Shock You Like You Won't Believe

She’s not sure what to think when he suggests it.

On the one hand, having someone go down on you is

having someone go down on you, and she would be
an idiot not to go along with it. She hasn’t had sex
since that spectacularly unsatisfying night with Puck
and while she has no desire to have actual sex again
anytime soon, getting head from Lady Lips has the
potential to be utterly enjoyable.

On the other hand, he wants her to wear a blindfold

while he does it, which is somewhat unsettling. But
then again, this is the boy who fluently speaks Na’avi
and fantasizes about Coach Bieste, so she supposes
there could be worse requirements.

Ultimately, she decides to go with it, because he

doesn’t ask for anything in return and free dome is
free dome. As much as she despises that she sounds
like Puck, she is not going to turn down an easy
orgasm.

~*~*~

He panics.

She rubs her hand across the front of his jeans and
whispers something about helping him out if he
returns the favor and he panics.

He thinks (hopes) she doesn’t notice the painfully

obvious lack of a bulge in his pants when he suggests
going down on her and is eternally grateful when she
pulls her hand away to stare at him suspiciously when
he mentions the blind fold.

She agrees and his stomach plummets when he

realizes he actually has to go through with this.

Or rather, he has to find someone to go through with

this for him.

~*~*~

She finds herself cornered by him on a Friday.

She stares at him as he rambles through a

proposition and has half a mind to stop him two
sentences in, because she know exactly where this is
going. But she waits for him to finish because she
knows first hand how irritating it is to be rudely
interrupted.

He finishes speaking and she agrees immediately,

ignoring his questioning about Finn and her
apparently questionable sexuality because he did ask
her after all, and he shouldn’t have if he was so
worried about the emotional well-being of his
heterosexual life partner or her sexual preferences.

She asks if he needs her to bring anything.

He tells her no but seems to think better of it before

requesting a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

~*~*~

She notices he’s a lot more fidgety then normal when

she arrives at his house. She would think it was cute,
him being nervous about pleasing her, if it wasn’t so
damn annoying.

She goes through the motions like a champ. She falls

back against his bed and pulls him on top of her. She
sucks on his tongue when he shoves it sloppily into
her mouth. She rubs her hips against him when he
kisses her pulse point. When he detaches his lips
from her neck to pant against her skin, she does
something different. Instead of pushing him away to
cool down like she normally would, she latches onto
his shoulders and pushes down subtly.

Sam looks at her, startled, and she arches an

eyebrow at him expectantly.

She pulls her spanks and panties down smoothly

while he fumbles around in his dresser drawer before
he approaches her cautiously with a dark green
necktie.
He has to re-tie it twice before she assures him she
can’t see anything. She lays back and breathes until
she feels a dip in the bed and fingertips guiding her
legs apart.

~*~*~

He makes a variety of silly faces and vulgar gestures

at her before he’s absolutely certain she can’t see
through the blindfold. Trotting as silently as he can
towards the hall, he waves Rachel in from her hiding
place in the second floor bathroom.

She crawls onto the bed and pries Quinn’s knees

apart before lowering her head to place kisses up and
down Quinn’s inner thighs.

He thinks (hopes) that this is the first time anyone has

ever gone down on Quinn, so chances are she
doesn’t know the difference between girl lips and boy
lips. Though admittedly, his lips are rather lady like,
so she probably wouldn’t have been able to tell the
difference anyway.

He stands at the end of the bed, just in case Quinn

talks to him while “he” is down there, but keeps his
eyes firmly on the floor. Quinn sighs, and his eyes trail
up the bed curiously, before snapping back to the
carpet almost immediately.
He really did not want to see that.

~*~*~

She runs her tongue along the inside of her thigh

before biting down gently. Quinn wasn’t wet from
making out with Sam, but the attention Rachel pays to
her sensitive skin seems to be doing the trick.

When fingers tangle in her hair and firmly guide her

towards Quinn’s center, Rachel panics because her
hair is much longer than his and Quinn would be able
to tell the difference quite easily. Luckily, she doesn’t
run her hands through her hair; she just clenches her
fist tightly when Rachel places a tentative kiss against
her clit.

It escalates rapidly from there. Quinn sighs and

presses up against her mouth and it takes everything
Rachel has not to moan. Soft kisses morph into firm
licks, which turns into Rachel sucking greedily at
Quinn’s clit while sliding two fingers deep into wet
heat.

She curls her fingers experimentally, and Quinn really

seems to like that if the way her hips jerk up and her
muscles clench briefly around Rachel’s fingers is any
indication. A rhythm is set and it isn’t long before
Quinn’s thighs begin to tighten around Rachel’s head
as her breathing grows heavier.
When Quinn comes, it isn’t with a piercing scream or
violent moan like Rachel has seen in those
informational pornographic films. Her breath hitches
and she whines a little as her inner muscles contract
wildly around Rachel’s fingers and she moans, softly,
one word.

“Rachel.”

~*~*~

Lady Lips seems to be a more accurate nickname

than she previously thought. The soft, full lips
wrapped around her clit feel amazing.

The fingers that slip inside her feel a bit small and
delicate for a guy, but Puck’s thing is the only other
thing that has ever been inside her, so maybe that’s
normal. When those fingers curl in time with a
particularly hard suck on her clit, Quinn’s hips arch
and she feels the first stirrings of white heat flaring
low in her belly.

It feels good. It feels great. But she needs more.

Behind the blindfold, behind her eyelids, the image of
bright blonde hair and six-pack abs just isn’t doing it
for her. Long, wavy chestnut hair and big, penetrating
brown eyes cloud her vision before she can stop it,
but she has no desire to stop.

She imagines it is Rachel between her thighs, lapping

hungrily at her clit and rubbing torturously against her
inner walls.

That image alone makes her come. She barely hears

herself moaning Rachel’s name over the rushing in
her ears and her pounding heart.

His room is dead silent, and only then does she

realize exactly what she has done.

She panics and attempts to stutter out an explanation

as she tears hastily at the tie covering her eyes. It’s
only when she finally has her sight back that the
words stop spilling from her lips.

She sees him at the end of the bed, looking terrified

and a little nauseous.

She sees her in between her legs, looking terrified

and a lot turned on.

The fingers still tangled in Rachel’s hair slacken for

only a second before they re-grip, tighter than ever, to
pull her up to Quinn’s level.

Lips meet immediately and she forgets about

everything except the feeling of Rachel straddling her
lap and Rachel’s tongue slipping smoothly into her
mouth and Rachel’s hips grinding slowly against her
stomach.
~*~*~

He watches, dumbfounded, as they exchange heated

kisses and breathless whimpers on his bed.

When Quinn pushes Rachel’s sinfully short skirt up

above her waist and slips her hand inside Rachel’s
underwear, he turns away. He ignores the burning in
his cheeks when Rachel moans Quinn’s name and
walks quickly out of the room, despite the fact that the
room is his.

He thinks (hopes) they’ll be finished soon and decides

to spend the time waiting with his iPod headphones
shoved as far into is ears as is physically possible.

On his way downstairs, his stomach gives a loud

growl at the same time another groan sounds out
from his room. He gives a reciprocal groan when he
remembers the Cool Ranch Doritos Rachel brought
him are in his backpack.

The backpack that is sitting next to his bed.

***************

Mine.

Rachel groaned, pulling her exhausted form into a

sitting position. She brought her hand up to her head,
rubbing were she felt a migraine begin to build. She
rested her back against the headboard, eyes still shut.
She tried to open them but winced as the bright light
filtered into her view. Rachel slid back down into the
memory foam mattress, head being swallowed by the
immense pillows. She pulled the duvet up to her neck,
wrapping the fluffy blanket around her. She felt a
strain but ignored it, feeling a vibrating her stomach.
Rachel shot up, sprinting to the adjoining en suite.
She was bent over the porcelain bowl, gripping the
sides, knuckles turning white from the force. All the
food and drink she had consumed was being emptied
into the hotel toilet. Tears ran to her eyes as the acid
burned her throat.

Suddenly, cold hands were on her neck, holding her

long wavy hair back. Rachel gasped but her
questioning was immediately cut short when another
bout of vomiting overcame her. When her stomach
was empty, she dry retched for a few more minutes,
before rolling away and leaning against the cold
bathtub. Rachel panted, getting oxygen back into her
lungs, calming her body back down. The hands were
gone from the back of her neck and were now rubbing
her sides. Rachel groaned and fell into their embrace;
words rambling from her mouth. Moaning about how
alcohol was created by the devil, that she refused to
drink again, that she hated Mr Schue and his stupid
teambuilding ideas. The hands chuckled warmly and
held Rachel as she babbled about how much she felt
terrible.
It took Rachel several minutes to cease talking and
realise who it actually was holding her…in the nude.
The hands had draped wrapped a large towel over
them but still…

"Ah, I see you've stopped talking," The hands said

with a smile. Rachel's eyes bulged as she turned. She
was met with a grin. Rachel stood up, the force
making her dizzy, and the towel slipping down. She
stood stock still for a moment then ran out the room,
fuzzy memories from last night seeping into her brain.

Mr Schuester had taken them all to New York for

Nationals. Not like they were actually in the
competition but he had told them it would be a good
educational experience. Rachel had been hesitant,
spending two weeks away from her fathers for the first
time ever, but had reluctantly agreed.

Her next thoughts were when she was in the bar with
the club. Mr Schue was meeting with Shelby to catch
up and Puck had talked them into going to the bar.
Rachel remembered having a drink. Another drink.
Then Santana and Brittany had come out of their
room and talked her and Quinn into having shots.
Quinn made sure Puck was nowhere around.

Then it hit her.

They moved the party up to her room. Quinn was

sharing with Mercedes and Tina. Santana and
Brittany had talked Mr Schue letting them share.
Rachel was glad to be on her own.

Arriving at the room, Santana had raided the mini

fridge and extracted a cocktail of drinks, forcing Quinn
and Rachel to drink. The two had looked at each
other indifferently before taking the shots.

The next few hours were bleary but Rachel distinctly

recalled a chapel and a priest.

"Oh my God!" Rachel yelled, throwing her arms in the

air. She found her suitcase quickly, searching for
clothes.

"I think I've seen enough," Quinn smirked from the

bathroom, a robe wrapped around herself.

"How can you act so-"

"Q! Are you in there?" Mercedes loud voice came

from the other side of the door. "You didn't come back
in the room last night and we're sending out a search
party."

"Mercedes," Rachel replied, trying to keep her voice

from shaking. "Quinn is here. Santana got us drunk
and she kind of fell asleep." Quinn shot her a look, as
Rachel pulled sweatpants on. Quinn whimpered when
Rachel smothered her form with a large t shirt.
"What?" Rachel hissed.
"I miss seeing you naked," Quinn sighed sadly.
Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Just pretend to be asleep," Rachel whispered. Quinn

shook her head but threw herself on to the large bed
in the middle of the room. Rachel restrained a chuckle
and answered the door.

"Congratulations," Kurt said sarcastically, throwing his

arms around the brunette in a tight hug.

"Um…thanks…" Rachel said, looking down.

"Will you and Quinn make babies now?" Brittany

asked, her pinkie linked with Santana's.

"What?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Well you did get married Berry," Santana said. "And

no B, two girls can't make babies." Brittany nodded in
acknowledgement.

"I-It really happened?" Rachel asked, backing into the

room.

"Yes," Tina said.

"After you went to Vermont," Santana said.

"Vermont?" Brittany asked. "Is that in Europe?"

"I'm married?" Rachel said, sliding to the floor. "To
Quinn?"

"We have been saying that for the past five minutes,"
Kurt said, walking into the room. "And how could you
not tell from this mess?" Kurt gestured around the
room.

It appeared Quinn had genuinely fell asleep on the

king sized bed. The sheets violently sprawled all over.
The decorative pillows thrown in various places
around the floor. Along with articles of clothing.
Rachel blushed. Empty bottles of a variety of alcohol
were lined up on the carpet.

A snore escaped Quinn's lips and Rachel couldn't

help but find it adorable.

Kurt raised his eyebrows and pointed to Rachel's

wrist. Rachel looked down and found the source of
what had been bothering her all morning. A dressing
was wrapped over it. Rachel could see an image
peeking through. A heart with a Q in it. Rachel's eyes
widened.

"Oh and the ring," Tina said, pointing out the golden
band wrapped around Rachel's ring finger.

"Have they gone yet?" Quinn asked tiredly, opening

her eyes. She blinked several times, rubbing her
eyes. She looked around to find eight faces staring at
her. "I'll take that as a no."

"What the Hell happened in here?" Mr Schue said

from the doorway. He had a stern but confused
expression about his face. Shelby was behind him.

"This is my daughter's room?" She asked, with an

arched eyebrow.

"H-Hi," Rachel said, standing. "Mr Schuester I can

assure you there is a reasonable explanation for all of
this."

"Yeah, Q and Berry got pissed, went to Vermont got

married and came back," Santana said bluntly. "And
then had sex by the looks of Q." Quinn looked
perplexed for a minute then let her eyes drift down.

"Oh…" Quinn rolled, pulling the robe back over thigh.

"This is really awkward," Tina said, shifting her weight

from her left foot to her right.

"It's like a really bad episode of friends," Shelby

commented, looking at her daughter, head inclined to
the right.

"Didn't that happen in an episode of friends?"

Mercedes asked with a quirked brow.
"Well…yes, but that defeats the purpose of the
offence," Shelby said. "Shelby Corcoran, Rachel's
mom," She smiled. The others nodded with beams.

"I think we should…um…leave," Will said nervously,

turning around and going down the corridor.

"See you around Rachel," Shelby waved. Rachel

nodded, still not really understanding any of it.

"You're mom's…" Santana searched for the word. "…

cool. Seriously, if that was my mother, I'd be on a one
way trip to a Christian boarding school…actually, she
did threaten me when she found out I actually wasn't
a virgin…" Santana trailed off.

"Anyway…" Mercedes said, facing Rachel and Quinn

again. "What are you going to do?"

"It's not like we have enough money for a divorce,"

Rachel said, laughing at the words that fell from her
mouth.

"Who said anything about a divorce?" Quinn asked

sincerely.

"Oh come on, Q," Santana chuckled. "You're not

telling me you'd like to stay married to RuPaul?"

"I wouldn't like to stay married to RuPaul…I'm not

even married to RuPaul," Quinn said. "I'm married to
Rachel."

"You could get an annulment," Tina offered.

"Don't you have to have not consummated your

marriage to do that?" Quinn asked, with a raised
brow.

"Damn stupid hormones," Rachel grumbled. Quinn

faced her.

"Rachel what's your problem with us being married.

It's not really going to affect anything," Quinn said,
subconsciously rubbing the golden band around her
finger. She frowned.

"Not going to affect anything…Quinn, it's going to

affect a lot of things," Rachel snapped. Quinn giggled.

"You certainly weren't complaining this much last

night," Quinn laughed, before freezing in realising
what she just said.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked quietly.

"I remember bits and pieces, I wasn't as drunk as

you," Quinn said her voice distant. "I remember
drinking here, then S and B left to go do what they
always do," Quinn said.

"Amen," Santana laughed.

"Why are we praying?" Brittany asked. Santana shook
her head and patted Brittany's arm.

"Then I remember saying it would be fun if we could

go to Central Park…" Quinn said.

"But I thought it would be more fun if…"

"We went to Vermont…"

"And got married whilst looking at deer…"

"Deer?" Mercedes asked incredulously. "Boy, that

took some imagination."

"What are we going to do?" Rachel asked, sitting

down on the bed. "My dad's explicitly told me not to
drink." Quinn stifled a laugh, running her foot over
Rachel's back.

"It's okay," She said softly.

"Quinn, if this is your definition of okay, I'd like to see

what you mean by not okay," Rachel said,
absentmindedly leaning back into Quinn's touch.

"Sleeping with Puck, getting pregnant, being

homeless, moving into Puck's," Quinn listed. "Not
being able to eat bacon…"
"What is it with you and bacon?" Kurt asked. Quinn
ignored him.

"Where are all the boys anyway?" Rachel asked.

Mercedes burst out laughing.

"Kurt's hiding," Tina said with a chuckle. "He might

have done one of the things on your list last night."

"You never…" Quinn said disbelievingly. Kurt nodded.

"I always thought Puck was gay…"

"Back to the more important discussion," Kurt said,

gesturing to Rachel. Quinn sighed, sitting up properly.
She manoeuvred herself so she was sat behind
Rachel, her legs wither side of the brunette's, arms
around her small waist and chin resting on her
shoulder.

"How natural does it feel?" Kurt asked. Quinn

shrugged, pressing her lips into Rachel's neck,
making the girl shiver.

"Very," Rachel breathed.

"There's your answer," Santana said with a small

smile.

"What was the question?" Brittany asked dumbly.

Santana didn't answer again but placed a kiss to her
lips. People stared.
"What?" Santana asked. "You knew we were doing
this. I think the weirder thing is how they managed to
not kill each other." She jerked a thumb to Quinn and
Rachel.

"Hate can be confused with love Santana," Quinn said

quietly. "I realised a few weeks ago that I didn't hate
Rachel."

"What?" The two girls said, eyes wide.

"I knew I was…not into men when I slept with Puck is

wasn't joyful. It felt like a chore," Quinn explained,
burying her face in Rachel's neck. "And after lots of
thinking, I noticed that I stared at you an awful lot."
Quinn chuckled, running her fingers of Rachel's thigh.

"Geez, it's like a sitcom," Mercedes commented wryly.

"What would we call it?" Quinn asked, between

kissing Rachel's neck.

"Glee?" Santana offered. They all laughed.

"Who would play me?" Rachel gasped, when Quinn

licked her pulse point.

"Well, there's this Broadway actress, who's like

Jewish as well- I think," Santana said. "And plus her
nose…It's about as big as yours…which I know is a
feat."

"Hey!" Rachel said indignantly.

"What's her name?" Quinn asked, leaving red marks

over the tanned skin.

"Lea something or other…" Santana trailed off.

"Michele?" Tina asked. Santana nodded. "My cousin's

known her since she was eight."

"What about Quinn, is there a blonde as good with her

mouth to play her?" Rachel asked. Quinn smiled into
the flesh. She trailed her hands up and down Rachel's
sides.

"What about the one from that new movie coming out
soon?" Kurt asked.

"The one who plays a photographer running from

aliens?" Mercedes asked.

"My cat eats dead aliens," Brittany said simply.

"You mean fish?" Tina asked. Santana glared. "Y-

Yes, dead aliens, sure, why not?" she shrugged.

"So, we're agreed," Kurt said. "We make a TV show

call it glee and get Lea Michele and Dianna Agron to
play these two." He gestured to the girls on the bed.
Rachel couldn't respond. Quinn had pulled her back,
so she was lying on top of her, back pressing into her
chest. Quinn groaned and flipped them over.

"We should leave," Tina said, Kurt and Mercedes

followed her out the room. "come down stairs when
you're done, Mrs and Mrs…who's last name to they
have.

"Quinn Berry sounds like a cartoon," Rachel gasped.

"Fabray…" Quinn said. Rachel moaned. The three left

but Mercedes' head popped back in.

"Are you coming?" Mercedes asked Santana and

Brittany.

"I was thinking we could join them," Santana said

hungrily. Quinn growled, holding Rachel tightly.

"Mine."

End.

Reviews are appreciated.

***************

Title: The Bet 1/2

Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1180
Summary: In which a bet is made, and a winner is
declared.

This fits in the "Rules"/Signs 'verse, and contains

events mentioned in Wet Hair. Sand. Kiss. and The
Signs.

I own nothing except the mistakes.

It started innocently enough: a simple bet between

friends, made while mildly intoxicated, witnessed by
two vaguely neutral parties. The stakes weren’t even
that high — a dollar and bragging rights.

Santana, Brittany, Quinn, and Rachel were all sitting

in Santana’s living room on a Friday night, sharing a
bottle of tequila that Brittany had gotten from her
parents’ liquor cabinet. At the beginning of the
evening, conversation had mostly revolved around
school and gossip, but as the tequila flowed it
loosened the tongues of all four girls. Quinn felt the
effects most of all.

“I’m telling you, I’m really good with girls! They can’t
resist me!” She was facing the other three, sprawled
on Santana’s couch with her head upside-down over
the front.
“Yeah right, Quinn,” said Santana, looking up from
nuzzling Brittany’s neck. “You have no girls; you have
no skills; you have no hope.”

Rachel laughed, but quickly sobered when she saw

Quinn’s glare.

“I’m sure you’re very charming, Quinn,” she said,

fearful of the blonde girl’s wrath.

“I’m a good kisser, too!” Quinn was pouting now, arms

crossed over her chest and lower lip jutted out.

“Actually,” said Brittany, “that part’s true. She is a

good kisser.”

“See?” asked Quinn petulantly.

Santana glared at Quinn and wrapped her arms more

securely around Brittany.

“You know, Quinn,” Rachel said, “in the relatively

short time that we’ve been friends, I’ve never heard
you mention that you’d been kissing girls.” She took a
sip of her margarita. “In fact, I’m not convinced that
you’ve ever actually kissed a girl, for all your big talk.”

Quinn righted herself on the couch.

“Hey!” she said. “I’ve kissed three — ” she held up

two fingers, then four, then dropped her hand
completely “ — three girls!”

“Brittany doesn’t count,” Santana said.

“It’s true,” said Brittany. “I’ve kissed everyone. I don’t

count.”

“Fine,” Quinn said. “Two girls. At cheerleading

camps.”

Santana laughed. “If it wasn’t someone we know, it

doesn’t count.”

“So you’ve never kissed a girl!” Brittany crowed

triumphantly.

Quinn slid off the couch. “I could kiss girls, if I

wanted.”

Rachel patted her shoulder sympathetically.

“Whatever you say, champ.”

“I could!” Quinn cried, now flat on the carpet.

Rachel and Brittany exchanged a look.

“Go ahead,” said Rachel, scooting closer. “Kiss me. I

dare you.”

Quinn laughed. “I’m not going to kiss you. Dares are

stupid, and I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Okay.” Rachel shrugged. “It’s okay to be scared,

Quinn.”

“Look,” said Quinn, “if I wanted to kiss you, I’d kiss

you. And you’d like it.”

Santana and Brittany laughed.

Quinn took a long drink of her tequila sunrise. “I’ll bet

you a dollar that I can kiss you,” she said, finally.

Rachel crooked an eyebrow and grinned. “Really?”

“Really. Give me two weeks from tonight. If I haven’t

done it by then, I lose the bet and owe you a dollar.”

“And,” interjected Santana, “we get to call you a wimp

from now until eternity.”

Quinn swallowed nervously. “Is it a deal?”

Rachel nodded. The two girls shook hands, and the

bet was on.

***

A week later, the girls were enjoying another girl’s

night, this time at Rachel’s house. Quinn had come
very close to winning the bet on three separate times,
but she had chickened out at the crucial moments.

“So, you ready to admit defeat?” Rachel asked,

smiling as she sipped her vodka-cranberry.

“Why? You nervous? Scared you might like it?”

Quinn, who was sitting next to Rachel on the couch,
put her arm around the smaller girl’s shoulder and
pulled her closer.

“I would like you to know, Quinn, that although I am

not in any way averse to kissing women, I don’t
believe that you have the requisite skills to make
kissing you an enjoyable experience.”

Quinn frowned. “I’m a good kisser!” She removed her

arm from around Rachel’s shoulder. “Really!”

Santana laughed. “Whatever gets you through the

night, Q.”

***

An hour later, Quinn and Rachel were standing in the

kitchen preparing another round of drinks. Quinn,
decided that this was, at last, the moment. She put
one hand on Rachel’s back and leaned in, closing her
eyes and preparing herself to meet — thin air. She
groaned; Rachel had turned, ready to take the next
round into the living room and preventing Quinn from
landing her intended kiss.

“Oh, Quinn, was that — I mean did I — were you

trying to — ”

Quinn nodded. “That should count. I made the effort;

it’s not my fault that it didn’t work.

Rachel laughed. “No, that’s so not how that works.

But I will stand perfectly still right now if you want to
try again!”

Quinn grabbed her drink and stalked out of the room.

***

Wednesday night should have been the night. Quinn

was sitting in Rachel’s basement for their twice-
weekly Murder, She Wrote sessions. As Rachel sat
up after the first episode, ready to give Quinn a
backrub, her face was only inches away from Quinn’s.
Quinn knew that this was the moment, if there was
ever going to be a moment at all. In that split second,
however, she realized that she couldn’t win the bet
sober. She didn’t want to cross a line with Rachel,
and at least if she was drunk she could blame the
alcohol if the kiss was bad (or, even worse, if the kiss
was good).
***

“Friday night! Last chance for romance!” Santana

greeted Quinn as the three other girls walked into the
Fabray house.

“I know,” said Quinn. “I’m going to win this yet. I have

— ” she looked at her cell phone “ — almost five
hours left.”

Rachel laughed and hugged Quinn. “Sure you will,

bucko. Let’s start drinking, ok? Santana brought rum,
and I vote Goombay smashes!”

After an hour and three drinks each, it was time to

head to Puck’s house. His mom and sister had gone
to visit a cousin in Shaker Heights, so he had taken
the opportunity to throw a massive party.

As the girls walked, Rachel grabbed Quinn’s arm.

“Look, Quinn,” she said quietly, trying to keep the

other girls from hearing. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll
tell Santana and Brittany that you won the bet, so they
won’t tease you. It was a stupid idea, and I just don’t
want you to be uncomfortable, okay?”

“Rach,” Quinn said, “I’m going to win this bet. Make

sure your lips are well-glossed for the next four hours,
‘cause they’re going to need it!”
At that moment, Rachel and Quinn were walking past
a house under construction. In what was once the
front yard sat a portable dumpster and a storage pod.
Quinn saw her opportunity and seized it. Pushing
Rachel against the storage container, she kissed the
shorter girl for all she was worth. Rachel’s tongue
swiped across Quinn’s lower lip and she opened her
mouth, deepening the kiss. When lack of oxygen
finally became a problem, she broke the kiss and
stared at Rachel, open-mouthed.

“I won the bet!” she screamed, running towards

Santana and Brittany.

---

Santana and Brittany stared at Quinn in disbelief as

she ran towards them, still yelling that she had won
the bet.

“Is this true, Smurf?” Santana asked Rachel as the

shortest of the four girls approached, grumbling under
her breath.

“Yes. It’s true. She ignominin — ignominiousi —

iginom — she shoved me up against a dumpster and
kissed me and she should be ashamed!”
“For the record,” Quinn said, “it wasn’t a dumpster. It
was a storage container. And I won the bet!”

Rachel scoffed. “A dumpster!”

Quinn grinned and stuck out her hand. “Gimme my

dollar, and you can call it a dumpster.”

Rachel grudgingly reached into the front pocket of her

jeans and removed a single dollar. She handed it to
Quinn, who took it and laughed.

“Best dollar I ever earned,” Quinn said, snapping the

dollar and walking towards Puck’s house. “I think I’ll
frame it!”

***

The next week’s girls’ night found the group back at

Quinn’s house. Rachel had brought up the
“ignominious attack against the dumpster” at every
possible opportunity for the past week, and Quinn
was getting frustrated.

“Look, Rach,” she said, when Santana and Brittany

had gone into the kitchen to get another round of
drinks, “the bet was whether I would kiss you, and I
did. Why do you keep focusing on the
circumstances?”
Rachel didn’t respond.

“If I didn’t know better,” Quinn mused, moving closer

to Rachel on the floor, “I’d think you wanted me to
kiss you again. Is that what you want, Rach?”

