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poetzproblem · 7 years

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Take me into Rachel's mind through that interaction between Quinn and Sarah on Dust on every page. We see a little bit that she is non too pleased to see Sarah but she doesn't say much through Quinn and Sarah's interaction so if you don't mind can you give me what her POV was from the moment they spotted Sarah, right to the point where they part ways in the taxi? Love your seemingly well thought out answers

Yeah, so this POV switch was slapped together kind of quickly, so apologies in advance for the errors.

For the First Time I Had Something To Lose

The absolute last person that Rachel ever expects to run into on a relaxing Sunday afternoon date with Quinn is Sarah freaking Cartwright. In fact, she’s been quite confident that Sarah freaking Cartwright is literally allergic to New York City—why else would she have chosen to end her relationship with Quinn rather than fight like hell to keep her?

Not that Rachel isn’t incredibly grateful that Sarah had failed to keep her. But Rachel is not at all happy to see Quinn’s ex-girlfriend with her freaking doe eyes, nervous smile, and awkward wave, and she’s even less happy to hear the breathy quality of Quinn’s voice as Sarah’s name falls from her lips in stunned surprise.

“Hi, Quinn,” Sarah greets them with a shy grin. And, yeah—Rachel doesn’t like that at all. She instinctively steps closer to Quinn, silently staking her claim and hoping that this unfortunate exchange will be quick and (relatively) painless.

She’s not sorry in the least when Sarah’s smile slips as she’s forced to acknowledge her.

Rachel watches Sarah shift uncomfortably—and she should be uncomfortable after breaking Quinn’s heart—shoving her hands into her pockets as she states the obvious. “It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees.

“You look good,” Sarah compliments, and Rachel clenches her jaw. It’s simply a statement of fact—an understatement, really, because Quinn always looks breathtaking—but Sarah Cartwright has no right to notice Quinn’s breathtaking-ness. And if Quinn even thinks about returning that compliment—

“What are you doing here?” is what Quinn says instead, but Rachel doesn’t miss the tension running through her girlfriend or the accusation in her voice. She frowns even more, wary of what that might mean.

Rachel remembers how heartbroken Quinn had been when Sarah had refused to even consider commuting to New York for her, instead ending their two year—well, twenty months, give or take—relationship, and she remembers how that heartbreak had eventually transformed into anger and resentment at having yet another person who was supposed to love her cast her away like yesterday’s garbage. Rachel had wanted to punch Sarah in the nose for hurting Quinn that way. Honestly, she still wants to punch her—or throw her over the edge of the bell tower—but at the same time, she really doesn’t want this unfortunate encounter to blow up into a rehash of things that are better left in the past.

God, she really hopes they’re in the past.

“Touring the bell tower,” Sarah explains, “which…we should probably…you know...see the view before we get kicked out for the next tour.”

It looks to Rachel like Sarah might be trying to make a tactful exit, and Rachel would like nothing more than to help her do just that, so when Quinn attempts to continue with her questioning, Rachel is quick to interrupt.

“We definitely shouldn’t miss the view.” Rachel reaches out to touch her girlfriend, hoping to pull her out of this horrible college flashback. “We can enjoy the fresh air while we catch up.” She grits out those last few words through her widest show-smile, hoping that they will, in fact, not be catching up at all but getting absorbed into the crowd already out on the balcony. “After all, how often does one get to stand up here?”

She hears Sarah mutter, “Once a year, I’m told,” but Rachel ignores her, steering Quinn out onto the balcony and into an open spot on the railing—hoping Sarah will just quietly enjoy the view from her own spot somewhere far away from them.

She should have known she wouldn’t be that lucky.

So Rachel is forced to stand there, staring out over her city with her hands closed tightly around the railing while she listens to Quinn make polite small talk with her ex-girlfriend.

So freaking polite.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, of course.

Quinn and Sarah have been over for years.

