#para21

RACHEL

Quinn fidgets with the cap on her bottle of water as she waits inside the Starbucks on the corner of 8th Avenue and 47th Street—her gaze fixed on the front door and her nerves steadily growing.

Two days ago, she had finally taken the plunge and texted Brittany in the hopes of starting to make amends. To Quinn’s surprise, Brittany asked if she could meet Quinn for coffee—with a promise that Santana wouldn’t be there while also apologizing for her wife ambushing Quinn at the Jets Draft Party. The invitation had Quinn feeling equal parts hopeful and anxious, but she wasn’t about to ignore the olive branch being extended, even though she isn’t quite sure what to expect. Brittany has always been a bit of wild card.

When Quinn asked Rachel for Brittany’s number, her girlfriend had been nothing but excited at the prospect of Quinn finally reconnecting with one of her friends. Rachel even offered to join her today, but Quinn knows this is something she needs to do alone—at least initially. Brittany (and, maybe eventually, Santana) deserves that much.

Not two seconds later does the door open, and Quinn sucks in a breath as she takes in the sight of the very first friend she ever made at McKinley. Brittany’s movements are as graceful as Quinn remembers, but even from fifteen feet away, the passage of time is clear—any traces of baby fat are gone from her face, making her features much more defined than they were in high school.

Their gazes lock then, and blue eyes light up in recognition. Brittany does a little wave before heading over to where Quinn’s seated, and despite the rush of nerves, she stands to greet her.

“Hi, Quinn,” Brittany says as she simultaneously wraps her arms around Quinn, pulling her into a hug, and—oh, her hugs are just as awesome as she remembers them being.

So far, so good, Quinn thinks, feeling herself relax. “Hi, Brittany,” she murmurs.

Long moments later, Brittany finally lets go of Quinn and settles down in the seat across from Quinn’s.

“Do you want to get something to drink first?” she asks, hovering for a moment.

“No, that’s okay, I brought my own,” Brittany replies, reaching into her bag and taking out a Robot Unicorn Attack-themed thermos and setting it on the table.

Quinn mentally shakes her head and sits back down, watching as Brittany unscrews the lid and pours a cupful of coffee into it. Her gaze then fixes on Brittany’s left hand, and Quinn takes in the sight of the simple, white gold wedding band. Rachel had told her that Brittany and Santana had gotten married a few years ago, but actually seeing the ring on Brittany’s finger makes it more real for Quinn. The pang of regret for having missed the wedding is immediate.

She lifts her head and meets inquisitive blue eyes, and Quinn can see the hurt, confusion, and care swirling in them. That pang flares into an ache, and she doesn’t know what to say—she doesn’t know if words can fix what she’s done.

“I’ve missed you, Quinn,” Brittany says, finally breaking the silence that had formed.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she replies softly, unable to keep the contrition out of her voice.

“Why didn’t you want to see us?”

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s what Rachel said.”

Quinn smiles sadly and lets out a watery laugh before sobering. “I’m sorry,” she says after a beat—earnest—before confessing, “I was ashamed… about so many things.”

Brittany’s brow furrows as she seemingly tries to understand.

She lets out a soft sigh before elaborating. “I messed up with you and Rachel and Santana all those years ago. I pushed you away because I didn’t want to drag you into my mess, but also because I just… I couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing me like that,” she explains. “And then so much time had passed, so instead of dealing with it, I pushed it down.”

“But then you and Rachel found each other again,” Brittany says plainly, but Quinn can see traces of sadness in her eyes, and Quinn can’t help but feel guilty. “And you still didn’t want to see us?”

“I was scared,” she answers honestly. “I knew Santana would be mad, and even though I deserve her ire, I didn’t want to deal with it because I was afraid of being triggered.”

“Like what happened the night Santana went to the party,” Brittany says knowingly.

Quinn nods. “And, well, you two have always been a package deal... so I kept my distance.”

“Santana really loved you, Quinn,” Brittany replies, “and you hurt her by disappearing. And you not wanting to see us after you and Rachel found each other again really hurt her—and me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. You’ve always been kind of dumb about people’s hearts. But I forgive you. I’m awesome like that.”

Some of the weight lifts from Quinn’s shoulders knowing she has Brittany’s forgiveness, but, “Do you think Santana will give me another chance, or is that bridge completely burned?”

“She’s still pretty mad at you, and she’s worried about Rachel, but I know deep down Santana really misses you. But she thinks you don’t miss her at all.”

Quinn sighs again before biting her lower lip thinking of how to explain it. After all, like she said at the beginning of this conversation—it’s complicated. “I convinced myself that I didn’t miss you two, but I was lying to myself,” she admits, and now that she’s putting it into words, Quinn realizes it might not be as complicated as it feels.

“You do that a lot, don’t you? Like in high school when you tried to pretend you were a pony instead of a unicorn.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow at that, trying to figure out what Brittany’s actually saying before finally putting it together. “Well, I’m not pretending anymore. Not about that at least,” she replies with a half-smile before growing serious once more. “I’m working on the being-honest-with-myself thing.”

“That’s good,” Brittany says with a nod. “And I’ll work on trying to get Santana to put her claws away when it comes to you. I never liked it when you guys were fighting.”