Rachel laughed. “Certainly not, Quinn. I just find it

absurd that you brag about your skills with women,
and that was one of the least romantic kisses, if not
the least romantic kiss, of my entire life.”

Quinn sat back, hurt. “You didn’t like it?” she asked,
suddenly vulnerable. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

Rachel smiled. “It wasn’t a bad kiss, per say. But it

was against a storage container, three feet from a
dumpster, at a construction site. Pick your locations
better!”

Quinn moved closer and Rachel held up a hand. “Not

an invitation, Quinn.”

***

It was sometime after midnight, although Quinn

wasn’t exactly sure what time. Santana and Brittany
had gone back to Santana’s house. Rachel was
staying the night. They had been playing a rather
heated game of Uno, but Quinn was getting tired.
Unfortunately, although alcohol made Quinn tired, it
had the opposite effect on Rachel.

“Let’s go to bed. I’m wiped.” Quinn gathered the cards

after finally being defeated.

Rachel frowned, but followed Quinn up the stairs and

into the blonde’s room.

“Oh my god,” she said, looking at the wall above

Quinn’s desk. “I can’t believe you actually framed that
stupid dollar.”

“Hey!” Quinn exclaimed from the bathroom, where

she was washing her face. “I’m proud of that dollar! I
worked hard to earn it.”

Rachel walked to the bathroom door and leaned

against it. “That was hard work?” she asked, raising
an eyebrow at her friend.

Quinn laughed. “Well, it wasn’t so bad.”

Rachel smiled and the girls finished their pre-bed

routines.

“Hey, Quinn, I’m not sleepy! Entertain me!”

They were in Quinn’s bed. Sharing a bed with the

other girl didn’t bother her — they had been doing it
occasionally over the months with no awkwardness —
but this was the first time it had happened since
Quinn had won the bet. Quinn would have been
content to just go to sleep, but Rachel wouldn’t stop
pestering her.

“Rach, I’m drunk and exhausted.”

“But I’m drunk and hyper! So talk to me. Let’s play a

game!”

“The only possible game that could keep me awake

right now would be the ‘let’s make out’ game. And
since we both know you don’t want to do that — ”

Quinn was silenced by the feel of Rachel’s lips on her

own. Several breathless moments later, Rachel pulled
away.

“What the hell was that?” asked Quinn.

Rachel shrugged. “I’m really not tired,” she said, and

kissed Quinn again.

**************

Title: Mad World

Chapter 1 : Aftermath

Fandom: Glee
Genre: Romance/Humour

Status: WIP

Pairing: Quinn/Rachel

Rating: T, PG-13. Mild violence, language and angst.

Nothing the average teen can't handle.

Words: 6,093

Spoilers: Takes place after 'Throwdown', where Sue

Sylvester has told Jacob Ben Israel to publish the
story of Quinn's pregnancy. Quinn Fabray is still living
with her parents, who are still oblivious and total
assholes.

Summary: All it takes is for the one who once slushied

others to be herself slushied. After that, all's fair in
love and war. And in high school, there's a lot of war.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, the songs, or even the

characters. I only own my plot. However, if you
happen to come into the possession to the rights of
Quinn Fabray, or Dianna Agron, I will gladly and
gratefully buy them from you.

Note: The title is Mad World, originally sung by Tears

for Fears, though I admit I only heard of it thanks to
Adam Lambert. Every chapter title will be a song title.
The events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate
to the song, sometimes not so much, but listening to
the song might or might not help you understand the
story. This chapter is Aftermath-Adam Lambert.I
promise that not every chapter is related to Glambert.
It just happened to fit for this one. Explanations of why
the song title is the title of the chapter will come at the
ending of every chapter.

It all starts when that cranky bitch, Sue Sylvester tells

Jacob Ben Israel, that annoying gossipmonger, to
publish the story of Quinn Fabray's pregnancy. Which
he does, with mild regret, but mostly with relish. It's
the biggest story he's ever published, even compared
to that huge article on the possible reasons for Sandy
Ryerson's abrupt termination. For this story, he has
proof, proof he proudly presents on his blog. He
knows people read his blog, and even if they won't
admit it in school, they check his blog every night for
more gossip to spread. Perhaps after this he will rise,
if merely a step, on the social ladder. He feels
anticipation stirring inside him as he double checks
and triple checks the article for errors. There are
none; it's perfect. He presses the 'Publish' button.
Within an hour, he has 46 comments. He smiles.
Jacob Ben Israel has finally crossed the line to
infamy.

Rachel Berry fervently refreshes Jacob's blog, aptly

and simply titled- "Gossip Guy", every other minute.
She knows she should be trying to finish her rather
large amount of homework, but she's firmly glued to
her computer screen, knowing but desperately hoping
she won't see the story on the blog. Her rhythm is
smooth. Click, breathe out at the headline she's
reread 46 times, ("Is Kurt Hummel not quite straight?"
It's pretty stupid. No one in their right minds would
have called Kurt straight, but the article is demeaning
and stupid and hurtful. Rachel wonders why people
like Jacob, who live off the pain of others, even exist),
counts to a hundred, and clicks again. And she
freezes, because the title is now, "A bun in the
celibate oven. Immaculate conception or just horny
teens?" It is crude, but the article is worse. Rachel
Berry, for the first time in her life, does not read every
word, but skims, because she can't bear to read every
scathing word.

"Celibacy Club president, head cheerleader, ranked

third hottest girl in the school, devout Christian...
Quinn Fabray... pregnant... boyfriend, Finn Hudson...
knocked-up... Virgin Mary? Unlikely. Perfection
personified- Not anymore... Two-faced... Practice
what you preach..." And it went on and on in this
manner. It was painful to read, and Rachel could feel
the tears spilling out of her eyes. Nobody deserved an
article this vicious and deliberately hurtful to be written
about them. Even when the blogger had written about
her, it had been mildly positive, mainly because he
was trying to get into her pants. Even Kurt's article
wasn't half as bad as this one was. With a shaking
hand, Rachel clicked "Comments". There were
already 8 comments, and the article had just been
published. Some comments are rude, some are crude
and sexual in nature, and some are just plain gleeful.
They bask in the downfall of the mighty Quinn Fabray.
Through her tears, Rachel wonders why she is not
one of them.

Finn Hudson receives a lot of text message

throughout the night. Most are from the football team,
congratulating him on 'tapping that', but some
messages are just a few bottom-feeders gloating at
his downfall. He wasn't the pregnant one, but he was
the one who got Quinn Fabray pregnant, and she
unwittingly has dragged him down with her. He
ignores every message, except Rachel's "Omg, Finn.
I'm so so sorry about this. How are you handling
this?" He texts back, "Ok, i guess. kinda bz, tho. cya
tmr." He isn't in the mood for Rachel Berry's long
speeches. He gets enough of them on a day to day
basis.

Instead of logging onto his computer, or playing

mindless video games, or even calling Quinn Fabray,
Finn goes to his mother and wordlessly helps her with
the dishes. His mother is surprised, but not
unpleasantly so. She hands him a clean, wet dish,
and he dries them and puts them carefully in their
place. He doesn't let his hand shake and he doesn't
break any of them.

Kurt Hummel calls Mercedes Jones, Tina Cohen-

Chang and Artie Abrams as soon as he sees the
article. As glad as he is that he is no longer on the
main page, he isn't happy about the article. None of
them are. Mercedes rants about how much of a
douche bag Jacob Ben Israel is, while Artie softly
agrees in the background. Tina stutters about the
future. They talk for a while, but they don't know
what's going to happen. All they know is that they do
need Quinn Fabray in the club, and they don't actually
mind that she is. They've actually come to not hate
her. In fact, they even feel mild outrage at the article.
Tomorrow, they will corner Jacob and stare at him
while he tries to hold onto his dignity, but will
eventually fall to the floor whimpering and apologizing
and begging, but they will not touch him. They will kill
him with their eyes. Gossiping has its limits, and
Jacob has crossed those lines. He will not be
forgiven.

Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang, Matt Lutherford,

Santana Lopez and Brittany all appear to be offline on
MSN, but they are in reality chatting to each other.
Perhaps it is more plotting than chatting. They are
calculating how many slushies Quinn will get thrown
on her on the morrow. They are wondering how many
slushies the five of them can hold in their hands
without spilling any on themselves before they can
find Jacob Ben Israel and make him regret even
thinking about fucking up their friend. Because Quinn
Fabray, as much of a deluxe bitch she is, is still their
friend. And friends don't let losers like Jacob fuck up
their friend's life and get away with it. They decide that
10 simultaneous slushies is really not bad enough. 10
simultaneous slushies for a week is a much better
alternative.

Sue Sylvester types in the web address she

blackmailed off the Jacob kid, and smiles in
satisfaction at the vicious article. Her head
cheerleader will be ruined by tomorrow, because
gossip in a small town like this spreads faster than the
black plague. She smiles again, because comparing
this story to the black plague is not very much
inaccurate. It will spread, and it will spread fast, and it
will bring Quinn Fabray to her knees. No one messes
up her Cheerio's and gets away with it. Sue is aware
that she will have to kick the pregnant teen out. She
can't have a round ball being tossed around- it will
hurt their chances at competitions. She'll just have to
find a new head cheerleader. Santana Lopez and
Brittany were out. They were too close to Quinn
Fabray. They were liabilities. She would figure it out
tomorrow. For now, she had to gloat.

While so many other people were doing so many

things, Quinn Fabray, the subject of their thoughts, is
merely lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling. She
has no desire to read the article. She knows Jacob's
style. She will be ridiculed so badly that what she has
done to Rachel Berry will only be considered child's
play. She knows this, but some part of her fruitlessly
hopes that if she doesn't read the article, then it's not
there. She knows that she is deluding herself. It's
already published, because she has been receiving
text message after text message. She knows they will
be blocked and anonymous, gloating and cruel,
because at some point in her high school life, she was
the one sending those messages.

She knows she will never send messages of that sort

ever again, because now she knows what it's like.
She knows she will never laugh at another person
being slushied again, because by this time tomorrow,
she will have know what it's like to be covered in
freezing cold corn syrup. She knows she will never
call Rachel Berry by anything other than her name
again, because she knows if she reads the messages
on her phone, they will be much, much worse. Quinn
Fabray knows that her reign of terror is over, and now
she is on the bottom of the social ladder.

But she doesn't care. It doesn't matter what they say.

Tomorrow, she will walk into school with her head
held high. She will face whatever they throw at her,
whether it be insults or corn syrup, with dignity. She
might be at the bottom of the social ladder, but she'd
be damned if she allowed people to treat her that
way. Did they really expect that she would just let
them bully her into submission? She might go down,
but she won't be pushed down. She will step down,
just as gracefully and as quickly as she stepped up.
She wonders for a moment why she is not sobbing
hysterically into her pillow, like she did into Finn's
chest earlier in the afternoon, but now she just feels
numb. She feels some shock too, but she is all out of
tears.

She also feels a steely resolve. She takes several

deep breaths and picks up her phone. One by one,
she reads and deletes the messages. When she is
done, she checks her emails. One by one, she reads
and deletes them. She pretends not to notice that
none of her friends have sent her anything supportive
except for, of all the people in the world, Rachel
Berry. She pretends to not have received the
message and deletes it anyway. You can be the most
popular girl in school, but at the same time not have a
single friend. She strives to hold back her tears. She
does her homework. She says goodnight to her
parents, who smile and pretend that their daughter
doesn't look different. They pretend to not see the
tense shoulders, the fake smile and the held-back
tears. They pretend everything is perfect. They smile
back and wish her sweet dreams. Her mother sets
down her drink to hug her. Her breath smells like
vodka. Quinn tries not to burst into hysterical laughter.
The only dreams she would get were going to be
nightmares. But all she does is smile and walk back to
her room. She packs her books and her cheerleading
uniform, because tomorrow she will quit before she
can be kicked off the team. She can retain more of
her dignity that way. She changes into her pyjamas
and turns off the light. She curls up under her blanket
and tries to go to sleep.
She stares up at her ceiling and she doesn't fall
asleep. She watches the shadows on her ceiling, the
soft silvery light coming in through her curtains and
feels more alone than she ever has before.

Somehow, it is morning and Quinn has overslept. She

goes through her morning routine numbly and
hurriedly. She skips breakfast and just remembers to
take her keys and bag with her. She gives her hung
over mother a wave- conversation is hard this early in
the morning and drives fast to school. Miraculously,
she is not late. In fact, she drove so fast she is early.
She sits in her silver Nissan Versa and taps the
steering wheel nervously. She watches people walk
by, pretending not to see her, but at the same time
throwing her not-so-subtle looks. She wonders
whether she could just sit in the car until the bell rings,
then berates herself for being so weak. She will not let
a bunch of high school students make her hide. She
might have fallen from grace, but Hell would have
frozen over before Quinn Fabray decided to go into
hiding.

So she gets out of her car.

And walks up to the front doors alone.

And stops in front of her locker, still alone.

Students watch her carefully as she walks past them

and they walk past her. Whispers follow her, and
some nervous laughter, because she walks past them
dressed in heels, jeans and a black shirt, and not her
usual skimpy cheerleader uniform. Her hair is down. It
was actually rather liberating to Quinn. It was a lot
easier to breathe in her own clothes and her head
doesn't feel like it's about to explode. Unfortunately,
without her cheerleading uniform, she has to squeeze
past smelly guys and gossiping girls, because she is
no longer special, and they no longer part for her. She
is anonymous, but not.

She gets to her locker and puts her bag inside. She
hears heavy footsteps coming up to her and braces
herself. She takes a quick breath, and with her
heartbeat slightly elevated above normal, turns
around. But it is only Finn Hudson, who looks at her
defensive posture weirdly. "Are... Are you okay?" He
sounds uncomfortable, and his eyes don't meet hers.
He has his confused/concerned face perfected. Quinn
sighs inwardly. How does one admit that not only is
her boyfriend not the father of her baby, but also not
the one she's in love with? How does one admit so
many things without completely annihilating another
person? How does one break another person's heart?

She doesn't know, but she doesn't feel like lying to

him yet again. No, she is not okay; she is mildly
depressed, pregnant and hormonal, and she is pissed
that even though she might not love Finn anymore, he
is still her boyfriend, and though she feels guilty that
she's lying to him and basically taking him for a ride,
he is still her friend, and the least he could have done
was send her a message last night. She takes a
breath, but before she can speak, she sees red.
Literally.

Dave Karofsky is standing in front of Finn and her. He

stares down at her over his nose, and even though
Finn is taller than he is by several inches, Karofsky
somehow stares down at him as well. His square jaw
is firmly set in a wide smirk, and his arms are crossed
over his chest. Finn is simply stunned. Karofsky is on
the football team, and the unwritten rule is to never
bite the hand that feeds you. Finn is not covered in
corn syrup, but Quinn is his girlfriend, and the rule
applies to her as well. Dave Karofsky has crossed the
line.

Quinn Fabray however, feels the Slushie drip down

her face, sting her eyes, cover her lips. It continues its
icy cold path down her shirt, soaking her shirt
completely. It tastes like cherry. She hates cherry.
She can hear snickers coming from around her, and
whispers. People aren't moving. They are waiting.
They are waiting for the reaction of the mighty Quinn
Fabray. Will she run away, crying, or will her boyfriend
defend her? The hallway is mostly silent, or maybe it
wasn't. She couldn't tell. The blood rushing through
her ears and her veins is too loud.

She lets out an animalistic, ferocious snarl and takes

a quick step up to the football player, who's smirk has
slipped. She grabs him by the lapels of his letterman
jacket and slams him against the locker next to hers.
He is a head taller and maybe 70 pounds heavier
than her, but the adrenaline in her veins, combined
with her vicious cheerleader training, pays off. His
head slams against the cold metal and bounces back.
He blinks rapidly, his mouth curling downwards.
"Watch it, preggers. I don't have nothing against
hitting a girl if she hits me first." The way he says girl
makes Quinn's stomach curl up.

She shoves him again and before he can react, lifts a

knee and presses it hard against the front of his
crotch. He lets out a yelp and a whimper when she
doesn't take her knee away, but presses it down with
more force. She won't permanently damage him, but
she won't let him get away with this. When his eyes
roll back in his head and his hands come up to grab
her, she lets him go. He slides to the floor, groaning in
pain. His hands go to his groin. He shouts at her from
the floor. "You're just a pregnant ex-cheerleader!
You're nothing anymore, Fabray! Your time is over.
It's a new order over here!" Even down on the floor,
he still thinks he is winner.

Quinn leans over him, one foot hovering over his

hand-covered groin, one sharp heel next to his face.
She knew the heels would come in handy. She
speaks in a flat, but commanding tone. "Listen,
fuckface: I don't know your name, and I really don't
care. Your name does not matter, because in 20
years, you will still be here in Lima, Ohio with your 2.5
kids and stupid Stepford wife. You'll have a stupid job
and when you retire with your lousy pension, you'll
cheat on your wife, who will leave you, taking the kids
with her, and then you will die, fat and alone."

The jock's eyes widen through his pain with shock

and anger, but before he can swear at her, she
continues talking in a scathing tone. "That's only if
you're lucky. If you're not, this Slushie will make me
sick and I'll have a miscarriage. I will come after you
so hard you'll end up staring at your wife and kids
through the bars in a window and talking to them
through a telephone." She cocks her head and kicks
his hands away from his crotch, pressing the sharp
end of her heel there. "Don't even move."

He doesn't.

She continues, louder now, because the hall is

deathly silent, and she's pretty sure someone is
filming this. "Does this get you off, douche bag? Do
you feel better about yourself now? Do you feel happy
that the only time you feel good about yourself is
when you make other people feel like shit? Bullying
others- Is that how you want to go through the rest of
your high school life? Do you feel like the bigger
person now?" Her voice is cold and piercing. Dave
Karofsky looks away, unable to take the flashing of
her eyes. They are an icy and fierce colour. For a
moment, Quinn wonders where her words are coming
from. She wonders if she is talking to Dave Karofsky,
or whether the words are meant for herself. After all,
just a day ago, she was the one laughing at the
people who got slushied. "Well? Answer me!" Her
voice is high and louder now. Soon, the teachers will
come out because they will be wondering why the
usually noisy hallway is unnaturally silent.

Dave Karofsky doesn't answer her. He turns his head

away, shame colouring his cheeks. Quinn bares her
teeth and leans down close to his ear. "The next time
you think about doing anything with a Slushie other
than drinking it, think about what happened today."
She stands up straight; tall and defiant; she walks off
down the hall, not giving Dave or Finn another look.
The students previously crowding around them back
away quickly and nervously, as though afraid she will
take it out on them next. They allow her to stalk past
them with no comment, though several unseen
people clap for her. The people she has already
passed begin to whisper, and the football players she
passes give her a look of grudging respect before
rushing to aid, and laugh, at their teammate.

She hears Finn calling out to her from behind her, but
she keeps walking before turning into the next
bathroom and he stops. She opens the door and says
flatly, "Leave me alone, Finn. Go to class now or you'll
be late." Finn's mouth opens in surprise, and he is
prepared to argue that he wants to help her, but
Quinn cuts him off with shocking news. "I'm breaking
up with you."

"What?" Is all he can exclaim.

"Look, you still want your popularity. You still want to

be somewhere up there on the goddamned social
ladder. So go. You didn't help me earlier, and I don't
need your help. I've proven that I'm strong enough
alone. I can live without you, and you'll definitely be
better off without me." She speaks gently but firmly,
and without malice. It's for the best. Eventually she
would have had to do this, and it's probably best to do
it right now, while she is still high off the adrenaline
coursing through her veins.

But Finn isn't going to back off that easily. He scowls

and crosses his arms tightly. Angrily, he says, "You
can't just brush me off like that, Quinn. I was going to
defend you, and you can't just dump me because of a
small thing like that! And that baby's mine! You can't
just tell me to leave you alone. I have a right to that
child."

It is time. It was best to end the charade right now and

let Finn be absolved of all responsibility. "No, it's not.
The baby's not yours." Quinn looks Finn right in the
eyes as she says this, and he knows she isn't lying.
He feels weak, and then he feels shock. "But.. But
that stuff about the hot tub..?" Quinn sighs tiredly.
How much of an idiot could Finn Hudson really be?
"How much dumber could you possibly get, Finn
Hudson?" And it's mean of her, but she can't help
herself. "I know you're just a jock, but..We didn't even
have sex, Finn! And we were both still dressed, for
god's sakes. Plus, I was still a virgin at the time. How
did you even get to high school?" She is exasperated.
Why did she even go out with him?

Finn is stuttering now, but he manages to utter a

complete sentence. "So... So the father.. Isn't me?"
Quinn shakes her head. This was going to break him.
"The father is Puck." She says softly, staring at his
chest. All the flame has gone out of her. Finn is still
for a moment, then his fist slams into the wall next to
her face. She doesn't flinch. "Bitch." This is whispered
in the most broken voice Quinn has ever heard in her
life. "How could you do this to me?" Finn looks at her
as though she has stabbed him in his heart. The hurt,
the betrayal in his eyes... Quinn looks away.

He is entitled to hit her, probably wants to, but he

doesn't, because he is a man. He does the only thing
he can- he walks away. Quinn lets the bathroom door
swing shut as the bell rings. She resolves to skip
class. It's Spanish, and she can blame her morning
sickness. Mr Schuester would just look at her with his
compassionate eyes at glee later and smile and nod
and said he understood. Then he would hand her the
assignment she missed. He would not mark her down
as absent.

Quinn stares at herself in the mirror, wondering again

when she had decided to attack a six-foot-tall football
player. Her hands are shaking now, as her body
calms down from her high. Tears pool in her eyes and
she blinks them back hard, but it doesn't work. They
fall anyway. She quickly wipes them off and tries to
control her sobs when the door opens. She groans
when the last person she would have wanted to see
at that moment walks in. Rachel Berry. Of course. It is
only cruel fate that would send her the most annoying
person on earth right this moment. She turns and tries
to walk past the girl, but Rachel blocks the door. "I
understand if you would like to use another bathroom,
but is it really necessary?" Her voice is pleading.
Quinn sighs.

"Leave me alone, Berry." They are both vaguely

aware that it's the first time Quinn has called Rachel
by anything other than an insult. "I'm covered in
Slushie and I have a headache coming on. I'm not at
all in the mood for any of your insanely long speeches
and/or lectures, so could you just please leave me
alone? I really don't need your sympathy. There's
nothing you can do for me.(*)" Quinn puts a hand on
her cold forehead, because she really does feel a
headache coming on.

Rachel, on the other hand, seems to not have heard a

single word Quinn said. "I just wanted to say that I
very much appreciate and enjoy what you did and
said to Dave Karofsky earlier. It was very impressive
and brave of you to stand up to him. I would also like
to thank you, because it's something I've wanted to do
for a very long time. And I think I speak on behalf of
all the other glee club members when I say that,
because maybe we won't get slushied as much after
this. You have done what all Slushie victims wish they
could do, and-"

Quinn holds up a hand, slightly dazed. "First of all,

you talk too much, too fast. And secondly, I didn't do it
for you. Now if you don't mind, I have to wash my hair
and my face." And then she walks back to the sinks
and sticks her head under a tap. It occurs to her that
not only is the space between the tap and the bowl
wide enough for two heads, it is also comfortably tall
so that she doesn't have to lean over too much. She
wonders why she has never noticed that the
bathrooms seem almost designed for people who
have been slushied.

As she washes the red out of her hair, she wonders

why she hasn't heard the short singer leave. She
sighs and admits to the sink. "Perhaps it takes a fall
like mine before something like this can happen. I
mean, I've always been on the other end of the
Slushie, but today, I finally feel what it's like to be
slushied, and honestly, it's a really bad feeling. But
because of that, I know what it's like to throw a
Slushie at other people also, and I know what we fear.
It's people who stand up to us. And I know that I didn't
get beaten up by that jerk just because he was mostly
in shock. They're all cowards, you see." She feels
embarrassed, but turns to look at Rachel anyway.
She's not there. Quinn sighs but is rather relieved that
the girl did not hear her speech. It was more for
herself, at any rate.

The door opens again, and this time, Rachel Berry is

holding a bulky grey thing that looks vaguely like a
hoodie and a mid-sized towel in her hands. She offers
the towel to Quinn with a timid smile. "I always come
prepared with extra clothes. I suppose since this is
your first Slushie, you wouldn't have thought of it,
though frankly, I am surprised you didn't expect this,"
then she blushed, "Sorry, that was kind of rude."

Quinn feels a smirk tugging at her lips. "You talk too

much," but she is reaching for the towel. "Thanks."
She wipes her face dry and then furiously rubs her
hair. She curses her long hair. She sighs down at her
sticky shirt. Almost unaware that she is speaking, she
says, "I did plan to bring clothes, but I woke up late
and I just... forgot." And then she wonders why she
just explained herself to Rachel Berry.

Rachel holds out the grey thing. It is indeed a hoodie,

which honestly surprises Quinn. She didn't expect
Rachel Berry to own anything other than argyle, which
is probably pretty stupid. No one can wear argyle
every single day... Can they? Quinn does not reach
out to take the hoodie. Admittedly, going around
smelling of cherry and feeling sticky all over does not
hold much appeal for her, but neither does wearing
Rachel Berry's 'Wicked' hoodie that says 'THE
WICKED WITCH WAS FRAMED.' Somehow, the
quote cuts too close to home. She can't help but think
of herself as the wicked witch.

Rachel Berry has kept her mouth shut for far too long,
and the words spill out of her. "I don't have Man-
Hand, Rupaul or Treasure Trail germs, Quinn. And
you don't want to go around in that soaked shirt all
day long, either. It's detrimental to your, and your
baby's, health. Also, you have been soaked in a
Slushie, and I know it's cold. You will need something
warm to wear, and if you think you can change into
your Cheerio's uniform temporarily, it's not a good
idea. You'll freeze and get pneumonia or hypothermia
and then I'll feel guilty because I let you do that. I
swear I didn't put itching powder or anything on the-"

Quinn's headache was coming back, so she took the

hoodie from Rachel to get her to shut up. "God, Berry,
you-"

"Talk too much, yes, you've said," but Rachel was

smiling, then her smile faltered. She blushed slightly
and said, "I don't mean to be intrusive or too forward,
but keeping your, uh, undershirt on isn't a good idea.
Cherry stains really quickly, and while I really don't
mind letting you wear it, I do rather like my hoodie
without cherry stains." Quinn stares at Rachel as
though she has three heads. "You want me to walk
around..." Her voice trails off.
Rachel nods nervously, her head moving too fast.
Quinn idly wondered if she was still pumped up on
Vitamin D. "Stop moving your head. It looks like it's
going to fall off." She is surprised when Berry listens
to her and her head abruptly stops moving. It's like
watching a bobble-head doll. "The hoodie is thick
enough, so, um, you won't feel too... uncomfortable."
Rachel blushes again and Quinn rolls her eyes. She
unbuttons her shirt and folds it neatly on the sink. She
sees Rachel turn around and cover her eyes in the
mirror. She can't help but smirk this time. "Honestly,
Berry, have you never been a locker room?" She
hears a muffled mumble of nonsense through the
other girl's fingers, but can't understand them. She
shakes her head and takes off her 'undershirt'. That
girl really was quite insane. Who still referred to a bra
as an 'undershirt' in this day and age?