And really, Rachel shouldn’t begrudge Quinn a perfectly innocent encounter with an ex—and it’s not like they haven’t already run into a few of the other various women Quinn had dated in the past. Rachel herself is able to have perfectly amiable conversations with Peter Kendrick every time they run into each other. Quinn gets annoyed by them, of course—just like Rachel is getting annoyed with this one right now—but Rachel certainly isn’t harboring any lingering feelings for Peter, and there’s no reason to think that Quinn might be harboring any feelings for Sarah. Well—except maybe a bit of that old resentment for being dumped.

Really, Rachel is certain that any moment now, Quinn will inform Sarah how ecstatically happy she is with Rachel, and Sarah will be on her merry way back to—well, back to wherever it is that she came from.

But then Quinn asks, “Are you just here for the weekend?” and Rachel bites into her lip, bowing her head and tightening her fingers around the railing until her knuckles ache.

Why does Quinn even care how long Sarah is going to be here? Aren’t these tense, awkward ten minutes more than long enough?

“Actually, my advisor” Sarah begins tentatively, “you remember Professor Easterling?

“Yeah.”

“She recommended me for a position with Skidmore, Owings & Merrill as an architectural assistant.”

The name means nothing to Rachel, but Quinn apparently recognizes it if her testy, “In New York,” is anything to go by.

Rachel holds her breath, hoping for a denial from Sarah—a confession that she’s only here on some business conference or something.

“It obviously wasn’t my first choice,” Sarah says instead.

Rachel’s heart sinks at the confirmation that Sarah freaking Cartwright is apparently now living in New York City.

“Obviously,” Quinn sneers, and Rachel immediately lifts her head, recognizing the danger bubbling in Quinn’s tone. She instantly moves to stand beside her girlfriend, though her own emotions are all over the place right now. She’s upset that Sarah is here, angry on Quinn’s behalf because Sarah had once made Quinn miserable over the idea of even visiting this city only to end up living here now, annoyed with Quinn for standing here talking to Sarah at all, and feeling sick at the thought that she might have a reason to worry about why Quinn is still standing here talking to Sarah instead of taking Rachel’s hand and taking them home.

“I applied to every firm in Grand Rapids, but nothing panned out,” Sarah admits. “I couldn’t afford to turn down the opportunity.”

“Wow, that sounds familiar,” Quinn spits back.

Rachel crosses her arms defensively as she silently debates with herself whether she should put a stop to this now or let Quinn vent her old grievances. She knows better than most how volatile Quinn’s temper can be. Sometimes it’s better to let her explode and then cool down than it is to let her simmer for hours until she boils over.

“Quinn,” Sarah tries.

“So you’re living here now?” Quinn demands.

Rachel drops her gaze to the floor of the balcony, mentally counting to ten.

Quinn’s fixation on that fact is perfectly understandable, she assures herself. Sarah not wanting to live here is the biggest reason why they broke up.

Except why does Quinn still care why they broke up? She obviously didn’t belong with Sarah freaking Cartwright in the first place! It’s not like they wouldn’t have just broken up eventually anyway.

Right?

“I have a place in Queens,” Sarah reveals. “At least until I get through my internship and earn my license. Then I’ll probably reevaluate things.”

“That’ll take a few more years, right?” Quinn presses.

“Yeah, probably.”

“I thought you hated New York.”

“I do, but there’s a lot of competition for internships, Quinn. Sometimes you have to make compromises to get what you want.”

“I seem to remember you weren’t all that into compromises when we were together.”

“Can we not do this here?” Sarah begs.

Can they not do this at all? Rachel thinks testily.

“Quinn,” she finally interrupts, gravitating closer to Quinn. “This really isn’t the best time or place.” In fact, never and nowhere would be the best time and place. She really wants to grab Quinn’s hand and drag her out of here, but instead she hears herself asking, “Can we just enjoy being up here for awhile?”

Maybe Quinn can calm down a little now that she’s blown off some steam, and Sarah can just disappear back into the past where she belongs, and Rachel will stop wanting to toss her off the damned balcony.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn apologizes quietly, and for a moment, it appears as though she’s going let this go, but then she’s glancing back to Sarah with a frown. “I just really didn’t expect you to be living in New York. I practically had to drag you with me for even a weekend.”

