Disclaimer: STOP ASKING ME! NOTHING HAS CHANGED! I OWN NOTHING!

A/N: Oh my goodness! Another one-shot! Blame the hiatus -_- I looooove yoooou :D

Haec Finis Noster (This is Our End)

This was it.

This was the moment she had been preparing herself for.

For the past six months.

She could do this. She had to. She had to be strong; there was no other choice.

Right?

Maybe if she just … - No. She had to do this.

Right. This had been going on for far too long. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and walked up the three flights of stairs. She would have taken the elevator, but she figured the exercise could do her some good. And, well, she needed a distraction. Sooner than she would have liked, she was face-to-face with a white door with the metal number '364' nailed to it.

Staring at the door, everything came crashing down on her. Could she do this? Could she really do this? Could she give up everything they had worked for? Could they give up everything they went through? Everything they did together? All the laughs, the talks, the songs? Could she give up all the battles they had won? Could she give up every dream they lived together?

Yeah. Yeah, she could.

And she will.

The keys made a soft and familiar jangle as the unlocked door number 364. It was just past 2:00, so she knew no one would be home. Slowly, the door creaked open. Not bothering to take off her coat or shoes, she began walking down the hallway. Cream walls covered in pictures assaulted her. There were pictures of friends, family, scenery, memories. Them. She took her time look at each photo on her way down the hallway. Reliving each moment. Stopping at a table, she bent down and smelled the flowers on it.

Sunflowers and white lilies.

Quite the combo to an outsider. And it was quite the story, too.

They were both in high school when they set off to tell each other their feelings. Ironically, on the same day.

Amused brown eyes gave white lilies stating, "They are elegant, just like the beholder."

Nervous hazel eyes gave sunflowers stuttering, "They-they are b-bright and full of, uh, energy l-like you. T-they both l-light up a room. A-and I, um, I heard metaphors are kinda important."

They had become their flowers ever since.

And now, now that was gone too.

Sighing, she continued down the hall. It opened up into the family room and the kitchen. And their – the, piano. She had to stop thinking like that. Nothing was theirs anymore.

She walked over to the piano, twinkled out a little melody before sitting down in the bench.

There were so many memories tied to this one instrument. Innocent ones; spending days just playing it: boogie-woogie, to love songs, to lullabies. The keys never got a break when the holidays rolled around.

Then, of course, there were the not so innocent memories. Bodies being played as complexly as the instrument itself. Each touch as soft as the baby grand's adagios. Each moan shared was legato. There were fortes, and long accents. But their music was magico: magical. The music they created together had also had a lebhaft tone. They were, together, lively indeed. But now, now their symphony had turned lachrymose – they were mancando: tearful, sad, and dying away.

Wiping away a stray tear, she played some of her favorite tunes as she waited.

She didn't have to wait long.

Soon the door was opened and boisterous laughter filled the apartment. Looking up from the black and white keys glistening back at her unshed tears, she looked at her counterpart for the last five years walk in. Her love. Her forever. Her happy ending. Her … Not-any-more.

The brown hair that she ran her fingers through so many nights was up in a messy ponytail. A few whips of hair framed the face she had ghosted so many kisses over. The brown eyes she had stared so long at where looking back at her. Before, she'd be able to read her like an open book while looking in those eyes. She would think she could see her soul if she peered long enough. She'd joke that one day, she was going to die by drowning in the pool of chocolate. The laughter that once tickled her ears, cut off as the same brown eyes studied hazel.

"I'll call you back, Cath."

That voice once sent shivers down her spine.

Now? Now all of that, all of that is gone.

"Quinn."

"Rachel."

"You're home from work early."

"I told my boss I needed to take the rest of the day off."

"Oh."

Rachel slowly made her way over to one of the windows across from the baby grand, and Quinn took her in. She always took in everything Rachel did. She took in the stiff back. She took in the way Rachel gripped the window ledge. She took in Rachel's tense neck. She took in the way her body shook as Rachel took a deep breath. She took in the way the chocolate eyes shut themselves off from the world. She took in the way her head bowed.

Rachel knew.

She figured she always knew.