As much fun as it was making the shorter girl

uncomfortable, the cold air in the bathroom was
beginning to get to Quinn. She quickly cleaned off
whatever Slushie still remained on her and pulled on
the hoodie, thanking god that at least the Slushie
hadn't dripped into her underwear. That would've
been awkward. She rolls her eyes at Rachel, who still
has her eyes covered. Quinn clears her throat loudly,
startling the girl. Now herself feeling mildly
uncomfortable, Quinn says, "I'll clean these and give
them back to you."
Rachel nods, just once, then says, "I can give you a
bag for them, because I'm sure they will soak into
your bag otherwise." It is the shortest thing the girl
has said throughout the entire fiasco, and Quinn is
grateful for it. They walk out of the bathroom together
awkwardly, Rachel holding the door for Quinn, who
has her hands full. "Thanks," she mutters.

They walk swiftly past the classrooms, trying not to

attract Mr. Schuester's attention, but it is without
cause, because Mr. Schuester is busy trying to
untangle Finn and Puck who are fighting on the
ground and couldn't care less about the two girls who
are skipping his class. Rachel turns around at the
sound of Finn's yelling and peeks into the class. "...
best friend.. MY girlfriend...Cheater!.. Asshole!" The
entire class bears witness as Noah Puckerman takes
the hits, accepts them and seems almost glad for
them. For the first time in his life, Noah 'Puck'
Puckerman does not fight back. They are in shock,
but before it can go too far, Mr. Schuester has pulled
them apart and is now angrily lecturing them. He is so
angry at them that he doesn't even take them outside,
away from the stares of the class.

Rachel doesn't hear what he says, because she is in

shock. She didn't hear complete sentences, but what
she hears she easily pieces together. She concludes
that Quinn must have cheated on Finn with Puck, and
Finn would only be that angry if the baby were also
Puck's. Puck wouldn't let Finn beat him up so badly if
it wasn't so. She backs away from the door and down
the hallway.

Quinn is leaning against her own locker, her forehead

resting against the cold metal. Rachel cannot see the
rest of her face, but judging by the shaking of her
shoulders, the blonde is crying. Not just crying, but
sobbing. She takes huge gasping breaths and
appears to be hyperventilating. The brunette hurries
over to her locker and pulls out a plastic bag and a
box of tissues. She walks over to Quinn's locker,
which is not that far away, and takes the sticky things
away from her. Quinn doesn't resist, or turn around.
Silently, Rachel presses the box of tissues into
Quinn's hands.

By the time Rachel has placed the clothes and the

towel in the plastic bag, Quinn has already halted her
sobs. Her shoulders still tremble, and her chest still
heaves slightly, her eyes are red, and her voice is
hoarse and thick at the same time. "It wasn't
supposed to happen this way,' she whispers to the
locker. "I just... got kind of drunk with Puck and I was
kind of depressed that night and it just... It got out of
hand; I can't even remember it. I wasn't supposed to
get pregnant. I'm the Celibacy Club President, for
fuck's sake.' Rachel is taken aback at the curse, but
she controls herself and doesn't say anything,
because Quinn Fabray will probably never speak to
her as nicely as she is speaking now ever again, and
she should appreciate it.
"Finn... Finn is a nice guy. He doesn't deserve this."
Quinn takes a deep breath. "I broke up with him. He's
yours. Make him happy, Berry. I love.. loved him, but
I've hurt him so badly. I've been so stupid," Quinn
pauses for a second, not sure what to say now, then
she goes, "And thanks, I guess, for the clothes.. And
the towel." Her voice is oddly final. Quinn turns to look
at Rachel, who's eyes are wide and sad. "Everyone
makes stupid mistakes, Quinn. It's high school. It
could have happened to anyone of us."

"Really, Berry? Who goes around cheating on their

boyfriend with their boyfriend's best friend and then
proceeds to get pregnant and then decides to pretend
it's their boyfriend's baby anyway? Who goes around
losing their virginity to someone they don't even
particularly like? Tell me. Who? You?" Quinn lets out
a sarcastic, slightly hysterical laugh. Quinn almost
breaks down yet again, but with a shuddering breath,
controls herself. "Go back to class, Berry. Go comfort
Finn and bitch about me to him. And, if you don't
mind, tell Mr. Schuester I felt terribly ill and went
home."

Rachel cocks her head. "Are you really going home,

Quinn? You really shouldn't be driving in this
condition. Would you like me to drive you home?"
Quinn sighs. Rachel was like the annoying puppy you
didn't want to kick, but who wouldn't leave you alone.
"Just... Just go, Rachel. Leave me alone." And then
her eyes widen when she realized what she just said.

Rachel's eyes widen in surprise as well. "I.. Okay.

Bye, Quinn. Take... take care of yourself. Don't... don't
do anything stupid, okay?" She sounds bewildered.
Quinn Fabray just called her Rachel. She stumbles
back slightly and turns to walk off. Quinn grabs her
bag and is rummaging for her car keys when she
hears Rachel, no, Berry, calling her name. She turns
to face the girl, mildly exasperated. "Yes, Berry?" She
stresses last name, hoping that the girl will actually
leave. It's not that she's not (grudgingly) grateful; it's
just that it's Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. Jacob
would have a field day.

"Will you be coming back for glee club? Sectionals is

coming soon and... We kind of need you there for
practice." Quinn rolls her eyes again and nods stiffly
at the hopeful looking girl. Even if she weren't looking
at the girl, Quinn knew she would've been blinded by
the 100 kilowatt smile Rachel throws at her before
turning around and walking away.

If you read the lyrics to Aftermath, you'll see that it's a

song about how when something goes wrong, in the
aftermath, you're not alone. This chapter is not
particularly based off it, although it does related
slightly to how Quinn Fabray's bad decision led to
Jacob Ben Israel's post, and this chapter is mainly
about what happens after he makes such a terrible
post.
Also, (*)I don't need your sympathy. There's nothing
you can do for me.(*) It's a line from Strong Enough-
Cher.

I also want to add that not every chapter will be as

angst-filled and depressing as this one is. The genre
is, after all, Romance/Humor. Or as long. I just really
needed to write this chapter down to tie up some
loose ends, and to open a brand new can of worms.
I'm mean that way.

Tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is

important to each and every writer, and I promise to
read and reply to all signed reviews.

----------------

Title: Mad World

Chapter 2 : The Truth - Good Charlotte

Fandom: Glee

Genre: Romance/Humour

Status: WIP

Pairing: Quinn/Rachel

Rating: T, PG-13. Mild violence, language and

occasionally angst, as well as the scattered
innuendos. Nothing the average teen can't handle.

Words: 4,301

Summary: All it takes is for the one who once slushied

others to be herself slushied. After that, all's fair in
love and war. And in high school, there's a lot of war.

Spoilers: There aren't any. A few of my own twists,

but nothing that would ruin Glee for those who haven't
watched it yet.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, the songs, or even the

characters. I only own my plot. However, if you
happen to come into the possession to the rights of
Quinn Fabray, or Dianna Agron, I will gladly and
gratefully buy them from you.

Note: Every chapter title will be a song title. The

events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate to the
song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the
song might or might not help you understand the
story. Explanations of why the song title is the title of
the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter.

Rachel's smile slips as she walks back to Spanish

class, but even her indefatigable optimism has been
dampened at the thought of seeing Finn and Noah.
She is not sure what she is going to do. Finn is now
single, and of course, it's makes perfect sense that
she would swoop in and scoop him into her arms.
However, she doesn't really want to be the rebound
girl, and she can't help the image of Finn as a giant
puppy with wide, tearful eyes. Sometimes, she
wonders if she really is meant to be with him. She has
Quinn's blessing now, if you could call it that, but the
urge to have Finn is suddenly gone. The challenge is
gone, and so is the want. She sighs and pushes the
classroom door open.

The attention of the class turns to her for only a

moment; Rachel Berry walks into class late all the
time, thanks to her daily slushies, so it's not a big
deal. Besides, the mini drama in front of them is far
too interesting. Some people have their cell phones
out and are discreetly recording the two boys getting
chewed out by Mr. Schuester. Tonight, there would be
a lot of WMHS students on the Internet, looking for
Quinn Fabray's outburst and assault of Dave Karofsky
and Mr. Schuester's nagging of Hudson and
Puckerman on YouTube. Jacob was going to be
delighted. Story after story came his way. He was
already imagining the title of tonight's blog post. "It's
Babygate in Lima, Ohio, babes!" He thinks it's brilliant,
witty and to the point. And it takes his mind off his 10
Slushies-soaked shirt.

Mr. Schuester also looks up at Rachel when she

walks in. He breaks off mid-speech and looks
strangely relieved, then he notices the rest of the
class hanging over the edge of their seats. He quickly
abandons the still furious-looking Finn Hudson and
swollen-faced Noah Puckerman and scribbles an
assignment on the board. Then he drags the both of
them, and Rachel, out of the class. He shuts the door
firmly, and then turns on the three of them.

"Rachel, I'm sure you know what is going on." He

waited for Rachel to nod, which she did. "Have you
seen Quinn Fabray? I don't want to do this during
school hours, but...' he gestures weakly at the two
boys. Finn glowers slightly. "There's nothing you need
to do, Mr. Schue. I already talked to Quinn, she's the
one who told me all this. There's nothing to say. My
best friend and girlfriend cheated on me and lied to
me. I'm not sticking around for this shit."

Rachel butts in here. "What do you mean you're not

'sticking around for this shit'?"

Finn lifts his head and stares her in the eyes. "I mean,
I'm not going to stay in glee club if I have to see those
two every day. You think it's easy being quarterback
and male lead, and then getting screwed over? No
way, Rachel. I like glee club and all, but... It's either
me or those two, Mr. Schue,' he turned back to face
the teacher. Mr. Schuester sighed and gave an
imploring look to Rachel. Noah still hasn't said
anything. Rachel turns to him first. "Noah?"

"Berry."
Rachel scowls slightly. She did not like being mocked,
especially when glee club, and therefore her future as
a star, is on the line. "You're an ass." She surprises
herself, because that is not what she meant to say,
but she cannot stop her word vomit. "You're an
asshole who took advantage of drunk teenager who
didn't know what she was doing. Finn?" She turns to
Finn, who looks confused. "Yeah..?"

"Look, I just spoke to Quinn. She left because she

wasn't feeling well. She said... she said that she was
kind of depressed that night and Noah got her drunk
and then it just kind of happened. She didn't mean for
any of this to happen. She never wanted to hurt you.
And I know you feel terrible right now, Finn, but don't
take this out on the glee club. We need all of you;
there's only 12 of us and we need all of us to even
think about going to sectionals. Think it over a little bit,
Finn. You don't mean this." Rachel is imploring and
almost begging. Mr. Schuester nods together with
Rachel, backing her up.

Rachel Berry uses the widest, biggest eyes she has,

as well as her most sincere tone she has in her
repertoire. She knows she is going to be the best
actress in the world, because all she wants to do right
now is slap Finn Hudson. He's being selfish and
immature. People went through shit all the time and
came out the other side victorious. She herself was a
fine example. She went through daily slushies, name-
calling, pornographic pictures of herself in the girl's
bathroom, of all places, and still she walked with her
head held high. Admittedly, the situation was different,
but the basis was that nothing could hold you down,
not even a pregnant girlfriend and a lost best friend, if
you really were committed. Finn Hudson was full of
stupid excuses and they were pissing Rachel off.

For a moment, Finn looks like he might have caved,

but then he squares his shoulders and defensively
says, "People don't always mean what they do, or do
what they mean. She might not have meant for it to
happen, but it did. What she did was unforgivable,
Rachel. I thought you of all people would understand
that. She wasn't exactly nice to you, either."

Rachel is very much tempted to pull a Quinn and start

ragging on a six-foot plus football player about how 'to
err is human and to forgive is divine', even though he
most likely wouldn't have the slightest idea what it
meant, but surprisingly, Noah starts to speak, rather
angrily, in fact.

"You wanna know the whole story, bro? You wanna

know why she slept with me? It was at my last party,
the one before school started. She wasn't even
drinking at first. Then you got a little drunk and started
flirting with some chick. Do you even remember?' he
doesn't wait for a shocked Finn to reply. "Don't
pretend that you're still an innocent little virgin, you
punk. You fucked some random cheerleader that
night. And you weren't even subtle about it! You just
grabbed her and went to your car. Quinn was still
sober and she saw everything. She thought you didn't
like her because she was fat or something, then she
started drinking. The only reason she slept with me
was because she was depressed and I was the only
guy there who was paying her any attention. And she
was drunk. I even had to take her home after we did it
because you were the one who brought her to my
place and you'd already left with that girl, whoever she
is. And, after that she felt guilty, because she was
convinced I must've slipped something in your drink,
because golden-boy bloody Finn Hudson would never
have done anything like that if he was in his right
mind. It had to have been my fault." Rachel and Mr.
Schuester are gaping, but Finn looks guilty.

"She wanted to let you think it was your baby so you

could be the loving boyfriend and make yourself feel
better. And now you're acting like it's such a big deal
she made a mistake, even though you did the exact
same thing. I might have gotten her pregnant, but I
would take her as my girlfriend and I would take care
of her so much better than you have. You're pathetic
and you're the asshole. And that's the truth." Noah
Puckerman shoves Finn, who stumbles backward.

Finn tries to attack Puck again, but is stopped by both

Mr. Schuester and Rachel. In a firm and angry tone,
Mr. Schuester says, "Enough! I have let this go on for
far too long! Noah, go see the nurse or you won't be
able to look out of your eyes later at practice." Puck
fumes and shrugs, but walks off.

"Finn, you're very talented and I hate saying this to

you, but it would appear that you're not the only one
culpable in this relationship. I will not kick Quinn
Fabray and Noah Puckerman off because of you. I'm
not going to kick anybody off. I need all of you kids
and I will not tolerate being threatened by my own
students! If you really think you've done nothing
wrong, then go. But I want you to think things through
and maybe come to a good conclusion. If you do,
then I will see you at practice later as well. If you
don't..." Mr. Schuester sighs regretfully. "However, I
will let you miss the rest of my class. I'd like you to go
somewhere and think. Clear your head and then
come back to me with your decision. I want you to be
rational and smart, because that's what you are Finn,
no matter what your grades say."

Finn looks like all the wind was knocked out of his
sails. Suitably chastised and embarrassed, he walks
off without a word. Mr. Schuester sighs and runs a
hand through his hair. "Rachel? Thank you for trying
to help. Do you have any idea where Quinn has
gone?" Rachel is still in a mild state of shock and
doesn't reply. Finn slept with someone other than
Quinn? Noah Puckerman so obviously in love with
Quinn Fabray? The world has gone insane. Mr.
Schuester waved a hand in front of her eyes, startling
her.
"Yes, yeah, I mean, no! I have no idea where she
went. She just said to tell you she felt ill and went
home." Rachel shakes her head to clear it a little. It
helps somewhat, but she is still reeling from
everything that just happened. "However, Mr.
Schuester, I don't actually think she went home. She
seemed rather distracted and not at all like herself.
She did say that she would be back for glee, though.
Also, it would seem that she hasn't told her parents
about her pregnancy so I highly doubt that she would
return home to her mother." Mr. Schuester listens and
runs his hand through his curly hair.

"This is such a mess,' he murmurs, 'and I am a

terrible teacher for telling you to do what I am about to
tell you to do." He hands her the keys to his car. "Find
Quinn. I'm afraid she might be driving around
pondering suicide. I don't really think Quinn Fabray is
suicidal, but she is pregnant and hormonal and
confused and...stuff. Bring her back or at least make
sure she doesn't get into an accident. I know the two
of you don't get along very well, but you said you
spoke to her, and also, you're the only one not failing
Spanish."

Rachel's eyebrows crease and she shakes her head.

"Mr. Schuester, I can't take your keys." The man
throws his head back and lets out an explosive sigh. "I
can't leave, Rachel. I'd love to go and look for her
myself and it's bad enough that I just let Finn, who is,
incidentally, failing Spanish, cut class, but she's
pregnant with a baby, Rachel, and as much as you
may not like her, she's still your-"

"Mr. Schuester, that's not what I meant." Rachel gives

the keys back to the bemused teacher and says, "I
have my own car which I know how to drive and am
less likely to crash in. But I am glad that you care so
much about Quinn. It would seem that not a lot of
people do." Rachel says, very matter-of-fact, and then
she promptly turns and walks off.

Will Schuester frowns slightly at what he just did, that

is, basically encourage a student to cut class to drive
around town. It was probably unnecessary and he
probably overreacted, but he is worried about Quinn,
and sending Rachel back into the class without either
Finn or Puck would send the other kids into a frenzy.
He didn't like it, but he knew what the short brunette
had to go through most days. He just wished he could
something about it other than just sending her out of
school. He sighs, yet again, and walks back into his
class, quieting his students as he did. They lower their
volume, but keep watching their videos playing on
their cell phones. Today was the best day of high
school ever!

A mile or so away, sitting alone at one of a few swings

at the park, Quinn Fabray would have strongly
disagreed with them. Her life really couldn't get any
worse. Or so she thought. That was before a short,
brunette, loud and annoying girl plopped onto the
swing next to her. Of course. Send her Rachel Berry
whenever she thought her life couldn't get any worse
just to prove that her life could get worse. Brilliant.

For a while, there is glorious silence. The sun is

filtered by the trees, and there is a gentle breeze
blowing. The birds are singing and the grass and
flowers are simply glowing. Then Rachel Berry breaks
the silence. Quinn groans inwardly and leans her
head on the chain of the swing. She can't be bothered
to run off. The girl would probably just follow after her
doggedly. She vaguely realizes that the other girl was
talking rather a lot and rather nervously, so what she
was saying probably wasn't that important. It didn't
matter much. Quinn tuned out the other girl out
anyway.

After a few minutes later, Rachel finally realized that

Quinn Fabray was really just staring out into the
distance and sighing to herself every few sentences
and not bothering to listen. She couldn't help huffing,
then she got off the swing and went to stand in front
of the blonde, finally getting her full attention. Quinn
just looked at her with her with delicately raised
eyebrows that basically conveyed her desire for the
short chick to leave her alone. And she was short,
like, really short. Even though she is standing, she is
just half a head taller than Quinn. The swings were
high, but not that high. Lost in her thoughts about how
short the girl was for her age, Quinn again didn't hear
what the girl said.
Exasperated, Rachel repeats herself yet again. "Will
you please listen this time, Quinn? As much as I like
talking, it's no fun if the other person completely
ignores you." She waited for Quinn to give her a
response. The blonde just shrugged nonchalantly.
"I'm distracted, Berry. Can you blame me?"

Rachel slumps and looks defeated. "Quinn, you really

have to stop treating me like the enemy. I'm not. None
of us are." Quinn lets out a sharp bark of laughter and
looks away. "No, really," Rachel insisted, stamping
her foot, which caused Quinn to recoil slightly in
amusement. "Look, didn't you hear about what
happened to Jacob? He got 10 slushies in the face,
Quinn. Ten! Even I've never even gotten 10 slushies
in the face at the same time. And he almost wet
himself. You wanna know who did that? It was Noah,
Mike, Matt, Santana and Brittany who threw the
slushies, which I wouldn't usually approve of, but this
is really a special case. And Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and
Artie basically stood over him while he was still
dripping slush and... If looks could kill, Quinn, Jacob
would've died 10 times over."

Rachel takes a breath while Quinn takes this in, then

she continues in a rush. "And the only reason I'm here
in this park looking for you is because Mr. Schuester
was worried about you and sent me out to find you.
He was worried you might..," Rachel stage whispers,
"Kill yourself."
At this, Quinn Fabray cannot help but laugh. It wasn't
like she hadn't considered it. She says so, which
makes Rachel Berry gasp with shock. "It's not that
surprising, Berry. It's the easiest thing to do, but...,'
she puts a hand on her still flat stomach, "It wouldn't
be fair." She doesn't say anything else and Rachel
awkwardly moves back to the swing next to her. A lot
of their encounters seem to be nothing but awkward.
"How did you find me, anyway?" Quinn much prefers
silence, but with Rachel Berry there, silence is just too
weird.

"I drove around in a square around the school hoping

to see your car. I went from street to street further and
further away from the school. It was a long shot, but I
figured that you probably wouldn't go to a cafe,
because this is a small town and someone you know
probably works there or something and then I came to
the park and circled around it once and saw your car.
So I parked and came to find you." Rachel sounds
modest, but Quinn can tell she is proud of herself.
The brunette falters slightly when Quinn challenges
her. "And now that you've found, what are you going
to do? Take me back to school? Annoy me to death?"

"I haven't decided yet. Mr. Schuester just told me to

find you to make sure you didn't crash into a tree,
thereby killing an innocent and necessary form of life
as well as yourself." Rachel purses her lips in thought.
"I'm glad you don't include me in 'innocent and
necessary form of life',' Quinn remarks wryly. Rachel
hastens to speak again. "I'm sorry. You are, actually. I
mean, you're not really innocent, but you are. And
you're necessary. Really, you are." Rachel is aware
she isn't making much sense, because Quinn's eyes
are going out of focus and she appears to be tuning
out. Again. She attempts to redeem herself. "You are
innocent. And necessary. You're necessary and
you're an important part of glee club. You have a
great voice that is, on occasion, sharp, but otherwise
not bad."

"I can't wait to hear you explain my innocence, Berry,'

Quinn says sarcastically."Surely even your word vomit
can't make me into a better person."

Rachel is mildly offended that the things she says are

referred to as 'word vomit', but she ignores it and
presses on. "I know why you slept with Noah. He
pulled a Quinn and totally ratted out Finn sleeping
with some cheerleader. I understand that under the
circumstances, the choices you made were not
entirely your own. That doesn't completely make you
innocent, but it does-" Rachel is cut off by Quinn
standing up abruptly.

"Just... just shut up, Berry,' Quinn snarls."Why won't

you just leave me the hell alone like everyone else
has, huh? Why can't you just let me be? Stop
following me around trying to make me feel better!"
She stalks off.

Rachel follows her persistently, talking the whole

while. "I'm not going to leave you alone in your
emotional state of mind, Quinn. And I'm not trying to
make you feel better. I just speak the truth, the whole
truth and nothing but the truth. It's not entirely your
fault that you slept with Noah. You have to stop trying
to make Finn something he's not, that is, some
innocent guy who's the victim."

Quinn whirls and pokes Rachel in the shoulder,

effectively halting her. "You don't know what you're
talking about, Berry." She removes her hand and
turns her head, not walking off, but not staring directly
at the brunette either. "What Finn did that night... It
was my fault. I had an argument with him before we
went to the party because he wanted to kiss me but I
just didn't want to. Then he started drinking and went
off to flirt with some random girl. And I knew he didn't
really want to do it. He was just...being a guy." Quinn
sighed. "And after that, when he brought her to his
car, I just... I got fed up and started drinking. Puck and
I...we started fooling around and it just happened. He
was being nice, you know? For once, he was being a
sort of gentlemen and after what Finn did, I just
wanted to be a bitch and get back at him. Funny how
that turned out, huh?" She lets out a mirthless laugh.
"I could have stopped myself, Berry, and that's why
it's my fault. I knew exactly what I was doing."
"So did Finn,' Rachel states brusquely. Quinn glances
at the girl. "He knew exactly what he was doing as
well. He knew he wasn't going to get lucky with you,
so he got lucky with some other girl. Honestly, Quinn,
if it didn't happen then, it would have happened some
other time. He's just a horny boy, like millions of
others, looking for a girl willing to drop her pants for
him. He didn't have to sleep with that girl. If he was
serious about your relationship, he wouldn't have
cared that you didn't want to sleep with him.
Admittedly, sleeping with Noah wasn't your best idea,
but I can't really blame you. And no one else wou-"

Yet again, Rachel was cut off. This had never

happened so many times in one day before!

"Okay, okay, Berry. I get it. It's not my fault. Jeez."

Quinn rolls her eyes. This conversation is getting way
too personal. She slyly changes the subject. "Besides
that, aren't you the one who's supposed to be
defending Finn?"

Rachel's eyes dart around the park, suddenly finding

the fallen leaves of the tree fascinating. "Perhaps I got
over my infatuation a little when I realized how much
of an idiot Finn was. He threatened to leave glee club
if Mr. Schuester didn't kick you and Noah off. I simply
can't be with a person who values their pride so highly
while leaving their teammates in the ditch. Also, I
consider that sabotage of my stardom.' she admits
reluctantly.
Quinn, surprisingly, doesn't say anything. She just
nods. All she wanted to do was get the topic off
herself, but Rachel Berry has opened up a far more
interesting topic. She wasn't so out of it that she
hadn't noticed the ambiguity in Rachel saying
'person'. Eager to stay far, far away from the previous
topic of whether or not she was guilty, she attacks this
point. "With a person, Berry? Tell me, is the great
Rachel Berry not-so-straight?" She doesn't ask with
malice, but with an almost teasing tone of voice. It
wasn't like she had anything better to do. Watching
the other girl squirm herself out of this one was going
to be hilarious.

Rachel flushes visibly under her tanned skin and turns

away so that Quinn is looking at her side. "Perhaps,'
she mutters, 'Why? Does it matter? Is this more
gossip for you to spread? More ideas for pictures on
the bathroom walls?" She turns defensive. Yet
another prime example of why she should have taped
her mouth shut before coming out to look for Quinn
Fabray. She just handed the blonde more material to
torture her with.

But Quinn just shrugs and says, "Not really actually. I

was just teasing you. You don't need to get all
defensive. It's not like I'm going to start spreading
stuff about you anymore; what's the point?" Quinn
starts walking again, but not fast. She just wanders
down the path slowly, admiring the sights. Rachel is
left with her mouth wide open, stunned by the
revelation. Then she briskly walks after the other girl.

"Do you care? Are you disgusted that I'm bisexual?"

she blurts out once she has caught up with the other
girl.

"I probably should be, what with my upbringing, but

honestly, I'm not. I don't even care that your dads are
gay, really. I mean, in this day and age, being
homophobic is frankly, quite stupid." Quinn finally
turns to look at Rachel. "Kurt's gay, he's got a
fantastic fashion sense, and you could take a couple
of tips from him but he's fun. My boss in the future
could be gay. Hell, Brittany and Santana are my best
friends, and they're so gay for each other that it's
hilarious how no one else seems to notice. So no, I'm
not disgusted that you're bisexual. I wouldn't be
disgusted if you were just gay. I might have been, if I'd
known a few months ago, but now I can't bring myself
to care. As long as you don't try to flirt with me, I'll be
fine."

Rachel Berry tries to process all of this information.

First, Quinn speaking to her nicely. Next, Quinn
figuring out she was bisexual. Now, Quinn not caring
she was bisexual. She was right. The world was going
insane. Quinn was staring at her with a raised
eyebrow. "Er. Okay, I suppose. So, what do we do
now?" Rachel is aware that Quinn had asked her this
question earlier.
Quinn smirks faintly. "Well, before you turned up, I
was going to see if I could find a drug dealer in the
park because I know I've seen one around here
somewhere before and get myself something to get
me high, but since you're here, I suppose I'll just have
to settle for breakfast. I missed it this morning and I'm
hungry."

Rachel squints at Quinn. This playful side of her is

new and strange. "Are you inviting me to go to
breakfast with you?"

"If you must," Quinn throws her hands into the air,
before gracefully spinning around and walking in the
general direction of her car. Rachel can't help
breaking into a satisfied grin before following her.

Okay, so the song title is kind of obvious. The song

itself is kind of depressing and sad and stuff, but I just
took the meaning and said buh-bye to the sad. So,
lots of truth in this chapter. It all just spills out faster
than the Niagara Falls spits out water. Finn = cheater
too? I'm terribly mean. And Rachel Berry, bisexual?
Gah! Quinn Fabray being sort of nice? What? You'll
understand why next chapter.

