These strange steps

31

It's good, that she's so exhausted by the time she lands.

The flight itself was completely bearable because, anxiety at a five or not, she'd nodded off as soon as the plane started taxiing, and hadn't woken up again until a spat of turbulence right before landing knocked her around in her seat. The terminal's almost as empty as it was in August when she flew out last, even though this is meant to be the peak time to visit Vegas; Quinn is lounging against a pillar with her hands in her pockets, scanning the horizon until she spots Rachel.

It's-she's not really sure what she's expecting, but it's not for all of Quinn's walls to already be up, but they clearly are; Quinn's smile in greeting is tight, and she gets one of those over-the-summer corner of mouth kisses hello, and then Quinn takes her carry-on and stiffly heads out back to her car.

If she wasn't so tired, after her first all-nighter in years, she'd probably be making something of it. She knows herself; she's a pusher, when it comes down to it, and this isn't how they should be heading into what is bound to be a trial to begin with.

But she's barely staying awake, and over the course of the drive, Quinn visibly relaxes a little bit and then finally reaches for her hand and grips it tight enough to hurt.

They still don't say anything, but Rachel feels her airways ease regardless.

What matters is that they're both trying, right?

...

Given that therapy is going to be happening, she's almost forgotten about this whole-right, she's staying at Quinn's place aspect of it.

The apartment complex looks different in the fall, even though Vegas doesn't really have a fall... so maybe it's just that her own perspective on it has changed in some indescribable way. She looks at the front door, and then the second floor, as Quinn gets out and pops the trunk on her Beemer and pulls Rachel's carry-on back out, and then opens her door and says, "You ready?"

"Are you?" Rachel asks, squinting up at Quinn, who takes a deep breath and then forces a small smile.

"I just want to get inside, if that's all right," she finally says, brusquely.

Rachel slips out of the car and closes the door, and then takes her luggage back when Quinn starts fiddling with keys, until three minutes later, they're in the hallway. That hallway. Unexpected dread grips her heart, but then Quinn knocks a switch and the overhead lights come on, and it's suddenly okay again.

"Do you want a tour? In person, I mean?" Quinn asks, still a little awkwardly; her hands have barely left her pockets, and Rachel can see her knuckles working inside of them, and-

"No. Can I just-can we just go sleep?" she says, letting go of her suitcase and prying open the first button on her coat.

Quinn follows suit, unzipping her own jacket and draping it over a coat hook on the door, and then taking Rachel's and, with only the slightest of hesitations, adding it over on top-and it's such a small thing, but it makes her presence here so real, out of nowhere. Rachel takes a deep breath and then scales the mountain all over again; reaches for Quinn's wrist, tugs her hand out of her pocket, and holds it.

"You want to do this," she says, as gently as she can, not looking away when Quinn's eyes sharpen as they connect. "Okay?"

Quinn looks away after a second and then sighs and rubs at her face with her free hand. "Okay. Yeah, you're right."

...

Words are still not their strongest suit, especially not when they're in person, and so it makes sense to just strip down to t-shirts and panties and crawl into Quinn's bed-and its light blue duvet-and curl up together, while they can.