On the plane flight back to Lima after winning Nationals Rachel is half asleep against the window. The clouds are cotton candy fluff and melting in her dreams. Dreams of big windows, busy streets, tall buildings. The plane bounces up and down and children begin to cry. The brunette is immediately alert, the fasten seatbelt sign is on. She hates flying, and she hates turbulence. Somehow she feels trapped outside the moment, she seems an observer and not a participant. It's slow motion, the way Santana wraps Brittany in her fierce embrace, pulls her under her chin and cradles her head. Finn and Puck sit a couple of rows in front of the two cheerleaders and are fumbling with the decks of cards and maps on their trays, probably trying to buckle up. Mercedes is clutching onto Sam, Kurt is screaming and Blaine is trying to calm him down with words the diva can't distinguish. Her eyes pass by all the members of the Glee club as the aircraft continues to shake.

There's a movement, golden and striking, like a lightning. But it's only Quinn's hair. She must have gotten up from her seat which is twenty kinds of ridiculous but she plops down Rachel and only now does the little songstress realize she's stopped breathing. Panic kicks in and her breathing is rushed. But then –

long slender fingers pull her hand, weave their strong promises in between the other set of fingers and squeeze tightly.

When the plane lands, Rachel still clutches onto Quinn. The blonde had been humming lullabies for the duration of the flight into the soft dark brown rivers of Rachel's hair. The ex-Cheerio gets Rachel's bag from the overhead compartment and moves up the aisle. When they leave the airport, Quinn is with her mother and Rachel is tucked in between her dads. The mechanic doors open and the Fabrays slither through. Quinn turns before their round the corner, catches Rachel's eye and smiles.

So Rachel knows.

It's a lot of little things. Quinn keeps her distance from Rachel but the occasional "hello"s and "hi"s and "hey"s slip out on the hallways instead of slushies. The golden girl keeps to Santana and Brittany. Her friends know how precious life is now, after glass and metal and needles have marked Quinn's body. Quinn knows how precious life is too. So she wraps arms around both girls as the trio struts around the school.

Finn is around but sort of isn't at the same time. Something pulls on Rachel's heart. She's not going to follow him to California. Sometimes she's isn't sure she should be following him anywhere, even to his car, driving after school.

During one of these sometimes, Finn is talking about football and cleaning pools and being a car mechanic and "if we have love, it's all we need, right?"

Rachel's brows furrow, stressed, her forehead is a stormy sky of thought. Love should be enough, she thinks, love should be the centerpiece. But her blood thickens and she knows she's not her own person, she hasn't built herself, she hasn't made herself who she wants and deserves to be. There isn't a centerpiece, there is no show at all. She's so cornered, strangled and breathless, like a bird in a cage.

She leaves Finn. She gives him back the ring. What she has isn't small town dreams.

After, there's a box of really expensive vegan chocolate in her locker. The note says

"Girls have slumber parties, a lot of ice cream and they watch horrible movies and listen to sappy music to get over break ups. I don't think I could have shoved Robert Pattisnon in your locker but I hope these will do."

The handwriting is beautiful. It's not signed. But Rachel knows.

They hug on graduation. They get pictures together. Quinn says she's getting one framed. Rachel beams. Rachel knows.

It's raining and Rachel's car isn't starting.

"Are you waiting to get more drenched so you can soak up my car completely, Rachel?"

Quinn is laughing under the drops of water and tugs on Rachel's sleeve, pulling her towards her car.

Rain feels like dancing. Rachel feels like dancing. She wiggles her hair like a dog and Quinn will not stop laughing. Quinn even lets her choose the music. Rachel says "thank you for the ride," Quinn nods and giggles in reply. That's all she needs. Rachel knows.

New York is a make or break deal and Rachel shines. She thrives and blossoms. She works hard, she makes wonderful friends and is soon cast on an off-Broadway show.

Quinn loves Yale and its many tall trees and castles. It's like a fairy tale and she finally gets to decide where the story goes.

They don't really keep in touch. They both need to be their own heroes now.

Sometimes they text. It's mostly checking in and keeping a faint sort of touch, like an ephemeral line that's barely there. But it's there. And Rachel still knows.

It's a meeting by chance, they try to get in the same cab right off from Times Square. Rachel is about to open her mouth and point to her heels and her dress and say that's she in a rush and really needs this ride but it's Quinn Fabray and Quinn is getting a MBA from Columbia and is published in The New Yorker which also has things on Rachel because Rachel is a rising star and Quinn has a new number and they had lost each other but now they're found and maybe it isn't chance at all.

Rachel starts with "Do you want to-"

But Quinn has her wrapped around her arms mumbling a long streak of yeses. And Rachel knows.

They move in together because it's nicer and cheaper to have a bigger place and share the costs between the two rather than have them both stuffed in tiny places. At least that's what they tell each other.

It becomes theirs, a spacious apartment a block from Central Park. Quinn's framed picture from graduation is there. They fill it with books and music and paintings. Neither of them dates anyone but it's not something that goes on to be discussed. Quinn has a seat saved for all of Rachel's shows. Rachel's name appears in Quinn's published stories, words and pieces of the writer forever dedicated to her.