It's frankly quite amazing how I can go to an angsty

chapter into an ending like that, but I actually kind of
like it. It's actually kind of fun writing fluff. I had no
idea!
Thanks for all your reviews and subscriptions to story
alert, author alert, favourite story etc. You guys are all
awesome. Feel free to message me or drop me a
review if there's every anything you think doesn't quite
make sense. I'd be happy to explain myself in the
message or edit my story if it's my mistake. Also, I
reread the last chapter and found a few errors, so if
you guys see any in this chapter, do tell me, 'cause I
know you guys and gals all have way better eyesight
than I do. And because all of you are amazing, I will
try to update at least once a week. I can't give you
more than that. Forcing material just results in shitty
chapters.

Reviews = Love, so spread the love! To err is human,

to forgive is divine, and to love? Magical. The front
part I don't own, the second, I think I heard it
somewhere else other than myself before, so you can
call me absolutely unoriginal. Basically, review. =)

Note: Every chapter title will be a song title. The

events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate to the
song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the
song might or might not help you understand the
story. Explanations of why the song title is the title of
the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter.
Also, this is again, continued from the last chapter. I'm
long winded; bite me. It's only been one day, but it's
been spread over 3 chapters. Tsk.
Walking to her car, Quinn Fabray thinks back on the
day's events. There were a lot of firsts. First time
getting slushied, going nuts on Dave Karofsky,(which
was actually kind of fun), having a civil conversation
with Rachel Berry, skipping school, having an almost
amusing conversation with Rachel Berry, and now,
apparently, going to breakfast with Rachel Berry. She
wonders if she's just dreaming, and her alarm is about
to go off, but dismisses the thought. Ridiculous.
Obviously, she has been reading too many science-
fiction novels.

At any rate, dreaming about going to breakfast with

Rachel Berry would simply be a nightmare.
Unfortunately, reality is usually a lot worse than the
imagination can imagine. Thus, she is now... going to
breakfast with Rachel Berry. A bisexual Rachel Berry,
nonetheless. Plus, she'd practically invited the girl
herself. Quinn groans inwardly. The pregnancy
hormones were screwing with her personality, her
brain, and her...everything! They were screwing her
up. Would the Quinn Fabray of.. oh, just five days
ago, have done everything she just did before nine in
the morning?

The answer is a simple 'No'. A small grimace appears

on Quinn's face when she thinks about what could
possibly happen in another 12 hours. Her brain was
utterly fried. Rachel Berry talking without breathing
wasn't helping at all, but she made a mild attempt to
listen. She caught every 5 words or so, which was
probably good enough. She pieced together that the
girl was talking about a new song she planned to
'suggest' Mr. Schuester use for Sectionals. She was
saying something about Avril Lavigne. Surprise,
surprise, she was talking about singing. Gosh. The
girl needed a new hobby.

With the short brunette rambling about how they

should really just "go to Sectionals with the songs
from Wicked as our theme, because the judges love
show tunes, and of course, the songs themselves
were simply amazing in meaning and composition,
plus, if you base your performance on a theme, you
can really perform instead of just singing and dancing
all over the stage, like Vocal Adrenaline do, albeit
singing badly," the walk to the car seemed painfully
long. For a short, sweet moment, Quinn Fabray
considers telling the other girl to follow her in her own
car, and then trying to lose her in the streets, but
throws the idea away. First of all, Rachel Berry would
probably somehow manage to track her down and
then give her a long lecture about not driving
recklessly, and secondly, it was actually nice to have
someone there with her who didn't look at her like she
was a fragile piece of glass, or a diseased piece of
meat every few seconds. Even if that someone
happened to be one annoying Rachel Berry.

And lastly, she was too polite. It was how she was
raised. True, her parents were crap, but they did
teach her manners and social skills. That was the only
reason she opened the passenger door for Rachel
Berry before going to the driver's side. "I'll take you
back here for your car later." The brunette nods and
gets in. Before Quinn has even buckled herself in
however, the brunette is already sticking her iPod in
the iPod dock on the dashboard. Unsurprisingly, she
scrolls until she finds the playlist called...Broadway.
Quinn Fabray rolls her eyes, but starts the car and
doesn't say anything.

"I do hope you don't mind. I mean, I do have over

6,000 songs on my iPod, and if you would prefer not
to listen to show tunes, I'm fairly sure I would have the
songs you do want to listen to, because as much as I
think pop songs are endlessly repetitive, most of them
with no meaning, I do own them, because it's good to
keep up with-" Rachel snaps her mouth shut when
Quinn abruptly swerves into the next turning and
honks the horn long and loudly at an oncoming
Porsche which really should have been on the other
side of the road. The other car swerves into its proper
lane, but not before the man can give Quinn the
finger. Quinn mutters something that sounds vaguely
like "Asshole munchkin douche bag," before she
brakes hard and shifts into 'Park' in front of a small
diner called "Patty and Man's Place".

Rachel's heart is beating fast. She gasps, "Um,

perhaps I could drive us back, after breakfast?" Quinn
lets out a slightly evil laugh and turns to face Rachel,
a sly look on her face. She pats her car's dashboard.
"There's no way you're touching my baby, Berry. Deal
with it." Quinn smirks and gets out of the car before
the other girl can respond. Mildly annoyed, Rachel
quickly jumps out of the car and walks to the diner,
where Quinn is impatiently holding the door open.
When she passes the blonde, she raises and
eyebrow and says, "Which baby were you referring
to?" before swiftly but gently poking Quinn in the
middle of her stomach daringly.

Quinn Fabray's eyes narrow into slits, and she

wonders whether Rachel Berry will still be alive when
she brings her back to park, but 'Patty' is already
ushering the two girls into a booth somewhere at the
back of the restaurant. Only a few tables are
occupied, because most people are already at work
or at school. 'Patty', whose real name is actually
Phoebe, is Quinn's cousin. She was disowned at the
age of 17 when her parents found out she was gay.
She probably would not have been disowned if it
wasn't for Quinn's parents urging Phoebe's parents to
'keep the good name of Fabray good'.

Because of that, Quinn feels guilty and comes often to

the small and cramped diner for breakfast. Phoebe
had opened the diner with her girlfriend, who
happened to be 6 years older than her and had
accepting parents who helped with the payment on
the diner. The food was diner food, and Quinn
probably would have been shot by both her parents
and Sue Sylvester if they knew she was a regular
there, but she can't help herself. Phoebe's girlfriend,
Amanda, was an amazing fry-cook. Her pancakes
were fluffy and light and tasted like heaven. Her
bacon was always done just crispy enough and her
French toast was magical. Quinn usually came when
she felt like splurging, and she was well pampered by
her cousin, who was now 23.

As Rachel and Quinn sat on opposite benches,

Phoebe leans close to Quinn's ear and says, "Check
the ice (i), little cuz. Nice." Quinn rolls her eyes and
murmurs back, "Do you want me to tell Amanda you
said that? Cause I can so totally walk in there and tell
her, right now," with a raised eyebrow. It was always
easier to be herself when she was with Phoebe
because the other girl was just so...free. Like now,
Phoebe just laughs and backs away. Rachel stares
uncomprehendingly.

"Rachel, Phoebe. Phoebe, Rachel,' Quinn waves her

hand around carelessly. "Phoebe's my gay, disowned
cousin, and Rachel's a school mate." "And fellow
glee-clubber,' Rachel adds. "And fellow glee-clubber,'
Quinn concedes, rolling her eyes for the hundredth
time that day. She ignores the strange look Rachel
gives her, not wanting to talk about her cousin in front
of her, and instead turns to Phoebe, who is already
holding a notebook and a pen.

"Did Amanda make any of her amazing Eve's with a

lid on?" Quinn asks, not bothering to pick up the
menu. Phoebe shakes her head and says, "That was
yesterday. You've got bad timing." Quinn sighs and
replies softly, "I know." It's awkward for a while, and
then Rachel suddenly asks, "What on earth is an 'Eve
with a lid on (ii)'?

"Apple pie," Quinn and Phoebe say at the same time,

which is a little disconcerting, because they both have
blonde hair and delicate features, and they both turn
to her at the same time. Rachel blinks and uncertainly
says, "Okay,' then she turns back to the menu.

Quinn purses her lips and sighs. "Okay, gimme a

blonde with sand, a stack of Vermont with Z and put a
hat on it. Also, a side of Joan of Arc with side arms,
and clean up the kitchen. I'm starving. And hey, you
know what, while you're at it, flop two with
haemorrhage." Rachel looks extremely taken aback at
all the diner lingo, so Phoebe translates while
repeating the order. "Coffee with cream and sugar,
pancakes with mushrooms and ice-cream, French
fries with salt and pepper, a plate of hash, and two
fried eggs, over easy, with ketchup." Quinn smirks. "Is
that not what I said?"

Phoebe smirks back at her cousin, and says, "Stop

showing off. Knowing so much diner lingo cannot be
good for you, unless you're planning to get a job
here." She turns to Rachel. "What'll you have,
sweetheart?" Rachel frowns and looks up at Phoebe
before bluntly asking, "What's good?"
Phoebe laughs while Quinn lets out a short chuckle.
"Everything, babe. Everything is cooked to absolute
perfection by my lovely wife in the kitchen. Just
gimme your order and even if you ask for Thai food,
that's what's gonna come outta the kitchen." Phoebe
winks at Rachel, who blushes and looks down at the
table. "Well then, could I get scrambled eggs with
mushrooms and a side of hash browns with cheese,
please? And a strawberry milkshake?" Rachel smiles
shyly at the tall waitress, who grins back. "Sure.
Comin' right up. First class treatment for my cousin's
girlfriend."

While Rachel flushes bright red, Quinn reaches up

and flicks her cousin on the head. "Just because you
happen to be gay, doesn't make the rest of us
Fabray's gay. Go and cook, woman." Phoebe laughs
uproariously and walks into the kitchen.

Rachel awkwardly fiddles with the napkin in front of

her, folding it into a few random shapes again and
again. "So, you have a gay cousin? I had no idea."

Quinn lets out a decidedly unladylike snort. The smell

of frying food is going to her head. "You want the
whole story, Berry? Okay, I'm going to talk, and you're
going to listen and shut up. After today, you will never
speak of this again. Understand?" She waits for a
quick nod from the brunette, then continues.
"Of course you had no idea. She got married and took
her wife's last name, so nobody knows her as Fabray
anymore. Obviously, I don't go around advertising the
fact that I have a gay cousin, and my family doesn't
ever talk about her. It's like she doesn't exist, even
though she lives 15 minutes away and owns a
successful diner. Most people who know about this
place avoid it, because it's 'run by lesbian scum'," She
unconsciously clenches her fist and frowns, but keeps
talking. "But the open-minded people are regulars and
that keeps this place running just fine. I feel sorry for
the bigots; they don't know what they're missing."

Rachel looks thoughtful and cocks her head. "She

looks a lot like you."

Quinn shrugs. "I look like my mom, and she looks like
her mom. They're twins, actually, which probably
explains a lot. But, at any rate, no one I know has
ever seen us together, so no one's managed to put
the pieces together either. It doesn't matter. She was
disowned when I was just 10 years old, but even then
I knew what was going on."

Bitterly, she says, "It was my parents in the

background of her life who convinced her parents to
chuck her out." There was a distant look in her eyes,
a look of utter disappointment on her face. "It was
pretty bad. I mean, she's 7 years older than me, but
she always treated me like a friend instead of an
annoying cousin. I missed her then, and all my
parents kept telling me was how she was a bad
influence and she was gone now. But she sent me a
message, telling me where to find her if I ever wanted
to." Quinn shrugs and smiles a little. "Since then, I've
been coming here at least once every two weeks. It's
a place I come to that nobody knows aboutiii. It's fun
when the diner is emptier, because then Amanda
comes out and she's hilarious."

Rachel can't help the wide smirk spreading across her

face. "What?" Quinn asks defensively. "Oh, nothing.
It's just that that was the longest thing you've ever
said to me that lacked any insult in it. Also, you talk
about her like you genuinely like her. It surprises me
that the one person you seem to genuinely like
happens to be gay." Quinn squints at Rachel, and
probably would have said something she later would
have regretted, but the drinks are here, and the smell
of coffee is something she can't resist.

"Thanks,' she says, smiling at her cousin, who sets

the coffee down in front of her and the milkshake in
front of Rachel. "Really, Berry? A strawberry
milkshake?" Quinn raises an eyebrow at the other girl,
who blushes. "It's a healthy, nutritious drink that just
so happens to be delicious at the same time," she
informs Quinn unwaveringly.

Phoebe slides into Quinn's seat, forcing her to move

over so that she is next to the wall. She grins at her
younger cousin, bumps her on the shoulder and says,
"This one's a keeper."

"Argghh! Stop saying that! We're not together! God,

Pheebs, can't you just bring me food like a normal
waitress instead of embarrassing the hell out of me all
the time?" Quinn complains, but she's working hard to
suppress a smile and can't help bumping back.
Phoebe tuts and smugly replies, "Ah, but I'm not a
normal waitress. I happen to be your older cousin,
and this happens to be my job. Embarrassing you, I
mean, not bringing you food. You know where the
kitchen is; you can get your own damn food." She
ruffles Quinn's hair and gets up before the other girl
can retaliate. "But, however, because I feel sorry for
your pregnant ass, I'll get you your food." And sure
enough, as she walks to the kitchen, two quick rings
ring out from a desk bell from the kitchen.

Rachel looks up from her milkshake and flashes a

quick look at Phoebe's retreating figure. "She's hot,"
she whispers to Quinn, unembarrassed in the least.

Quinn grimaces. "That's disgusting, Berry. She's my

cousin. Plus, she's married. And, you said she looks
like me, so that's just way weird."

Rachel smiles impishly. "She looks like an older, more

mature, nicer version of you, not you. And I never said
anything about doing anything. I can look, can't I?"

And after that it's awkward, because Phoebe comes

up behind Rachel as she's speaking her last sentence
and she can't help her laughter. Rachel flushes bright
red, but Phoebe just sets the numerous plates down
and says, still chuckling, "Yeah, you can look. Just
you though, and it's only 'cause I know you're seeing
Quinn instead of me. Hah!" This just makes Rachel
flush deeper and bury her face in her hands.

Quinn rests a hand on her forehead and mutters, "I

swear to God, the percentage of gay in the air of this
small little diner is going to suffocate me. My dear
annoying cousin, if you ever lose your cook, there will
no longer be a reason to come in here again, because
lord knows I don't come in here because of the
stimulating conversation." Phoebe grins widely and
says loudly, "Oh, but she won't quit. She knows she
totally won't get laid if she does." She practically
hollers the last sentence in the general direction of the
kitchen. A tinkling laugh emanates from the kitchen,
and the other patrons stare, but they smile and go
back to what they were doing, because they all know
and like Phoebe. Rachel, on the other hand, has
blushed so hard the tips of her ears are red, her face
is still covered and she is hunched into the seat.

Exasperated, Quinn flings her hands into the air and

gives her cousin a pointed glare. The look said, back
off right now. As much as I love you and am related to
you, I will so stick this fork into your right eyeball.
Also, stop implying I'm gay. So that wasn't actually
what the look managed to convey, but that was what
Quinn Fabray was thinking, and Phoebe, familiar with
her facial expressions, smirks but did indeed back off.

When she is on the other side of the diner, smiling

and talking to another customer, Quinn starts cutting
her pancakes up into perfectly square, one inch by
one inch pieces. The clink of cutlery makes the girl
sitting opposite her put her hands down, revealing a
very red-faced Rachel Berry, who nervously takes a
sip of her drink.

Quinn ignores her, meticulously spreading her vanilla

ice cream over her pancake before spearing each
piece and almost moaning in ecstasy as the hot and
cold treat hit her tongue. The stupid pregnancy
hormones were making her food cravings shoot up
and hit the bell that signalled insanity. She pokes a
mushroom that's cooked to perfection and pops it into
her mouth after she's done with her mouthful of
pancakes. She can't help closing her eyes. She feels
better than she has all day. And it's only nine thirty.

When she opens them, she realizes that Rachel is

staring at her incredulously. "What?" she can't help
snapping. It was rude to stare at people who were
eating. She is about to tell the girl this, but Rachel just
giggles and points to her pancakes. "You're anal-
retentive. And I've never seen anyone eat anything
with such...concentration." Quinn frowns, but glances
down at her (now sliced up) pancakes before looking
back at the girl. "I am not. Plenty of people eat like
me. And I'm just hungry. Eat your own damn
mushrooms and we'll see whether you faint with
enjoyment." And then she goes back to her food, but
actively keeps her eyes from rolling back into her
head from bliss this time.

She hears a short laugh from the other girl, but can
see from the corner of her eyes that she does pick up
her knife and fork and start cutting her own food up.
"That was extremely embarrassing and I trust you
won't mention that ever again," Rachel states, while
holding up a forkful of scrambled eggs mixed with
Tabasco sauce.

"That's disgusting,' Quinn slowly says, pointing at the

eggs with her fork, "And of course I'll mention this
again. I can't believe you just did that with my cousin.
Don't say I didn't warn you, though, because I did tell
you to stop talking about it."

"You didn't tell me to stop talking about it. You told me

it was disgusting, like how you're saying scrambled
eggs with Tabasco is disgusting, although both are
rather good once you've tried them," Rachel waggles
her eyebrows suggestively.

Quinn doesn't miss the innuendo, and she nearly spits

her food out. Instead, she forces a swallow before
taking a long drink of coffee. She gestures at the only
waitress other than her cousin for a refill before
staring hard at Rachel. "That was a poorly disguised
innuendo, Berry. I can't believe you just talked about
Pheebs like that." Quinn shudders and continues, "If
you ever do that again, I won't hesitate to throw up
over you. Morning sickness combined utter disgust
can be a very potent combination. Now, if you'd kindly
allow me to eat my food in peace..?" Quinn
sarcastically asks.

Rachel shrugs and starts on her scrambled eggs.

There is almost two minutes of silence, during which
Quinn polishes off her pancakes and starts on her
eggs. "How could you even say that without batting an
eyelash and then go completely red when you're
confronted by the subject of your desire?" Quinn asks
abruptly. Rachel looks taken-aback when Quinn says
'subject of desire', but doesn't correct her. In less than
a second, however, she has her comeback.

"How can you talk to me so terribly in school and talk

to me so casually now?" The moment she says it, she
wishes she didn't. The conversation is so obviously
over. It's completely unfair and really, she didn't want
the conversation to end so rudely. Talking to Quinn
almost as though she was a friend was a fascinating
experience. Not having insults thrown at you every
other second was just a plus. On the other hand, she
quite desperately wants an answer to her question.
She's wanted an answer to that question since she
sat down next to Quinn at the park.

For a while, there is silence again, but eventually,

Quinn Fabray looks up and stares Rachel Berry in the
eyes. Her hazel eyes are deep and unreadable, and
her face betrays nothing. Rachel just smiles weakly
and turns her gaze onto her hash browns. "I'm sorry.
You don't have to answer that," she mutters softly.

Quinn sets her cutlery down slowly on her place, the

fork useful-side down. She dabs at her mouth with a
napkin and sets that down too. She folds her hands in
her lap and sighs. "No, I do. You're right. I treat you
like crap. I've treated you like crap for years. But for
years, I've only thought of you as Man-Hands.
Treasure Trail. Stubbles. Annoying gnome. I thought
of a lot of people like that. But, then, last night, I got
your e-mail. And I know that I didn't reply, but it made
me realize that you were a lot more human than I ever
gave you credit for. And maybe a lot of people were
too. What happened with that blog post last night was
that it made me realize that you might be the only
person who cares. And maybe, this morning, when I
saw you, I thought of you as Rachel Berry, instead of
Rupaul. And maybe, that's why I'm talking to you like
you're Rachel Berry, and not someone I despise. And
maybe because it's nice to just be sitting her with
someone and not having to think of my baby or my
revoked social status. Maybe it's just nice to sit here
with a fr... another person."

Rachel Berry is shocked. She would have sworn she

saw Quinn Fabray's lips form the word 'friend' before
saying 'another person'. So, they both wanted to be
friends, huh? Well, as weird as that sounded, (Quinn
Fabray and Rachel Berry, seriously?), Rachel had
never been one to back away from a challenge. If she
was honest with herself, (and she was. Painfully
honest. All the time), she had to admit that to having
the blonde as a friend would be great. Having her as
a friend before her downfall and before her own
being-slushied days started would have been even
better, but Rachel took what she could get.

"Say that last sentence again. Say what you really

meant to say," she demands, but not in a too
demanding way, because that would have put the
blonde off.

Quinn shrugs and stares out the window. The sun

streams in casts rainbows over the salt and pepper
shakers. She opens her mouth, but can't get the
words out. It shouldn't have been that hard to admit
that she wanted a friend, even to Rachel Berry, but
damn if her pride won't let her. Stupid Fabray genes.

"Quinn, c'mon. Just say it. Love makes the world go

round. Not that I love you, but you know what I mean.
Just say it." Rachel prods.

At this, Quinn can't help but quirk and eyebrow and

look at Rachel like she was crazy. "What makes you
think there's anything I want to say that I haven't
already said, Berry?"
And then Rachel is bored of this game, because,
really, must they waste time being 'sworn enemies'
when all the both of them really wanted was to be
'sort-of-maybe-friends'? Also, the smell of her hash
browns is started to inch up her nostrils and put her
smell receptors into overdrive. Quinn was right. The
fry-cook was a goddess. Before she started drooling,
she manages to say, in a mildly annoyed tone, "Oh,
come off it, Quinn. Look, if you want to be my friend,
you'll have to stop calling me Berry. You can call me
Rachel, but not Rach, and definitely not Rachie. You
can sometimes call me Berry, but only in jest. I will no
longer acknowledge you if you call me by anything
that refers to me as a male or a drag queen. I am past
that, and so are you. Okay?"

Quinn's only response is to widen her eyes, but she

doesn't say anything, so Rachel takes it that the
blonde doesn't actually disagree. "Okay, then, that's
great. And I have to agree that Amanda is an amazing
cook. I'll have to meet her sometime." Rachel says
cheerfully, before inhaling half of her hash browns in
seconds.

Bemused, Quinn goes back to meticulously cutting up

her food. Her fries are each cut in half and dipped in
ketchup and eaten. Her hash is pushed into neat little
piles and eaten. Her eggs are cut up and delicately
chewed and swallowed. She doesn't say a word, but
neither does she back away to a different table.
Rachel takes this as a good sign.
When they have both finished eating, Rachel points
out that Quinn's plate is almost sparklingly clean.
"They won't even have to put it through the
dishwasher. You're anal-retentive, Quinn, and
extremely so." And when Quinn casts an annoyed
look at her, Rachel is almost afraid she has gone too
far, assumed too much, and said the wrong thing, but
then Quinn says, "I was hungry, okay? I only eat like a
regular human being once every fortnight. For the
other 13 days, all I drink are fresh lemons, grade B
maple syrup and cayenne pepper and water. Blended
together. It's not fun. And you better not say a word
about this place, because if Sue Sylvester finds out
that I cheated on her regime, she'll murder me,
especially when I tell her I'm quitting.

"You're quitting the Cheerios?" Rachel sounds

surprised.

"Of course I'm quitting the Cheerios. There is no way

I'm helping Sue Sylvester win Nationals after what
she did to me. It's payback time," Quinn declares
almost sadistically.

"Well, personally I think it's a great idea. Not that I feel

particularly vindictive towards Sue, even though I
believe that she once tried to 'accidentally' push me
over the bleachers and kill me, but because
cheerleading can't be safe, especially now that you're
pregnant. What if you get thrown off the pyramid?
That stuff you drink can't be good for the baby either.
And of course, leaving cheerleading will give you
more time for glee club, and I'd be glad to help with
your voice, because you are-"

"On occasion sharp, I know, you've said." Quinn

sounds mocking, but there is a slight smile on her
face. It's surprisingly easy to be friends with Rachel.
You just let her talk and talk and eventually you can't
help but laugh at her lack of tact. "But what makes
you think I'm staying in glee club? All that dancing
around- I could fall and break my neck. Or Finn would
wring my neck. Either way, I kind of like my neck
where it is, so who knows, maybe I won't even stay in
glee."

And then Rachel is hyperventilating and growing pale

and reaching across to grab Quinn's wrists. "You can't
quit glee club, Quinn! We need you! And dancing isn't
that strenuous, as long as you're careful, and I swear
I'll keep Finn's hands off your neck and-" She breaks
off, because she finally notices that Quinn has pulled
her hands away and is laughing gaily.

She slumps back into her seat, relieved and amused,

but trying her best to look irritated. "That's not funny,
Quinn,' and she's pouting, but it just makes Quinn
laugh even harder. Rachel rolls her eyes at the
hormonal pregnant girl, because it wasn't that funny at
all, so it must have been her hormones. She signs for
the check while the blonde is still gasping for air, and
by the time the check comes, Quinn is breathing
properly again, but a wide smirk is firmly planted her
face. The smirk very clearly says 'Gullible'. They go
Dutch, because paying for each other is just weird. As
the waitress, a tall, lanky redhead reminiscent of
Ginny Weasley takes their plates away, A medium
height, raven-haired woman walks out of the kitchen,
dragging Phoebe behind her. Amanda.

She has breathtakingly long eyelashes and startling

green eyes. She smiles at the two girls and introduces
herself to Rachel in a British accent, because there is
a glazed look in Phoebe's eyes and a dreamy,
satisfied smile on her face and she doesn't look at all
inclined to say a word. Quinn narrows her eyes at
Phoebe and Amanda suspiciously, and then gapes in
mortification. "Oh, god. You two did not. That's
horrible. Please don't tell me you... Amanda! You
can't do that! It's unhygienic! Don't shake her hand,
Ber- Rachel!" she makes a wild grab for Rachel's
hand before she can shake the grinning Brit's hand.

Rachel merely looks confused. Amanda just grins

widely and smugly says, "Hey, I didn't do it near food;
it's fine." And then a look of understanding crossed
over Rachel's face, and she blushed and put her hand
down. Phoebe finally pulls herself out of her daze, but
she is still smiling. "Well, I'm sorry I'm getting laid and
you're not, little cuz. Okay, I'm not sorry, but,
whatever. Shouldn't you be in school right now?"
And Quinn just shrugs and calmly says, "Shitty day.
Can I go to your place till school's over?"

Phoebe and Amanda look at each other, neither one

of them approving of Quinn skipping school, but they
know the girl is an Honours student and wouldn't skip
except for a very good reason. And it was bad, but
Amanda felt like they were getting back at Russell
and Judy Fabray a little bit. She never forgave them
for leading the decision to disown a daughter that was
never their own, and she felt a guilty pleasure
whenever Quinn walked into their diner, because she
knew they wouldn't have approved of it. That was why
she walked to the counter, grabbed her apartment
keys from her bag and handed it to Quinn.

"No parties, okay?" She teases. Quinn's lips twitch,

and she stands up to give Amanda a quick hug,
avoiding her hands, which makes Amanda laugh.
"Hey, there's no way I'm touching the hands. I know
where it's been." She makes a grimace. "And I'm not
hugging you, Pheebs. I don't even wanna know. Ugh."
And the married couple laughs, because Quinn can
sometimes be so cute without her realizing it. She
was like the younger sister they never had. Rachel
smiles slightly. She'd never seen the girl so carefree.
And she felt apprehensive that she never would
again. How far did being friends with Quinn Fabray
stretch anyway? Would the blonde just talk to her
outside of school? Would she go back to ignoring her
or insulting her in school? What a confusing
friendship.

