#but every time i think of the name Cartwright i get angry at God

[48787]

I love your tags they are perfect

I wish I could read entire documents written by you

Thank you so much!!

Right now the tag limits keep me bound and teach me how to be more direct, but soon I shall amass enough psionic power to transcend those bounds and begin my evil plots of psychic world dominance.

What I mean to say is your wish might be granted once I get certain things in order! I'm very glad my long rambling tags are appreciated though!! I doubt they're going anywhere any time soon

[ladyloveandjustice]

Ace Attorney fic: Split-Lip Smile

Split-lip Smile

Athena wiggled her tooth with her tongue. It was hanging in there barely. She wished it would just give up and fall already. That felt like a dumb metaphor for…something. She liked wiggling it though, it distracted her from the pain, thoughts about how her hair was all gross and caked in blood, and much, much darker thoughts…

Everyone in here was miserable and their emotions screamed so loudly she thought her eardrums would burst open. Her only solace was the couple in the corner. They were arguing endlessly but they were also stupidly, horribly in love. The vibe of it was strong that if she focused and basked in it, she could block everyone else out, even her own pain. Even if she wasn’t a freak of nature she’d be able to tell how into each other they were. Just their body language and the way they talked made it clear they had known each other for years, probably pined for years, sailed the stormy seas of hardship together. It was red string of fate stuff. Athena had a secret weakness for that bullshit deep down, so it was nice hearing it. If Junie the hopeless romantic was here. she’d be melting right now.

No. Don’t think about Junie. She would hate to see you like this. Athena clenched her first, making a cuff chafe her wrist. The cool metal was kinda soothing, despite everything.

Anyway. The couple. They were such a comically mismatched pair, it was funny just looking at them. So funny she couldn’t stop making her mouth hurt. Like, on one hand, you had a slouched, unshaven guy in a ratty sweatshirt and, ugh, sandals as well. Topping it all off was one of the gaudiest caps she’d ever seen…it said “papa” on it, so he had a kid, and Athena felt deeply sorry for whoever it was. Because the other guy was just as bad, in the opposite direction. He was ramrod straight, wearing a super garish purple-red-magenta-she-really-couldn’t-decide-the-color suit, and what even was the thing around his neck? Was it a cravat? She’d never seen a cravat that weird, had he layered three of them of something? It looked like unfolding tissue paper.

The tissue paper man was like a million emotions at one right now, tired, angry, sad, disappointed, amused…you wouldn’t know it from just looking at him though, he had pinched expression like he was so above trivial things like feelings. The other dude only had one emotion besides love going on and it was a deep, dark sadness. She recognized the flavor of sadness just because it was so like her own- he’d lost a part of himself and given up on getting it back. He was another one who wasn’t reflecting how he felt in how he acted though, he had an easy smile and laugh that was annoying in how constant it was. Tissue man was SO annoyed at him it was hilarious. And his voice was carrying to the point she didn’t even need superhearing to pick it up.

“YOU may not care what happens to you, but you have RESPONSIBILITIES and to do such immature and reckless things at your age..”

“Edgeworth, I’m not going to outgrow being reckless.”

Edgeworth. That did not sound like a first name. They were together and they called each other by last names? Weirder every second.

“You COULD if you wanted to. Look, Gumshoe and I and even Franziska let you get away with a lot, but you do NOT know the authorities here.”

“You asked me to help.”

“I specifically said to be careful.”

“Yeah, I know you don’t want me to embarrass you.” Sandal man shrugged.

“That was not what I meant and you know it.”

Another shrug. “But I did embarrass you.”

“I don’t get embarrassed.”

That definitely a lie (a lie that was so amusing to Sandals that it broke his sadness for a moment) but it was true he wasn’t feeling embarrassment right now. He was just worried. She kind of wished she could communicate that to Sandals. Not that he’d believe her.

“Well, I don’t want to humiliate you further, so let’s go back to your place.” Sandals began to shuffle across the room. Edgeworth sighed and followed him. She couldn’t help but sigh herself. She didn’t want them to leave, she needed something to focus on.

As if he’d read her mind, Sandals stopped dead in his tracks. Was he looking at her?

“Hey, are you okay?”

THAT’S A STUPID QUESTION.

