Author: Jen2261 PM
Quinn is on her way to watch Rachel's show on Broadway when disaster strikes for both of them. Oneshot. T. Triggers. Written for a prompt 'Somebody Fic This' on the Lima Designs Tumblr.Rated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy/Drama - Rachel B. & Quinn F. - Words: 1,815 - Reviews: 20 - Favs: 27 - Follows: 11 - Published: 07-09-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8301472
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Wrote this for one of the 'Somebody Fic This' prompt on Lima Designs tumblr. Fair warning this was written at 5am and I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible. Obviously I'm not sure what really happened on the plane that morning but based off the Wikipedia page describing American Airlines Flight 11 and a few other sources, this is what I got. Also the flight was also altered since Quinn was going to New York and the real flight was scheduled to go to LA. I apologize for all mistakes, I'll fix them… eventually.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt: Quinn is on her way to watch Rachel's show on Broadway when disaster strikes for both of them.
Triggers: September 11th, 2001
Quinn grinned at the woman next to her as she settled into the seat and pushed her purse under the seat in front of her. The woman smiled back kindly as she shuffled through her own purse and Quinn took the time to look around the plane. It was pretty full for a Tuesday and especially for a morning flight. She looked down at the watch on her wrist then out the window as the luggage cart pulled away from the plane.
It was a pretty calm day in Boston and even though Quinn loved the city she had made home for nearly 5 years now, she couldn't wait to get to New York. It might have had more to do with the fact that she was going to see Rachel and less to do with the New York City part. It was still extremely early, only ten past seven in the morning but the fog that had taken over the city earlier was clearly up very well and Quinn had hope that by the time they took off it would be clear. Planes always made her nervous so the sooner she got there, the better.
On schedule, the fasten seatbelt sign clicked on and the pilots voice came over the loudspeaker to announce their departure. Another glance at her watch confirmed it was 7:30. She was set to arrive in New York around 8:45. It would give her enough time to grab a bite to eat, head to the hotel to check in and relax for a few hours, maybe sightsee before heading to Rachel's show. Just the thought made her smile. She watched the ground begin moving as the plane began to head towards the runway and braced herself; Take-off and landing were always the thing that made her the most nervous.
By the time the plane leveled out and the seatbelt sign clicked off, Quinn was practically peeling the paint off the arm rest. The kind woman sitting next to her offered a smile and settled her hand on top of hers to try and get her to relax. Quinn gave her a smile in return and nodded when she was asked if she was okay. Taking a few minutes to calm herself down she finally forced herself to let go of the armrest and reach down to retrieve her phone. She knew she wasn't allowed to use her phone on the plane but it would be quick. She had forgotten to call Rachel before they took off and she was hoping the girl would surprise her at the airport or something.
A quick glance around, she checked the time. 7:59, perfect. Rachel would most likely be working out or something. Flipping her phone open she found the girl's number and pressed send. Just as she thought it went to voicemail after 6 rings. Quinn left a quick message, her head ducked before closing her phone and dropping back into her back. She took another deep breath and leaned back in her seat. Now all she had to do was relax, hopefully fall asleep until they got to New York.
Her eyes were closed for about 5 minutes before she heard a scream. Her eyes slammed open and she looked around. The woman next to her looked terrified and a few other passengers were ducking, covering their heads. Her body immediately went into panic mode as she turned around in her seat, trying to figure out what was going on. That's when she saw it, too middle-eastern men in the aisle. One had a knife pressed against the throat of a man. Another was standing at the end, knife pointing at a flight attendant. Another woman, obviously a flight attendant was slouched against the wall, holding her side which was bleeding pretty bad and crying.
Quinn's heart dropped into her stomach and she could already feel tears building up in her eyes. No, no, no! This was not supposed to happen. A scream from the front of the plane followed by a few crashes caught her attention. Gripping the seat in front of her she watched the pilot's door, her bottom lip between her teeth and waited, for anything.
