,she knew she was sounding overly paranoid andprotective and it was kind of ridiculous that she wouldimply Rachel couldn’t handle herself but she couldn’thelp it.

She had just spent the whole night reading case after case about young, naïve women on dangerous citystreets. About opportunistic killers and rapists that lurkaround every corner. About undeserving people interrible situations. Then Santana, night after night,telling her about whatever poor unsuspecting girl hadgotten attacked, mugged, murdered that night.

She didn’t trust this city. Not at all.

“I know that,” she breathed, running a hand over her eyes.



“Come on, baby,” Rachel said, reaching for Quinn’shand and walking them over to Quinn’s kitchen table.“Let’s eat before this gets cold.”

Quinn gave up. The food smelled really good andRachel looked fantastic in Quinn’s clothes and shewas tired and worried about so many things so she

just stopped fighting. She let Rachel take care of her in ways few people ever had.

“Okay,” she said, taking a seat at the table. She set

her bottle of water down and surveyed the foodRachel brought over. “Thanks, by the way.”

Rachel smiled and leaned down to kiss her. “You’rewelcome,” she whispered before sitting down next toQuinn.

A stomach full of food later and only two hours untilher final, Quinn sat on her living room couch, Rachelcurled into her side and her evidence textbook openon her lap. The words all blended together at thispoint but she still made the effort, flipping the pagesover and tracing her fingers across highlightedportions.

“You’ll do fine,” Rachel mumbled sleepily, fisting her hands into Quinn’s shirt and cuddling further into her side.

Quinn turned her head and pressed her lips to brown



hair, inhaling deeply for a moment and just restingthere.

“Thanks for being here,” she said for the fifteenth timethat night.

“I love you,” Rachel said. “Where else would I be?”

Quinn chuckled. “I like coming home to you,” sheadmitted, her palms sweating where they clutched her book.

Rachel lifted her head up and looked at Quinn withsleepy eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Quinn let out. “I don’t ever want to not.”

It had been on her mind for weeks. Rachel practically

lived at her place anyway and when she wasn’t there,Quinn was at Rachel’s. It made sense to make thissemi-official if Quinn ever stopped being a chickenshitabout it but she couldn’t seem to ever get thequestion out.

It wasn’t the right time anyway. School was crazy andlife was crazy and she wanted to feel like she actuallydeserved it before she and Rachel started building alife together that tangibly. But she needed Rachel tounderstand the sentiment all the same, needed her toknow that it was out there on the horizon.



“Yeah?” Rachel said, this time more awake andstaring at Quinn with shiny, wide eyes.

“You still shouldn’t be out at this time of night. I don’twant anything to happen to you.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and deflated. “Quinn,” shestarted.

All of sudden she got desperate out of nowhere. Itwas probably from being exhausted and nervous

about her finals and the gruesome case she had openon her lap, but she couldn’t stop it.

“I couldn’t stand it,” she said fiercely, needing Rachelto understand.

Rachel’s head snapped to attention and they locked

eyes, staring at each other for a long moment beforeQuinn shook her head and tried to get a hold of herself.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really tired, and worriedabout my test and I keep thinking about all theseterrible things and I just…”

“It’s okay,” Rachel said, running her hand throughQuinn’s hair comfortingly. “It’s okay.”

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she finally said, leaningover to press a kiss to Rachel’s forehead.



“Me too,” Rachel murmured. “Me too.”

--

It’s just after noon when Quinn’s cell phone buzzesloudly in her pocket, nearly making her drop theextremely delicious hotdog she’s devouring for lunch.

She flips it open with one hand and manages to keepher lunch balanced in the other. “What?” she barks

out.

“Meet me at Rick’s.” Is all Santana says beforehanging up.

--

It takes her about thirty minutes to actually get acrosstown and find her way to the bar and when she doesshe feels guilty for not getting there sooner.

Santana’s got her forehead on the table, a cigarette inone hand and a glass of scotch near her other. Allsigns that Santana Lopez is having an extremely badday.

When the first thing Santana does when she arrives iscurse her out, Quinn knows something is reallywrong. Especially when she gets a look at themassive bruises all over her best friend’s face.



It takes her a second to put it all together but it finallyclicks. Alcohol, nicotine, bar fights with Puck.

Something happened with Brittany.

“You didn’t sleep with her or anything stupid like that,did you?” Quinn asks, leaning over to look at her friend.

Santana denies it but the truth is all over her face, theway her eyes glaze over at the memory and the

choking sound she makes at the question.