Athena swore and grabbed at Widget. How the hell was it talking? She’d stopped charging it ages ago, it was supposed to be dead as a doornail. It hadn’t spoken in YEARS.

“Cool robot thing.” Sandals said like it was a completely normal accessory. “And it’s right, that was stupid. What I meant is…what happened?”

IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

“That’s never stopped me before,” Sandals said cheerfully.

“Wright, don’t meddle,” Edgeworth scolded, but she could hear equal concern from him as he stood there, examining her so methodically it was unnerving. His gaze traveled over her gross hair, her right eye that was swelling shut, the huge bruise on her jaw, her split lip, her dirty ripped clothes…when his eyes landed on her cuffed hands and skinned knuckles, his eyes narrowed, and Athena braced for him to tell Wright that they couldn’t consort with criminals or some other stuffy-elitist-rich-guy thing, but instead his concern swelled slightly. “Is your wrist sprained? Or possibly broken?”

Athena tried for a disaffected shrug but it jostled her right arm too much and she hissed in pain. Wright actually winced along with her.

“So, what’s the deal?” he said. “Who did this to you and why are you here? Was it for defending yourself against the jerk who did this to you?”

“Why do you care?”

“If it was self defense I can he-“ he stopped dead. “I know people who can help.” He corrected himself. There was pain buried deep in his voice. She could see a similar pain in Edgeworth’s expression.

“It wasn’t.”

. “Then…are you taking the fall for whoever did this to you?” The concern had intensified and there was a bit of pity mixed in now. She couldn’t stand it

“I don’t know why you’re assuming I’m some victim and not just a delinquent,” Athena snapped. “I got in a fight with a cop, okay? I started it, too.”

Athena expected them to scold her and walk away at this. Indeed, she didn’t need powers to tell disapproval was now emanating from Edgeworth, but she could hear from his tutting that it didn’t greatly override the concern. And Wright’s emotions didn’t change a bit. He leaned in curiously. “Why’d you do a thing like that?”

“Again, why do you care? I just told you I was in the wrong!”

“Well,  not necessarily-“ Wright said. “There’s some really bad cops out there. It depends on what started the fight.”

“Though violence should always be a last resort,” Edgeworth sniffed. “However, let’s hear the tale.”

Athena stared at both of them. They seemed to genuinely want to listen. She didn’t why they’d zeroed in on her, why they cared, but..

“I saw a guy being arrested and the cops were smacking him around, calling him a murderer, and he was so scared and I knew he didn’t do it, so I started arguing with them and they didn’t believe me and were taking him and I had to do something; I couldn’t be useless again, so I tried to fight them so he could escape but it didn’t work, of course it didn’t work”. It all poured out of her in one breath, she couldn’t control it. Her eyes burned and her bruises ached. She hunched over a little, letting her bangs fall over her face.

“Huh.” Wright was…impressed for some reason. “So, what was your relationship to this guy? Was he important to you?”

She flushed. How could she explain this part? “…N-no. It was the first time I’d met him…I just happened to be there. I’m not even positive what his name was. Cartwright, I think.”

Edgeworth put a hand over his eyes and groaned.

“How did you know he was innocent then?” Wright was…excited? Why?

Athena looked down. Okay, they had finally gotten there. The part that would make him  leave. “You won’t believe me,” she mumbled.

“I wouldn’t sure about that. You’d be surprised at some of the shit I’ve seen,” Wright said, prompting a scold from Edgeworth about behavior in front of children that he ignored. “Try me.”

Might as well rip the band-aid off. “Okay then. I’ve got…sensitive hearing. I can hear what emotions they’re feeling, if they’re lying….usually.”

Edgeworth was dragging his hand over his face now. “If you’re trying to say you’re magic-“

“No!” Athena interrupted angrily. “It’s science, okay! There’s been an entire research paper published on the phenomenon by-” she gulped “a-a very good psychologist if you’d care to look it up!”

“Oh.” Edgeworth said, a lot of his skepticism suddenly gone. Wright rolled his eyes. Then he pointed at her necklace. “Is that little guy related to your power at all?”

“He’s supposed to help me tap into it, but he’s buggy. He actually stopped working for a long time, I don’t know why he suddenly-“ she stopped and narrowed her eyed at Wright. “Wait, you really believe me about my powers?”

