The Sound of Silence
Title: The Sound of Silence
Rating: R
Length: <2000
Summary: It's been one whole year since Quinn last heard Rachel's voice.
Warning: Triggery stuff? Maybe? Possibly?
It isn’t often that Quinn Fabray pops in a Rachel Berry CD. In fact, it’s been one year (five hundred, twenty five thousand and six hundred dreadful minutes) since she last heard that heavenly voice. It’s fitting, she thinks, to listen to it now, tonight.
So she opens the CD that sits on the mantlepiece, smiling slightly at the autograph, signed in gold marker, and complete with the star. “With Love, Rachel Berry★”
“You know it will be worth something someday, Quinn! You have to keep a copy!”
She goes to the old CD player that’s connected to a sound system, complete with perfect surround sound, made just for nights like this, and pops it in before sitting down on the right side of the soft loveseat (Always the right side, because Rachel likes the left side more).
“No other sound system is good enough to showcase my voice! It has to be this one!”
She knows she’s going to need the alcohol to help her through this trip down memory lane, because as much as it’s euphoric, it’s definitely going to tear her heart from its seams. But she needs this. She needs the closure. The glass of red wine on the side table seems to magically teleport into her hand, and she sits, quietly, slowly swirling the dark liquid as she waits for her heart to break again.
She leans back onto the armchair as the CD finally loads and starts playing a random song. The chair engulfs her in its softness, and she takes a slow sip of the Cabernet Sauvignon before closing her eyes.
The opening strains of violin swirl through the air, and then... it’s Rachel. Her Rachel... Rachel in all her magnificent glory, singing her heart out, and Quinn can almost see her, standing on a stage, singing to an empty auditorium like she used to in high school.
“I used to... I’m not sure. Imagine this marvelous and amazing crowd, hanging on to every movement I made on that stage. It was my little personal Broadway... The audience loved me, even if no one at school did.”
Moisture collects at the corners of Quinn’s eyes as Rachel’s beautiful voice, her angelic, soulful voice, caresses her erratically fluttering heart, worms its way in, and bursts it with love and regret. God, she’s missed her girl.
Rachel would always be her girl.
The next song comes on, and she smiles as a single tear rolls its way down her face (Another one soon follows.). Their song... kind of. She’d been surprised when Get It Right had made its way onto the CD, but Rachel was always full of surprises.
“This is something we created together, you know. Hindsight is always 20/20, and if it hadn’t been for you, this song would never have been written. And I might have still been stuck in Lima. So... thank you. For everything.”
Another sip of the wine, and she leans her head back, just letting the beautiful vocals wash over her, leaving her in a despairing euphoria.
“The CD is so that future generations will always know about how I existed, once upon a time. I was here, and I was famous, and I was awesome.”
“How modest of you.”
“I’m a Broadway diva, Quinn. I’m good, and everyone knows it.”
Her voice, this song, the memories... it’s all flooding back, and Quinn can’t stop feeling long enough to think about how much she needed this, how much she, for the past year, wanted to bring herself to listen to Rachel sing, but never could... even if it isn’t really for her, like it used to be.
It’s for everyone now, like it was meant to be.
But here, in the privacy of their (her) condo, she can pretend, can’t she?
She can pretend that Rachel’s still with her, and she’s singing as Quinn’s grabbing coffee and getting ready for another day of work. She can pretend that Rachel’s voice is a little raspy from when she’d screamed out Quinn’s name over and over last night, so she makes the brunette some lemon and honey tea as she waits for her java to percolate. She can pretend that Rachel pecks her lips quickly in thanks when they walk out onto the balcony and look over the city in the early morning hours.
Their city. Their time...
“I’m so glad you came to New York with me... You have no idea how amazing it is for you to be here with me.”
The wine in the glass is nearly all gone now, but Quinn makes no move to refill it. She’s been sucked into the music, the memories...
Rachel coming back to their condo late at night, after a long day at work, and just falling into their bed, snuggling up to her lover, and passing out.