As she bid goodbye to Phoebe and Amanda, her

brain just wouldn't shut down. Could she even call it a
friendship? Was it really a friendship? True, Quinn
had called her 'Rachel', but she hadn't actually said
that they were actually friends. Why did she even
want to be friends with the girl anyway?

It wasn't that hard to find the answer. She'd had a

taste of Quinn being sort of friendly, and to go back to
Quinn treating her like crap would be really, really
tough. Quinn was surprisingly, unintentionally...
amusing to be with. She was like a pocket full of
sunshine (iii), except the pocket very often had a hand
stuffed down it, blocking the sunshine from being able
to...shine. She almost smacked herself for the terrible
metaphor.

Lost in her thoughts, she tried to open the car door,

but it was locked. She glanced up at Quinn, who was
resting her arms on top of the car, her head on top of
her forearm. Rachel raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Do you want to go back to school?" is Quinn's
question.

Rachel shifts uncomfortably. She didn't particularly

want to impose on Quinn, but neither did she feel like
going back to school. Mr. Schuester would wonder
whether she had been slaughtered by the blonde, but
a quick text message would take care of him. "Not
really. Would you mind if-"

Quinn is already starting the car. Rachel sticks her

head in through the window in confusion. "Get in the
car, Rachel. I don't have all day."

She got in the car. There is a strange smile on

Quinn's face. Suddenly nervous, Rachel leans against
the door. "Quinn, are you alright?"

The locks click shut and Quinn revved the engine. It

was surprisingly loud. "You should put your seatbelt
on,' she said with a devilish smirk. Rachel did. And
then she hung on for the most insane 10 minute car
ride ever.

So, another sappy-ish chapter. I realize that

occasionally, I seem to be going too far in the
progression of Faberry's relationship. I can't help
myself. They're adorable together.

Again, reviews are love, so spread the love. Like

Rachel says: Love makes the world go round, and a
flat earth is pretty damn boring. I appreciate you all
adding me to your alerts and favourites, but reviews
are infinitely better. Just a short one is fine, telling me
what you think of the chapter/story, what you think of
my writing… Just chuck everything you think onto the
review; I won't bite, I swear.

References
i Check the ice: Look at the pretty girl who just walked
in

ii Eve with a lid on: Apple pie. Refers to the biblical

Eve's tempting Apple and to the crust that covers it.

iii From Natasha Bedingfield's 'Pocket Full of

Sunshine.

I got the diner lingo from dinerlingo [dot] com and of

course, Wikipedia.

The title of the chapter is Pocket Full of Sunshine by

Natasha Bedingfield. You can either think of Rachel
thinking that Quinn's the PFoS, or Quinn thinking of
the diner as the PFoS, or both. Personally, I agree
with Rachel's viewpoint. Quinn Fabray/Dianna Agron
is just absolutely adorably beautiful. Episode 17 was
awesome. I'm just ranting crap now. I congratulate
you for having read till here. Thanks!

Note: Every chapter title will be a song title. The

events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate to the
song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the
song might or might not help you understand the
story. Explanations of why the song title is the title of
the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter.

Quinn Fabray is a fantastic driver, really, she is. She

drives, perhaps, like a lunatic, but they don't crash.
There were a lot of near misses, though. As in, four
near collisions and 5 close scrapes against walls.
Hard, strong, brick walls. It was a miracle no one
called the cops on them, but Quinn stuck to roads
where she knew the cops didn't bother with. That
shows skill, but no one, not even her ex-boyfriends,
and definitely not her mother, really seem to
appreciate it.

Essentially though, they were alive and well, though

perhaps Rachel Berry had dropped a few pounds in
Quinn's estimation of brawns, and perhaps her own
eardrums were worn a little thin, but that was what
happened when you tried to freak a soprano singer
out by driving like someone who left a frozen pizza in
the microwave. What happened was a lot of
screaming. Imagine a normal person screaming at a
tarantula on their foot, and then imagine that scream
up an octave. Now, take that scream, multiply it by
about 6, and then compress it into the small body of
Rachel Berry. Yeah, Quinn Fabray's eardrums were
completely blown. Absolutely worth it, though, Quinn
told herself.

Eventually, when she has parked the car outside the

apartment, with some coaxing, Quinn manages to
convince a traumatised Rachel Berry to put her hands
down from her face and open the car door. As soon
as she does, Rachel practically collapses on the
ground and all but has sex with it. Quinn hears
something that vaguely resembles, "I love you, I love
you, I love you, I swear on my Idina Menzel
autographed CD that I will never let Quinn drive me
again, I love you, I love you, I swear..."

Quinn rolls her eyes and pulled the brunette up by a

hand. "Please don't be a drama queen, Berry. As
much as it suits you, it's kind of annoying. Hey, we're
still alive, aren't we? Plus, it's my car, so you probably
don't want to swear on what I suspect is your most
prized possession."

Rachel scowls and follows Quinn into the elevator.

When the door is closed and Quinn has pressed the
number '11', Rachel starts in on one of her famous
rants. There's something about road safety rules
being there for a reason, something about calling her
by her first name, and something about trying to give
people a heart attack. There was also a fairly lengthy
bit about how even a cat would have would have lost
all nine lives and died by the time she finished driving.
It's all quite ridiculous, honestly.

Basically ignoring the ranting Rachel, Quinn walks out

of the elevator and down the hallway, quickly coming
to a door marked '118'. Rachel Berry is still on her
heels, still talking. Quinn suddenly regretted taking
her with her. Definitely not one of her better ideas.
Still, she was here now, so it was time to reveal the
glory of her cousin and her cousin-in-law's apartment.
Hopefully, and almost surely, even Rachel Berry
would shut up after seeing it.
But, no, she squeals. The bloody short thing squeals
right into Quinn's ear before leaping into the
apartment. Goddamnit. Quinn sighs and gives up the
inevitable. She just closes and locks the door before
following Rachel into the apartment. It was rather
something to squeal about, admittedly. A modern,
very spacious apartment cleared of most decorative
items, with neutral colour tones on the walls. There
was a small, basic kitchen off the main room, a flat
screen and a DVD played in the corner of the living
room, but that wasn't the impressive thing about the
apartment.

Acoustic, electric and bass guitars line the walls.

Fender's and Les Paul's in blacks, whites, reds,
gold's... It's kind of insane. To the side are two
keyboard pianos, one foldable, one on a stand, both
Yamaha. A few mikes litter the place, as well as
hazardously placed swivel chairs. An amp or two
were against the wall, out of harms' way.

Rachel stands in the middle of the room and just kept

turning around. She mutters the names of the guitar
brands out and then she reaches a hand out almost
longingly, then snatches it back and turns around and
around some more. After some time, her glazed eyes
clear and she goes over to a low coffee table
scattered with sheet music. She raises her eyebrows
at a few that bore Phoebe and Amanda's names as
composers.
Quinn leans against the wall and watches Rachel
basically act like she was in heaven. It was vaguely
amusing to watch, and besides, she didn't dare to go
closer. Eventually though, she calms down enough to
wave Quinn over. Cautiously, she walks over to
Rachel, because her eardrums really were kind of
sore. Luckily, the other girl was fairly stable. Unluckily,
as soon as Quinn is near enough, she frantically
waves a bunch of sheet music in front of her face,
talking so fast that nobody could possibly have
understood her without a translator. Quinn abruptly
grabs Rachel by her shoulders, which was no mean
feat, because the girl was suddenly bouncing on the
spot.

"Berry. Stop moving before I kill you." Rachel stops

moving.

"Okay, what do you want?" Quinn sighs.

"Here! Look! It's their original music! Why have you

not mentioned that they're in a band? And why did
you not mention that they're the composers and
lyricists? Quinn! This is huge!" And then Rachel is
pointing forcefully at Phoebe and Amanda's names.

Quinn looks taken-aback, then annoyed. "Why have I

not mentioned this? Because before today, I have no
reason to. Because you just met them less than an
hour ago. Because we were coming here. Because
they're not huge. They're just a small band that
occasionally plays at bars and stuff."

"Quinn!' Rachel almost yelled, "A small band that

occasionally plays at bars and stuff can't possibly
afford this many Les Paul's, especially since they own
a diner! Seriously, Quinn. Why haven't I heard of them
before? I can't believe I had a band living 20 minutes
away and I had no idea! This is impossible!" Oh,
great, another rant, Quinn thinks. She hurriedly cuts
the girl off. How much could a girl possibly rant in
such a short amount of time anyway? It was like, a
scientific miracle.

"Okay, okay. Shut up and listen, alright? First, you

have to stop going on sudden, random, annoying
rants. They're annoying. Second, so, okay, fine,
they're not a tiny band, but they're not international or
anything like that. They're on iTunes and YouTube
and MySpace and crap, so they get a little bit of
recognition. But it's just a hobby of theirs that
happened to be beneficial in the form of monetary
compensation. That's what Amanda said, anyway."
Quinn pauses for breath, and saw Rachel about to
launch into... something else, again. She holds a
finger up.

"If you don't let me finish, I'm not bringing you here
ever again." It's not really a lie, except for the fact that
she doubted she would bring Rachel there ever again
anyway, but it shuts her up. "And they're mostly
known in the, uh, LGBT community. I don't know if
you spend a lot of time doing that stuff, but otherwise
you wouldn't really have heard about them. It's not
like they advertise their sexuality all over the place.
This is Lima, Ohio." Quinn racks her brain for anything
else that matters, but doesn't come up with anything.
"Questions?"

"Yes, actually. Why are there so many guitars? I

understand maybe one or two of each type of guitar,
but what's with the obsession? There are enough
here to open a small shop. As you can probably tell,
I'm insanely jealous. I've wanted a Les Paul since I
was 8 months old, but my dads said I couldn't have
one unless I actually learned to play it. They couldn't
understand the reasoning behind not wanting
calloused fingers yet still wanting a guitar to fawn
over," Rachel says, nodding to herself, "so in the end,
I didn't get a guitar. I did get ballet lessons, though."

Quinn nods her head every time Rachel stops to

breathe, which means she only needs to nod once
and listen never. She walks over to the wall of guitars
and gently picks up a white Les Paul bass guitar. "The
obsession is Phoebe's. She buys guitars the way
people buy handbags. This one is her favourite,
because it's got some gay singer's signature on it.
She's let me play it a grand total of once. After that,
she spent half an hour cleaning it. Amanda lets her
get away with the guitar craze because she doesn't
obsess over anything else. Excluding herself, of
course." Quinn put the guitar back, being careful not
to hit it against the wall or anything.

"You play?" Rachel asks, baffled. "No way. The great

cheerleader, the uber-straight girl plays bass guitar?"

"You don't have to be gay to play bass, and you don't

have to be straight to be a cheerleader. Case in point,
San and Britt. You'd think the Cheerios were
completely oblivious, but they're not. Locker room
drama, see. You'd think the Cheerios might care, but
they don't. They just think the two of them are a little
bit more than friends, but nothing to worry about.
Point is, yes, Berry, I play bass guitar. Get over it."
With that, Quinn picks up a worn, black Fender bass
and plugs it into an amplifier.

Rachel watches in fascination and anticipation as

Quinn slings the strap of the guitar over her shoulder
and plays a few random chords. She perks up when
Quinn played the familiar intro to one of her favourite
songs. She comes in right on cue and doesn't miss
Quinn's faint smirk. However, Quinn doesn't stop
playing, and that's enough for her.

The smell of your skin lingers

On me now

You're probably on your flight back

To your hometown

I need some shelter

My own protection, baby

Be with myself in centre

Clarity, peace, serenity

She watches Quinn's fingers gracefully move over the

strings, seemingly not touching them yet managing to
produce a good sound. She doesn't miss the slight
sheen forming in Quinn's eyes as she sings the first
verse, even though the blonde turned to face out the
balcony. She can't help but admire how Quinn
manages to keep her emotions under control and
keep playing the guitar, though she does miss a note
there...

I've got to get a move on with my life

It's time to be a big girl now

And big girls don't cry

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...

The path that I'm walking

I must go alone (i)

She doesn't miss how Quinn's shoulders hunch over
and how she stops playing suddenly. Rachel stops
singing, letting her voice drag out the final note before
allowing silence to take over the room. She
desperately wants to go over to Quinn and hold her
trembling shoulders, but her nerve leaves her and she
just stars down at the tabletop, unusually shy. After a
few minutes, Rachel softly calls out, "Quinn?"

Visibly startled, Quinn whirls around. Her eyes are

red, but otherwise she looks as composed as she
usually does. For a while, they stare at each other,
neither quite knowing what to do. In the back of her
mind, Rachel can't help but notice how the light
shining in from the balcony onto a hoodie-and-skinny-
jeans-wearing Quinn Fabray holding a black bass
guitar made the blonde look kind of like a punked up
angel. It was the hair and the pale skin. For all that
time the blonde spent in the sun, she never seemed
to tan. It was a mystery.

Quinn breaks the silence by saying impassively, "Yes,

Berry, I play the bass guitar. Phoebe taught me but I
haven't played in a while though. That was the only
song I could remember. Happy?"

Rachel half nods and half shrugs. If Quinn wanted to

pretend nothing happened, fine. She played along.
"You're actually quite good. And you... seem to enjoy
it?" she ventures.
Quinn just calmly unplugs the guitar and puts it back
where it was before saying emotionlessly, "I used to
play a lot, until Phoebe got thrown out. Then they
confiscated my bass, said Phoebe was a bad
influence. After that, my parents started me on the
piano, and then chucked that when I got into the
Cheerios. Not that any of that matters, Berry," Quinn
sits on the couch and stares out the glass doors of the
balcony. She watches the clouds move slowly across
the clear sky.

"Quinn, please call me Rachel. It's just weird that I'm

calling you by your given name and you're calling me
by my family name. And it's also a little bit rude,
because I've already told you twice. This is the third
time, and if you refuse to honour my wishes after this
time, I will no longer be responsible for my actions."

It was meant as a joke, but Quinn scowls slightly and

mutters, "I'll call you whatever I damn well want...
Rachel."

Pleased, Rachel beams and jumps out of her chair.

"Thank you!" Quinn doesn't reply, but Rachel can see
a twitch on her cheek. It's close enough to a smile for
her. She stands there awkwardly for a moment, then
determinedly marches over to Quinn and sits down
next to her. They sit there in silence, but it's not as
uncomfortable as it could have been.
However, Rachel is soon bored of the silence, and
can't help her sudden lack of filter. She blurts out, "I
find girls who play the bass guitar really sexy," then
she clamps her mouth shut and slams her hands over
it.

Quinn feels mildly embarrassed and strangely

gratified, but mostly she feels nostalgic. She fondly
says, "Yeah, that's what Amanda thought too. She
said before she met Phoebe, she'd always admired
chicks who played bass. Her words, not mine. Then
she got to know Phoebe and realized that while they
looked cool standing in half-light near the back of the
stage, off stage they were just as lame as everyone
else. That got her into a tickle war with Pheebs. The
two of them are so embarrassing to be around."

Rachel smiles, because she can imagine that. Most

first impressions couldn't be trusted, but she was
pretty sure that her first impression of Phoebe and
Amanda was spot on. They were cute together, and
they seemed to really be in love. Rachel was envious
of their relationship. She just couldn't imagine herself
and Finn telling other people their 'cute' couple
stories. The only thing she'd be able to say would be
how Finn thought he got a girl pregnant without ever
having sex with her. She doubted bringing that up
would be a good idea. And the only thing Finn would
be able to say about her that even vaguely resembled
cute would be Rachel Berry in a cat suit. Now that
would be embarrassing. Rachel is thankful that her
filter has returned and she hasn't said any of this out
loud. Or has she? Quinn is looking at her in a really
weird way. Oh no, she said it out loud, didn't she?

"Said what out loud?" Quinn furrows her eyebrows.

"Look, I don't know what's going on with you, but
you've been quiet for almost two minutes, and that
kind of freaks me out."

Rachel sighed in relief. "Nothing. Just thinking

about...stuff."

Quinn arches an eyebrow, but doesn't comment. They

go back to glancing around the room and fidgeting in
their seats. Rachel honestly can't help herself any
longer. "Quinn?" The blonde turns to look at her.
There is a resigned look in her eyes that say she
knew what Rachel was going to ask and she didn't
like it. Rachel tugs at the hem of her skirt and
changes her mind. There was something else that
needed to be said.

"Listen, I understand we haven't exactly had what

people would call a friendly relationship since
forever," Quinn doesn't say anything, because it is
true. "But, right now, what you need are friends. You
might have Brittany and Santana, but you know that
they are their own couple, and quite frankly, you'll be
the third wheel that won't enjoy watching them make
out. You might have glee club, but Finn and Puck will
be there, and I think a lot of them don't consider you
the victim but the guilty. It will be very awkward.
You're pregnant and emotional and somewhere inside
you, you know that everything is going to blow up
soon enough. Have you even told your parents yet?"

Quinn's stony silence is enough for Rachel. "I'm not

trying to push you or anything. Your private life is your
own, but, as I said, what you are going to need are
friends. And what I'm trying to say in this long never-
ending speech of mine is that I would like to be your
friend. When I say friend, I mean the kind you can talk
to in the hallways, the kind who can help you out
without feeling like something doesn't make sense.
I'm perfectly prepared to listen and hold you if you
ever burst into emotional tears or hysterical anger. I
will stand by you and I won't let Karofsky or Finn or
anyone hurt you (ii), because I know what it's like to
drip Slushie onto the hallway floor in front of 15 pairs
of laughing eyes." Rachel takes a deep breath and
tries to ignore the flush in her cheeks and the tears in
her eyes. Quietly, she adds, "And maybe, if you want
to, you could do the same for me."

With that, her tears spill over. Her compact body

shudders violently on the couch. She pulls her legs up
and hug them tightly against her chest. Somewhere
inside her mind, she scolds herself for being weak
and for losing control of her emotions, but a bigger
part of her was saying she damn well deserved a
break to cry. The friendship she was offering to Quinn
Fabray worked both ways. She wanted someone's
shoulder to lean on when people threw taunts and
insults at her. She wanted someone to be able to talk
to, to share experiences with. Rachel Berry wanted a
friend. Was that so bad?

No, it wasn't. She was a good singer, a good actress,

and one day she would be famous. No matter what,
she would be famous. But what use would fame be, if
everyone she knew would shun her for her talent?
What use would fame be, if she was going to be
treated the exact same way the people in McKinley
High treated her: like a piece of annoying gum stuck
to their shoe.

So she sobbed, because years of unrelenting bullying

tended to hurt. Years of suppressing everything and
pretending that everything was fine hurt. Years of not
having a real friend? Yeah, that hurt like a bitch. So
she sobbed. It was messy and embarrassing, and her
voice in glee later would sound nasal and blocked, but
the one good thing her sobbing brought to her?

Quinn Fabray is holding her. True, her touch is

hesitant and unsure, but she is holding her.
Unfortunately, the warm arm around her back and the
soft touch of a tissue on her face just makes her cry
even harder. Eventually, Quinn gives up trying to dry
Rachel's tears and just holds her. She leans the girl
back against herself and just hugs her from behind as
the other girl's ragged breathing slowly calmed down.
When Rachel finally stopped crying, she pulls away
from Quinn. She doesn't particularly want to, because
Quinn's half-embrace is very comfortable and more
than a little comforting, but she has tear-streaks and
snot all over her face, and she still has her pride, so
she pulls away.

Quinn lets her go and watches as Rachel carefully

wipes her face clean with some baby wipes on the
low coffee table. She is suddenly grateful that
Amanda has these issues with using 'stupid, boring
tissue paper'. She watches as the brunette takes a
long, shuddering breath. She watches as her posture
tenses and she sits up ramrod straight, leaning
slightly away from the back of the couch. She
watches as Rachel closes her eyes, (her red, puffy
eyes), and when she opens them, they are clear of
emotion.

"Okay," Quinn says softly. "I'll be your friend."

She quickly regrets it, because this just makes the

brunette break down all over again.

After Rachel finally, finally, calms down, she sets

some ground rules. Typical. Her rules are no more
Slushies and no more insults. Also, no more lies. If it
turned out that the baby was actually Mike's, she
would "slaughter" her new friend. She suggested that
Quinn no longer call her Berry, but that got them into
a long argument, a lot of huffing from Rachel and a lot
of eye-rolling from Quinn, so it got thrown out.

Quinn makes Rachel swear to no more squealing, no

more Vitamin D and no more unnecessary diva fits,
unless Mr. Schuester tried to get them to sing a disco
song. They agree that all these rules will probably get
thrown out, because they aren't all that great at
following the rules, and if Rachel followed her rules,
she wouldn't be Rachel. Still, it kills time, and neither
quite know what to do if they just sit there in empty
silence.

Slowly, they warm up to talking about things other

than school and glee. They turn on the TV and see
Justin Bieber trying to get with a girl that looks 5 years
older than himself. Rachel admits to thinking he's an
ironically cute girl. Quinn smacks her around the head
and Rachel agrees that she deserved it. But then
Quinn sings along to Britney Spears' 'If U Seek Amy'
without getting the not-so-subtle "Fuck me" reference
and Rachel laughs till she cries, then she tells Quinn,
who pales and get a mildly horrified look on her face,
which makes Rachel howl.

They watch Lady Gaga's 'Telephone' video and both

agree that Lady Gaga is a genius, even if she is a
little bit crazy. Quinn gets tickled when she swoons
over Edward Cullen, but she returns the favour when
Rachel practically salivates over Olivia Wilde. They
discover a mutual love of 'Alias', and agree that after
a few seasons, no TV series made sense anyway.
They realize that books are a good topic, because
although Rachel reads a stupidly large amount of
Broadway stars' biographies, she reads a lot of
'normal' books too. Quinn wholeheartedly agrees with
Rachel over Pride and Prejudice's insane level of
mundanity, and they get into an argument over which
Twilight book is the worst. Quinn points out that
Rachel is kind of like Hermione Granger, and rolls her
eyes when Rachel mutters, "Hermione Granger is
hot." The non-sequiturs don't disrupt their
conversation, and in fact make conversation a lot
more interesting.

But when they notice that it is almost time to go back

for glee club, they grow silent. Rachel starts to fidget
in her seat and Quinn just kind of hovers at the
kitchen table. "So," she says quietly.

"So."

"Shall we?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

They walk into school together, but with a gap

between them, because the people who haven't left
look at them weirdly. But the people don't say
anything, because Quinn's outburst went viral and not
even the retards haven't seen it. They don't want to
be next. Karofsky snarls at her, but keeps his
distance. Jacob Ben Israel just walks past her, shirt
smelling of Slushie and face red. He has a story to
work on.

It's all quite tame, really, compared to what will come.

Quinn gets tenser as she nears the door of glee's
practice room. Rachel almost crashes into her when
she stops suddenly in front of the door. She slowly
reaches a hand out and opens it dramatically. Might
as well get it over with. Plus, Rachel's Rachelisms
must have been rubbing off on her. Opening doors
dramatically? Please.

Still, they were early, and there are only a few glee
clubbers in there. Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Artie were
huddled together in the front row, excitedly discussing
something. Quinn suspects herself as the topic of
interest. Brittany and Santana are sitting behind them,
listening, but pretending to be bored. Matt and Mike
and throwing a football at each other in the small
room, trying not to break anything. Finn and Puck are
nowhere to be seen.

Quinn walks in quietly and unnoticed, despite the

dramatic door opening. No one bothered to look,
because they assumed it was Rachel. She slips past
Mike, who gives her a thumbs up before getting hit in
the head by the football. She weakly returns the
gesture. Quinn slips into a seat behind Santana, who
smirks at her. Brittany smiles and says a loud, "Hi,
Quinn!" This makes the foursome (It's easier for
Quinn to refer to them that way. Saying Kurt,
Mercedes, Tina and Artie all the time made for a quite
a mouthful) turn to her so fast she hears the crick of
Tina's neck.

They blush and shut up, which proves Quinn's theory

that they were talking about her. How predictable.
They gape when Rachel slips into the seat beside
Quinn with only half a second's hesitation. Santana
half scowls at Quinn in annoyance, but she doesn't
pull it off as well as she used to, because Brittany
liked Rachel, and Santana liked what Brittany liked.
Even if she never would have admitted it.

"Hi Brittany. Santana. Foursome," Quinn smirks,

because, really, if they could have seen the fearful
expression on their faces...

Artie looks perturbed until he realized that 'foursome'

referred to the 'four' of them. For a second, his
teenage mind had gone... Never mind.

Tina nervously stutters something that sounds like,

"Hi, Quinn," or maybe she was just practising her
breathing exercises. There wasn't much difference.

Kurt and Mercedes, on the other hand, say "You go,

girl!" at the exact same time. Quinn gives them a
bemused smile. "You busting Karofsky's ass is all
over the net, girl! You've already got over a thousand
views. You're a celebrity. You know none of us got
Slushied today?" Mercedes gestures vaguely at the
three of them and herself while the rest nod.

Quinn just shrugs. Mercedes probably would have

gone on, but Finn and Puck walk in right then, Mr.
Schuester trailing behind them. That alone wouldn't
have made everyone stop and stare at them, but the
fact that Finn and Puck are punching each other in
the shoulder and trying not to wince did. They
stopped when they realized everyone was staring at
them. "What?" Puck snapped in irritation. Finn
grabbed his shoulder while Puck's attention was
diverted and massaged it gently.

Matt and Mike just shrugged and sat down, but

Mercedes spoke up. As usual. "Well, we can't pretend
that a couple hours ago the two of you didn't try to kill
each other in Spanish, but hey, if Puckerman wants
us to, no problem," she says sarcastically.

Puck glares at her, but Finn just shrugs and says,

"We're guys. We try to kill each other all the time."
Everybody just looks at him like he's crazy, except for
Puck and Mr. Schuester, who is busy with his bag.

"Finn?" Quinn calls softly, "What... What just.." She

doesn't even know what to say. Words fail her. Finn
crosses the room and sit down beside her. He rubs
his hands on his jeans and quietly says, "Look, I know
it's weird, but, we're guys, Quinn. Sorry, but bros
before hoes. I could either hate him for what he did, or
thank him, because as bad as this sounds, I couldn't
have been a good dad.' Finn looks a bit embarrassed,
but he keeps speaking. "And I know that makes me
sound like a loser, but I'm only 16. So is Puck, but I
thought it over and I'm kind of glad it's not me
anymore. And yeah, I'm still kinda pissed you lied to
me, and I probably won't really talk to you after this,
but I don't.. I don't think I hate you."

The last revelation shocks Quinn. "You don't?" is all

she can say.

"No, I don't. I mean, I think I don't. I'm not happy, and I

wish you would've told me from the beginning and
saved me from going a little crazy, but at least I knew
before the baby came out like, Jewish or something."
Finn is aware he sounds a little stupid, even for him,
but Quinn hugs him tightly, so he just hugs back. She
whispers that she's sorry into his ear, and he nods.
They break away, and then Mr. Schuester claps his
hands once, getting the attention of the entire group,
all of whom were staring at Quinn and Finn's
interaction.

"Right, you guys! Since we're all here and we have all
twelve members,' he says pointedly, and some
scattered applause rings out, 'you can practice for
Sectionals! Whoo!" Mr. Schuester is embarrassingly
enthusiastic, but it breaks up the tension in the room.
Rachel immediately steps up and suggests a new
song they could sing while the foursome groan in
harmony. Finn's eyes start to glaze over, and Puck
starts tossing the football around with Matt and Mike.
Brittany and Santana whisper conspiratorially to each
other.

Quinn? She just leans back into her seat and allows
herself a small smile. Really, it's just another day for
the glee club. God, that sounded so... Rachel. Ugh.
That was Quinn's last thought before she was
interrupted by Mr. Schuester telling them to get up
and practice 'Somebody to Love'. She smiled and got
up.