Wright shrugged. “Why not? I’ve seen weirder.”

Athena wanted to ask “how?” all sarcastically, but she couldn’t quite find her voice. She was overwhelmed by the…acceptance she heard from him. The trust. It was something she hadn’t had directed at her in quite a while.

“May I take a look?” Wright said, gesturing again at Widget. She nodded mutely. He leaned closer, examining him. “God, Ema would love this.”

Athena had no idea who Ema was and she didn’t get the chance to ask, because Wright suddenly said, “What’s your name?”

“…Athena Cykes.”

“Well, Ms. Cykes, my name is Phoenix Wright. I’m just a humble pianist, but I used to work in law and have a couple of connections. And my partner here is a big deal, fancy-pants prosecutor. So we might be able to do something about this false arrest if you tell us what you know.”

Edgeworth threw his head back as if to appeal to the heavens. “How did I know we’d end up here? And just drag me into it too. You’re impossible, Wright. I remind you I just got us out of a scrape-”. He carried on scolding for a while but Athena could barely hear him over the swell of intense fondness that washed over every word he said. She couldn’t detect a scrap of actual irritation. Phoenix seemed to understand this and listened calmly until he had finished.

“…all right then, you talk to her if you so desperately want do it. I’m going to go demand some medical attention for her wrist. I’m sure you’ll convey everything to me later.”

“Thanks, Edgeworth.”

As Edgeworth left, Phoenix took the seat beside her. “Now, Ms. Cykes, tell me everything you know from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.” When she hesitated, he grinned and said, “Don’t worry, you can trust me.”

She bit her lip. There was no way this man was going to actually help her. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to. But…she thought of the sheer bone-chilling despair she’d felt from the man, the discord in his voice like nails down a chalkboard when he’d given in and said he did it…it was a sound she’d heard a long time ago, that she still heard echoing in her head every night. She didn’t want the man’s voice to join the chorus. She had to try something. What did she have to lose? What did he?

Besides, she had noticed something. The deep dark sadness in Phoenix had lessened a little during their conversation- somehow a ray of happiness had broken through in his voice, the tiniest bit of sunshine. For whatever reason, he was doing with her had made something happen inside him, had filled in a little of whatever it was he’d lost. She liked that feeling. She wanted to keep hearing it from him.

So she told him every single detail she could remember. She told him all the events of the night leading up to it, every speck of conversation, every tiny thing she’d seen or overhead, every blow of the fight, every shift in emotion….and basked for as long as she could in in the weak ray of warmth, enjoying how it strengthened with each word she said. Edgeworth came in with a harried officer who examined her wrist and started to wrap it, only for Edgeworth to insist they weren’t doing it right and intervene himself. He was surprisingly gentle.

He caught Athena narrowing her eyes at Phoenix, who was trying to calm down the irate officer.

“I’m sorry if my partner’s meddling has angered you at all. I know he can be…overwhelming”.

“No…uh, well I guess, yeah, a little..” Athena mumbled. “I just…don’t get why he believed me so easily.”

Edgeworth shook his head. “That’s just what he does. Believe in people. Whether they want him to or not.” The affection in his tone was so intense Athena almost felt like she should cover her ears.

After they were done and Phoenix had finally calmed the irate officer down, he shook her good hand and said, “we’ll call the number you gave us when we have something for you. Your parents will be coming to get you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Athena lied. Her great-aunt and uncle were pretty done with her at this point. They hadn’t answered when the cops called. She was probably going to spend the night here. But that was none of Phoenix’s business. She was curious about something, though.

“Um…before you leave, I just want to know…why were you so interested in hearing my story? I mean, really? Why did you insist like you did?”

“Well, for one thing, because I have my own kid and when I see a beat- up teenager I generally want to know what’s going on.” Phoenix put his hands in his pockets. “And second, I saw you watching us out of the corner of my eye. And I saw you were smiling, like you thought we were cute or something.”

Edgeworth made a vaguely affronted noise. Athena looked down at her lap, flushing slightly. She hadn’t realized at all that he’d noticed her.