Rachel singing softly while looking at Quinn with a slight twinkle in her eye as she makes up the wrong lyrics to some of Quinn’s favorite songs.
Rachel grabbing her hand and pulling her away from her work, into the living room, where they dance to the music of their heartbeats, beating together as one.
Rachel’s sighs, in the dark of the night, as Quinn laps at her essence, her heavenly nectar, her ambrosia, and brings her to the heights of ecstasy.
She wonders how something so sacred could damn her to hell... how something that sooths her soul can also wrench a knife into her heart. She wonders why she took it all for granted, once upon a time.
She can feel her cheeks, but she makes no move to dry them. The tears run down her face, and she can no longer feel their individual paths as they travel to their ultimate destination, only to soak into Rachel’s sweatshirt.
It doesn’t smell like Rachel anymore. Quinn hates that nothing smells like Rachel anymore.
Quinn hates a lot of things now, but the thing she hates the most?
Is that, no matter how perfect Rachel’s voice is with that perfect sound system that they purchased together, it’s still nothing compared to the real thing.
“Hey, Love.”
“Mmmm... Whyyyyy are you calling me at... what time is it?”
“11pm. So, with the time difference... 2 am.”
“And you woke me up because...?”
“I missed your voice.”
“I miss sleep.”
“Does sleep give you mind blowing orgasms?”
“Well, no... but sleep doesn’t wake me up either.”
“Touché. Keep me company as I drive back to the hotel?”
“Okay...”
“So how are you, hun?”
“I miss you, too, Rachel. A lot.”
“Oh? What do you miss about me?”
“Mmmmm...”
“You’re taking quite a while to think of things you miss about me, Miss Fabray.”
“I miss your smile, because it lights up my day and sends butterflies to my stomach. I miss your laugh, because... it’s magical, and it always brings a smile to my face. I miss your eyes, because I can see everything you feel through them, and I can always see how much you love me when you look at me. I miss your fingers linking with mine. I miss your hair, and how it tickles my nose when I spoon you at night...”
“You’re quite romantic when you’re sleepy. I should wake you up more often!”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Alright, alright, sleepyhead! Keep going, though.”
“I miss your body, and how it molds together with mine perfectly. How it’s so responsive to my touch. I miss your lips, and how soft they are when they touch mine. I miss your silly bunny food, and your silly obsession with my eating of bacon...”
“It’s not bunny food! I keep telling you that!”
“I miss you telling me that it’s not bunny food.”
“Hmph.”
“But most of all, I miss your voice. I miss you singing in the shower, I miss you humming when you’re washing the dishes, I miss you practicing runs at ungodly hours of the morning...”
“Oh, baby... soon! The filming will be over soon, I promise.”
“I know... I miss it when you sing me to sleep when I’m tired.”
“Do you want me to sing you to sleep right now?”
“... that’d be really nice, actually.”
“Okay. We’ll do some of those Beatles people that you like so much.”
“They’re classic!”
“I guess that’s true.”
“...”
“Quinn?”
“Sorry, I was yawning. Are you going to sing?”
“Yeah. Just don’t fall asleep on me too quickly.”
“Sure, okay, no problem...”
“Here we go...”
“I’m excited!”
“I know you are. Now shut up and let me sing.”
“Shutting up.”
“As I write this letter...”
“Ooo!”
“What did I say about shutting up?”
“Right. Keep singing!”
“Send my love to you. Remember that I’ll always be in love you. Treasure these few words ‘til we’re together! Keep all my love forever! P.S. I love you...”
“You, you, you!”
“Goofball.”
“You love it.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Keep singing?”
“I’ll be coming home again to you, love, and ‘til the day I do, lov-”
“...”
“...”
“... Rachel?”
“...”
“Baby, this isn’t funny...”
“...”
“Rachel, are you okay? Please answer me...”
“...”
“Rachel??! Oh my God, Rachel!”
“...”
And she’ll never have the real thing again, no matter how hard she tries.