Quinn Fabray didn't trip and fall very often, almost

never. She was quick on her feet, a natural dancer,
and just graceful in general. That was why she didn't
notice Finn's carelessly pushed aside chair, or that
her foot had gotten tangled around the chair leg
without her noticing. She didn't notice how everyone
gasped. All she noticed was how one second she was
staring at the piano and smiling, and the next, she
was flying through the air and staring at nothing.

Author's note

OOF. Sudden ending. Cliffy. And I love you guys, but

I had to do that. You'll just have to trust me. The
chapter didn't quite turn out how I wanted it to, but my
Sports Day was yesterday and I'm sunburned and
exhausted and I just can't think properly right now.
However, I needed to update this and I'm just praying
you guys like it too. I know it's a little abrupt.

As usual, I love all your reviews. Each and every

single one of them. I don't have a beta, so if you spot
any mistakes, lemme know! Reviews are like
Broadway. One good one and you're hooked.

References

EDIT: (i) I forgot to put this in the first time, but just in
case you didn't know, the song is Big Girl's Don't Cry
by Fergie. It's pretty sad and every time I hear it I
think of Quinn. It seemed to fit. And I would imagine
that Quinn relates to that song and it probably brings
up a lot of emotions. I would love them if they put it in.
PS: I still don't know where Quinn is living.

(ii) I'll stand by you and I won't let anyone hurt you.
Original sung by the Pretenders, and then Carrie
Underwood sang it, and then Cory Monteith sang it. It
refers to Rachel standing by Quinn and Quinn
standing by Rachel. I'm aware it's kind of obvious.
Bite me. Actually, no, don't. My skin is reserved for
Quinn/Dianna/Rachel/Lea. As dumb as that sounds.

Note: Every chapter title will be a song title. The

events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate to the
song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the
song might or might not help you understand the
story. Explanations of why the song title is the title of
the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter.
Quinn Fabray didn't trip and fall very often, almost
never. She was quick on her feet, a natural dancer,
and just graceful in general. That was why she didn't
notice Finn's carelessly pushed aside chair, or that
her foot had gotten tangled around the chair leg
without her noticing. She didn't notice how everyone
gasped. All she noticed was how one second she was
staring at the piano and smiling, and the next, she
was flying through the air and staring at nothing.

Quinn Fabray has had plenty of falls before. As

talented a Cheerio as a person could be, a teammate
who somehow forgets to catch you is still a teammate
who has forgotten to catch you. Broken leg and two
fingers. That wasn't fun at all. But at least she had
been conscious.

Flying through the air is only as glamorous as it

sounds because no one talks about the landing.
Quinn doesn't remember the landing either. A burst of
pain and then she dropped out of reality. She
remembers hearing snatches of frantic conversation.
Someone that sounds like Rachel Berry is talking very
fast about ice packs and ambulances. Some guy that
sounds like Puck is saying something about hot
towels(i), and as much of a daze as Quinn is in, she
knows that's kind of stupid, because she's only a
month pregnant.

Pregnant. Damn. She wants to reach down to touch

her stomach, because it feels warm, and the floor is
actually kind of cold, and nothing makes sense. Then
the warm thing moves and for a second she freaks,
but only in her mind, because her arm hurts and it's
not moving the way she's telling it to move. Then she
realizes that her painfully throbbing head is on
something thin and soft and she can just feel the cold
of the floor through it, but her feet are resting on
someone's legs, and the warm thing is the same
person's hand. And there's something warm and wet
that is probably blood trickling down her forehead and
it's ticklish. Quinn shouldn't but she wants to laugh,
except everything is going black and all she can see
are two brown eyes gazing at her worriedly before
she can't see anything anymore.

When Quinn wakes, she's lying down on a bed that

isn't all that comfortable and doesn't feel like her own.
Everything is too bright when her eyes first open, so
she snaps them shut. That small movement makes
her head spin. Her head. Oww. Her right arm is heavy
and none of the nerves seem to work except the pain
receptors, because trying to move her right arm just
hurts. Her throat is sandpaper dry and her right
temple is still throbbing. She tries to open her eyes
again.

This time, she manages to keep them open, and by

gently flickering her eyelids, she manages to adjust to
the brightness of the room, only to realize the room is
actually quite dim. Then she realizes that the room is
a hospital room, and then she remembers what
happened. She hisses when she looks at her right
arm, because it's concealed by a dark green
fibreglass cast. Broken wrist. She sighs, and
someone on her left stirs.

In the dim light, it should have been hard to tell who

the person sitting in the chair is, but really, only one
person could fall asleep in a chair sitting ramrod
straight. Rachel Berry. Of course. The girl had been
following her everywhere so far, why not to the
hospital as well? The girl's eyes blink languidly, then
almost immediately turn toward Quinn's own. Upon
seeing that Quinn was awake, Rachel all but leaps
over to her side.

"How do you feel?" Rachel asks worriedly. Quinn

wants to reply, really, she wants to say she feels like
hell. She wants to say that she doesn't need a broken
wrist along with all the other shit going on. She wants
to say that her head feels like it's been stretched and
she suspects there is either a huge bruise or stiches
on her forehead, because there is no way unmarred
skin hurts that badly. She wants to say that she is
worried about the baby, the baby that deserves a
chance, because she remembers lying on her
stomach at one point. She wants to scream all this
out, but she can't, because her damn throat is killing
her, so she just points at the water at the foot of her
bed with her left hand. It hits her that she's right
handed, and writing is going to be so hard now.
Rachel is back in an instant with the water, and then
she's holding it up to her lips. "Your hands are
shaking," Rachel says informatively. Duh, Quinn
wants to reply, I'm worried about my baby. And they
say brunettes are smart. But she's just drinking
because the water tastes like it came from Olympus,
and ambrosia could not possibly taste any better than
this water tastes right now. Then she wonders how
bad her head injury must have been if she's rambling
in her thoughts about Greek mythology she learned
years ago.

And when the glass is empty, Rachel fills another,

and Quinn drinks that too. She can't even be bothered
to argue with Rachel over holding the glass herself.
When she's done, Quinn asks for a mirror. Rachel
hesitates, and then pulls one out from her bag. It has
a yellow cover, and is in the shape of a star. What a
surprise.

With a roll of her eyes at Rachel that surprisingly

doesn't make her forehead burst into flames, (thank
god for small favours), Quinn opens the mirror and
looks at herself. She can't help but grimace. There is
an ugly, red scrape on her forehead. It is already
beginning to scab over and looks absolutely
disgusting. She has a sudden urge to pick at it but
resists.

Just then, her parents walk in behind a young looking

doctor. She is honestly surprised to see both her
parents there. Judging by the sunlight coming through
the windows, it is probably around evening, and
around evening, her mother is usually preparing
dinner and her father is usually still working. She
didn't expect them to both ditch their usual schedules
to come get her. For a second, her heart warms to
them, and then she sees the barely disguised
annoyance on her mother's face, and her heart
cracks, because of course they would both come over
to get her. Judy Fabray was an alcoholic, but she was
still smart. They were playing the 'loving parents' card.
That was fine. She had plenty of cards of her own to
play.

Then Rachel Berry is introducing herself as Rachel

Berry and Quinn can see the fleeting look of horror on
her father's face. Russell Fabray had never liked gay
men, and was constantly sending letters to the local
council for the 'eviction of these foul beings'. Of
course, Hiram and Leroy Berry were extremely good
doctors who also happened to have connections with
the ACLU. The letters got vague replies that never did
end up anywhere. The tension in the air is suddenly
suffocating and Quinn would have sworn a pink
elephant had landed somewhere in the cramped
room. Rachel flushes slightly, with rage or shame
Quinn doesn't know.

A quick goodbye and a quicker grasp of her hand

later, Rachel is gone. Quinn clenches her fists,
because there is a note there, and her paranoid father
would probably demand she burned the note if he
saw it. The doctor is explaining to her how she should
keep her cast dry, and Quinn absorbs the facts, but
she doesn't really look at the doctor, because all she
wants to ask is how her baby is. There is a dull ache
in her stomach that might have been hunger but it
might've meant something else...

"So, you hit your head pretty hard and scraped it. You
blacked out but thankfully you don't have a
concussion. Your wrist will be fine; it's not too bad of a
break. Just stay off it for about a month and a half and
you'll be fine. No more cheerleading too." The doctor's
eyes twinkled. She suddenly realized he was the
brother of one of the Cheerios. Katelyn? Tracy? One
of them, at any rate. "And uh... we ran a few more
tests and your baby is fine as well. You have a
horrendous bruise on your hip, but according to your
friends, you didn't land on your stomach but on your
side, so no damage done to the foetus."

And then Quinn's world came crashing down. Her

father visibly stiffens and her mother slowly turns to
look at Quinn. There is an inscrutable look in their
eyes. Quinn shrinks back into the bed. She is glad the
baby is fine, but the only thing occupying her mind
right now is how large and strong her father's hands
look, and how his vein in his temple is gently
throbbing. The doctor is saying something to her
parents about signing her out and he hasn't noticed
that the tension in the air has practically hardened into
a black crust and the pink elephant has exploded and
its innards now coat the room.

They drive home in silence. Her parents sit in the

front, like they always do, and she sits behind her
mother, like she always does. She stares resolutely
out the window, but she can feel herself shaking. A
person should feel safe with one's parents, but Quinn
feels genuine fear. Neither of her parents, sober or
drunk, are violent people. However, suppressing
everything inside never bodes well, and the Fabray's
are excellent at it.

After a very tense, long and uncomfortable silence in

Russell's new BMW, they are home, and Quinn's
parents simultaneously unbuckle their seat belts and
get out of the car. They walk up to the front door
together in silence, not waiting for their daughter-with-
a-broken-wrist. Everything is as it should be. Then her
father turns in the doorway and holds the door open,
gazing at the car and waiting for Quinn to get out. She
trembles, because they never wait for her to get out.

She gets out, because a look of impatience is

beginning to spread on Russell's face, and she
doesn't need him to be angry, disappointed and
impatient to boot. Quinn opens the door and grabs
her schoolbag with her good hand. She takes a quick
breath and puts on as blank an expression as she can
before getting out of the car. The sun has almost set
completely, and the temperature is dropping fast. She
shivers, or shakes, or trembles; she can't tell the
difference any more, and she knows it's not because
of the cold.

Walking past her father is painful, because he flinches

when her (Rachel's) hoodie touches his bare skin. It is
almost as though he thinks pregnancy is contagious.

Her mother looks calm, but she's holding a half-empty

glass of what looks like whiskey, so that might explain
things. They sit in the living room, her parents on one
couch and her on another. For awhile, they don't
speak, and then her father spits these words out.
"Who is the father?" Quinn could feel the anger
seeping through his words and reverberating in the
air.

For a quick second, Quinn hesitates, then says, "Finn

Hudson." And then she stifles a scream when her
father yanks the glass of whiskey away from a
surprised Judy and hurls it across the room. With a
crash and a tinkling that somehow sounds expensive,
Quinn bids a silent goodbye to the glass and prays
the same thing won't happen to her.

In a quieter but deadlier voice, Russell Fabray asks

again, "Who is the father?"

"Noah Puckerman," Quinn whispers, not daring to

look at him. She hears the soft thud of a heavy body
dropping onto a couch. "That Jewish punk with the
awful hair?" her father asks disdainfully. Quinn just
nods.

She suddenly notices all the little things she's never

noticed before. She feels mildly irritated at how her
mother keeps tapping her index finger nervously on
the armrest. Alcohol withdrawal or something like that,
she suspects. She notices her father's heavy,
calculative breathing. She figures he is making a list
of pros and cons about whether or not she should be
kicked out of the house. He is frowning and she gets
absorbed into the creases on his forehead. Surely
they weren't this deep a year ago? The ticking clock
on the mantelpiece seems to symbolically refer to
what little time she has left in this house. The shiny
ornaments represent what little meaning living in her
particular household has given her: absolutely none.

Or maybe she is just paranoid, because her father is

beginning to smile. Then her breath catches in a
throat. She recognizes that smile. It was the same
maniacal, obsessive smile he got every time he
decided on a new torture he would put his interns at
the law firm through. The smile meant someone was
about to either be fired or put through unnecessary
anguish.

In her case, the smile probably meant Russell Fabray

had decided on how to 'solve' his pregnant
(problematic) daughter. He crosses his arms and
says, "Go to your room. Your mother and I need to
talk."

Quinn is confused, but she gets up and goes to her

room because it was becoming hard to breathe in the
living room. She drags her aching body up the stairs,
aware that her wrist is throbbing and taking a shower
later is going to be so annoying. That is, of course, if
she still has a home where can she shower at.

She sits on her bed and wonders how everything has

changed so much. A mere 24 hours ago, she was
speculating on how her first Slushie was going to feel.
Now the truth is out everywhere: in school, at home
and all over the Internet. She'd gone from being
Quinn Fabray, cheerleader and bitch extraordinaire to
being a knocked up cheerleader to being a scary,
hormonal knocked up possibly-ex-cheerleader. They
all belonged on a dramatic TV show. With singing and
dancing. Quinn scoffs. As if anyone would have
wanted to watch a lame show like that.

Quinn isn't sure how long she stares at her closed

door, but it seems as though she had just sat down
when the door opens again to reveal her smug-
looking father and her mother. Her mother looks
mildly uncomfortable. Neither of them is holding any
alcohol, but Quinn is no longer sure whether this is a
good sign or not. Normally, them speaking to her
while sober was always a rare and highly-anticipated
event, but now? Now it scares her.
From her doorway, her father addresses her. "I hadn't
told you yet, but I am running for President of the local
council this year. It is time to evict those nasty faggots
who call themselves Berry, but the current local
council refuses to do a thing. Your pregnancy is a
minor detail that threatens to blow my campaign
away, but no matter. I have come up with a plan."

After a short pause, as if he were on camera and

trying to build tension, Russell Fabray says these
words. After he says them, Quinn gently tugs and
rubs at her ear, because she's sure she heard them
wrongly. The doctors must not have noticed that her
eardrum had been damaged in the fall. Then Quinn
sees a satisfied look on her father's face as he
repeats himself. Her mother stares off into the
distance, obviously wondering what she was still
doing there.

The words play over and over again in her head as

she sits on her bed, too stunned and dumbfounded to
speak. Her father closes the door and she hears them
walk off, undoubtedly to the kitchen for a drink to
celebrate their own brilliance. "(ii)We're going to take
a leaf from that Desperate Housewives show and
send you off to a convent in Switzerland or China or
some other place far away because you need some
peace. Your mother is going to pretend to get
pregnant and when you give birth, she'll have a
miscarriage. The baby will be given away and then
you can come back. I will play the doting, distressed
father and that will give me the edge I need to win the
campaign. If I manage to get one of the Berry's to
push your mother over, why, all the better! I'll blame
the miscarriage on them and they'll be run out of town
before they can even say the word 'fag'! You'll leave
tomorrow morning."

Quinn Fabray felt like she was in a very very bad

sitcom. The absolute ridiculousness and desperation
in her father's statement made Quinn seriously
wonder about his sanity. And her mother, quietly
accepting everything, only longing for her alcohol to
get away from the harsh realities of life. She suddenly
realizes that since she had woken up at the hospital,
neither of her parents had called her by name. It
shouldn't matter, but it does. Quinn slumps against
her headboard. She wants to do something so bad,
like run away, or shoot her parents, just something,
because sitting there and pretending her parents were
right was just stupid. A convent? Faking a pregnancy?
What, were fake pregnancies making a comeback?
Was a huge belly now a fashion statement? One fake
pregnant lady was enough for Lima, Ohio. Terri
Schuester was a coward and a nutcase, but she
wasn't Quinn's problem, not anymore.

She wants to do something, but she just can't find the

energy to. Everything in her life was like a tidal wave
pushing at her to make her fall. She was just
exhausted. It was so hard to keep getting up and
swimming against those damn waves. She probably
would have lain there staring around her room until
she fell into an exhausted sleep, except her phone
rings.

Quinn wants to leave the phone ringing, so she does.

Pink's "Don't Let Me Get Me"(iii) stops playing
abruptly, then starts again a few seconds later. Quinn
groans in annoyance, because her -phone is in her
bag and her bag is on the floor, and it's more than 2
feet away and she would have to lift herself up from
the bed to reach down toward it.

When her phone rings for the third time, Quinn

resigns herself to the fact that she is going to have to
move. She leans over the bed and picks up her bag,
swiftly rooting through it until she finds her phone.
She picks up quickly because the song is starting to
go right through her. She almost regrets picking up
the phone when she hears Rachel Berry worriedly
rambling about something, but something keeps her
from hanging up. Perhaps it's the tentative maybe-
friendship they might have. There are so many
'maybes' in that sentence her head is spinning. No,
really it is. She probably shouldn't lean over her bed
when she has a (very ugly) head wound.

Rachel Berry's voice is surprisingly comforting.

"...then Mr. Schuester called an ambulance and Finn
freaked out over the blood all over your forehead."
Quinn finally notices the crusty dried blood on her hair
and grimaces. "Puck started talking about the baby,
even though you didn't land on your stomach or
anything like that. I have to admit I was worried as
well. The 'foursome,' as you have so aptly named
them, completely freaked out and Tina was
hyperventilating. Kurt shocked everyone at the time
by suggesting that you were perfectly fine, though
now I suppose he was right. Brittany was crying
though; she was so scared you were dead because
you weren't moving. That took Santana a while to sort
through. You were right, and I feel so dense for not
noticing before that Santana is completely in love with
Brittany. And I'm pretty it goes both ways, because
Brittany wouldn't let anyone except Santana touch
her."

Rachel is silent then she says, "Quinn? Did you leave

the phone on your table and start doing your
homework? Are you there? Are you bleeding again or
something?"

"No, I'm here, still listening, surprisingly," Quinn

admits wryly. "I'm just way too tired to tell you to shut
up. Besides, I won't be able to talk to any of you this
time tomorrow, so I guess I'm being a little bit
sentimental and just listening."

She can hear a gasp from the other end of the line.
"What on earth do you mean you 'won't be able to talk
to any of us this time tomorrow'? Quinn, please don't
tell me you're going to kill yourself, because that isn't
going to solve anything! Or are you running away,
because if that's what you want to, I'm going to tell
you that running away while pregnant can have very
adverse effects on your baby, and I'm sure you
wouldn't want that. On a selfish note, losing you would
mean losing the only sort-of-friend I have right now,
and I think I may just lose control of my emotions and
shoot everyone in the school in a mad fit of rage."

If she hadn't been so damn tired, she wouldn't have

been able to stand that word vomit. But she is, so she
can. Quinn doesn't really need Rachel Berry trying to
convince her not to take her own life though. What
she needs is Rachel Berry trying to convince her
parents not to take her life away. Maybe if she told the
other girl, she actually would come down and start
ranting to her parents about parental responsibility or
something like that. And because her day has been
as crazy as a day can get, Quinn deludes herself into
thinking that even her father would cower under
Rachel Berry's unstoppable word assault. Or they'd
just agree to whatever she said so she would shut up.
With this faint and mildly amused hope in her heart,
Quinn spills everything. It's strange that she can tell
this girl who has been her almost-friend for less than
9 hours so much when she can't tell her parents
anything.

Rachel gasps and swears during Quinn's retelling of

her father's 'brilliant idea'. For a little while, she
informs Quinn that taking an idea, any idea, from
Desperate Housewives is simply crazy and...
Desperate. Then she starts in on how her parents are
maybe a little bit 'not quite there in terms of sanity',
and how she needed to 'leave as soon as possible,
before she contracted the crazy'. This brings a slight
smile to Quinn's face, because these are things she
has always thought a little bit and never dared to
voice.

"And where would I go, hmm? I want to leave so bad,

Berry, you don't even know it. But even a convent is
marginally better than the streets. So I guess I won't
be coming for Glee tomorrow, huh? Tell Mr.
Schuester, Santana and Britt for me, won't you?" The
forced cheer in Quinn's voice made Rachel vomit into
her mouth a little, and there was a hard pit of absolute
hatred in her stomach for Quinn's parents.

Evenly, Rachel replies, "No."

Quinn is surprised, and then she snaps back, "Fine,

Berry. Just let them think I've done a runner. Pregnant
runaway chick. That'll be just great. I mean, it's not
like you have to do anything for me." And Quinn
almost hangs up until she hears Rachel heave an
exasperated sigh. "What?" she asks in frustration.

"How much better would my home be as compared to

a convent in Switzerland or the streets, hmm?"
Rachel asks, unable to keep the slight mocking tone
out of her voice. Honestly, what happened to the girl
from this morning who beat the spirit out of a six-foot-
tall footballer? It was a blatant sign of how much
control her parents had over her-a very unhealthy
amount of control. She says as much to Quinn.

There is silence on the other line and Rachel wonders

if she has hung up or fainted. Then Quinn, clearly
uncomfortable, says, "I would rather crawl to Sue
Sylvester, begging for a place to live in her office
before I would move in with you, Berry." Quinn is
frank, not scathing, but for some unknown reason,
Rachel feels extremely hurt. She almost hangs up,
but her "Why?" slips out before she can.

Quinn sighs. "Because we are who we are. Because

even if we are maybe friends right now, we haven't
been and I don't think your dads will like your biggest
bully living under their roof. You don't need to offer me
your home just because you feel sorry for me, and I
would rather go to a convent than accept charity.
Plus, my father is trying to run your parents out of
town, and I don't think your dads will appreciate that
very much. And my father almost threw a glass at me.
If he finds out I'm living with the people he absolutely
despises, I don't know what he might do. I'm not even
being dramatic here. He's not a generally violent man,
but when drunk and angry..." Quinn trails off.

There are some soft mutterings between Rachel and

another voice that sounds vaguely like a man. Quinn
frowns. "Rachel?"
"Quinn, you've actually been on speakerphone since I
offered you a place to stay one minute and 57
seconds ago. My dads absolutely don't care about the
past because I don't care about the past. Also, your
father will never win that election and even if he does,
we have connections with the ACLU. My fathers are
both doctors who are respected and needed in this
town. We will never be run out. And if your father finds
out you are living with us and doesn't like it, well, my
daddy owns a gun, and let's leave it at that." Quinn
can hear soft chuckles on the other end of the line.
Well, at least she wasn't the only one amused by
Rachel's inane ramblings.

Quinn thinks about the offer. If she was being honest

with herself, the Berry's home was much better when
compared to a convent in Switzerland or the streets.
"Okay," she says softly, "okay."

Rachel smiles in triumph. "Shall I come over to drive

to my house or will you be fine on your own?"

"I, uh, don't know where you live," Quinn admits. "And
if you could come over with that gun, that might help,
too. I don't know how to tell my parents."

"Don't," Rachel suggests. Quinn frowns again. "What

do you mean, 'don't'?"

"Don't tell them. Just leave. Maybe leave a note. I

mean, Quinn, do they even care?" Rachel's voice is
soft and worried. "You can't stay there anymore,
Quinn. They'll kill you with their so-called love. Your
father wanted to use your pregnancy to his
advantage. Do you really think they care if you leave
like that?" Rachel doesn't want to say the things she
is saying, but they are all true, and Quinn needs to
hear them.

"Okay," Quinn says again.

Rachel nods. She can tell this is really hard for Quinn.
Even though her parents used her as a means to an
end, she probably still loved her parents a lot. It was
that annoying parent-child connection. Rachel scowls
unconsciously at her dads who are still standing in
front of her. "We'll come get you. We'll be there in
about 15 minutes. Quinn..." Rachel hesitates. "You'll
be fine."

"Yeah." Quinn says, emotionless.

Rachel is perturbed when she hangs up. She almost

doesn't protest when her dad refuses to go over the
speed limit. She thinks about Quinn and her family,
and then she thinks about her own family. She shakes
her head at the difference between the two of them.
She is suddenly thankful that she never went through
everything Quinn had gone through. True, her school
life had been hell, but to be able to come home to
parents who cared about you... That was what was
important. And Quinn hadn't had that.

In her room, Quinn picks up a piece of paper and a

pen and she sits down at her desk. Her pen is poised
awkwardly in her left hand over the paper, but she
doesn't know what to write. She puts down the pen
and grabs a duffle bag. She stuffs warm clothes and
her other more essential items into it. They crumple
because she can only use her left hand, but she
doesn't care. She looks around her room and sees
the pictures sitting on her desk and her dresser. She
slowly picks one up. It is a photo of her and her
mother, one of the few photos where they both look
genuinely happy. Her mother is sitting on the swing in
their backyard; she is 8 and sitting on her mother's
lap. The picture is so cheesy, but it is one of the best
memories she has of her childhood.

The day had been Quinn's 8th birthday. They had

planned to celebrate it together at a theme park, but
at the last minute, Russell received a phone call from
the office. He barely said 'Happy Birthday' to Quinn
before he left. There was a wrapped present in the
kitchen waiting for her, but she had been so
disappointed. Without the car, they hadn't been able
to go anywhere. Judy had sat Quinn down at the
kitchen table and told her seriously, "Quinn, baby, we
won't be able to go to the theme park today, but we'll
do other things, okay?" She remembered nodding
tearfully, and then her mother had magically pulled a
bunch of ingredients out of the kitchen cupboards.
She had grinned widely at the chocolate sauce and
whipped cream. They had made cookies, a
cheesecake, and a mess of the kitchen.

By the end of the day, they had had a small food fight
and were both covered in flour and egg yolk. But they
had been ecstatic. Even that young, Quinn had never
seen her mother be so free with her. She
remembered how they had put the cookies and cake
away for her father, leaving the kitchen a mess. Her
mother had whispered conspiratorially to her, "We'll
let daddy clean it up." She had giggled wildly at that,
and then they had gone out to the swings. When their
neighbour, a professional photographer, had passed
by and seen them looking picture perfect, he had
quickly snapped a photo. They had simply grinned
widely at him and asked him to give them a copy.

Quinn brushes a thumb over her flour-covered hair in

the photo, her happy smile.

It had been a disaster when her father had returned

home. Clearly in a bad mood, he had shouted at Judy
for the mess in the kitchen, then berated her for
'letting their daughter act like a hooligan'. That night,
she had heard her mother sobbing in her room. Since
then, they had never baked anything together again,
and her mother had started drinking. That day had
been the day their relationship went to hell. It had
happened so fast and so suddenly that 8-year-old
Quinn had not understood it. Her mother's
dependency on alcohol quickly increased, and the
warmth of their relationship quickly decreased.

Quinn's fingers tighten their hold on the photo, and

then she abruptly flings it onto the floor. The frame
and glass cracks and the photo falls out.

With trembling fingers, Quinn quickly writes on the

paper. Don't bother pretending to worry about me. I'll
be fine. I won't ask you for anything. Just pretend I
never existed. After all, that's what you've been doing
for the past 8 years. Q. The words are harsh and
messy, but legible. Practising writing with her left
hand while bored in Spanish has not been pointless
after all. She hurriedly brushed away the tears from
the corners of her eyes and grabbed her duffel and
school bag. It isn't hard to sneak past her parents who
are in the kitchen, because they were busy drinking
themselves into a stupor. She gets into the Berry's
waiting car and collapses into Rachel's arms, crying
her eyes out. She isn't even embarrassed that she is
crying in front of strangers, that is, Rachel's dads. It's
just that the relief and sadness she feels at finally
getting out of her house is so overwhelming. Later,
she will berate herself for being an emotional wreck,
but right then, she doesn't care.