“Believe me, I’d rather be anywhere else,” Sarah vows disdainfully. “But this is the most prestigious internship with decent pay that I could find.”

Rachel really should just bite her tongue—she knows that—but she can’t seem to stop herself from defending the city she loves. “I don’t know why you’re so disparaging of New York. It’s the greatest city in the world.”

“It’s dirty and noisy and smells like wet dog,” Sarah fires back.

Rachel opens her mouth to respond, but Quinn, sounding much more composed that she was a moment ago, points out that, “It’s got some great buildings though.”

“That’s the only saving grace. ” Sarah concedes with a slight smile.

Rachel hopes this will be the end of it—that they can all just go their separate ways and never have to see each other again. As it is, Rachel feels like she and Quinn need to have a potentially uncomfortable conversation about Quinn’s lingering grudge against her ex.

But then Sarah is making some observation about the building—how it used to be a courthouse—and Rachel would gladly tune her out completely except that she catches the name Stanford White, and she smiles a little in fond remembrance. “Oh, I know that name. He was murdered on the roof of the old Madison Square Garden over his dalliance with a chorus girl.” She can still recall her younger self dramatically relaying the story to Quinn on one of her many visits to New York—back when they’d both been young and bright-eyed and Rachel had been stupidly out of touch with her own burgeoning feelings. Rachel turns to Quinn with a tender smile, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You remember, don't you, Quinn?”

Quinn returns the smile with soft eyes focused solely on Rachel, and for a moment, Rachel feels settled again—until Sarah’s bitter, “I should have known,” intrudes on their moment.

Rachel glares at the annoying woman, letting her hand fall away from Quinn. “Pardon me?”

Instead of answering Rachel, Sarah turns her attention back to Quinn. “So how are you, Quinn? Are you still working at…HarperCollins, right?”

Unbelievably, Quinn chooses to respond to Sarah’s question like Sarah hadn’t just ignored Rachel entirely, and Rachel’s stomach begins to churn with anger all over again.

And okay. Fine. Jealousy, too.

Rachel can admit it.

She’s jealous of Sarah—the woman who’d once had Quinn’s heart; the woman who’d almost taken Quinn away from her for keeps; the woman who Rachel had irrationally disliked on first meeting for no other reason than that her presence was interrupting Rachel’s precious time with Quinn.

“She’s also finishing her first novel,” Rachel interjects with pride—and yeah, maybe she wants to rub Quinn’s success in Sarah’s face a little. Because Quinn is flourishing here in New York. With Rachel. “I expect her to be a published author by this time next year.”

“Rach, that’s… It’s still a work in process,” Quinn demures, attempting to downplay her achievements.

Rachel won’t allow her. “It’s amazing,” she brags.

“It’s okay,” Quinn dismisses with a shrug, pulling the proud smile right off Rachel’s face. She hates it when Quinn underestimates her own talents.

“So you’re still doing the writing thing?” Sarah asks with a slight laugh.

Well, that just pisses Rachel off! “It’s not a thing. Quinn is extremely talented.”

Quinn attempts to defuse her ire with a soft voice and a brush of her fingers against Rachel’s wrist, even though Rachel is certain that Quinn isn’t thrilled with how easily Sarah has always dismissed her writing.

“Well, yeah, but…I mean, it’s kind of a saturated market, isn’t it?” Sarah asks rhetorically. “And being an editor at a major publishing company isn’t something you should throw away for a hobby.”

“A hobby!” Rachel snaps. “Writing is Quinn’s dream. Her passion!”

But Sarah wouldn’t know anything about passion—being a soulless, pencil-pushing bore!

“Rachel,” Quinn warns, lifting her hand to Rachel’s back and rubbing it soothingly. “It is still kind of a hobby right now.”

Crossing her arms again, Rachel lets out an incredulous huff, staring at Quinn in disbelief. Did she—did she really just cave right in and kowtow to Sarah freaking Cartwright’s worthless opinion?

“Are you moonlighting as her publicist now or something?” Sarah asks with humor.

Okay.

That’s it!

“I’m her girlfriend,” Rachel announces heatedly, glaring at Sarah.