“It’s okay. I’m a romantic too. Anyway, it was a very warm smile. I figured if you could smile through a busted lip like that over something as doofy as the two of us, you had to be a good person. And pretty observant!” He grinned at her. “I wanted to hear your story.”

There it was again. Acceptance. And a genuine fondness, even though he’d just met her. It was all so weird and overwhelming. All she could manage was an “I…I see.”

Phoenix nodded at her. “We’ll come through for you Athena. Just hang in there ‘till then.”

“And take this to clean yourself up some more.” Edgeworth handed her a handerchief.

As they walked out, she heard him start in on Phoenix. “So, should I draw up adoption papers for this one? Will she be added to your collection?”

“Well, hey, Trucy did always want a big sister…”

Their bickering faded and the cozy affection wafted away and Athena was alone again.

She looked down at the handkerchief. Who the hell even carried these around anymore? It was soft too. She rubbed it against her face, scraping dried blood away bit by bit. She almost felt bad messing something so nice up. But she couldn’t let go of it, it was only proof she had that the men had been real, not just some hallucination bought on by head trauma.

As she predicted, no one came to get her. She was eventually ushered to a holding cell. She sat down on the flimsy cot, handkerchief still wadded in her hand. The stale air made every wound ache more. She leaned against the wall, letting the cold stone sooth her bruises. She wondered if this was the same kind of stone they used for cemeteries. Was Simon in a place just like this right now? No, he had to be somewhere even worse.

She could suddenly see Simon standing across from her. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

If there was any justice in the world, you’d be stay in here with me, he rumbled.  The room seemed to be getting smaller by the second.

Cartwright was standing next to him. It’s what you deserve for being so weak. They were closing in on her. So was the flat gray wall behind them. It was shuddering ominously. She wanted to scream at them to get away, but she had no voice. It all collapsed, burying them in rubble. This place really was a grave after all.

Her eyes flew open. She’d fallen asleep somehow, huddled in this cold little corner. Just a dream.

The handkerchief had fallen to the floor and was all covered in dirt. She picked it up numbly. The men who had given this to her felt like a dream now too. They were so distant, and so was the hope anything could change. She was never going to see them again. Even if they really had believed her, they’d think better of it. They’d realize she was just some crazy little girl. They’d forget about her.

It had been nice though. To be listened to, even if just for a little while. But it that never lasted. She just wasn’t meant to be heard. Her nightmares always made sure to remind her of that.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, but eventually the sound of keys clanking jostled her out of her stupor. She dragged herself up and followed the guard out. She braced herself to get an earful from her great-aunt about how much money she’d cost her. But that wasn’t who she found waiting for her in the lobby. She found Phoenix Wright and Prosecutor Edgeworth, looking a little tired, but both smiling.

“We called you, but nobody picked up, so we thought we’d check here. You should have told us you needed someone.”

“Why are you here?”

“To give you some good news!” Phoenix threw his arms wide. “We proved Mr. Cartwright innocent. He won’t even have to go to court. They’re releasing him now and the real killer’s been taken in.”

She stared at him. She hadn’t heard a hint of spite or insincerity in his voice- he was brimming with a very pure happiness. But still, what he said couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

“…but…there’s no way…it’s been one night…you couldn’t’ve…”

“We’re used to working fast. And you’re a way more honest and observant witness than I usually get. The stuff you told me basically led us right to the truth.” Phoenix clapped her on the shoulder. “Edgeworth smoothed stuff over for you, so let’s head out to celebrate. You must be starving.”

She was too shocked to protest. She was shuffled into a red sports car and before she knew it she was listening blankly to the two of them argue about where to go. They eventually compromised on a breakfast café.

Athena only spoke to order a large portion of eggs and bacon. After placing the handkerchief carefully in her lap, she dived into the meal with all she had. As she filled up, her head cleared and it dawned on her that all this was actually real. She took a huge swig of milk to force down her last mouthful and slammed down her glass. “Okay. I want you to tell me everything”.

Question after question poured out of her and they answered them patiently. After they’d gone over every detail of how they’d solved the case, Athena leaned back in her seat and let out a breath. It felt like she’d been holding it for years.

“I didn’t think…things like this could happen.”

“Things like what?”

