Title: The Wanting Comes in Waves

Author: blairdrof

Pairing: Faberry

Rating: M (in later chapters)

Summary: Rachel Berry finds herself in a ship built in honor to the hundredth anniversary of the maiden voyage of the RMS Titanic. Will history repeat itself, or not?

Spoilers: none. This is entirely AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, nor am I in any way affiliated to Glee. Everything you'll find here is the product of my imagination. The title is the same as a song by The Decemberists, which I obviously do not own. And I also do not own Titanic (the 1997 movie or otherwise).

A/N: This story is dedicated to Alyssa. Inspiration came from luckypressure's drawing, and this is just my attempt to tell the entire story. All inconsistencies and mistakes are mine, since this is not beta'd.

Rachel Berry needed a distraction. Well, maybe something to take her mind off of things for a while would be enough. She stalked out of the upper deck in an attempt to get away from Shelby Corcoran -Noah hot on her heels. He sometimes wondered how someone so short could walk so freaking fast whenever those passionate bursts of energy hit.

To say tea hadn't gone well would be an understatement. That woman could get on her nerves like no one else could -though she was sure that, given the chance, the Finn-giant could probably give her a run for her money. She walked briskly, muttering under her breath. How dare Miss Corcoran tell her that marrying that incompetent prick was an order? Couldn't she see that -gay or not- he would smother her into oblivion just by cupping her cheek with one of those sausage hands of his? Unacceptable!

Noah followed her blindly with pursed lips until she stopped abruptly in front of him and he almost ran into her. She spun around -hair whipping with the sheer force of the movement-, and faced him with an annoyed huff, "Noah, if you could be kind enough to inform me of an inscrutable place within the confines of this ship where I could remain unreachable from the rest of my staff, I would greatly appreciate it."

His head tipped back as he received the brunt of her desperate rant, and, when the words sunk in, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "Well, your... employees think they're too good to be seen with anyone who isn't in the business or anyone who isn't part of first class -no offense," he clarified after a beat, "so I doubt they'd be willing to mingle with normal people who travel in the lower decks just to search for you, if you were to hide there," he offered with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows.

A rather devilish smile spread on her features as she thought it over. That was in fact a brilliant idea. With a tilt of her head, she wrapped her arms around his bicep and grinned up at him, part of her horrible mood disappearing already, "Walk with me, Noah."

They took off once again, their pace now considerably slowed down as they descended stairs and rounded corners. He could feel the tension in her body buzzing through the connection with his arm, so he offered her a warm smile as they stepped out into the open hallway of the lower deck, the sun not quite hitting them, yet bright enough to set their eyes alight and give their skin a soft glow.

But then... then he felt her abruptly tense up to immediately feel the tension literally drain from her body completely as she came to a halt beside him. He turned towards her to observe her, and he found that her expression was something akin to surprise, and maybe something else he couldn't really understand. So he followed her line of sight in the hopes of maybe actually understanding.

Rachel's breath was momentarily knocked out of from her lungs as she spotted the blonde from before ahead of them in the open hallway. She didn't know how or why, but the mental and emotional exhaustion from her meeting seemed to float away from her body in an instant as she took in the sight.

The blonde was perched against the parapet -arms resting limply on top of it, hips cocked back casually-, as she stared out at the ocean silently. She was wearing a rather worn out -and rather baggy- grey t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans that Rachel could only describe as tattered. Her gaze drifted down to take in the shoes she was wearing and-Good God, Kurt would have an aneurysm if he ever saw Rachel wearing anything even remotely similar to the pair of incredibly dirty black Converse the blonde had on.

Rachel then let her eyes skim over the other girl's face, taking her time to examine her expression. Short blonde strands of hair danced freely with the salty breeze, every now and then brushing against pale skin in disorderly patterns. But God, Rachel thought, her profile was absolutely stunning. She hadn't been able to make out the details of her face earlier that day, but now she could easily see a smooth forehead, a sharp cheekbone, the most adorable little nose she had ever seen, and a pair of plump pink lips. Definitely stunning. And Rachel was helplessly captivated.

She turned towards Noah to find him staring at her curiously, and she couldn't help but blush. She dropped her gaze for a moment, strangely unable to meet his eyes, but then gathered up the courage to do so and looked up at him with a shaky sigh. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she could see the smile in his eyes as they twinkled. She decided upon walking up to the blonde and introducing herself, yet when she spun around again to act on her decision, she only saw her retreating form disappearing from the deck.