The instant gratification of watching all the humor (and the tiny bit of color that passes for her complexion) drain out of Sarah’s face is perhaps not something Rachel should be quite so giddy over—but she is.

She also receives a great deal of pleasure at Sarah’s pained, “You’re together?”

Rachel smiles in satisfaction, leaning further into Quinn’s touch against her back and standing just a little taller beside her girlfriend as she waits for Quinn to proudly confirm their relationship.

Instead, there’s a beat of silence before Sarah is spitting out an accusation. “So much for Rachel not swinging in your direction. God, I knew it, too! I knew she wasn’t just some high school crush you’d gotten over.”

Rachel’s smile curves a little more because—yes, she fully swings in Quinn’s direction and no, Quinn never got over her. And any second now Quinn is going to confirm that.

Any second.

Any.

Second.

“Sarah,” Quinn begins quietly, letting her hand fall away from Rachel’s back to seek out her hand instead.

Here it comes.

Rachel and I are blissfully in love and incandescently happy together, Rachel mentally prompts, slipping her fingers between Quinn’s in a familiar embrace as she waits for those words or some poetically similar version of them to fall from Quinn’s lips.

She’s still waiting when Sarah interrupts Quinn’s grand declaration—or so Rachel assures herself as her smile begins to slip and Sarah’s tearful voice drones on and on.

“You don’t have to explain it, Quinn. It’s none of my business anymore. I suppose I should tell you that I’m happy for you, but...I think you’ll understand why I can’t.”

What the hell does that mean? Rachel wonders frantically.

Because if Sarah can’t be happy for them because she still has designs on Rachel’s girlfriend—well, then, Rachel really might have to toss her off the building after all.

“Well, you’re still as unpleasant as ever,” Rachel observes defensively.

“And you’re still a bitch,” Sarah accuses, crossing her arms.

Oh, that’s it! Sarah Cartwright is so going over that railing, Rachel decides as she takes a bold step forward. “You little…”

“Rachel,” Quinn warns, holding Rachel back with a firm tug on their joined hands. “Just…stop.”

Rachel does, but only because actually throwing Sarah off the building would ruin Rachel’s very promising career. She could absolutely do it though—Sarah doesn’t look all that tough.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn says to Sarah, and for a moment, Rachel thinks she’s apologizing for Rachel’s behavior—which is just completely unnecessary, and she and Quinn will be having words about that later. But then Rachel’s heart is clenching and her stomach is twisting because Quinn’s next words make it clear that’s not why she’s apologizing.

“I know how this probably looks, but you have to know that what Rachel and I have now…it didn’t start until you and I were completely over.”

It’s technically the truth—kind of—but why should that even matter now?

Sarah ended things between them years ago.

Quinn has nothing to be sorry about.

“You know, I think you actually believe that,” Sarah muses sadly.

“It’s the truth,” Quinn vows.

Why do you care if she believes you? Rachel wants to scream, tightening her grip on Quinn’s hand.

“It’s a technicality.”

“You’re the one who ended things, Sarah,” Quinn growls, letting go of Rachel’s hand—and it feels like a part of Rachel just got ripped away.

She wraps her arms around her torso in a vain attempt to protect herself from the shards of Quinn’s temper, cutting into her heart as surely as if they were aimed directly at her and not at Sarah. She hears every accusation Quinn throws at her ex—born of wounds torn open as surely as if they’d happened yesterday—and Rachel suddenly has to wonder if Quinn was every really over Sarah at all.

Why didn’t Quinn tell Sarah about us right away?

Why is she still so defensive over all of this?

Why does she feel the need to apologize for moving on?

Why do I suddenly feel like I’m the consolation prize?

No.

No!

Quinn loves me.

She’s always loved me.

Except for the time when she loved Sarah.

Feeling sick, Rachel reaches out to touch Quinn, nearly begging, “Quinn. Maybe we should just go.”

Please.

“For once, Rachel and I can agree on something,” Sarah adds.

Rachel watches Quinn deflate, twisting her hands into her hair and inadvertently shaking off Rachel’s touch as Sarah’s name falls from her lips again.

