Unspoken Words (3/?)
Title: Unspoken Words
Rating: PG (this one)/NC-17 (whole fic)
Length: 1000+
Spoilers: AU after Journey
Summary: Futurefic! Rachel knew it wasn't wise to take a shortcut through dark New York alleys late at night, but it was late, and she was drunk, and really, really had to get home.
Pairing: Eventually Faberry
Warning: Angst! ANGST!!!
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Monday was a miserable day for Quinn. With the office in complete flux from the retired CEO, she wasn’t able to get a day off from work to stay with Rachel. The Berry men would not allow her to take a sick day, and seeing as the doctors planned to keep the unconscious brunette sedated for a little while longer (to at least allow her wounds to close again), Quinn knew they were right. She ignored the thinly veiled back handed insults from the female coworkers about how tired and slovenly she looked, trudging through her day by sipping on coffee and focusing solely on her work.
Hours later, Quinn looked up at a light knock on her door, mouth set in a thin line. The distraction took her away from her project which, in turn, took precious time away that she could use finishing and leaving early, which took away from seeing Rachel. She could see the chief financial officer standing at her door, eyebrows set in worry.
“Are you okay, Quinn?” She shook her head slightly, knowing that the man would understand. Walking in, he shut the door behind him before walking over to the seat in front of her desk. “What happened to the Quinn I saw on Friday?”
A deep breath. A pause. “That Quinn... she’s gone for a while.” She swallowed. “An old... fr- uh, classmate of mine was hurt... because of something I did.” A tightlipped smile accompanied a furrowed brow, and Quinn licked her lips. “I... I had no idea my actions could have such horrible consequences. Her life is completely ruined, and it’s all my fault.”
“Well, you’re young, so it’s a good time to learn it, I’d say.” He smiled tightly at her, not sure what to do with the obviously distraught woman. “I’m sorry about your classmate, but I know you, Quinn. You’re probably putting too much blame on yourself.”
She shook her head furiously. “Nothing’s ever going to be right for her ever again, and I feel so horrible about it.”
He tweaked her chin with his hands. “Buck up, kiddo.” She attempted a smile, looking away from his compassionate eyes. “I’ve got good news for you, yeah? Meet me in my office in five minutes. Maybe after I finish telling you, you can take the rest of the day off... celebrate, maybe. Meet up with some old friends, drink a few beers.” He smiled warmly at her, missing how her face paled at the mention of drinking, before getting up to leave.
“Yes... sir.” The door clicked shut with a sort of finality. Quinn stared, unblinkingly, at her desk for a couple minutes before she organized her desk, needing something to do before she headed out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even before Rachel’s eyes opened, she’d known something was off. She remembered, from the last time, she was in the white room with the white curtains and the white sheets and the disgusting medicinal smell. She wasn’t well. And there was something drastically wrong with her throat.
She went to move her arm, and felt resistance. She tugged harder, and was just as unsuccessful, except for the sound of stretching leather.
“Rachel?”
Her eyes flew open. Dad.
She turned to the side of her bed, and saw her fathers. Peter. Abraham. She opened her mouth to greet them, eyes narrowing when nothing came out. She tugged again at the restraints she had on her wrists, frowning.
“Hi there, Rachel.” They were... smiling. But they weren’t happy. She could read them, she could, after all these years. She’d missed them, but they had their own lives in Lima and...
Why were they in New York?
Why were they crying?
Rachel worked her fingers upwards, wiggling them futilely, hoping they’d notice. But they were staring so intently at her face that they didn’t realize that she wanted someone to hold her hand. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her frown turned even lower.
They would know, right? They’d know what’d happened to her throat that made it so itchy and painful, so that even breathing was a chore. They’d explain it all, right?
“You’re going to be okay.” Peter’s hand stretched out, tentative and shy, before his fingers caressed Rachel’s cheek lightly. Rachel sighed soundlessly as she leaned into his hand, eyes fluttering closed. If he said so, if daddy said so, everything was going to be okay.
He’d never been wrong before.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quinn sat in a taxi, cab full of miscellaneous boxes, each box meticulously labeled with company names and dates, or full of personal affects. She got the permission to take her work home from her office, and knew she’d have all the time she wanted to take care of it all. ‘Stay on top of the market,’ they’d said, and if she hadn’t already been so frazzled, she would have laughed. Quinn had always been able to see the trends before they happened, which had helped her reach the position that she had in such a short amount of time.
Now all she’d have to do was analyze data sent to her from the main office from her home office. She could practically do that in her sleep.
