If I were going to write a fic, it would go like this:

In my head canon, Quinn Fabray is completely and totally head over heels soulmate fairy tale in love with Rachel Berry. She kind of can’t stand it. And she’s angry and confused and hurt and scared and stuck in the patterns she’s carefully laid out for herself. So mostly she pretends she’s not, tries to redirect that energy into other things, puts up a good front. But sometimes (obviously), she can’t say no, she can’t look away, and she can’t pretend she’s not in love with this perfect little whirlwind of vocabulary and talent.

Alas, Rachel, though she is undoubtedly pansexual (or whatever the latest word for “I like everyone :D” is), is a) oblivious to Quinn’s affections and b) very much not in love with Quinn. I mean, Quinn is pretty (prettiest girl she’s ever met), and if she asked Rachel probably wouldn’t say no, but Rachel would never pursue it or indulge in any daydreams. She’s busy thinking other things and being outrageously talented. Plus she’s preoccupied with useless, oafish boys.

So Quinn will remain secretive and frozen and live her entire life loving Rachel Berry, obsessing over every interaction, teetering between self-loathing and self-righteous indignation for the things she has and hasn’t done. She will grow up and probably marry some stupid, boring boy because he asks her to and gives her presents. She will maintain an arsenal of excuses for getting out of sex (an ice queen to her grave), but whenever she does give in and sleep with her husband she’ll keep her eyes closed and her mouth shut tight so she doesn’t accidentally say Rachel’s name (because in her head she’s always, always saying Rachel’s name).

She will drink, but she’ll try to stop when she has children (mostly) because she’s terrified of becoming her mother. She will make many mistakes as a parent and she will always, always be secretly sad, but she will encourage her children to be kind and she will become unnecessarily over-the-top angry when she discovers one of them has been calling a classmate mean names. She will probably scream and throw things and her husband will be utterly flabbergasted; in the midst of this, she will remind herself of her father and become horrified and lock herself in the study to drink and cry and reminisce and swear that she will never ever EVER treat her children the way her father treated her. The next day she will clean herself up and sit her children down and very carefully but very sternly remind them that she loves them more than anything, unconditionally, but she does not and will not tolerate a bully.

She will quietly follow Rachel’s undoubtedly brilliant career and one time she will gather up the courage to buy tickets to one of Rachel’s shows and she’ll use “family bonding” as an excuse to make the trip and she’ll haul the kids to New York and be inexplicably jittery and snap at everyone more than usual and when the show’s over she’ll make sure no one realizes she’s been crying and she’ll stand and clap with the rest of the audience and then quickly usher her children out and when they’re finally driving home she will very, very quietly mention that she went to high school with the lead in that play that they saw but her children will be asleep or distracted with their phones and not realize what it is that they’re witnessing, the long awaited confession of ice queen Quinn Fabray.

She will live her entire life loving Rachel Berry, only Rachel Berry, and she will die every bit as in love as she ever was.

Rachel Berry will go on to do great things, she will be happy, though there will always be dramatics. She will maybe think about Quinn Fabray very briefly once or twice in college, but never after that.

Years later, when Rachel is old and begrudgingly retired and Quinn has been dead for a while and her children are grown and have their own families, one of Quinn’s daughters – the middle child, maybe, who was sometimes less oblivious than the other two – will attend an event and run into Rachel Berry. She will hesitate a moment, then approach, a little shy. She’ll say hello and introduce herself. Rachel will smile, every single mega-watt still perfectly in place, and immediately reach for a pen to offer an autograph. Quinn’s daughter will politely accept it, but linger a moment, bite her lower lip, and Rachel will wonder if maybe she should call security but she’ll decide it’s been a while since someone so attractive was so obviously interested in her. But then Quinn’s daughter will clear her throat and swallow the tears that still threaten every time she thinks about how sad her mother used to be, and Rachel’s smile will almost falter when she senses that this is something different than the usual devoted ramblings of a fangirl.

“I think my mother was in love with you,” Quinn’s daughter will say, wincing a little and laughing that awkward this-is-so-uncomfortable laugh. Rachel’s laugh will not be awkward – she’s used to it – and her smile will be understanding. Quinn’s daughter’s eyes will be sad, but she’ll be encouraged by Rachel’s smile and continue, even if she’s still not entirely sure about what she’s doing.

“I think she went to high school with you,” Quinn’s daughter will try and explain, and Rachel will lift her eyebrows rather comically at this point, her smile still indulgent; “–her name was Quinn. Um…” Quinn’s daughter will stumble for a second, trying to remember her mother’s maiden name; her smile will look relieved when she does, “Quinn Fabray.”

Rachel’s smile will remain locked in place as her mind reels to process this, images and memories of Quinn slowly coming to the surface. She’ll blink, but manage not to laugh in Quinn’s daughter’s face when she does finally place the name.

“I think you might be mistaken,” Rachel will explain, but probably with a lot more words and a great many priceless facial expressions. Quinn’s daughter wont be able to stop herself from smiling now, her eyes fogging up a bit as she remembers that time when they all sat around the table for three and a half hours while Quinn lectured them on bullying, confusing them all and making things extra uncomfortable by randomly sprinkling in reminders about how much she loved them, no matter what, no matter who they were or who they loved. Twenty years later, it will finally have occurred to Quinn’s middle child that maybe that epic speech wasn’t entirely about the kids.

“I’m pretty sure,” Quinn’s daughter will say, folding the piece of paper with Rachel’s autograph on it because sometimes when she’s anxious she needs to move her hands. “She never said she was, she didn’t talk about you at all, actually, but she- well, she didn’t say your name, at least, but…” she’ll know she’s rambling, but she’ll start to feel like she needs to do this, she needs to say what her mother couldn’t, she just needs to; “…we found this box, when she died, we had to clean out her stuff you know cause dad-…” and she’ll swallow and wonder, not for the first time, whether or not she’s really qualified to help other people with their problems when her grief is still this thick in her throat, but she’ll keep going and Rachel will just stand there with her eyebrows lifted and her smile still plastered firmly in place even if it doesn’t quiet reach her eyes any more.

“She loved you.” And the way Quinn’s daughter says the word ‘loved’ will make Rachel’s heart beat erratically and her stomach lurch as she starts reconsidering the things she thought she knew about Quinn Fabray.

“She was a good mom,” Quinn’s daughter will say suddenly, fiercely, gaze focused on Rachel’s feet. And then she’ll shake it off, smile awkwardly and shrug, thank Rachel for the autograph and walk away. And Rachel will finally, finally, FINALLY have the tiniest, vaguest, most fleeting little inkling of how very much Quinn loved her.