Quinn would never see her mother waking up,

hungover, in the middle of the night and coming into
her empty room to see a broken photo frame and a
note on the desk. She would never see her mother fall
to the floor, clutching the note and sobbing her heart
out. She would never see her mother staring at
herself in the mirror and blaming herself over and
over again for everything. She would never see her
mother slap her father repeatedly and finally standing
up for herself. She would never see that her mother
cared.

(i) Obviously taken from the actual glee episode

where Puck makes that extremely stupid comment
that got them all into trouble.

(ii) Yep, that's right. Desperate Housewives. Bree sent

her daughter to a convent because she got knocked
up and then proceeded to fake her own pregnancy. It
almost worked, too. It was just too perfect not to use
for Quinn. Who doesn't see the similarities? Bree &
husband are just such a perfect couple, with such
perfect children. Except Bree's husband is a kinky guy
who cheated on her, her son is gay and her daughter
got pregnant out of wedlock. Fabray's are all perfect
on the outside, but mother is hinted to be an alcoholic,
and father is proved to be a complete douchebag.
Daughter got pregnant out of alcohol and a
douchebag. Plus, the shipping is Faberry. That means
gay. Whoaaa...

(iii) I love this song. I love Pink. No spoilers, but I

might use one of her songs as a chapter. Just maybe.
You could always suggest one. I'm very open to
suggestions.
(iv) Playing God - Paramore. In this song, Hayley
sings about someone 'playing God' and sort of telling
her what to do. She sticks up for herself and sort of
says 'Fuck you' without actually saying fuck you.
That's my interpretation, anyway. So that's what
Quinn did. She needed to stick up for herself against
her parents and get herself away from their grasp. But
the person who plays god the most is actually Russell
Fabray. I hate him so much, and I think you can tell.

Tell me whether I overdid it. I think the Fabray's are a

really screwed up family, and Russell is a jerk, while
Judy is a pushover. Tell me whether I portrayed that
right. As usual, I don't have a beta, so if you spot any
mistakes, tell me. Also, I'm not sure about the hospital
scene, because I've never broken anything before. I
was tempted to break a wrist to find out, but then I
wouldn't have been able to type, which kind of defeats
the purpose. And the local council thing… I wasn't
sure about that either. I hate writing about things I'm
not sure about, but I hope everything makes sense. I
know this chapter is a lot more angsty than the last
one, but it needed to be written.

To Grangergirl22 who left me that anonymous review,

I have to disagree. I wouldn't go gay for Megan Fox.
She's annoying and as gay as I am, I don't actually
like her. I wish Lea would go gay for Dianna. That
would be SO much better.
Reviews are better than 8-year-old Quinn with flour all
over her head. Not much, but still better. Because,
really who can resist an adorable 8-year-old Quinn
who is covered in flour? Partly inspired by the scene
between Quinn and Puck where they chuck flour at
each other. Just imagine her younger, cuter and
without 'Man-Whore Puck'.

Note: Okay, so before you read this chapter, go over

to my profile and read the story called Mad World
OutTakes. Chapter 1 is Sober, which is set sort of
between Chapter 5 and 6. It provides a little bit of
background which may help you understand this
chapter a little bit. But if you don't, it's fine. You'll still
be able to pick up the gist of it. In this chapter, I deal
with Quinn's family issues. Also, finally, right? But you
get extra length, so, yeah!

The first and last time Judy Fabray had slapped her
husband had been 8 years ago, the night of Quinn's
8th birthday party. Russell Fabray had stormed out of
the house and slept at his office. She had spent most
of the night crying her eyes out. She had never
slapped him again, although she did sometimes have
the urge to. She wanted to slap Russell when he
demanded Phoebe be kicked out of her home. She
wanted to slap Russell when he took Quinn's bass
guitar away and made her cry so hard she couldn't
breathe. She wanted to slap Russell when Quinn
quietly told them she was in the Cheerios and he sold
her piano to 'keep her focused on the important
things' and made her cry again.

She wanted to slap him quite a few times, but she

never did. She just smiled and drowned herself in
alcohol, because it was easier than trying to fix things.
She just smiled and let her husband do whatever he
wanted, because she didn't know how not to.

She did that for 20 years of marriage. Then on her

20th year, her daughter got pregnant.

When Judy wakes up abruptly from her drunken

stupor, she realizes she is lying face down on her
kitchen table. Her forehead aches and she feels a
splitting headache coming on. The cost of alcoholism
is constant hangovers that can only be relieved with
more alcohol. It was a vicious cycle.

Judy sits up slowly and sees that the kitchen lights

had been dimmed. The light coming from outside the
window is soft and the clock on the wall says it is 1 in
the morning. The house is eerily silent except for
Russell's soft snoring from his place on the table
beside her, his head on his arm. Judy feels nothing
except mild annoyance as she stares at him. When
they had started dating 20 years ago, she felt a
pleasant, mild tingling that started in her fingertips and
spread to her entire palm every time she looked at
him.

Back then, for a while, Russell Fabray had sported a

true Mohawk. He wore chunky rings and leather
pants. He cussed and drank and smoke. That was
what made her look at him. The fact that he happened
to be the top student in his class and was going on to
study law had just been an added bonus. When they
met through mutual friends at a party and he actually
acted charming and sweet, she had fallen hard. When
he first held the doors open for her and pulled her
chair out for her while wearing a leather jacket and
holding a cigarette in his other hand, she knew she
would marry him.

Not many people who knew Russell Fabray then still

knew him now. He dropped most of his old contacts,
his crazy hair and his leather clothes. He got a decent
haircut and graduated top of his class after his father
threatened to ship him off to a military school. He still
treated her like a queen though.

It was all very cliché, but they were happy. Russell

quickly got a job, and Judy worked part-time. Things
were fine until Judy had to quit her job to take care of
Quinn. Russell began spending more and more time
at the office, saying he had a lot of work to do. And it
was true. He was fast moving up in the company
thanks to his charm and wit. His unerring ability to
spot a liar didn't hurt, either. But by the time Quinn
was 3 years old, they had had more than a few
arguments about him and his job. He always claimed
that if it wasn't for his job, they would be living in
poverty. The arguments turned around in the same
circle over and over again, never coming to an actual
conclusion.

Judy Fabray could pinpoint the exact moment the

tingling in her hands stopped. It was 8 years ago,
April 30th, right before her hand unexpectedly came
up and slapped her husband.

Judy pads silently up the stairs, a cold glass of water

in her hand. She had unconsciously reached for the
bottle of vodka, but something made her pick up the
water instead. She didn't consciously recognize the
longing to see her daughter while sober one last time
before Russell sent her somewhere far away. She
doubted he would have sent her to a convent. First
off, he probably wouldn't be able to find one. Secondly
was, well, as harsh as Russell was, he loved his
daughter, albeit in a strange, roundabout way. He
might have taken her music away, but he did allow
her to stay in that glee club she talked about so much.

But she knew, somehow, that he wouldn't allow his

pregnant daughter to stay with him. It wasn't because
he was disappointed in her, though it was a little of
that. It was more because every day he looked at her
growing belly would remind him of how he had failed
as a father. Every day he looked at her, he would be
reminded of how he hadn't been there to keep her
safe. Every day he looked at her, he would feel angry
at himself for not foreseeing this and protecting his
daughter from the things she would have to go
through. He would die of the crushing disappointment
he felt for himself.

She stops in front of Quinn's bedroom door and gazes

at it. She does this every other night, sometimes
consecutively if she was feeling worse than usual.
Like many nights before this, she contemplates
opening the door and going in. Like many nights
before this, she wonders what she would do if she
went in and spoke to her daughter.

Tonight, she goes so far as to put her hand on the

doorknob and turn if. She hesitates before gently
pushing it open. The room is dark and she can barely
make out Quinn's bed. She stands there, not daring to
approach her daughter's bed. She wants to say
something to her daughter, but what could she say?

'Quinn, I'm sorry, but I can't stop your father from

being a paranoid crazy. I'm sorry I'm a coward. I'm
sorry I wasn't there when you needed me these past 8
years. I'm sorry my dependency on alcohol is so bad,
but without it I don't know who I'll be anymore. I've
failed as a wife, and I've failed as a mother. I haven't
failed at being an alcoholic, and I know it's stupid, but
if I fail at that, what else can I be? Anyway, honey, I
guess I won't be seeing you for about 8 or 9 months
after tonight. I don't think you'll be going to a convent,
but your father won't let you stay here. I'm sorry I can't
do anything. Well, bye, baby.'
No, it isn't a very good idea at all. So instead, Judy
just stands there ranting in her head. She suddenly
realizes that the room is very quiet. There isn't even
the sound of anyone breathing, other than herself.
She wonders whether Quinn has gone to the
bathroom, but her bathroom door is open and the
bathroom is clearly empty. The bathroom in the
hallway is also empty. Judy gets a sinking feeling in
her stomach that reminds her of how she just knew
when Quinn had fallen out of that damn tree in the
backyard when she was 7.

Trembling slightly, Judy walks over to the light switch

and flips it on. The bright light made the intensity of
her headache increase abruptly, and she blinks hard.
She blinks hard because her daughter's bed is
crumpled and messy and also empty. She blinks hard
because there are clothes strewn haphazardly around
on the floor, and because Quinn is not there. There is
also a photo frame on the ground, the glass broken
and the photo half out of the frame. Judy chokes back
a sob when she sees that it is the photo of her and
Quinn on their 8th birthday. Her desk is empty except
for a note.

Judy almost flies over to the desk and snatches the

note. She desperately gasps for air when she reads
these words. 'Don't bother pretending to worry about
me. I'll be fine. I won't ask you for anything. Just
pretend I never existed. After all, that's what you've
been doing for the past 8 years. Q.' She stands there,
her mouth open slightly in disbelief, her heart
thundering in her heart. Her daughter had run away.
Her daughter had run away.

She feels like someone is holding her heart in her

hand and squeezing tightly, that's how hard it is to
breathe. She stumbles drunkenly down the stairs,
except she is perfectly sober. When she reaches the
kitchen, she vomits into the sink. The sound of it
wakes her husband up, who groans. "What the hell,'
she hears him mutter, 'Don't do that into the sink,
Judy."

She turns around to throw the crumpled note and a

fierce glare at him before turning back to the sink to
wash away what little she had vomited as well as her
mouth. She hears a long, drawn out sigh from Russell
and the sound of him shifting in his seat. She takes a
long drink of water and then turns back to him. "What
have we done, Russell? What have we been doing for
all this time?(i)" she whispers to him.

Russell doesn't look at Judy. Instead, he flattens the

note down on the table, smoothing it with him palms
repeatedly. He shakes his head, speechless. "I don't
know,' he says softly, 'I honestly don't know."

With that, Judy collapses into him. He gathers her into

his arms, holding her as she sobs into his shirt. He
shushes her gently and rubs his hand over her back,
but his eyes never leave the note. They might not
have loved each other anymore, but that didn't mean
they hated each other. They hold onto each other for
strength and comfort. The thought of Quinn not
having this comfort makes Judy cry even harder.

Eventually, Judy calms down. She sniffs and wonders

where Quinn is. The note suggests she had run away,
but she was 16 and pregnant. Her life might not have
been happy, but it had been comfortable. There was
no way Quinn could live on the streets; she didn't
know how. But then, even if she did know how,
neither Judy nor Russell would have known. They
hadn't known she was pregnant. They hadn't known a
lot of things about their daughter.

"Where do you think she could've gone?" Russell

sounds drained and worried.

Judy climbs out of Russell's hold awkwardly. She fills

two glasses with water and hands one to Russell. "I
don't know," she admits after a gulp of water. "She
could be with her cheerleader friends, that Santana
Lopez or Brittany...something, or she could be at
school. Or she could be at the park, or..." A thought
suddenly hits Judy smack in the middle of her
forehead. She turns to face her husband slowly.

He flinches as the same thought strikes him.

"Phoebe," they both murmur. It makes sense. She
had been kicked out of her home as well at roughly
the same age, though for a completely different
reason. And, contrary to Quinn's beliefs, they knew
she had kept in touch with Phoebe and Amanda. Judy
had had a very long argument with Russell in regards
to that. In the end, he had agreed to just take her
bass guitar away and ground her for a month without
reason.

Quinn had been angry, but it was the best Judy had
been able to do. She knew Phoebe and Quinn had
been close, and taking their relationship away wasn't
going to strengthen the relationship between herself
and her daughter. So she let her daughter think they
didn't know anything about her frequent visits to the
diner. She allowed Quinn to think they didn't monitor
their calls for inappropriate issues. Just because she
let her daughter keep in touch with Phoebe didn't
mean she condoned what Phoebe did with
her...partner.

Judy shoots a quick glance at Russell before picking

up her phone that was lying on the kitchen counter.
Nervously, she dials in the number of Quinn's cell
phone. She doubts the girl would pick up, but there is
no harm in trying.

True enough, the steady, repetitive beeping in her ear

told her that not only had her daughter not picked up,
she had probably pressed 'busy'. Judy sighs even
though she hadn't expected any less.

The next number she dials required her to scroll

through the numbers in her phone frantically. She
knows there is a Phoebe Grey in there somewhere.
Judy had, for reasons unknown, added the girl into
her cell phone one day after seeing her name in the
phonebook. She had told herself it was just in case of
an emergency, that it was always important to have
all your relatives' contacts with you whether or not
they were disowned.

She notices the clock on the wall says it is 1:30 in the

morning, and normally she wouldn't call anyone so
late/early at night/morning, but her daughter has run
away to somewhere and she could care less.

The phone only rings a short while before a woman

with a British accent picks up. "Hang on, Pheebs.
Hullo?" The woman sounds amused, like she had just
been laughing.

Judy freezes for a moment. She knows this is

Amanda Grey, because even after so many years,
she has not forgotten a single detail her sister cried to
her. She recovers her voice at the second, calmer
'hullo?' "Hi. I'm sorry to call so late but I'm, uh, looking
for Phoebe?"

"Sure. Hold on a second. Phoebe!" Amanda yells. The

sound of a bass guitar from the other end of the line
stops abruptly. Judy feels an unexpected pang. She
used to hear the sound of a bass guitar a lot more
often when Quinn had still played.
"Hello?" Phoebe sounds confused.

"Phoebe,' Judy says formally. She waits for the girl to

recognize her voice.

There is a tense silence, and then in an equally formal

voice, Phoebe says, "Judy. To what may I owe the
honour of receiving your call at.. 1:30 in the morning?"

On the inside, Judy sighs with relief. At least she

hadn't slammed the phone down immediately. "I'm
sorry, but I have to ask you something." Her only reply
is a stony silence. Undaunted, Judy continues. "It's
about Quinn. We uh, had an argument earlier.
She's...pregnant and Russell wanted to send her
away. I just checked her room and she...she just left a
note. I thought she might have come to you." The
'because you're more of her family than we are' was
left unsaid, but everyone heard it.

"I see," Phoebe says coldly.

Judy waits for almost 10 seconds, and then she

exhales. "Right,' she says quietly, 'I guess I can't
expect you to voluntarily provide me with this
information. I understand. I just...I don't know if she's
safe. I... Have a good night then." And then Judy
almost hangs up, but then she hears Phoebe say
something and she slams her phone back against her
ear. "I'm sorry?"
Tiredly, Phoebe says, "I said, I know where she is."
Judy waits in anticipation. "She called and told me
everything. Convents, Switzerland, China, glass-
throwing. Everything, Judy. What the fuck does
Russell think he's doing by threatening to send her to
fucking China? I don't know what the fuck goes on in
your house, but I'm not going to tell you where she is
just so you can drag her ass back and then send her
away. She'll be happier where she is than she ever
could be with you."

Judy's throat dries up at Phoebe's bitterly uttered

words, but she can't deny their truth. "We weren't
thinking,' she said softly. Again, her only reply is
silence. "I take it she's not with you, then?"

"No,' then Phoebe grunts with irritation. 'Alright, listen

to me, Judy. You listening?" Judy nods, and then says
'yes' aloud. "Okay. She's with a friend who might
actually be able to take care of her properly. And
she's probably not picking up your calls, right?"

Judy says 'yes' again, this time with regret.

"I'll do you a favour, Judy, because I know a little

something about being torn away from your family."
Judy winces here, but Phoebe is matter-of-fact. "I'll
give her a call, check up on her, and get back to you.
I'll talk to her and see if she wants to move in with me
or stay with her friend, and maybe even call you back.
But it's all her, you got me? It's all by her choice. You
have never allowed her to do anything on her own,
and now you've fucked up." Judy murmurs something
in agreement, which makes Phoebe scoff.

"If she moves in with me, you accept it. If she stays
with her friend, you accept it. If she decides for some
fucking weird reason to move back in with you and
Russell, you better treat her damn right, otherwise I'm
calling Social Services on your asses. I know about
your drinking, and I don't think they'd be happy about
that."

Judy croaks out, "Thank you. I think."

"Damn right you should thank me. I'm giving more of a

chance than you ever let my own mother give me,
Aunt Judy,' and this time she sounds accusing.

"I'm sorry,' is the only thing Judy can say. She ignores
the looks Russell keeps giving her.

"Right then. If she doesn't call you back don't be

surprised. I have to go."

"Okay. Thank you,' Judy whispers, but the line is

already dead. She slowly sits down at the kitchen
table and puts her phone down. She cups her hand
over her mouth and closes her eyes. She breathes
through her nose and tries to calm down.
"Judy. Well?" Russell sounds like he is trying not to
sound impatient. Judy repeats the conversation whilst
staring at her phone. She prays so hard that her
daughter would call her that she imagines her cell
phone lighting up and the name 'Quinn' flashing on
the screen. Then she realizes that Russell is staring
at her phone as well, apprehension written all over his
face.

When Quinn Fabray first enters the Berry home, her

eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, but that doesn't
prevent her from seeing just how normal their home
is. Admittedly, not many people would have had quite
so many pictures of their only daughter strategically
placed absolutely everywhere, but it's still fairly
normal. That gigantic glass case full of prizes that
gleamed just showed how proud they were of their
daughter, right? It wasn't obsessive at all. And, okay,
so the stairway was lined with Broadway
paraphernalia like posters and pictures and
autographs, but then again, there are two gay men
and a future Broadway star living in that house, so
that's kind of expected.

All in all, really, it's not what Russell ranted to Quinn

about. There aren't any sacrificial alters or shrines
dedicated to the deity of homosexuality, nor are there
devil horns hanging on a wall, or boar heads on a
stick.(ii)

In fact, Quinn feels strangely let down at all the

normalcy. There is a normal plasma television in the
very normal living room that also holds a couple of
very comfortable looking couches. Then there's the
very normal dining table and kitchen. So the house is
a bit better decorated, with a keener eye to detail and
colour and all that interior designing crap, than the
average house is, but again, two gay men.

It's weird how the Berry's have a small picture of a

berry on their kitchen wall, though. It's crudely drawn
and coloured, but obviously a raspberry. There's a
small, scrawled signature on the bottom right-hand
corner of the picture, but it's too far away from the
kitchen counter where Quinn is sitting to see.

Hiram, Rachel's tall, African-American 6'1" sees

Quinn looking quizzically at the crayon drawing and
laughs. "Rachel drew that when she was 8 and the
teacher told them to draw something to do with their
families." Quinn's mouth drops and Rachel just rolls
her eyes, obviously having heard the story far too
many times before. "We thought it was funny so Leroy
and I got it laminated and framed it up. It was far too
good to be put on the fridge."

Quinn's grin slips off as Leroy slips into the seat next
to Hiram. Rachel stays standing, looking nervous. The
air in the spacious kitchen is suddenly harder to
breathe. "So," Leroy states.

Quinn's head ducks involuntarily. Hiram clears his

throat. "Quinn,' he prods gently, 'Look at us." She
looks up. He sighs.

"We don't know the whole story; all Rachel said was
that you had some trouble at home and needed a
place to stay for a while. And that's fine, really. We
know what it's like to not have your family support
you." Here Leroy looks grim and he nods. Hiram
wraps an arm around him and continues. "You can
have a place to stay for a night, a week, a month;
whatever. But eventually, Quinn, you're going to have
to deal with your parents. Now, if you don't want to tell
us what made you want to leave, you don't need to.
For now. However, we would like to know sooner or
later if you continue living here because if we don't
know, we can't help you." Hiram's voice is soothing,
but Quinn still feels tears prickling at her eyes. She
blinks them back because she has done nothing but
cry since meeting them 20 minutes ago.

"I can't go back,' she whispers, 'because I'm pregnant

and my dad wants to send me to a freaking convent in
Switzerland or something. Thank you for letting me
stay here. I'll just... I can be out of your hair by
tomorrow afternoon." Quinn doesn't actually know
what she's saying, but she knows that she could at
least stay with Santana for a couple of days.

"What are you talking about, Quinn?" Rachel

exclaims. "They're not kicking you out." Rachel glares
at her dads, who raise their eyebrows simultaneously.
"They're not,' she emphasizes.

"We are most certainly not,' Leroy clarifies. "What

Hiram means is, we know, Quinn, what it's like to
have a daughter. And I don't think it matters whether
she's pregnant or a drug addict or gay or anything.
What matters is that in the end, it all comes down to
the fact that you don't abandon your child.' Quinn
wants to slap herself until her tears stop trying to force
their way out of her eyes. "And yes, maybe your
parents failed you this time. But you left them a note,
right?" Quinn nods.

"They'll try and find you. And maybe, just maybe,

they'll have been so traumatised by your leaving that
they'll talk to you and you can work something out. At
least let them know you're safe,' Leroy suggests.
"Send them a text or something."

Quinn shakes her head. "They don't care. They're

probably passed out on the kitchen table right now."

Hiram exchanges a quick, inscrutable look with Leroy

before rumbling softly, "They'll care soon enough
when they realize you're not joking about running
away. But we won't force you to do anything. If you
don't want to give them a call, don't. If you don't want
to stay here, don't." Rachel huffs loudly. "We'll still try
to tell you what to do, though. Only, the choice
whether you want to do them or not rests with
yourself."
Quinn nods and softly says, "Thank you so much, Mr.
Berry, and uh, Mr. Berry. You don't know how much
this means to me." And it was true. Quinn had never
had adults seem to care about her so much before.
They had always been more interested in her parents
than her, not that she cared for them at all. They were
all either her father's conservative lawyer friends or
her mother's boring housewife friends who could talk
and entire day and say nothing at all. The Berry's
were different. They genuinely seemed to care about
her. She'd only met them less than a half hour ago,
but already she trusted them more than she trusted
her father. There was something about the
compassion and understanding in their eyes.

"We know, Quinn, trust me, we know." Leroy sounds

out mournfully as he looks at Quinn, his eyes murky.
Quinn feels vaguely uncomfortable. Hiram just nods
and stands up. "Are you hungry?' he asks abruptly.

"Uh, no, thank you."

"Well, if you do get hungry, there's leftover meatloaf

and casserole in the fridge and fruits in the bottom
compartment. Also, it's Hiram and Leroy. None of that
Mr. Berry and Mr. Berry thing, got it?" Hiram smirks
and shoos them out of the kitchen. "Show the girl to
her room, Rachel. She looks exhausted and it's not
even 8pm. I do hope she won't be such boring
company all the time."
Quinn blushes shyly, and the tense atmosphere lifts
as suddenly as it descended. Leroy barks out a laugh,
his oval glasses slipping down his hooked noses
slightly. Rachel just sighs and starts in on another
tirade. Or at least, she tries, but then Quinn grabs her
arm with one hand and pulls her out of the kitchen.
Rachel snags Quinn's duffel bag that's lying on the
kitchen table because Quinn only has the use of one
arm and she obviously forgot. Quinn can hear Hiram
and Leroy chuckling and then speaking in hushed
tones before she starts going up the stairs.

"Quinn!" Rachel grumbles indignantly, but allows the

pregnant girl to lead her up the stairs. "I assume your
room is upstairs?" Quinn calls back at Rachel.

"If you had let me lead the way, you wouldn't have to
ask now, would you? But yes, it's upstairs. The
guestroom is next to my room." Rachel provides a
running commentary as they ascend the stairs.
"That's Avenue Q,' she points to a framed poster, "My
dads think it's hilarious, but I think it's full of immature
humour. Granted, there is the occasional funny line in
there, but it's mostly sexual innuendo. The songs are
quite catchy though, I guess. The titles leave nothing
to imagination, however. 'If You Were Gay' and
'Everyone's a Little Bit Racist' is surprisingly good and
has an interesting back story, but 'The Internet is for
Porn' is just stupid. And, okay, so the songs are really
good and I actually love the entire musical, but if you
ever tell Kurt that, I will slaughter you in your sleep."
Quinn gets the gist of it, because she's getting used to
how Rachel manages to talk without breathing, ever.

They go another three steps before coming upon the

next poster. "Funny girl,' Rachel states, her eyes
shining, "I absolutely adore Streisand. I probably
shouldn't start talking about her because I'd never be
able to stop, and then you'd probably karate chop me
on the neck, thereby rendering me voiceless, which
would as good as kill me."

"Yeah... Can we keep going? You can drool over her

poster some other day."

Another three steps and they are at the landing. A

small table stands in the corner, several Broadway
musical programme books placed artistically on one
another in such a way that all ten books manage to
show-off their titles. Quinn recognizes some of the
titles like 'Rent', 'Cats', 'Hairspray' and, unsurprisingly,
'Wicked', but the others she has never even heard of
before. Then she looks up.

On the wall is a huge 6' by 8' foot poster of Wicked. It

is so big Quinn didn't even notice it at first. Quinn
automatically lets out a groan. "Really, Berry? Did
your dads buy this voluntarily or did you blackmail
them?"

Rachel sniffs, but there is a proud gleam in her eyes.

"I whined about it for a month, and then cried over it
for a week. They then bought this one, which is even
bigger than the one I asked for. It was for my 12th
birthday party. That I had horribly swollen eye bags
on my birthday simply doesn't matter because it was
so worth it." Then Rachel smirks, obviously very
pleased with herself.

Quinn walks up the rest of the stairs, not bothering to

wait for Rachel to speak at length about the merits of
'Saturday Night Fever' and 'West Side Story'. She
stops at the top of the stairs and stares down at the
long hallway. There is one door at the very end of the
hallway, and two doors on each side of it.

Quinn knows exactly which door leads to Rachel's

bedroom, not because it's the only pink door there,
but because her name is spelled out in small gold star
stickers on the door. Somehow, Quinn just isn't
surprised.

Rachel points out the guestroom and the bathroom on

the opposite side of her room. The door next to
Rachel's leads to Rachel's bathroom, and the door at
the end of the hallway led to her dad's bedroom, "And
unless it's an emergency, don't go in there,' Rachel
shudders, 'It's kind of creepy how they're so neat
everywhere else in the house, but their room is a
complete disaster. The mess. God."

Rachel throws open the door to the guestroom and

plops down on the queen-sized bed. The room is
decorated simply in warm shades of brown and beige.
From the doorway, Quinn examines the bedside
table, the study desk and the closet. Rachel is
explaining something about the abstract piece of
artwork on the wall, but to Quinn it just looks like
something someone painted while high on LSD.

Finally noticing that Quinn hasn't stepped into the

room, Rachel leans up off the bed and props herself
up on one arm. It's the most casual pose Quinn has
ever seen her in.

"Quinn? What's wrong? If you don't like this room I'm

could find you somewhere else to sleep. I mean, I
could show you my room, though I doubt you'll be
able to appreciate it. The couch isn't very comfortable
either. But..." Rachel trails off in confusion when she
sees Quinn shaking her head.

Rachel gets off the bed and gently tugs Quinn into the
room. "It's your room now, Quinn." She realizes that
Quinn still stands there lifelessly next to the bed and
sighs. Rachel sits on the bed and pulls Quinn down
with her. The blonde sits, but still stares straight
ahead.