The cab driver was kind enough to help her unload her boxes onto the side of the road outside her building, and she somehow enlisted security’s help in bringing them to her unit, and once she’d gotten everything piled in the corner by her desk, she’d just grabbed her keys and left again.
She hadn’t seen Rachel in over twelve hours. That was too long.
Who knew how much had changed since the last time she’d seen her?
A lot could change over twelve hours...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Liars.
They were both liars.
She lay in the bed, tightlipped and barely breathing, as the doctor came in and explained what had happened to her. That she’d been assaulted in an alleyway (she knew that) and that someone had called (the... blonde?) and that she wouldn’t ever be able to sing again.
She wouldn’t much be able to talk again either.
At the doctor’s words, she pulled so strongly on her restraints that she’d pulled herself nearly out of the bed itself. And when an orderly had come to help her, she’d kicked him. Repeatedly.
Her mouth opened and let out a kind of gargling noise. She was certain that it was meant to be a scream. She was certain, at some point in her life, that scream would have burst an eardrum and broken a window or two.
Instead she made that gargling noise. She made it until she had no more air to bubble through the mess in her throat, and then she just sat on her bed, mouth wide open in a silent scream, arms tied to the sides of her bed, tears burning trails down her cheeks. She screamed in her mind like she’d never screamed before. Like she’d never needed to before.
Like she never would again.
All her fathers could do was watch her weep. They watched as their broken daughter broke further. They knew that if they so much as touched her, she’d break further. They might never have her again.
Without her voice, what did Rachel have to live for?
WIthout her words, who was Rachel Berry, gold star?
She wanted so much to be free of the bed, free of the leather restraints, free of the nightmare that her life was becoming.
She had a future. She had one, and now it was gone. It was gone, and now she had this gaping darkness in place of it, where nothing, nothing, was anything like what she’d known since her birth, and who’s fault was that? What was she going to do?
How was she going to survive?
The door was thrown open, and heels clattered into the room, before a gasp was let out.
“Rachel...”
She didn’t bother to turn towards the new voice. This wasn’t how she wanted people to see her. Broken. Defeated. Lost.
She didn’t think she’d ever be found again.
Then a touch, a light one. On her hands. She wrapped her fingers around the support there, and turned, slightly, to look at their hands. Pale mixed with tan, and she was surprised...
She couldn’t see.
Was she going blind too? Everything was blurry and wet.
TBC
Rating: PG (this one)/NC-17 (whole fic)
Length: 1000+
Spoilers: AU after Journey
Summary: Futurefic! Rachel knew it wasn't wise to take a shortcut through dark New York alleys late at night, but it was late, and she was drunk, and really, really had to get home.
Pairing: Eventually Faberry
Warning: Angst! ANGST!!!
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Monday was a miserable day for Quinn. With the office in complete flux from the retired CEO, she wasn’t able to get a day off from work to stay with Rachel. The Berry men would not allow her to take a sick day, and seeing as the doctors planned to keep the unconscious brunette sedated for a little while longer (to at least allow her wounds to close again), Quinn knew they were right. She ignored the thinly veiled back handed insults from the female coworkers about how tired and slovenly she looked, trudging through her day by sipping on coffee and focusing solely on her work.
Hours later, Quinn looked up at a light knock on her door, mouth set in a thin line. The distraction took her away from her project which, in turn, took precious time away that she could use finishing and leaving early, which took away from seeing Rachel. She could see the chief financial officer standing at her door, eyebrows set in worry.
“Are you okay, Quinn?” She shook her head slightly, knowing that the man would understand. Walking in, he shut the door behind him before walking over to the seat in front of her desk. “What happened to the Quinn I saw on Friday?”
A deep breath. A pause. “That Quinn... she’s gone for a while.” She swallowed. “An old... fr- uh, classmate of mine was hurt... because of something I did.” A tightlipped smile accompanied a furrowed brow, and Quinn licked her lips. “I... I had no idea my actions could have such horrible consequences. Her life is completely ruined, and it’s all my fault.”
“Well, you’re young, so it’s a good time to learn it, I’d say.” He smiled tightly at her, not sure what to do with the obviously distraught woman. “I’m sorry about your classmate, but I know you, Quinn. You’re probably putting too much blame on yourself.”
She shook her head furiously. “Nothing’s ever going to be right for her ever again, and I feel so horrible about it.”
He tweaked her chin with his hands. “Buck up, kiddo.” She attempted a smile, looking away from his compassionate eyes. “I’ve got good news for you, yeah? Meet me in my office in five minutes. Maybe after I finish telling you, you can take the rest of the day off... celebrate, maybe. Meet up with some old friends, drink a few beers.” He smiled warmly at her, missing how her face paled at the mention of drinking, before getting up to leave.