Rating: R
Length: <2000
Summary: It's been one whole year since Quinn last heard Rachel's voice.
Warning: Triggery stuff? Maybe? Possibly?
It isn’t often that Quinn Fabray pops in a Rachel Berry CD. In fact, it’s been one year (five hundred, twenty five thousand and six hundred dreadful minutes) since she last heard that heavenly voice. It’s fitting, she thinks, to listen to it now, tonight.
So she opens the CD that sits on the mantlepiece, smiling slightly at the autograph, signed in gold marker, and complete with the star. “With Love, Rachel Berry★”
“You know it will be worth something someday, Quinn! You have to keep a copy!”
She goes to the old CD player that’s connected to a sound system, complete with perfect surround sound, made just for nights like this, and pops it in before sitting down on the right side of the soft loveseat (Always the right side, because Rachel likes the left side more).
“No other sound system is good enough to showcase my voice! It has to be this one!”
She knows she’s going to need the alcohol to help her through this trip down memory lane, because as much as it’s euphoric, it’s definitely going to tear her heart from its seams. But she needs this. She needs the closure. The glass of red wine on the side table seems to magically teleport into her hand, and she sits, quietly, slowly swirling the dark liquid as she waits for her heart to break again.
She leans back onto the armchair as the CD finally loads and starts playing a random song. The chair engulfs her in its softness, and she takes a slow sip of the Cabernet Sauvignon before closing her eyes.
The opening strains of violin swirl through the air, and then... it’s Rachel. Her Rachel... Rachel in all her magnificent glory, singing her heart out, and Quinn can almost see her, standing on a stage, singing to an empty auditorium like she used to in high school.
“I used to... I’m not sure. Imagine this marvelous and amazing crowd, hanging on to every movement I made on that stage. It was my little personal Broadway... The audience loved me, even if no one at school did.”
Moisture collects at the corners of Quinn’s eyes as Rachel’s beautiful voice, her angelic, soulful voice, caresses her erratically fluttering heart, worms its way in, and bursts it with love and regret. God, she’s missed her girl.
Rachel would always be her girl.
The next song comes on, and she smiles as a single tear rolls its way down her face (Another one soon follows.). Their song... kind of. She’d been surprised when Get It Right had made its way onto the CD, but Rachel was always full of surprises.
“This is something we created together, you know. Hindsight is always 20/20, and if it hadn’t been for you, this song would never have been written. And I might have still been stuck in Lima. So... thank you. For everything.”
Another sip of the wine, and she leans her head back, just letting the beautiful vocals wash over her, leaving her in a despairing euphoria.
“The CD is so that future generations will always know about how I existed, once upon a time. I was here, and I was famous, and I was awesome.”
“How modest of you.”
“I’m a Broadway diva, Quinn. I’m good, and everyone knows it.”
Her voice, this song, the memories... it’s all flooding back, and Quinn can’t stop feeling long enough to think about how much she needed this, how much she, for the past year, wanted to bring herself to listen to Rachel sing, but never could... even if it isn’t really for her, like it used to be.
It’s for everyone now, like it was meant to be.
But here, in the privacy of their (her) condo, she can pretend, can’t she?
She can pretend that Rachel’s still with her, and she’s singing as Quinn’s grabbing coffee and getting ready for another day of work. She can pretend that Rachel’s voice is a little raspy from when she’d screamed out Quinn’s name over and over last night, so she makes the brunette some lemon and honey tea as she waits for her java to percolate. She can pretend that Rachel pecks her lips quickly in thanks when they walk out onto the balcony and look over the city in the early morning hours.
Their city. Their time...
“I’m so glad you came to New York with me... You have no idea how amazing it is for you to be here with me.”
The wine in the glass is nearly all gone now, but Quinn makes no move to refill it. She’s been sucked into the music, the memories...
Rachel coming back to their condo late at night, after a long day at work, and just falling into their bed, snuggling up to her lover, and passing out.