“I thought, if they decided someone was guilty, you couldn’t ever change their minds. I thought there was nothing anyone could do so I just…” she twisted the handkerchief in her hands. “I just gave up.”

“I don’t think that’s really true,” Phoenix said quietly. “if you had, you wouldn’t have fought for that man.”

She shook her head. “I was just angry. I knew it was hopeless. That I was helpless. But you…you saved him. You actually saved someone.”

Phoenix leaned forward, looking her directly in the eye. “You saved someone, Athena. We couldn’t have done any of this without you. You were brave enough to stand up for him. You were brave enough to tell your story- his story. Don’t forget that.”

“But I almost didn’t tell you. I didn’t believe lawyers could do anything.”

“Yeah well, sometimes we can’t,” Phoenix sighed. Edgeworth made a “hmmph” noise and looked away. In that short syllable Athena heard anger and billion other emotions she couldn’t untangle. “But we can do a lot if we have a client like you.”

Athena’s grip relaxed on the cloth. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of something and once she fell, there would be no going back. “Lawyers…can really save people.”

“Yep. Thank you for reminding me of that.” Phoenix stroked his chin. “You remind me of a lot of things, actually. You’re passionate, perceptive, inquisitive….”

“Reckless,” Edgeworth said under his breath.

“…and most importantly, you have a strong desire to help people with no one on their side.” He continued like Edgeworth hadn’t spoken. He slid a card across the table. “Let’s keep in touch, Athena. A kid like you is gonna go places, and I want to hear about it. Heck, if I ever get back into law, I might give you a call.”

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow at this. “Oh? Getting back into law, are we?”

“I said IF.” Phoenix grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course,” Edgeworth said with the utmost calm, face impassive. But he couldn’t hide his real feelings from Athena. They buzzed pleasantly in her ears.

Athena looked down at the card. “Wright Anything Agency”. She wrinkled her nose. “Why’s there a purple stain on this?”

“Uh, sorry, just ignore that,” Phoenix said as Edgeworth sighed deeply.

Athena was most silent as they drove her home. She has a lot to mull over. When they let her out at her apartment, Edgeworth made a point of asking her why her parents hadn’t come for her, and she explained that she didn’t have parents and that she lived with relatives that were fine, but they were too busy to deal with her much. ���I see,” he said with a pain and understanding that took her by surprise.

It wasn’t until they pulled away that she realized she’d forgotten something. She ran after the car, yelling her thanks and waving the handkerchief like she was at a train station in an old movie. Phoenix waved back at her, but they didn’t turn around to retrieve Edgeworth’s item. Eventually, the car disappeared over the horizon.

No one was home, so she used the key under the mat to enter. She went upstairs to her room and looked in the mirror. She looked like a living wreck, a total nightmare. But still, a smile was threatening despite her split lip.

Phoenix Wright, the former lawyer who dressed like a bum. And that prosecutor…Simon hadn’t been nearly that stuffy. But he had been nearly as awkward. And worn weird fancy clothes. Maybe that was just a requirement for the profession.

She wondered if Simon was still awkward. She wondered if he still liked samurai movies and got nervous around kids. She wondered if prison had hardened him into someone unrecognizable. Probably. He had probably changed a lot.

But she was changing too.

She sat down on her bed. A lawyer can save someone. She couldn’t believe she’d never considered it before. If she became a lawyer…she might be able to overturn his sentence. If she could get the case re-opened.

They won’t listen to you. No one will ever listen to you.

That’s what she’d thought. But now she knew there were people who would. And she could work with them. She would absorb everything he knew…

DON’T FORGET ABOUT ME!

She jumped at Widget’s voice, the looked down. Just a little while earlier, she’d wanted to rip this embarrassing thing off her neck. But now she welcomed it. Two voices were louder than one. She wanted to make them hear what was inside her heart. She would shout it from the rooftops. And if she could use her mother’s analytical psychology and her stupid power to do some good for once, if she could prove it was a real asset to the law and rub that in the faces of everyone who had denied her and doubted her…that was all the better.