Sweet Barbra, it hurts.

It hurts so much, and Rachel hugs herself again, turning to stare blindly out over the city while she purposely blocks out whatever else Quinn and Sarah have to say to each other. She doesn’t want to hear it. She just wants to turn back the damned hands of that clock above them to this morning and never come here—never have to see Sarah Cartwright again or remember how Quinn had felt about her.

Never have to feel like she’s some homewrecking mistress who needs to be shamefully hidden away and apologized for.

Rachel is vaguely aware of Sarah finally leaving. It feels like days have passed—was it just this morning when she’d believed that her relationship with Quinn was completely bulletproof?—when, in fact, it’s only been minutes. Quinn’s presence at Rachel’s side registers a heartbeat before her plaintive, “Sweetheart,” or the attempt at a gentle touch against her temple—a touch Rachel winces away from.

“No. Don't sweetheart me,” Rachel warns angrily, turning on Quinn.

She won’t be moved by the sad, guilty look in hazel eyes or the uncertain worrying of a full lower lip or even the remorseful, “I'm sorry.”

She won’t!

God, why does Quinn always have to look so pathetic when she knows she’s done something wrong? Why does she always have to make Rachel want to wrap her up in her arms and forgive her everything?

She won’t do it this time.

Not when she feels like she’d just watched her girlfriend choose her ex over Rachel.

Pulling her eyes away from Quinn, Rachel coolly points out that, “Our time is up,” before she walks away, heading for the stairs that will take them back down and far away from this blasted bell tower.

Hurt and anger spur her forward, demanding that she not look back, but after the first flight of steps, Rachel can’t seem to stop herself from checking to see if Quinn is behind her. She might be pissed off at her girlfriend right now and questioning where they stand, but she still loves Quinn and still worries about her well-being. If Quinn lands herself in the hospital from overexertion, then Rachel will be the one left feeling guilty for it.

There are a few people between them on the stairs, and Rachel moves aside to let them pass, eyeing Quinn critically as she gingerly takes the steps. “How’s your leg?”

“It’s fine, Rachel. So is my back,” Quinn answers readily.

Rachel doesn’t fully believe her, but she nods anyway, not in the mood to baby her girlfriend after what Quinn had just forced her to witness. She turns on her heel and continues down the steps, silently promising not to look back again but breaking that promise at least a half-dozen times.

As soon as Rachel exits the building, she begins hunting for a taxi to take them home, telling Quinn as much when she asks where Rachel is going

“We don't need one,” Quinn insists with a frown.

She should let Quinn walk to the subway and stand on a crowded train for thirty minutes just to punish her, but she worries about Quinn’s old injuries—injuries Rachel is partially responsible for—too much to do it. “Don't be ridiculous. You just walked 149 steps twice. We're taking a taxi back home.”

And, oh, there are those sad, pleading eyes again, but Rachel steels herself against them and Quinn’s beseeching attempt to persuade her into lunch.

“I'm not hungry.”

She is, but she isn’t about to be bribed into letting Quinn off the hook with something so trivial as food.

Rachel catches sight of a taxi barreling down the street and steps out to wave it down before being hastily jerked back onto the sidewalk by her panicked girlfriend. “Do you want to get run over?”

She bites back a bitter laugh, because she feels like she’s already been flattened into the pavement by a tractor-trailer with Michigan plates. “At least I saw that one coming,” she grumbles, walking toward the taxi which, despite Quinn’s interference, had stopped for them.

Rachel turns her face to the window as soon as she settles into the seat, ignoring Quinn as she slides into the car next to her. Her heart is still aching at the possibility that Quinn might still have feelings for Sarah. The hesitant brush of soft, cool skin slides against her little finger, but instead of the comfort Quinn’s touch usually brings her, it feels like fire against her skin—painful and unwanted—so she pulls her hand away and tucks it into her lap.

“I really am sorry, Rach,” Quinn says woefully. “I never expected to see Sarah there today.”

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah! Rachel is so sick of hearing Quinn say that name today.

“Yes, I believe you already made that quite evident.”