But Santana has zero interest in talking about it andwhen Quinn questions her further her friend gives her an ultimatum. Shut the fuck up or get out.

Quinn takes a long drink of scotch and holds out her

hand for a cigarette, happy when her friend smilesand deflates.

She can do this for her at least.

They sit there for a while until her cigarette is burneddown to the filter and she stubs it out in the ash tray. If they’re going to be here for a long time, she shouldprobably call her wife.

She gets up from the table and flips her phone open,holds the speed dial down and waits until Rachelpicks up.



“Hey, baby!” Rachel exclaims. “Where are you?”

“At Rick’s,” she answers, knowing that would say it all.

“How’s Santana?”

Quinn looks over at her friend, her head rolling on theback of the booth depressingly. “Not good.” Shepauses. “She slept with Brittany.”

Rachel gasps. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Quinn laughs.

“That’s great!”

“Not so much,” Quinn denies. “If it was great do you

think I’d be at Rick’s with her right now?”

“Right,” Rachel agrees. “Well, when do you thinkyou’re coming home?”

“No idea,” Quinn admits. “I’ll call you if we’re here pastdinner.”

“That bad?”

Quinn studies the grooves and cracks in the wallnearby. “I don’t know. She’s in pretty bad shape.”



“I’m sorry,” Rachel breathes.

“Yeah,” Quinn says. She lets out a long breath. She

just wants this thing to be over, she wants twoseconds of her life to be uncomplicated and easy. “Metoo.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks. I love you.”

“You too,” Rachel replies and Quinn can practicallyfeel her wife’s smile, feels the answering tug on her own lips.

“Bye,” she lets out before closing the phone andwalking back to the table and sliding back in next toSantana.

They get another round of drinks from Joe despite hishesitation and Quinn turns to her friend, gearing up toforce Santana to talk about what the hell is going on.They need to deal with this Brittany situation and theyneed to deal with it now. Santana was always shit athandling her own feelings.

But before she can get any words out, the phonerings on the table and Santana fumbles around tryingto reach for it.

Quinn scoops it up before Santana can break any



glassware and puts it to her ear, deftly avoidingSantana’s drunken grabs for it.

“Santana Lopez’s phone,” she answers.

“Fabray? It’s Puck.”

“Oh hey, Puck. What’s up?”

“Is Lopez there? Tell her we got another envelopeand I’m heading to the station right now,” Puck

replies.

“We’re at Rick’s, but I don’t think she’s in any shapeto move.”

Santana grabs for the phone but Quinn ducks out of the way. “What are you doing at Rick’s at two in the

afternoon?”

“Just come by here first,” Quinn demands, hanging upbefore Santana can get to the phone.

“Puck’s on his way,” she says to Santana. “You gotanother envelope.”

Santana falls heavily onto the booth and exhalesloudly.

Quinn meets Joe’s eye from across the room andmouths the word water to him and holds up two



fingers.

--

Puck arrives not soon after and Quinn watches himgreet Joe as he makes his way to the booth, flingingthe rain water out of his leather jacket as he moves.

He drops into the booth across from them. After asemi-amusing, but mostly depressing conversationabout why Santana is basically drunk off her ass in

the middle of the afternoon while a scary mafiamercenary is after Brittany, he slides an envelopeacross the table in front of them.

“It’s actually good that you’re here,” he says to Quinnand dread hits her like a punch.

The fear spikes through her at the look on Puck’sface. He looks worried and tentative and so not likehimself that Quinn wants to throw the envelope rightback at him. She doesn’t want it to be good that’s shehere if it’s in connection with this ominous envelopePuck’s pushing towards her.

Santana makes a move for it, but fails, predictably, soQuinn shoves her to the side and picks it up off thetable, opening it up and sliding the contents out. It’s ablack and white photo, and her stomach drops asrecognition crosses over her.



What started as an inkling of fear flares up hot andfast in her system as her eyes take in the photo.

She expected Puck’s apprehension to be aboutSantana. That in the envelope was news about Pikeor Brittany or both and that Santana was about to dosomething ridiculous and it was good Quinn was hereto restrain her. It was good because maybe Santanawas in trouble and that was what was in the envelopeor any other reason except the one staring her in theface.

It’s the worst possible scenario and she isn’t preparedfor it at all.

The photo is of Brittany, that much she expected. Andthere’s Nemo, walking along beside her. Sherecognizes the street and can almost pinpoint a date

but that’s not what’s concerning.

There, next to Brittany and laughing like she doesn’thave a care in the world is Rachel.

lakakskskskddfoal

Documents

Transcript of lakakskskskddfoal