“Yeah,” Athena reached up, cupping her hand around her necklace. Her mouth stretched into a smile. She could still see that tooth hanging in there. She punched it with her tongue and it finally fell, clattering to the floor. Her grin stretched wider and wider, so wide that her lip reopened and blood dribbled down her chin. It really was a nice smile. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

A/N:  I finally finished this- ended up being longer than I expected. I wanted to write something about how Athena and Phoenix met ever since finishing replaying Dual Destinies. Very few details were mentioned in the game about how it happened, we know it was in Europe while he was visiting Edgeworth, we know he saw potential in her and she once mentions he “helped her out a jam”- that’s about it, iirc. It’s very mysterious. So I springboarded off these vague details. There might be something in canon that contradicts some of this, idk, but I did my best. 

A while back, I wrote a couple ace attorney one-shots dealing with various types of grief and angst with a couple different characters. Then someone in my family actually died and I stopped writing fanfic for a while. But I always wanted to do something from Athena’s POV to round it all out so I could make it a series on Ao3. I finally did this one after feeling a strange compulsion to write about someone who was injured and arrested.  But it's longer and more positive and doesn't quite fit in with the others? Oh well. I kept the details of what Athena saw with the murder case and other stuff vague because this got long enough as it is- the police procedure for Athena being taken in here probably doesn’t make sense but it’s the Ace Attorney universe so the rules are probably different and more nonsensical anyway. Hope you enjoyed!

[shinydixon]

Vincent Bauer x Reader - Feeling you - Part 2 [SMUT]

Part 2 of Norman Reedus’ character in Air (2015).

There will be a third (and final) part ♥

Hope you like it!

(I forgot to mention that Reader is in her early 20′s so she’s younger than Bauer ♥)

WARNINGS: SMUT, mention of Bauer’s past, a little bit of angst but everything will be okay, I promise.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO, SORRY FOR EVENTUAL ERRORS.

“You’re just like her”

Those words kept repeating into my head despite my sleeping state.

More than those words, Bauer expression hunted me.

Those beautiful blue eyes were all teary, a single tear caressing his awesome face lending right on my cheek.

I need to talk to him.

I need him.

Another checking session begin, we woke up and decided who has to do a certain duty, something we have done for the past  2 years.

This time however I insist that Cartwright has to check on the sleepers, something I’ve never done, which take a back my coworker.

“What? you side with Bauer now?” he scoffed.

I smile at him: “I’m not taking any side, It’s just that you’re more comfortable than us around those sleepers”.

Nodding, Cartwright walks out the room leaving me and Bauer alone.

I walk toward him and bring my hands on his chest: “So...we’re finally alone” I say while I move my hands sensually on his chest.

“We have work to do” he answered, taking both of my hands away from him.

It wasn’t the reaction I expected from him.

While he busy himself picking up some tools, I don’t give up and I circle his waist from behind.

“C’mon Vincent,let’s have some fun”.

I start to lay little kisses on the back of his neck when suddenly he turned around and took both of my wrists.

“(Y/n) stop right now!” “What’s wrong with you?! You told me you care about me! Besides, we have to talk”

His eyes were full of anger and irritation.

“You were just someone I wanted to fuck, a way to get a release”.

“What?” it came out as a whisper.

“You heard me, I was horny and you were the only woman here, just take the hint and leave me the fuck alone”.

His words are like a knife stabbing me deeper into my guts, I could feel tears trying to escape from my eyes.

I notice how his expression changed in that exact moment.

The anger was replaced with regret, however his words stung so much...the damage is done.

Without thinking I free my hands from his grasp, hitting his left cheek with my right hand.

His face turned to the other side, while his right hand touch the spot I hit.

“(Y/n) I...” 

I didn’t let him finish, I walked quickly toward the door, leaving him behind.

I took shelter inside a storage room full of mechanic things and instruments.

I was curled up on the cold floor, my face was buried on my knees and big tears fell from my eyes to my thighs.

I didn’t even care if Bauer or Cartwright heard me, I was so hurted that I couldn’t control my sobs.

I really believed that I meant something for him, however I was so wrong.

“I deeply care about you”

My sobs increased and more tears streamed down my face.

Bauer was the only one that kept me sane in all those years of loneliness and segregation, but now I couldn’t count on him anymore.

All of sudden the storage room’s door slammed open, but I don’t dare to lift my face from my knees.

“(Y/n) please I’m sor-”

“Go away”

I didn’t want to talk with him...I didn’t want to see him at all.