She stared after the stranger forlornly, pondering on what was the reason behind her behavior, until she felt a clumsy hand tap her shoulder and then rest there. She shook away the sudden longing she felt carving a void in her chest and turned to find Noah once again standing behind her -his hand on her shoulder actually soothing.

She sighed and folded her arms across her chest in an attempt to keep herself together. She felt Noah turn her around to head back inside.

"Sorry," he stated as they began heading back to the upper deck, "Mister Hummel said you should be getting ready for your dinner with Mister Hudson. I think we should start heading back now," he paused, and she eyed him wearily. She smiled at him gratefully as he went on, "Don't worry, Rachel. I'm sure you'll see her again," he added as he wrapped his arm fully around her shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.

She gave him a tight lipped smile and burrowed further into his side, "Thank you, Noah."

Her dinner with Finn was yet another disaster. She honestly could not fathom how Kurt could ever believe Finn would ever be a match for her -or how Shelby could, for that matter. The guy was a Neanderthal. Though Rachel was certain that if she were to use that term to insult him to his face, he wouldn't comprehend her. So if it ever came to that, she would bluntly call him a brute instead.

What was even worse was that he seemed to think that they were perfect for each other; when, truth be told, she had never met anyone more insulting to her entire being. During those two hours with him, he hadn't once seemed interested in her dreams and aspirations, in her habits or her lifestyle -in fact he had asked her if she wanted some of his salmon even after she'd explicitly explained to him that she had been a vegan for years. He completely disregarded her attempts to get the conversation flowing in the subjects she enjoyed the most, like musical theater, or music in general, or her work... he didn't even seem to register the hints she threw at him about her fondness for grand romantic gestures or intellectual stimulation. He only appeared to be interested in their supposedly upcoming engagement, and everything such an event entailed.

Rachel refused to marry someone like that. In fact, even if she loved him, she would never go through with it. She didn't want to marry him -she didn't even want to see him again. Actually, if she had a choice in the matter -and if it didn't put her career at risk or jeopardize her inexistent criminal record-, she would honor the Hudson river and dump him to the bottom of it once they arrived in New York. Oh, God, he would probably think that it was actually named after him. Maybe she'd jump instead.

God, she was suffocating. She was just nineteen years old, and yet she felt as if her life was out of her own hands and dealt with as if it were someone else's property -her happiness be damned. Why couldn't they understand? Yes, Broadway had been her dream, her ultimate goal -it still was. She loved to perform, she loved to sing. Her instant success -which, if she was being honest with herself, had been somewhat expected- had been nothing but a burden with Kurt and Shelby handling not only her career but also her life. She should have never let them do that to her. But now there was no way out.

She couldn't choose which roles to play; she couldn't choose which charities to support. She couldn't decide when or where to go out, or even whose company to enjoy -if it was so decided that she should. She had no say in who her friends could be, or who to hire. She was never alone -her every move was scrutinized and controlled by her staff. She didn't go out for the sake of having fun anymore; she had no one to talk to, no one to trust -though Noah was the only person she dared call her friend. She didn't even enjoy the stage anymore.

She was constantly in the spotlight, and she couldn't bring herself to enjoy the attention. She felt like Kurt and Shelby were her puppeteers and she was nothing more than their means to an end -and she hated it. She hated how loneliness was a permanent fixture in her life, and yet she was surrounded every single second. She hated feeling like the understudy to her own life, as if she were the second choice for the role of Rachel Berry -a role that no longer represented the actual person within her.

Rachel Berry was suffocating.

She didn't even realize that she had been crying until she reached the deserted stern. The wind bit at her bones, almost slicing her skin as it slapped her moist cheeks. Her lashes were wet, and she had trouble blinking -her vision blurry. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she felt her anguish consume her, the cold seeping into her nostrils as she took shaky breaths. She didn't know how her life had come to this, but she couldn't let it go on any further. It was exhausting.