“Look, I know that was uncomfortable for you…for all of us…”

“All of us!” Rachel seethes, snapping her head to the right to glare at Quinn. All includes Sarah, and Rachel quite frankly doesn’t give a fuck about her right now. She does give a fuck that Quinn cares how uncomfortable anything might be for Sarah freaking Cartwright. “You…you just…you’re so… I don’t even want to talk to you right now,” Rachel spits, turning to scowl at the window again.

“I said I was sorry, Rachel. How many times do you want me to apologize?”

Until you actually mean it, Rachel silently fumes.

She feels Quinn’s fingers trail over her thigh, but she steadfastly ignores them until Quinn adds in her sexy, bedroom voice with a seductive, “Rach. Sweetie…”

How dare she think she can seduce me into forgiving her for…for practically ignoring me to play ‘let’s relive our relationship’ with her ex-girlfriend right in front of me!

Rachel reaches down to push Quinn’s hand away. “Don’t.”

“I can’t help it that Sarah is living in New York. I thought she’d be somewhere in Michigan by now.”

“Will you please stop talking about her?” Rachel begs, squeezing her eyes shut against the realization that Quinn really doesn’t have a clue why Rachel is so upset with her.

“You know, it’s not like we never run into your exes. We practically trip over Peter every time we go out,” Quinn complains petulantly.

“Are you seriously comparing the situations?” Rachel demands, frowning at Quinn. She’d never—not once since she and Quinn had gotten together—shied away from loudly and proudly declaring her feelings for Quinn, and she’d never apologized to Peter for falling in love with Quinn, for being with her, for being happier now than she’s ever been in her life.

“They’re the same,” Quinn maintains.

“They absolutely are not. For one thing, you actually like Peter now.”

And Rachel most certainly does not like Sarah.

“I really don’t,” Quinn stubbornly insists.

“The last time we ran into him, you spent forty minutes discussing the genius of Much Ado About Nothing.” Rachel had actually gotten so bored with the conversation that she’d needed to make up an excuse to pull Quinn away.

She knows that Quinn knows she’s right by the way hazel eyes flit away guiltily. “He was doing Shakespeare in the Park, and it’s a good play,” she defends weakly.

“You're completely missing the point,” Rachel practically screams. This isn’t about Peter or running into exes! Rachel doesn’t care that they’d had to see Sarah—well, she does, but that isn’t why she’s angry at Quinn. She cares that Quinn had acted like she owes Sarah something, like her being with Rachel is something to be ashamed of, like she’s still heartbroken that Sarah had left her and hurt that she’d possibly lied about her willingness to live in New York.

Anger flashes in Quinn’s eyes. “Then by all means, enlighten me, because I've already apologized repeatedly for creating that scene with Sarah, and I honestly don't know what the hell else you expect from me right now.”

“Driver, stop here,” Rachel demands, her heart aching at how incredibly, frustratingly obtuse Quinn is being right now. How can she not even realize what she’d just done—how she’d acted toward Sarah?

The car jerks to a stop, and Quinn stares at her in confusion. “What are you doing? Rachel, we’re two blocks from home.”

Rachel slams her hand against the door handle and pushes the door open. “I’m walking,” she growls over her shoulder as she shakily stumbles out of the taxi.

“Wait a minute,” Quinn calls after her. “I’m coming with you.”

Rachel wants to scream—scream before she starts to sob uncontrollably. She barely manages to keep her composure as she turns around and pokes her head back inside the door, stopping Quinn short in her struggle to get out. “If you put one foot outside of this car, Quinn Fabray, you’ll be sleeping in the spare room with Oliver for the next year,” she vows, on the verge of losing the battle with her tears.

“You can’t storm out of a taxi, Rachel,” Quinn reasons desperately.

Digging her nails into her palms, Rachel chokes down her heartbreak. “Watch me,” she challenges with her last bit of strength before turning to storm away, knowing if she stays here one moment longer she’s going to fall to pieces in front of Quinn, and there’ll be no putting her back together.

#dust on every page #don't blink au #don't blink #ficlet #for the first time i had something to lose

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