“Yes... sir.” The door clicked shut with a sort of finality. Quinn stared, unblinkingly, at her desk for a couple minutes before she organized her desk, needing something to do before she headed out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even before Rachel’s eyes opened, she’d known something was off. She remembered, from the last time, she was in the white room with the white curtains and the white sheets and the disgusting medicinal smell. She wasn’t well. And there was something drastically wrong with her throat.
She went to move her arm, and felt resistance. She tugged harder, and was just as unsuccessful, except for the sound of stretching leather.
“Rachel?”
Her eyes flew open. Dad.
She turned to the side of her bed, and saw her fathers. Peter. Abraham. She opened her mouth to greet them, eyes narrowing when nothing came out. She tugged again at the restraints she had on her wrists, frowning.
“Hi there, Rachel.” They were... smiling. But they weren’t happy. She could read them, she could, after all these years. She’d missed them, but they had their own lives in Lima and...
Why were they in New York?
Why were they crying?
Rachel worked her fingers upwards, wiggling them futilely, hoping they’d notice. But they were staring so intently at her face that they didn’t realize that she wanted someone to hold her hand. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her frown turned even lower.
They would know, right? They’d know what’d happened to her throat that made it so itchy and painful, so that even breathing was a chore. They’d explain it all, right?
“You’re going to be okay.” Peter’s hand stretched out, tentative and shy, before his fingers caressed Rachel’s cheek lightly. Rachel sighed soundlessly as she leaned into his hand, eyes fluttering closed. If he said so, if daddy said so, everything was going to be okay.
He’d never been wrong before.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quinn sat in a taxi, cab full of miscellaneous boxes, each box meticulously labeled with company names and dates, or full of personal affects. She got the permission to take her work home from her office, and knew she’d have all the time she wanted to take care of it all. ‘Stay on top of the market,’ they’d said, and if she hadn’t already been so frazzled, she would have laughed. Quinn had always been able to see the trends before they happened, which had helped her reach the position that she had in such a short amount of time.
Now all she’d have to do was analyze data sent to her from the main office from her home office. She could practically do that in her sleep.
The cab driver was kind enough to help her unload her boxes onto the side of the road outside her building, and she somehow enlisted security’s help in bringing them to her unit, and once she’d gotten everything piled in the corner by her desk, she’d just grabbed her keys and left again.
She hadn’t seen Rachel in over twelve hours. That was too long.
Who knew how much had changed since the last time she’d seen her?
A lot could change over twelve hours...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Liars.
They were both liars.
She lay in the bed, tightlipped and barely breathing, as the doctor came in and explained what had happened to her. That she’d been assaulted in an alleyway (she knew that) and that someone had called (the... blonde?) and that she wouldn’t ever be able to sing again.
She wouldn’t much be able to talk again either.
At the doctor’s words, she pulled so strongly on her restraints that she’d pulled herself nearly out of the bed itself. And when an orderly had come to help her, she’d kicked him. Repeatedly.
Her mouth opened and let out a kind of gargling noise. She was certain that it was meant to be a scream. She was certain, at some point in her life, that scream would have burst an eardrum and broken a window or two.
Instead she made that gargling noise. She made it until she had no more air to bubble through the mess in her throat, and then she just sat on her bed, mouth wide open in a silent scream, arms tied to the sides of her bed, tears burning trails down her cheeks. She screamed in her mind like she’d never screamed before. Like she’d never needed to before.
Like she never would again.
All her fathers could do was watch her weep. They watched as their broken daughter broke further. They knew that if they so much as touched her, she’d break further. They might never have her again.
Without her voice, what did Rachel have to live for?
WIthout her words, who was Rachel Berry, gold star?
She wanted so much to be free of the bed, free of the leather restraints, free of the nightmare that her life was becoming.
She had a future. She had one, and now it was gone. It was gone, and now she had this gaping darkness in place of it, where nothing, nothing, was anything like what she’d known since her birth, and who’s fault was that? What was she going to do?
How was she going to survive?
The door was thrown open, and heels clattered into the room, before a gasp was let out.
“Rachel...”
She didn’t bother to turn towards the new voice. This wasn’t how she wanted people to see her. Broken. Defeated. Lost.
She didn’t think she’d ever be found again.
Then a touch, a light one. On her hands. She wrapped her fingers around the support there, and turned, slightly, to look at their hands. Pale mixed with tan, and she was surprised...
She couldn’t see.
Was she going blind too? Everything was blurry and wet.
TBC