She suddenly found herself on autopilot -both her brain and her gut seemingly gone with the salty oceanic wind. She tilted her head -dark tresses flowing harshly in a tangled mess-, and her eyes glazed over as she continued running. Her arms loosened to hang limply against her sides as she advanced steadily, now entirely unaware of the biting chill of the gusts whipping the stern -and of the puffs of smoke drifting upwards from a bench she passed by. She didn't even flinch when her fingertips brushed against the icy metal of the railing to then curl around it and hold onto it tightly. Instead, she simply stared down at the moving water, watching as it seemed to refill the space the ship left open as it sailed forward in the opposite direction.

Her mind was blank as she climbed over the railing, easily swinging her leg first to straddle it and then to stand at the other side of it, her grip on the metal tightening so much that her knuckles turned white. She was briefly wondering if it'd feel like an extreme case of brain freeze when her thoughts were interrupted by a silky -yet rather shaky- voice behind her, "Please don't do it."

Rachel didn't even care to mask her shock at someone else being in the secluded area. Yet she turned her head to look at whomever had dared question her actions, only to find the blonde from earlier that day now dressed in a loose white shirt, a well worn pair of black pants, a black tie, and chunky boots.

Rachel was momentarily distracted by how different she looked, now with her shirt untucked from her pants, collar unbuttoned and tie loose around her neck. As her eyes raked upwards again, she noticed the pleading look behind hazel eyes. She suddenly remembered that the blonde had spoken, so she took a deep breath before addressing her, "I'll get on with it and let you move on with your life, guilt-free."

"Just-" the blonde rushed, "how about you come back onto the ship instead?" she suggested -did Rachel detect an ounce of desperation in her voice?- and took few deliberate steps closer to the brunette.

"I don't know who you are, or why you would deem it necessary to make your presence known afore me at such an inopportune moment, but I would prefer it if you were to stop coming closer and leave me be to do with my life as I please; which is a really elaborate way to say that I will jump whether you stay or go," Rachel replied, hoping to confuse the stranger into actually leaving her alone.

However, to her chagrin, the blonde tilted her head -trying to stop a smirk from forming- and shoved her free hand into the front pocket of her pants. "You won't," she stated firmly, and Rachel's eyes widened at the defiant tone, because-well, this girl definitely seemed to be incredibly sure of what she was saying.

"What do you mean that I won't? I have enough of people telling me what to do! Who do you think you are to believe that you have a right to do the same?" Rachel retorted -losing her cool, her grip on the off-white railing tightening until her knuckles turned white. She barely stopped her mild annoyance at the interruption from turning into ire when a perfect, blonde eyebrow arched upwards -seemingly mocking her.

The blonde eyed her with a dry chuckle before taking one final drag from her cigarette, then let her head hang limply for a second. She observed Rachel for a moment, appearing to gauge her actions and reactions, before she surely inched closer to the railing -hazel eyes never straying from brown ones. Slowly -so very slowly-, as if to somehow reassure Rachel that she wasn't going to try anything unexpected, the blonde threw the cigarette butt out into the open sea before them. Then, she promptly shoved her other -now free- hand into the remaining free pocket of her pants and addressed Rachel once again -this time far more calmly.

"I don't believe that, actually. I believe you are a rational human being capable of executing your free will perfectly. You can choose to do whatever you please with your life. I do believe, however, that becoming propeller food just to kill yourself is not the smartest choice," she stated with a shrug, but then her brows furrowed as she added, "Actually, I think the idea of suicide, in general, is the most cowardly way out to ever exist," she paused again as a smile claimed her lips, slightly curling them upwards, "besides, if you were to do it for real, I'm pretty sure you would have done it already."

Rachel was momentarily baffled by the retort, and her own brows knitted on her forehead. She didn't know why -or why she cared-, but this stranger had established with her the most comfortable conversation she remembered having in months. She shook her thoughts away as her determination weakened, "I would have... if only you weren't a distraction of the most inconvenience," she replied as she turned her head to face the water once again, "Don't you have things to do? Go away."

"Tsk, tsk," Rachel heard from behind her, and her eyes flitted to the side briefly, although she refused to look at the blonde again. "I thought you didn't like people telling you what to do. I am not inclined to believe it is polite to do precisely that to me, now is it, Miss?" the stranger inquired almost playfully, and Rachel was sure the question had been rhetorical.