“(Y/n) just let me explain” I could tell by the sound of his voice that he really regretted what happened before, but I was still so angry .

“Leave me alone already!” I rise my voice at him, hoping he leave me alone for the last hour we have.

I hear the sound of the door being closed and his step getting close to me, until I feel him sitting down next to me.

I didn’t lift my head but I could feel him staring at me.

After what seemed an eternity he finally interrupted the silence: “I had a wife...she looked like you”.

I quickly raise  my head from my knees, my bloodshot (Y/e/c) eyes immediately meet blue ones.

“What?” “I had a wife...and two little girls”.

I didn’t expect that, not from Bauer at least.

“But...being  a bachelor was the basic requirement for this job”.

At that Bauer divert his gaze from my face to the wall in front of us. “I lied to get this job...Who knew that all those shit they said in the television were actually true?”.

He’s right, I was skeptical too about all the situation, maybe I just didn’t want to believe that all our lives were going to change.

“I could have stayed with them you know? Before they closed the door...but I let them died”. His voice started to tremble so, without thinking, I grabbed his hand.

He turns his head again toward me, his teary blue eyes staring right into mine.

“ I didn’t mean anything I said earlier...I was just scared of losing you like I lost my family...I can’t go through all of that again”.

Tears streamed down his face, my anger was replaced by sadness and relief.

Sadness because his past still hunts him, relief because he really cares about me.

Suddenly he buried his face into the crook of my neck, letting out loud sobs.

I slightly turn my body towards him, so I can hug him properly.

I could feel his tears soaking my neck, but I didn’t care.

I just caressed his long dark hair, comforting him and trying to calm him down.

“I love you”.

Those words were muffled by the skin of my neck but I heard them.

Vincent Bauer loves me.

I bring both of my hands on his cheeks, lifting his head so he could face me: “I love you too, you idiot” I say smiling.

While I wip away his tears with my fingers, a small smile appears onto his face.

We stare at each other smiling, before we both get closer and closer.

Finally our lips met in a slow and sweet kiss.

After that kiss, Bauer brought both of his hands on my cheeks, kissing me once again.

These kisses were different from the ones of our first time together.

This isn’t lust, this is love.

Slowly, we lay on the floor of the dark storage room, without interrupting the kiss.

“Let me show you how much I love you, babygirl”.

He started a trail of kiss from my neck to my collarbone, then, he unzipped my dark coverall, exposing my breasts.

“Six months it’s a long time but I didn’t forget how beautiful are your tits”.

That made me laugh: “C’mon you jerk”.

“Yeah, yeah, just let me say hello to these beautiful girls”.

My laughs became loud moans when Bauer took a nipple into his mouth, while his hand reach my center, slowly moving two digits in and out of my pussy.

“Ah yeah...more”.

We peeled our clothes off each other, until we were finally naked.

“Are you ready for this babygirl?” Bauer asked, grinding his erection against my clit.

“Yes please, oh god yes, fuck me”.

Bauer entered me slowly, making me feel every inch of his cock.

“Ah yeah, you’re so tight for daddy”.

He started a slow rhythm, it was so different but also so good.

All the dirty talks were replaced by him whispering and moaning sweet nothings into my ear.

“You’re beautiful”

“You’re perfect”

“I love you so much”

I’ve never felt something like this...I finally feel loved.

When we finally come, we both proclaimed our love for each other.

Vincent slumped on me, leaving a lot of kisses on my neck and on my shoulder.

“mmhm...I forgive you Bauer”

He raise his face from my neck, staring down at me: “What? You still call me by my surname? Earlier you didn’t have any problem screaming my first name”

I gently push him away from me, laughing.

He lay down on the floor while I rest my head on his chest.

“How much time do we have?” I asked him.

“Not enough love, not enough” he answered, giving me a sweet kiss on my lips.

Two hours every six months it’s not a lot of time, but I’ll treasure all this little moments with Vincent forever, until we can finally live on the Earth again, hoping on a better future for all of us.

Forever taglist: @youandyourstupidrope

@chihuotheartist

@lunalowell

@weirdnewbie

@sithlordalice

 @jodiereedus22

@maddybeck01

@reedusteinrambles

[poetzproblem]

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.