Their friends mingle and mesh and they soon have a group of common friends. But even those that they do not share always say:

"Bring Quinn with you."

"We can go to that vegan place, so Rachel can find something she likes."

And they go together, tying lives and memories into one shared life.

One night they come home after they see a scary movie with friends. Rachel glues herself to Quinn's side and doesn't move. They wake up in the same bed. Quinn softly sighs in Rachel's hair. Rachel knows.

"Quinn, how does the story end?" Rachel is reading Quinn's new book as the blonde writes it. Rachel's long legs are perched in Quinn's lap and they are resting on a long sofa that is placed in front of a huge window. Looking at the city which looks at them.

Quinn bites her lip and flickers through pages.

"I don't know, Rachel. Sometimes I don't know. I don't know how it ends yet." Quinn's left hand holds Rachel's ankle and taps on it lightly. It's a habit she has but she isn't even aware of it.

"The words will come to you," Rachel says "You have to believe in that."

"I believe in you." Quinn says, both humble and proud, on the precipice of something big.

Rachel wants the words, and not just the story. But she has a feeling Quinn wants that to. She just needs a bit more time and courage. Rachel knows.

"You are the first mile where my heart broke a sweat." Quinn whispers in the night. They sleep in the same bed together, wrapped in each other's soft comfort.

Rachel thinks she should maybe pretend to be asleep but she's always worn her heart on her sleeve, so -

"You should stop quoting poetry, Quinn" she laughs lightly like a spring wind playing with the treetops.

"I wish I could write poetry. I would write you poems" sleepily, the blonde confesses. "You are my favorite poem, yknow."

"I know, Quinn."

Rachel is practicing on the new stage when it happens. One of the foundation columns brakes and the building begins to shake.

Everyone is out. Police. Ambulances. Fire department. Paparazzi.

Quinn keeps ringing as soon as she finds out. No one picks up.

In the hospital, Rachel is almost yelling at the nurse for her phone. The nurse tries to calm the diva down but nothing but a sedative works.

When she wakes up, Quinn is sitting next to her bed, humming something like a long forgotten lullaby. Rachel sighs and tries to imagine a big open field with grass, a small porch, dogs and cats and kids running around, a cowboy man humming to calm his wife. She laughs, because she's imagining a story Quinn wrote weeks ago.

"I can't lose you, Rachel." Quinn weeps and kisses the bruised knuckles of Rachel's hand. "You're everything I have."

Rachel cries too. She knows.

Sometimes they walk from Times Square all the way up to Columbia and they end up sitting in front of the university's fountains at 3am. There are always flowers for Rachel after her shows. Quinn is always in the front row. Homemade dinner is delicious. Rachel would think this is the most romantic friendship she's ever had, except it's not just friendship. Quinn places her hand on the small of Rachel's back when they cross streets and their fingers always find each other. Rachel knows.

"Quinn, how does the story end?" Rachel asks again, this time holding a hard copy. The book hasn't hit the market yet but the buzz of the critics that have already read it screams Pulitzer. Rachel has a page to turn over and she will know.

Quinn taps Rachel's ankle lightly first, then moves the legs away from her lap. She takes Rachel's hand and lifts her up. Her eyes shine.

They're standing next to that huge window with the city's night eyes looking at them.

Their bodies are molded together and, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, like the Moon rising over the Earth, singing, Quinn and Rachel write poetry against each other's lips.

They kiss –

"I love you…

they kiss –

"I love you so much."

"I waited for this for so long."

"I never wanted anything until I wanted you."

"I love you."

-they kiss-

…I love you, and the story…

they kiss -

ends any way we want it to."

The book is on the floor behind them, open at the last page, full of possible endings.

Rachel knows. Quinn knows, too.

references and things that perchance merit some interest:

quinn says "you are the first mile where my heart broke a sweat" - a very slight paraphrase off of andrea gibson's wonderful poem, "photograph"

on that note, while i didn't even think of this while writing, check out andrea's "how it ends" - it's not related to this story but it's beautiful and that alone is reason enough.

the little snippet on romantic friendships and walks at 3am is directly based on the story of two wonderful ladies, jennifer vanasco + jenny hagel, which you can check on video on the new york times or through afterellen.

a lot of things in this story are circular but one that may not be as obvious as other relates to "stop quoting poetry, quinn"; in between their kisses, the line "i never wanted anything until i wanted you" is from sarah diemer's "the dark wife." sarah's book is fun, light, and holds a wonderful revisionist approach to more than just the basic plot (the myth of persephone & hades). the revisionism is what i wanted to play on but sometimes i amuse myself more with such things than i actually achieve anything. anyway, that's just for the sake of curiosity. you can find "the dark wife" online, accessible for no cost. and you should.

there was a strong earthquake back in my homeland last night. i wouldn't have written quite the same story if not for those events. for my everything that i can't lose, i hope you know.