Rachel singing softly while looking at Quinn with a slight twinkle in her eye as she makes up the wrong lyrics to some of Quinn’s favorite songs.
Rachel grabbing her hand and pulling her away from her work, into the living room, where they dance to the music of their heartbeats, beating together as one.
Rachel’s sighs, in the dark of the night, as Quinn laps at her essence, her heavenly nectar, her ambrosia, and brings her to the heights of ecstasy.
She wonders how something so sacred could damn her to hell... how something that sooths her soul can also wrench a knife into her heart. She wonders why she took it all for granted, once upon a time.
She can feel her cheeks, but she makes no move to dry them. The tears run down her face, and she can no longer feel their individual paths as they travel to their ultimate destination, only to soak into Rachel’s sweatshirt.
It doesn’t smell like Rachel anymore. Quinn hates that nothing smells like Rachel anymore.
Quinn hates a lot of things now, but the thing she hates the most?
Is that, no matter how perfect Rachel’s voice is with that perfect sound system that they purchased together, it’s still nothing compared to the real thing.
“Hey, Love.”
“Mmmm... Whyyyyy are you calling me at... what time is it?”
“11pm. So, with the time difference... 2 am.”
“And you woke me up because...?”
“I missed your voice.”
“I miss sleep.”
“Does sleep give you mind blowing orgasms?”
“Well, no... but sleep doesn’t wake me up either.”
“Touché. Keep me company as I drive back to the hotel?”
“Okay...”
“So how are you, hun?”
“I miss you, too, Rachel. A lot.”
“Oh? What do you miss about me?”
“Mmmmm...”
“You’re taking quite a while to think of things you miss about me, Miss Fabray.”
“I miss your smile, because it lights up my day and sends butterflies to my stomach. I miss your laugh, because... it’s magical, and it always brings a smile to my face. I miss your eyes, because I can see everything you feel through them, and I can always see how much you love me when you look at me. I miss your fingers linking with mine. I miss your hair, and how it tickles my nose when I spoon you at night...”
“You’re quite romantic when you’re sleepy. I should wake you up more often!”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Alright, alright, sleepyhead! Keep going, though.”
“I miss your body, and how it molds together with mine perfectly. How it’s so responsive to my touch. I miss your lips, and how soft they are when they touch mine. I miss your silly bunny food, and your silly obsession with my eating of bacon...”
“It’s not bunny food! I keep telling you that!”
“I miss you telling me that it’s not bunny food.”
“Hmph.”
“But most of all, I miss your voice. I miss you singing in the shower, I miss you humming when you’re washing the dishes, I miss you practicing runs at ungodly hours of the morning...”
“Oh, baby... soon! The filming will be over soon, I promise.”
“I know... I miss it when you sing me to sleep when I’m tired.”
“Do you want me to sing you to sleep right now?”
“... that’d be really nice, actually.”
“Okay. We’ll do some of those Beatles people that you like so much.”
“They’re classic!”
“I guess that’s true.”
“...”
“Quinn?”
“Sorry, I was yawning. Are you going to sing?”
“Yeah. Just don’t fall asleep on me too quickly.”
“Sure, okay, no problem...”
“Here we go...”
“I’m excited!”
“I know you are. Now shut up and let me sing.”
“Shutting up.”
“As I write this letter...”
“Ooo!”
“What did I say about shutting up?”
“Right. Keep singing!”
“Send my love to you. Remember that I’ll always be in love you. Treasure these few words ‘til we’re together! Keep all my love forever! P.S. I love you...”
“You, you, you!”
“Goofball.”
“You love it.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Keep singing?”
“I’ll be coming home again to you, love, and ‘til the day I do, lov-”
“...”
“...”
“... Rachel?”
“...”
“Baby, this isn’t funny...”
“...”
“Rachel, are you okay? Please answer me...”
“...”
“Rachel??! Oh my God, Rachel!”
“...”
And she’ll never have the real thing again, no matter how hard she tries.