Before Rachel could come up with an answer worthy of being uttered, the blonde continued, "Now, now, Miss, I think this is an extreme situation that calls for extreme measures. We can't have you hanging off the back of a ship like a poorly reenacted Titanic scene at the hands of a mental-institute patient, now can we?" she paused, eyes twinkling as Rachel -completely unaware of her own actions- began turning around to face the stern again. "I'm all for jumping in after you, after all, I've always been an excellent athlete, so I'm certain I could call for help and pull you out of the water-"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" Rachel interrupted, yet the blonde, relentless, went on with her rambling, "-only problem would be that the temperature of the water would probably cause you hypothermia within just fifteen minutes of being immersed in it."

"Hypothermia?" Rachel squeaked, now facing the stern completely, and the blonde nodded her assent, "Yes, hypothermia. Which I'm not looking forward to. Because if you jump, I jump."

"Well, but-" Rachel started, again, staring at the blonde, "why did you imply that it would only affect me and not you?" she asked, easily overlooking the fact that this stranger had basically compared her to a patient from an insane asylum.

"Hmm," the blonde hummed -internally grinning at the fact that the brunette kept inching closer to being back on the ship without even knowing it-, "because doing Sue Sylvester's cheerleading practices six days a week at the crack of dawn with snow almost up to my knees for four years kind of helped my tolerance for lower temperatures," she explained with a little shrug, and Rachel went on staring at her.

"And you're certain that, considering my lack of physical training and my obvious lack of fat around my muscle tone, I would get hypothermia quickly?" Rachel asked worriedly. Somehow, all intentions of jumping had been diffused, and, instead, she was now terrified of the idea of dying surrounded by nothing but freezing cold water.

"Well, if you put it that way, then yes, I am," the blonde replied sincerely before pursing her lips and balancing her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet. Upon seeing the look of pure distress on Rachel's face, she pulled her hand out of her pocket and gently offered it to the brunette, "let me help you get back here," she said tenderly and bit softly on her lower lip.

Rachel looked for a moment at the hand proffered to her, and then back up at the blonde's expectant face, taking in every detail of it. She couldn't help but admire the faint shade of pink that tinged the blonde's pale cheeks. The calmness and tranquility of her expression and demeanor simply blew Rachel away, and all she could do was stare at the blonde and let the sight soothe her. She was somehow suddenly met with the blonde's hazel eyes staring back at her. Rachel was desperate to look away -suddenly embarrassed- in an attempt to hide the fact that she had been caught staring. But she couldn't. For the life of her, she couldn't look away. She was enchanted, as if on a trance as those eyes were now clearly fixated on her own.

Rachel opened her mouth to take the blonde up on her offer to set her feet securely on the ship again, but the only thing that came out was an inaudible squeak. For heaven's sake, Rachel Berry was never speechless! The blonde blinked at her sudden ineptitude with words, and her gaze danced over Rachel's eyes. The next thing Rachel knew, her eyes were cast over a delicate, feminine hand held up towards her. She dropped her gaze to examine it for a second, briefly confused as to why the hand was there. She looked up at the blonde in silent query, only to notice that pale cheeks were now tinted red. Oh, for the love of God, she had been right before: the blonde possessed a beauty out of this world.

Of its own accord, Rachel's own hand clasped around the blonde's, and her eyes fell again on hazel orbs. "Okay," she agreed absent-mindedly, voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," the blonde repeated, and her slender fingers wrapped securely around Rachel's smaller hand and clasped tightly. Once she was certain that her grip on the brunette was strong enough, she let her eyes go back to the shorter girl's face. She blew some stray hairs away from her forehead and smiled at the brunette, "I'm Quinn Fabray," she stated softly, and Rachel's eyes met hers up close -all big, and wide, and vulnerable, and scared.

However, the introduction seemed to ease the brunette somewhat, and soon she offered her name with a shy smile of her own, "Rachel Berry."

"Well, Rachel Berry, as much as I was enjoying staring up at all the gorgeous stars in the clear sky, I have to admit that I enjoyed our little impromptu conversation much more thoroughly. And I think that we could both enjoy it more once you're safely on the ship again, don't you think?" Quinn asked warmly, tugging at Rachel's hand to help her over the railing.

"Yes, I do think so," Rachel's smile widened as she talked dreamily, "You enjoy stargazing?"

Quinn blinked at her curiously, rather amused at the question, "Yes, I just aim for the stars," she replied, her other hand now circling around Rachel's free hand. As they found the perfect balance to start moving inwards -Rachel pushing, and Quinn pulling-, Rachel bit her lip and replied, "You know, I always add a gold star right after I sign my name. It's my signature."