“I never liked it either,” she agrees. “And thank you.”

“That’s what friends do, right?”

It stings, knowing how badly she messed up as a friend, but she’s still grateful to get a second chance.

Brittany takes a few sips of coffee as Quinn contemplates what to say next.

“So Rachel told me you’re an actuary now,” she says after Brittany puts down her cup again, still somewhat struggling to wrap her head about that fact. After all, she had to repeat senior year of high school.

“Yeah, it turns out I’m a total math genius. It’s the best job because it’s super easy and I make a lot of money. I bought Santana and myself an awesome apartment in Chelsea. You should come see it sometime.”

Quinn can’t stop the smile that forms at Brittany’s words. “I would love to.”

Everything hurt.

Parker hadn’t been lying when she had told Shade that itfelt like there was a hole in her chest. Really it was more like a chasm, deep and dark and bottomless, a pit that she felt would devour her. That was only the beginning though.

Her muscles were seized up; feeling too tight and making her feel as if she weren’t actually human. She had heard the analogy of the stings on a violin pulled so taut that they were about to break, but never had she really knew what the expression meant. Not until now had she really realized how accurate it was, how possible it was to feel like your body was going to shatter if anyone were to increase the tension even a little.

The day had started out bad, with her waking suddenly from the murder of a girl who had been no more than seven.  It seemed that that was the way that her brain coped with stress; show her the memory of someone who had a life worse than she could ever imagine, in order to make her feel better about what was going on in her own life. Usually it worked. This time it had just left her shaking and nauseous and too afraid to leave her bed for the better part of an hour.

It had only gotten worse.

First Sofia and Riley had both implied that the people in suits were a part of her imagination. Parker was sure she had seen them, that they had been real and tangible. No one else seemed to believe so and she hadn’t heard anyone else talk about the weirdness. It scared her to think that maybe she was regressing to the point where she was seeing things that weren’t really there, something that had happened after receiving her powers and both times after losing her memory. The thought left her feeling weak and more fragile than she cared to admit.

Then she had gone online to try and calm down and the posts had happened.

Oh, she thinks I’m too critical. That’s another fault of hers.

A quote from a tv show she had never seen but one that she knew was directed towards her.

I Am The Walrus.

The song she had specifically claimed to hate the previous day.

#Extrashellfish

A stab at the allergy that had kept them from going for sea food too often and made it seem like he was enjoying life without her.

The posts had made her angry, made her want to retaliate. She knew that Shade had made the posts on purpose, to annoy her or hurt her. She wasn’t sure what the reason was but it had only made her determined to do the same things to him.

It was easy to guess what would hurt him the most, to call up Sofia and Sugar to get some food together. Putting on a fake smile and pretending to be happy had been the hardest part. All Parker really wanted to do was to crawl back in bed and forget the world but she had persisted for the sake of annoying Shade right back. People had a tendency to think that the Wilde girls were nice, at least when it came to Carolyn and Parker. The truth was that they were just better at hiding their vengeful sides but they knew how to do it just as well as Kitty did.

Parker had posted the picture and, against her better judgment, engaged Shade in a fight. She thought she was pushing all the right buttons, the ones that would make him leave her alone for good so that she could have a resting period.

Up until she tried to trick him into admitting that she was crazy. It was something little but it was something that would make the healing process a bit easier. Parker knew what she doing when she typed the sentence; it was easy to see that Shade was upset and she had thought that he would fall into the trap. Instead…

Don’t even start to hide behind that ‘I’m crazy’ lie. I never bought that one, and I won’t now either.

Shade probably hadn’t even realized the impact that the words had on her. It had taken all of the fragile control she’d built up over the last week and had promptly obliterated it. The strong pangs of missing him had only doubled with that sentence and Parker had simply curled down onto the floor as the hole in her chest turned to a canyon.

She wasn’t even sure if she was surprised to find her body wracked with sobs so forceful that she could feel the bed shaking behind her. It seemed that all she ever did was cry now, a vast difference from the time where she barely ever shed any tears.

How long she stayed there, Parker didn’t know. It felt like months had passed before she finally lifted her head from her knees, feeling drained from the crying and the sadness and the pretending she was okay.

The sun was starting to fade and Parker’s head felt fuzzy, like the time that she had gotten a concussion during hand to hand. All she wanted was something to make her feel a little better. Her gaze landed on a flower that she had bought on a whim in hopes of bringing a little cheer to her lonely dorm room.

The plant was vibrant and pink, a tropical flower of some sort. Parker found herself wishing that she felt half alive as the plant looked when it happened.

Air in front of the flower rippled visibly and then the flower shriveled up suddenly, causing the leaves to droop and the petals to curl up as the color drained from it.

Numbly, Parker realized what had happened. The one power that was associated with her own and that she had always feared above anything else had arrived. Death force manipulation. The ability to shave off years of life from someone.

Parker was terrified over this new development. To think that she could actually be the person who cause someone to die, that she would be the cause of a new death spot in the world. With trembling fingers, she picked up her phone to call Shade, the one person who had actually experienced her powers and who always knew what to say to make her feel better.

Only, she couldn’t. Parker realized this a moment after hitting the send button and quickly ended the call, hoping that it hadn’t had a chance to connect.