It didn't take long. Finally a voice came over the loudspeaker, a voice clearly different from that of earlier pilot's and with a thick accent. The voice just announced something about going back to the airport and not to make any sudden moves. The woman next to Quinn was openly crying now and staring down at a picture. After a look closer Quinn realized it was a picture of a small little boy. Quinn bit the inside of her cheek and reached over, grabbing the woman's hand.
"Is that your son?" she asked quietly, not wanting to attract any attention to them. The woman squeezed her hand and nodded, crying hard now. Quinn felt her heart break in two. She knew deep down in her heart that she wouldn't make it out of this alive, she had a feeling. The thought scared her but not nearly as much as the thought that the woman next to her would never get to see her son again. Quinn hissed in pain when she felt the plan make a sharp turn, pressing her side into the arm rest and her elbow into the woman's side who just squeezed her hand tighter.
Quinn closed her eyes and lowered her head, pressing her head into the seat in front of her as she leaned forward. She could feel people crying around her, a few on the phone calling loved ones. She could hear another message come over the loudspeaker but didn't pay it any attention. She could even heard a woman in the back crying about flying too low and crying how they needed help. She looked at her wrist watch again. 8:45 on the dot. She should be getting into the New York airport right now. Raising her head for a split second she looked out the window.
They were low, too low. They were low enough that she could see people walking the streets of New York and nowhere near the airport. It clicked in her head that the plane was going to crash and it was taking everyone on the plane and a few pedestrians with it. The last thing she did was pray to God that Rachel was nowhere near them now then closed her eyes. She heard one last chorus of screams and an explosion for a split second before everything went black.
Rachel held her coffee with both hands as she stared down at the newspaper, what was left of the twin towers covering the front page for the 5th day in the row. Glancing up at the TV she turned off CNN, not wanting to see or hear anything else about the World Trade Center. She had cried enough in the past week and her body couldn't withstand any more tears. She needed something happy. She settled on SpongeBob then pushed away from the windowsill of her apartment and walked into the bedroom to grab her phone. She really needed to check it.
Unfortunately she had left her cell phone at the theater after her Sunday night rehearsal. It was an unscheduled technical one after a few props had failed in the earlier show. She had gotten the chance to pick it up on Monday with the theater dark. Her dads and friends had nearly had heart-attacks when everything happened on Tuesday and they weren't able to get in contact with her. Luckily with a few calls from her landline and statuses on MySpace she assured everyone that she was fine and no need to worry.
Of course after the 11th everything had been closed down for nearly the entire week and she had just gotten the chance to grab it this morning but it was dead. So she had put it on the charger and then settled to have her coffee and read the paper.
She picked up the phone and dialed her voicemail. She had nearly 60 messages and she sighed, knowing she'd have to listen to every one before she could delete it. She really hated to hear everyone yelling and crying into her voicemail. The first one was from her co-star Jake, asking about the tech rehearsal. That had been Monday. There were two more from Monday, one from Kurt and another from her friend Brenda. She took a deep breath when it moved on and she heard a vaguely familiar voice.
"Hey Rachel. You would sing your voice mail recording, haha. Anyways, this is Quinn. Quinn Fabray. I know we haven't talked much since high school. Actually I think we haven't talked at ALL, but um that's why I wanted to call you in the first place. I really miss you Rach, and the other day I saw your name in an ad for a show on Broadway. Broadway! And…and it was an impulse decision really, it just came to me at the moment, but… how do I say this?I'm on a plane to New York, right now!I wanted to surprise you at the show, but I didn't want to like shock you or anything. I really don't know what I'm saying, but I'll shut up now. I'll see you after the show, maybe? Just give me a call when you get this. See you, shortstack."
Rachel frowned at that. Wait, Quinn was in New York. Didn't she live in Boston? A shiver passed through her body as Rachel pulled her phone back to look at when that particular voicemail was left and her heart dropped. Oh God, no. No! No! Rachel sobbed as she dropped her phone after reading the time and date she received Quinn's voicemail.
8:00 AM, September 11, 2001.