"Really?" Quinn scrunched up her nose, grinning warmly at the idea of finding common ground with the brunette, "Hmm, then I hope every star in the sky," she started as Rachel stepped on a higher bar of the railing, "stays silver, just so that you're the only gold one."

"Why, that's incredibly thought-" Rachel's sentence was cut off by a shrill shriek as one of her Louboutins slipped on the painted steel. She suddenly found herself busy juggling actions: trying not to drop to a certain death -though she would probably be pulverized by the propellers first-, attempting to pull herself up, mentally thanking the heavens for Quinn's incredibly quick reflexes.

"I've got you!" flew out of Quinn's mouth as both of her hands now gripped her wrist tightly, trying to pull her up as Rachel flailed and shrieked in desperation. "Jesus Christ, Berry! Stop howling!"

That comment did nothing to put Rachel's fears to rest, and it only served to make her yelling come along mixed with heavy sobs, "Please don't let me go! Please! Help me!"

"Crap! Berry, calm down!" Quinn tried to no avail, since Rachel didn't even pay attention, "Rachel, Rachel, listen to me!" well, that seemed to garner the brunette's attention, so she continued, "I've got you, okay? Calm down, I'm not going to drop you," she reassured, pulling harder on Rachel's wrist to emphasize her point, "But you've got to calm down, otherwise all that movement will make you heavier, and I won't be able to lift you up," she tried to explain, and sighed heavily when Rachel finally nodded in understanding, swallowing past her tears and the lump in her throat. "Alright, try to pull yourself up while I try to lift you up," she commandeered, flexing her arms to help the brunette over the metal railing.

After exerting an amount of strength that Rachel hadn't experienced in-well, in years, if she was honest, Quinn managed to pull the majority of her body towards the wooden deck. The motion caused them both to topple over, and Rachel went tumbling onto the blonde's warm body -which effectively cushioned her fall, even as she marvelled, in the back of her mind, at the blonde's strength. Rachel froze atop the blonde -eyes wide as she held Quinn's gaze-, neither of them daring to breathe.

Rachel watched as the expression in hazel eyes shifted to panic as the moment was broken when a loud voice boomed nearby, "What the hell is this?"

Rachel braced her weight on open palms above Quinn, barely aware of slender hands holding her waist gently, and turned to look at the stout man who had interrupted them -two guards standing behind him. She saw him glance at Quinn, and then back at her to acknowledge her distressed state, likely noticing the tear tracks on her cheeks and the decaying state of Quinn's old clothes. He approached them sternly, and placed a careful hand around Rachel's bicep, helping her pull herself onto her feet as Quinn remained sprawled on the wooden floor.

Once Rachel was sufficiently far from Quinn, the guard motioned to the other two and pointed at Quinn, "You! Do not move, you hear me?"

The blonde looked up at Rachel -almost pleadingly, yet resigned to whatever her fate may be-, and complied with the guard's order, deeming it best to keep her mouth shut for the time being. The next few moments were a blur to Rachel, and the next thing she was aware of were Finn's arms wrapping solidly around her, knocking the breath out of her tiny frame, "God, Rach, I'm so glad you're okay!"

She scoffed to herself, as the thought that it certainly wasn't thanks to him entered her brain, and she risked another glance at the blonde. Rachel frowned as she saw one of the guards handcuff her roughly -probably per Kurt's request. She then glanced at the young man, observing the way he played with the collar of his shirt gingerly. She was suddenly overcome by a fresh wave of rage, as she realized that this was ultimately all his fault. Hadn't he forced her to wear the Louboutins instead of the Mary Jane's she had chosen, she would have never slipped, and thus none of this ruckus would have happened.

Oh God, and Quinn! Quinn would have never found herself in this humiliating situation hadn't it been for Kurt's desires to channel his inner girl through Rachel's fashion. She pushed herself away from Finn's lumbering frame -noticing, out of the corner of her eyes, the clueless look on his face- and stalked over to where the guards and Kurt were scolding Quinn for daring to even come close to a first class celebrity passenger like Rachel.

"Excuse me," she interrupted, patting the guard's shoulder to get his attention while he tightened the cuffs around the blonde's wrists. She was aware of several things going on around her, even as she tried to focus on the task at hand. She noticed Quinn's grimace as the cuffs probably cut into the skin of her wrists, she noticed the disapproving glance Kurt threw at her, and she noticed Finn approaching them to be clued in into what was happening.