Taking a fleeting glance back at Quinn, all she got was a stony face.

"Is this it, then?"

Quinn took a moment to clear her throat before she replied. "Yes. Yes, Rachel, this is it."

Quinn took in the knuckles gripping the window ledge getting whiter and whiter.

"I believe that it will be for the best. I believe that we both nee –"

Rachel whipped her head over to Quinn and locked her fiery eyes on her.

"No! You do not get to just – just sit there and tell me what I need, Quinn! You don't! That's utter bullshit! I'm a part of this relationship, too! What if I need this relationship? Huh? What if I need you!"

Clenching her jaw, Quinn retorted, her voice dead.

"Well, I'm sure Cathy could help you forget about me."

There. She had done it. She had said all there needed to be said. And just like that, she broke her own heart. She could feel it inside of herself. It was as if her insides were just one giant machine. Like intricate clockwork. Gears, springs, and knobs all working together. All powered by her heart.

But now that's broken, and so is she. But, as much as she's about to burst at the seams, she can't cry.

She won't.

At least, not here. Not now.

And Rachel, Rachel was frozen. The fire she felt ignite within her soul to Fight for the love of her life, was anguished by one sentence. She stood there, mouth gapping, until finally, with determination, she raised her chin and said defiantly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Quinn shook her head in disappointment.

"Rachel … I know. I know about you and Cathy. For six months, actually."

"Quinn! Are you implying that something more than a platonic friendship is happening between my fellow cast mate and I! I'm –I'm hurt, quite frankly! Your faith in my loyalty to you and our love is jus –"

"Enough!" Quinn hated yelling. She really did. She didn't want to fight about this. There's been plenty of fighting to last her a life time. She didn't want to drag this heartache out. She just wanted it all to …

Stop.

She wanted to stop hurting. She wanted her imagination to stop running wild every time Rachel went to her shows. She wanted to lying awake in the middle of the night in an empty bed because Rachel was "out with friends." She wanted the fights to stop. She wanted the hurting to stop. She wanted the tears to stop. She just wanted it all to stop.

She needed it to.

"I saw you guys together. Six months ago. In your dressing room." The words felt like acid on her tongue. All she wanted to do was cry. But she won't. She's a Fabray, and she'll do what Fabrays do best: hide their emotions. "I wanted to stop by and surprise you with dinner and a sunflower. I expected it to be a wonderful night out together. What I didn't expect … was my girlfriend to have another woman between her legs."

God, this freaking hurt.

"I – I –" Rachel stopped and studied Quinn. "How are you so calm? Does any of this even affect you!"

Laughing darkly, Quinn looked Rachel straight in the eyes. "Of course this affects me! My heart is broken! The one, who I believed was the love of my life, has been cheating on me! Of course this is fucking affecting me!"

Rachel flinched and turned back to the window.

Quinn continued, "I'm going to pack a bag, and then I'm going to be staying with Mercedes until I can find an apartment. I'll be back within the next three days to get some more stuff."

Without looking at the crying girl, Quinn went to go pack her bag. She was back within five minutes; being in their room – their old room, for too long was too much. Fixing the bag's strap on her shoulder, the blonde looked over to the brunette who had yet to move.

She cleared her throat once more before whispering to the quiet room, "I guess I'll, um, just be going then."

The sniffling brunette turned to look at Quinn before she left. Her eyes running over every inch of her: memorizing her. Both women thinking the same thing:

"How heartbreakingly beautiful."

"Quinn, I-I … I know it's … It's far too late … And it most likely means nothing now … But … But you have to know … That I really … did … and still … love you. I probably always will. And … And I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

Quinn looked at her. She looked her and she thought. She thought of everything. The day they both said they liked each other. Their first date. Their first kiss. Meeting each other's parents. Coming out. Falling in love. The first 'I love you's. The first time they made love. Crying. Laughing. Moving to New York together. Living together. Eating out together. Their movie days. Surprising each other with a sun flower or white lily. Rachel finally making it on Broadway, and herself becoming a lawyer. Their fights.

She thought of everything.

And she knew.

So she nodded, and said, "Goodbye, Rachel."

And then she left.