"Why is Miss Fabray in cuffs?" she inquired politely, her eyes fixed on the stout guard, and she felt Quinn's eyes suddenly burn on her skin.

Before the guard could answer, however, Finn pulled her aside and butted in the conversation, "She was hurting you, Rach!" he whined, eyes flashing to Quinn's face with something akin to anger -and suddenly Rachel feared he would kick at the floor or something like that-, "What were you trying to take from my fiancée, you little bitch?" he asked Quinn smugly, his oversized hand falling roughly against Quinn's lean shoulder, the weight causing her to stumble backwards silently.

"Finn!" she shrieked with a frown, pulling him away from the blonde to address him more forcefully, "Leave her alone! She just saved me!"

"What?" the tall young man asked, clearly unable to comprehend the actual nature of the situation, "Saved you from what?"

"I almost toppled over the railing and Miss Fabray here pulled me back in, you asshole!" Rachel retorted angrily, and she saw Quinn flinch at her choice of words. "I demand that you take the cuffs and let the young woman go. She should be commended for her actions, not punished for her bravery and nobility," she stated firmly, addressing the guards that held Quinn's wrists tightly restrained. She then turned to Kurt as Finn started walking away, mumbling incoherently under his breath, arms thrown up in the air, "Kurt, fix this, immediately!"

With a roll of clear blue eyes, the thin man waved at the guards, silently motioning for them to let Quinn go. He stood idly by observing Rachel -whose hands were firmly planted on her hips- while the guards released Quinn's wrists and left the deck, looking mildly displeased at having been interrupted over nothing but a misunderstanding. Once they were out of sight, Rachel cast a warning glance to Kurt, nodding her head towards the blonde, in the hopes that he'd catch her drift and give Quinn something in return for her heroic actions.

In turn, Kurt turned towards the blonde and let his eyes wander up and down over her lean frame, taking quick notice of the rumpled state of her clothes and the disarray of her hair, "What did you say was your name, again?"

"Quinn. Quinn Fabray," the blonde replied with a reluctant smile -Kurt's smirk could make even Rachel feel unworthy of his attention- and outstretched her arm for him to shake her hand.

Kurt refrained from shaking the hand that Quinn had offered him with a smile and, instead, gingerly tilted his head to stare at it disdainfully, as if it were to give him leper if his skin made contact with hers. Blushing awkwardly, Quinn's hand retreated to rest limply against her side before being promptly shoved into her pocket.

"Mister Kurt Hummel, Miss Berry's publicist," he introduced himself, tilting his head upwards as if that would give the blonde the idea that he was well above her by social standards. That condescending little jerk! Rachel thought glaring at him as she stood rooted to her spot, too angered to move. "I suppose I should show you gratitude for sparing our little diva from a gruesome death, shouldn't I?"

Rachel was enraged. She couldn't believe Kurt was being such an ass about the whole thing. Did he always treat civilians like this when she wasn't around? When he glanced at her calmly, she levelled him with a stubborn stare, and he seemed to finally stop ignoring her hints, "Well, Miss Fabray, I suppose that gracing us with your grand presence for dinner tomorrow and being granted with a glimpse at first class life would be enough of a reward for you, am I correct?"

Rachel eyed the blonde expectantly, hoping for an affirmative answer, as Kurt's manicured hand curled around her shoulder. Quinn glanced back and forth between the pair, her blush deepening, and nodded subtly -almost imperceptibly-, "That would be a pleasure, Mister Hummel. I appreciate it," she agreed shyly and resumed the biting of her lower lip.

"Well, that settles it, then!" Kurt exclaimed, suddenly excited to be able to rid himself of the blonde's presence, and clapped his hands with an exaggerated smile. he then turned to Rachel and offered her his arm, "Shall we?"

Defeated -yet now having something to look forward to-, Rachel turned to face him and nodded solemnly before curling her arm around his as the blonde nodded at them again, "I'll-I'll see you tomorrow, then," she smiled bashfully. Rachel nodded at her, their eyes connecting briefly once again before Kurt turned her around to walk back into the chambers of first class. It'd be a long long day, except that now she could at least take a breath without choking at the mere thought of her existence.