After a quick sidelong glance, Rachel envelopes

Quinn in a hug. Quinn feels herself melt into the hug
involuntarily. A small corner of her mind also notes
that the small girl gave really good hugs. It's a little
awkward because of Quinn's cast, but they manage.
"Quinn,' Rachel breathes, tucking Quinn's head into
her shoulder, 'Please don't go into shock."

The blonde nods a little in response and leans into

Rachel, hugging her tighter. "It's just, this is insane,
y'know? First I take on Karofsky, then I skip school,
then I break my wrist, which is so inconvenient, by the
way, then my parents find out I'm pregnant and try to
send me to China. Somehow, I end up living with you.
I just feel kind of out of it right now. It's been a really,
really long day,' she murmurs against Rachel's
shoulder.

"Mm-hmm,' Rachel squirms, trying not to blush. She

tries really hard to suppress the shiver she feels at
Quinn's vibrating throat against her shoulder, she
does, truly. It's inappropriate, because the blonde is
having a mini-breakdown. But as amazing an actress
and singer she is, even she can't stop the butterflies
beginning in the pit of her stomach. She's had enough
crushes to realize this is the beginning of another one.
Not for the first time, and not for the last, she curses
her hormones. She also curses Quinn for being so
damned beautiful.

Quinn, oblivious to effect she was having on Rachel,

just sighs and leans comfortably into the shorter
brunette. She realizes that she hasn't had anyone
hold her like that for a while. Finn never had hands
that soft and he was always far too tall and his hold
too tight. Puck never held her. Her parents hadn't
hugged her like that for a long time; 8 years, to be
precise. Santana and Brittany were more likely to hug
and then make-out with each other than to hug her.
And then... Then there hadn't really been anyone else
in her life.

After a while, Rachel pulls away. She doesn't want to

at all, but if she doesn't, she is sure she would do
something she later would regret, like kissing the
straight girl, or worse, jumping her. God, that
'beginning of a crush' sure developed into a full-blown
crush pretty damn fast.

Quinn reluctantly lets go of the girl and falls back

against the bed. The pillows are really soft and fluffy,
and she unwittingly sinks deep into them. She doesn't
bother pulling herself out of the pile of pillows.
Instead, she just reaches a hand out to Rachel from
her place in the pillows and asks a muffled question.
"Could you pass me my phone please?"

Rachel's lips twitches but she reaches into Quinn's

school bag and roots through it for her phone. She
hands the phone over to Quinn, who doesn't move
her head up from the pillows. Rachel can't help but
giggle, because there are a lot of pillows, and all she
can see from her vantage point on the ground is
Quinn's body and some golden blonde hair trailing on
top of the pillows. It looked to her like a headless body
using a cell phone.
Ignoring the giggles, Quinn says a little shyly, "Do you
mind if I make a call to Phoebe in, y'know, private?"
She doesn't want to kick Rachel out, but she didn't
really want Rachel in the room while she called her
cousin. First, she was afraid Rachel would
hyperventilate over Phoebe's voice, and secondly,
she really just wanted to talk to her cousin.

Rachel shrugs, and then remembers that Quinn

cannot see her. "Yeah,' she mutters nonchalantly, "It's
fine."

Quinn holds one hand up and gives Rachel a quick

wave then she starts dialling. Within seconds Phoebe
picks up. "Hey Quinn.'Sup?"

"Hey Phoebe,' Quinn greets tiredly, "A lot, really. A

truck load of shit lot."

Surprised, Phoebe says, "Wait, wait. I'm just getting

into my apartment now.' Quinn hears the sound of
shoes hitting the floor and a content sigh. 'Sorry. It
was a crazy long day at the diner. Plus, Amanda took
a half-day leave to see an old friend, and then Dean,
that other cook was late. So, anyway, what does 'a
whole truck load of shit lot' include?"

"Well, after we went to your apartment, Rachel kind of

broke down. She got over it and we talked crap for a
couple hours and went back to school, where Finn
and Puck made up over me cheating on Finn and
having Puck's baby and it's just... it's a little crazy.
Guys are nuts, I swear. Then, we're all sort of happy
and normal for a bit, then I go and trip over a freaking
chair and break my wrist and scratch my head. The
stupid doctor blurted out about my pregnancy in front
of my parents, and my father said he was going to
send to a, can you believe it, convent in, get this,
Switzerland or China. I don't even know if there are
convents there. Then Berry calls, and she offers me
her guestroom, and her dads kind of tell me to not
hate my parents. Yeah, it's a little crazy over here in
Planet Quinn." Quinn stops talking and snuggles into
the pillows.

Phoebe is silent and for a while Quinn can only hear

her breathing. Then Phoebe starts half-laughing.
"What?" Quinn demanded. "Nothing, nothing,' Phoebe
chuckles, still choking back her laughter, "It's just that
your life is a really bad sitcom right now. Like, the
worst television show ever."

"Thanks a lot, Pheebs,' Quinn grumbles, "A little

support would've been nice too, but I'm glad I could
provide entertainment." Her voice almost cracks from
the sarcasm. Phoebe just laughs a little longer then
grows serious.

"I can't believe Russell tried to do that though. Isn't he

some smartass senior partner at a law firm? It sounds
a bit too crazy for someone like him. Is it even legal?"
Phoebe muses.

"He said he got the idea from watching 'Desperate

Housewives'. I didn't even know he watches that
show. I got over all the plot twists last year. It's so last
season,' Quinn drawls, making her voice sound as
bitchy as it could go.

"Eva Longoria's hot, though,' Phoebe counters.

"Whatever."

Then they're quiet for another moment, and then

Quinn's cousin abruptly offers her a place to stay.
"You know we have an extra room too, right? I mean,
if you're not comfortable at the Berry's place. We are,
after all, family. Even if I got disowned. We're still
family in here," Phoebe says fiercely, and Quinn can
hear her thumping herself on her chest. She smiles at
her cousin's loyalty.

"Yeah. I might take you up on that offer. Rachel's

great for letting me stay here, but it's a little awkward.
I might accidentally kill her,' Quinn jokes.

"Don't,' Phoebe says sombrely. Then she cracks up.

"She's cute though, cuz. If I was single and 7 years
younger I'd would absolutely-"

"Phoebe. Don't even go there,' Quinn admonishes.

"Look, I've said this before and I'll say it again. Your
parents have repressed you to the point where you
can only vehemently deny your homosexuality. Trust
me. I know."

Quinn rolls her eyes even though her cousin can't see
her. "I know who I am, Pheebs. I'm not gay. I'm
pregnant, for one. Also, I'm not attracted to girls. Stop
trying to convert me just to piss my parents off."

She hears a scoff from the other end of the line. "It
was worth a shot. But, really, all jokes aside, we'd
love to have you. Just call me before you decide to
move in so that we can get rid of all the, uh, stuff in
the guest room." Quinn can tell Phoebe is grinning, so
she hopes her cousin is joking as well. "I don't want to
know what stuff you're talking about, right?" Quinn
asks hopefully.

Cheerfully, Phoebe replies, "Not at all."

"Have you told Amelia?"

"No,' Quinn sighs, 'I haven't talked to her properly

since she moved out 3 years ago. She doesn't get
very good reception no matter where she is, though
sometimes I think she's faking it just to get out of
talking to me. I doubt she'll have time to listen to me
griping about my problems; she's too busy saving the
goddamn environment," Quinn mutters bitterly.
"Alright, alright. Chill. I just thought she might've liked
to know her kid sister's pregnant and out of the house.
Don't get pissed at me. I think she's in California or
something, though. I thought I saw a flash of her face
in the news. Spiking trees and sabotaging equipment.
The usual stuff."

"Mm-hmm." Quinn misses her sister, but there isn't

much point in it. Amelia cared far more about a couple
of trees than her own family. She moved out as soon
as she was old enough and joined a group of
environmental activists. When she introduced herself,
she didn't reveal her last name. People in Lima
assumed she went to a bigger city because she had
been a smart girl who graduated with honours, but
really, she was now sleeping on the ground every
night with no pay.

Quinn supposes that she should be proud of her

sister, and somewhere inside, she is, but she wished
her sister would call her and talk for more than 10
minutes every month or so. The Fabray family is so
messed up. Her parents don't talk about Amelia,
because even though she's 'saving the world', she
didn't go and get a law degree. Another Fabray
disappointment. Quinn sighs.

"So, Pheebs?"

"Yep."
"..."

"Quinn?"

"Yeah."

"Take care, okay? Just call me anytime you wanna

talk. Or if you ever wanna gatecrash, do it. I just want
you to know that Amanda gets really, really horny
during her periods so..."

"Phoebe!' Quinn exclaims, finally breaking a laugh. "I

get it! There's such a thing as too much information,
okay? I'm your cousin and I totally didn't need to know
that."

Phoebe grins. "And she gets kind of lou-"

"Pheebster, shut up right now. Like now, or Amanda's

going to find out how you 'accidentally' burned her
abstract painting away,' Quinn threatens smugly.

She hears a gasp, and then pleading. "Quinn, my

dear cousin, my dear cousin Quinn, you can't do that.
I mean, okay, I probably should've just told her I hated
that painting, but she wouldn't have thrown it away.
Besides, she painted another one. Slightly less
hideous, but much more bearable. You understand
my reasons, don't you, Quinn? Right?"

Quinn just laughs. "I have tons of dirt on you, Pheebs.

I can't wait to 'accidentally' reveal it all when I'm drunk
one night,' she teases.

"I can't believe you got me to spill so much. Damned

scotch,' Phoebe growls.

Quinn is about to continue their banter, but she hears

the sound of knocking on her door, then Phoebe says,
"Manda's back, Quinn. Talk to you later? And
remember, if you ever wanna move in here..."

"Yep. Thanks Phoebe. Bye,' and then she hangs up.

"Come in,' Quinn calls out.

Rachel pokes her head in through the door. "Hi. I was

going to watch 'Whip It!' I was wondering whether you
wanted to watch it with me?"

Quinn frowns slightly. "Isn't that the one with Ellen

Page that Drew Barrymore directed? With the roller
derby stuff?"

Rachel nods. "It got pretty good reviews, and at the

very least I get to stare at Ellen Page for an hour and
a half if it's a bad movie."

"I've already watched it, actually,' Quinn says,

smirking. "That might shock you." Rachel does look
surprised. "It's not a bad movie. I'd actually like to
sleep for a while, though. I'm kind of tired."
Rachel nods. "Good night then. Even if it happens to
only be 8. If you get hungry, there's plenty of food
downstairs. Wake me up if you can't find it. I'll show
you my secret sweet stash."

Quinn scoffs but Rachel just flips the lights off and
gently closes the door. She squirms until the blanket
is above her instead of under and drifts off into a deep
sleep. She wasn't kidding when she said she was
tired. Karofsky, hospital, parents; everything had
taken its toll on the pregnant cheerleader.

Around 5 hours later, Quinn is woken up by her

ringing cell phone. She fumbles around for it and
accidentally presses 'busy'. "Oops,' Quinn mutters,
then squints in the darkness to see her mother's
name listed under missed calls. She sighs and
slumps into the fluffy pillows. She argues with herself
over calling back but decides not to. If her mother
wanted to talk to her that much, she could just call
again.

Less than three minutes later, her phone rings again.

This time, it's Phoebe. Quinn picks up. And then two
minutes later, she finds herself dialling her mother's
number. She inwardly curses Phoebe for convincing
her to give her mother a call.

"Hello?"

Note
(i) From the song, 4 in the Morning. I used this song
by Gwen Stefani as the title more from Judy's point of
view. It's just really sad. I kind of feel sorry for Judy,
y'know? I think she could've been a good mother if it
wasn't for everything going to crap

(ii) Sort of a Lord of the Flies reference, JSYK.

Also, I have exams in 8 hours. That's how much I love

you guys. I know this is a little late, but it's got extra
length! I hope you liked it though; t'was really hard to
write.

Also, about those outtakes. If there's anything you

want me to write, you can leave me a review telling
me about it. I'll see what I can do to make it fit into the
story. They can be short or long. It's all up to you.

As usual, reviewers, subscribers, etc, you guys are

great. Each and every one of you.

Note: Fuck You – Lily Allen. I love that song, and I'm
sorry if it offends you.

"Hello? Quinn? Baby?" Judy's throat is dry and her

words frantic.

Quinn winces at how awkward the term of

endearment sounds coming from her own mother.
"Mother."
"Quinn,' her mother breathes, 'Where are you? Are
you okay?"

Sighing, Quinn leans into her pillows. "I'm at a friend's

place. Okay, I guess. Why did you call me?" she
mumbles.

There is a pause at the other end of the line, and then

her mother lets out a gush of air. "I… I'm still your
mother, Quinn. I was worried. Who are you staying-
Wait. Your um, your father wants to talk to you." Judy
stares at an unwavering Russell Fabray who has his
hand out, gesturing at the phone.

She hesitantly passes it to him, fearful that he will say

something unhelpful that would make their daughter
run even further away from them than she already
was.

"Quinn,' Russell says firmly into the phone, 'Your

mother and I care about you very much. We are your
parents and this is your home. You will come back
home right now. You are still a minor and you still
have to listen to us. You will come back home and
talk. You will get rid of that… abomination, and we will
be a family again. You hear me?"

Judy gapes at her husband and tries not to throw a

chair at him. Had he no idea that he was dealing with
Quinn Fabray, his own child? Had he no idea how
stubborn Quinn could be once she had made a
decision? She slumps and leans her forehead on the
cool kitchen tabletop, knowing, just knowing that there
was no way Quinn was going to come back after
Russell's speech. Stubbornness ran in the family.

In the Berry guestroom, Quinn clenches her hand

around her cell phone. "No,' she hisses through
gritted teeth as calmly as she can, 'No, I will not come
back home right now."

Russell's eyes narrow and he scowls. Judy takes this

as a bad sign and gives in. She grabs her favourite
bottle of vodka and starts pouring.

"Now you listen to me, Quinn Charlotte Fabray(i). I am

your father and you will listen to me. I am telling you
to come home and you will come home." Sitting in his
kitchen, Russell roughly grips the edge of the table.
His scowl is etched deep into his face.

"Fuck you(*),' is what Quinn accidentally lets slip. She

blanches and prays she didn't say that out loud.

"What did you?" Russell sounds incredulous, but also

angry.

A sudden surge of boldness rushes through Quinn's

veins. "I said fuck you, daddy. You don't actually want
me back home. You just want Quinn fucking Charlotte
Fabray to sit there like a good girl. You don't want
who I am. You want your perfect daughter with her
perfect grades and her perfect friends to show-off to
all your other perfect lawyer asshole buddies. Well,
fuck you. I'm sick of it. You don't want to help me with
my problem, my pregnancy; you just want to get rid of
it and sweep the problem under the rug, like every
other problem we've had for the past 16 years. I'm not
getting rid of this baby; what happened to all the
preaching about acceptance and love and not killing?
You want me back because your other daughter
deserted us and jumped ship as soon as she could
legally be emancipated and you don't want anyone to
know how bad a parent you are. So fuck you. Fuck
you and your conservative freak show of a family.
Please don't stay in touch(*)." Her last sentence
comes out mocking.

"You ungrateful brat! I don't even know how your

mother's been raising you. You are a horrible example
of a child to talk to your own father like that. You think
it's easy taking care of a child? Well, you can keep
your bastard child and you can see how hard it is to
keep a child safe from the evils of the world. As of
today, I have no child. I have never had a child, and I
will never have a child!" Russell is screeching into the
phone by the time he is done.

Russell throws the phone on the table in his fury and

storms out of the kitchen with so much dramatic effect
that even Rachel Berry would have been impressed.
Judy grabs for the phone and attempts to speak to
her daughter. "Quinn? Quinn, are you there?"

"What do you want, Judy? Would you like to scream

at me some more? I'll have you know that I am
exhausted and I really don't want to talk to any of you
ever again." Quinn says tiredly.

"I don't... I... You're my daughter, Quinn. I'm sorry.

Just... Please, just come home,' Judy pleads
desperately. Her daughter calling her by her first
names hurts more than it should.

Coldly, Quinn snaps, "What daughter? As of today,

you don't have a daughter, remember?" Then she
presses the end call button. She melts into the pillows
and just lies there, staring at the ceiling, unable to go
back to sleep.

After a while, it finally hits her. She stares at the

phone and gapes. She did not just tell her father to
'fuck off'. She groans and throws her phone back on
the bed. Her life is a mess and she couldn't even
control what was coming out of her mouth anymore.
Her phone rings again, but she silences it. Perhaps in
a day she'll call her mother back, but not tonight.
Word vomit does no one any good.

5 minutes later, Quinn is stumbling to the bathroom,

her hand firmly clamped over her mouth. It's weird
how she manages to throw up even though she hasn't
eaten anything since breakfast.

Damned morning sickness loved to screw people

around. It was disgusting, really. Quinn gags and
flushes quickly before standing up. She goes back to
her room to quickly grab her toothpaste and
toothbrush.

As she's brushing her teeth, she feels a prickling on

her neck and glances up at the mirror. She lets out a
short scream muffled by foam that she hurriedly spits
into the sink. She chokes and starts coughing into the
sink. Looking up and being greeted by the sight of a
very rumpled, very sleepy looking Rachel Berry was
bad enough. It was worse when the girl was barely
illuminated by the bathroom light and just standing
there creepily in the doorway. "What the hell, woman?
Do you really want to give me a heart attack?" Quinn
hisses when she gets her heartbeat and her voice
back under control.

Rachel shrugs and stifles a yawn. It probably wasn't

the best idea to come out when she heard Quinn
moving around noisily outside her room, but she
couldn't get back to sleep when she heard the blonde
throwing up. She had debated with herself over the
merits of assuming Quinn needed help while throwing
up and going back to sleep. In the end, she got up,
but by then the girl was already brushing her teeth, so
she stood in the open doorway and admired the sight
in front of her. Quinn hadn't changed from what she
was wearing that morning, so she was still attired in
her dark jeans and her hoodie.

And damn if Rachel wasn't a teenager and pumped

full of hormones and Quinn Fabray had a really great
ass.

Then Quinn must have sensed Rachel's eyes on her

(ass) because she had snapped up to look in the
mirror and spotted Rachel. Admittedly, Rachel Berry
wearing short shorts and a tank top wouldn't have
scared anyone, but her hair was a tangled mess and
her eyes were hooded. The lack of light cast deep
shadows that made Rachel look like a (short)
vampire.

"Berry...' Quinn sighs and leans back against the

countertop, 'I get that you're kind of socially not there,
but you do not abruptly appear in the doorway of a
bathroom and just stand there, okay? You knock or
you cough or something. You do not act like a creepy
stalker. Got it?"

Rachel half yawns and half nods in response, bringing

her hand up to cover her mouth. She wonders what
she is supposed to do now that won't appear to be
'socially not there'. It wasn't her fault she had spent
more time singing and watching musicals than
actually talking to her (nonexistent) friends. A thought
strikes her. Confidently, she asks, "Are you hungry?
Would you like me to cook you something to eat?"
Quinn blinks and squints at the girl standing in the
doorway of the bathroom like a stalker. "Did you just
offer to cook me something to eat?"

Confused, Rachel asks back, "Is that another social

don't?"

Quinn shakes her head. "Not really. It's just weird.

You offering to cook me something to eat. Plus, I can't
really see you being able to cook properly. I can see
you baking and dancing around the kitchen singing
because that involves singing and it's so you but I
can't see you actually cooking. It's just weird thinking
of you in an apron, that's all...' Quinn rambles. She
knows she's rambling, but somehow the thought of
Rachel Berry cooking just sends chills up her spine.
She wonders if she should ask about where the
house phone is so that she can call the fire
department in case of an emergency.

Rachel huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

"My daddy Hiram is a really good cook, I'll have you
know. One time he tried to teach me how to cook
crepes and I threw a fit because they wouldn't fold
properly. He confiscated my Wicked soundtrack CD
and spent two hours showing me how to do it. Now I
am very adept at making what I have dubbed the
'Very Berry Berry Special(ii)'." Rachel waggles her
eyebrows. "I could make you one now if you like."
"The Very Berry Berry Special. Seriously, Rachel?"
Rachel nods and looks expectantly at Quinn, who
bursts out laughing without warning. Rachel looks
uncertainly at the laughing girl and frowns slightly.
She had read up extensively on pregnancy and she
knew about the severe mood swings, but there hadn't
been anything in there about pregnant woman
laughing hysterically without reason. Unless that
counted as a mood swing. Rachel furrows her
eyebrows and exasperatedly asks, "What is so funny,
Quinn? Also, you have to stop laughing because my
dads are asleep and they have to get up early
tomorrow morning to go to work and-"

Quinn holds her hand up and gasps for air. "It's just
that the 'Very Berry Berry Special' sounds like
something a porn star could do. And you did that
weird thing with your eyebrows and it just..." Quinn
starts laughing again. It's so inappropriate, but in her
pregnant state of mind, it was hilarious. Puck would
have appreciated the joke.

Rachel pouts and rolls her eyes, glancing down the

hallway at her fathers' bedroom. "Do you want me to
make you some or not?"

Quinn is about to refuse but the she realizes that she

is actually kind of hungry, and she probably shouldn't
try cooking anything herself in the middle of the night
in a kitchen she had never cooked in before. Plus,
there was that broken wrist of hers to think about.
"Okay, sure. Thanks, Rachel. I should uh, probably
shower first, though."

Nodding, Rachel starts moving to the stairs, but then

Quinn mumbles something unintelligible. "Yes,
Quinn?"

Blushing slightly, Quinn clears her throat and holds up

her right arm. "I was wondering if you could help me
with something. Your hoodie is a little small and my
arm is kind of chunky right now... And you should
probably chuck it in the wash as soon as you can. I
really hope my blood isn't on it. Can you just... tug it
over my cast?"

Rachel's eyes widen and she tries to stop the flush

from going past her ears. She swallows convulsively a
few times and shrugs weakly. "It's not a problem,' she
mutters and steps forward.

The next day at school, Rachel and Quinn walk in

together, Quinn with dark circles under her eyes and
a light bruise on her forehead. It was a bad idea for
Rachel to make crepes, because even though they
tasted amazing, Quinn ended up sitting at the kitchen
counter eating and talking about her parents until
4am. Rachel regards it as a great learning
experience, but Quinn regards it as a great loss of
sleep. It was hard to stop, though. Once she started
ranting about her dad she couldn't seem to stop. The
stories just kept coming. Rachel also learnt a lot about
Amelia Fabray, who Quinn loved and admired but
who barely spoke to any of her family anymore. She
gathered that the Fabrays' were a pretty messed up
family.

When they went to sleep at 4am, Quinn cursed the

fact that they had school the next day. Unfortunately,
she was woken up again at 6am by Rachel Berry's
workout music. She had groaned and stumbled over
to Rachel's room before throwing the door open. She
was greeted by pale yellow walls covered with posters
mostly Broadway, but with a few unexpected rock
bands. Then she saw Rachel Berry not stopping
either her workout on her elliptical or her stupid iPod.
"Berry,' Quinn groaned, 'It's 6 o' clock in the fucking
morning." Quinn had somehow lost her inhibitions
over swearing after cussing her father out the night
before. She was also never very articulate in the
morning so she just let whatever was in her mind slip
out.

"I know,' Rachel had panted in time with her

movements. "It doesn't matter *Pant* what time it is
*Pant* one should always *Pant* get the requisite
*Pant* amount of exer *Pant* exercise every
morn*Pant* morning."

Quinn had thrown her hands up in the air. "But you

only slept two hours! How the hell did you even
manage to wake up?"
"Will power,' was all Rachel said before upping her
speed. Quinn had gaped at Rachel then gave up and
stumbled back to her room. On the way to the other
end of the hallway both of Rachel's dads had
cheerfully bid Quinn a good morning and headed
down the stairs. She waved back weakly then
collapsed in her bed, the pillows covering her head.
Did no one in the Berry home need sleep? The
answer would appear to be a big 'no'. She groaned
again and forced her way back into another hour of
sleep.

At 7.30am, Rachel gently pushed a sleepy Quinn

Fabray into her car. "Yes, Quinn, we have to go to
school. You already skipped school yesterday, and I
think it would be a very bad idea, not to mention it
won't look good on your record, to skip as much
school as you can. And we have glee today, so you
should go. Duck! Don't hit your hea- Oh crap, sorry."

"Oww."

"Bye, Berry,' Quinn nudges Rachel's shoulder. 'I have

to go talk to Brit and Santana." Rachel hums, nods
and keeps digging through her locker, looking for her
Spanish book that is supposed to be there, but
somehow isn't. She suspiciously checks the lock and
wonders whether her locker had been tampered with.
Again.

At her own locker, Quinn pulls out a few books and

sticks some back in. When she closes the door, she
sees Puck leaning against the locker next to her. He
quickly turns and juts his hip out. "'Sup, MILF?" he
greets cockily. The effect is not quite what he wants to
achieve because his voice sounds like his nose is
blocked. Finn could pack a pretty good punch when
he wanted to. Quinn just rolls her eyes and starts
walking. Puck's smirk drops and he gently grabs her
forearm to pull her back, carefully avoiding her broken
wrist.

"What do you want, Puck? Was getting me drunk and

pregnant not enough? Do you want me to name my
baby Rumplestiltskin or something now?" Quinn
would be the first to admit that she has no idea where
that came from, but she would also add that three
hours of sleep is not conducive to intelligent
conversation.

"What? No! I wanted to... I wanted to apologize,

y'know? I'm sorry about that night. And I wanna help. I
know you're gonna have doctor's bills and vitamins or
whatever, and I have a job, y'know? I can help,' Puck
pleads, 'And no, I don't want you to name the kid
Rumplestiltskin. That little dude was evil,' he adds in
disgust. "You could call him Peyton Manning Fabray-
Puckerman or something like that though."

Quinn narrows her eyes at him. "I don't need, or want,

anymore of your help, Puckerman. Your 'help' is what
got me pregnant in the first place. I'm not naming my
baby after a football player, either. I am not naming
this baby, period, because I am not keeping this baby.
And just so you know, he is a she,'Quinn smiles
involuntarily, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.

Slumping back against the lockers, Puck sighs. "She,

huh?" A chuckle escapes him. "I guess she won't
come out with a Mohawk, will she?"

Quinn shakes her head. "Thank god, no." She leans

against her own locker, lightly brushing her shoulder
against his. They stand in silence for a little while,
watching the people walk past watch them curiously.
Then, rolling her eyes, she imitates Puck's sigh.
"Okay,' she whispers.

Cocking his head at her, Puck's eyes widen slightly.

"Okay?"

Quinn nods. "Yeah. Okay. You're right, for once. I

probably do need help, as much as it pains me to
admit it. Once I find a job, though-"

"Woah, slow it, babe. You're pregnant,' Puck holds his

hands up, 'and that means no heavy lifting, no
working, which means no job."

Quinn scowls heavily at him and punches him in the

shoulder. Hard. He winces but is man enough to not
grab it. "I'm pregnant,not disabled. And there are
plenty of people who are pregnant and work. Some
work until the day they give birth, you sexist,
Mohawked loser,' she shoots back, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, but their babies come out depressed or

something,' Puck argues defensively. "Look, you don't
need to find a job. There aren't a lot of pools around
for me to clean but I can get another job as a waiter or
something. And uh,' Puck frowns and clenches his
fists a few times. Quinn looks at him warily. "Yes?"

"You wanna go out sometime, Fabray?" His bursts out

hopefully. His smile is charming and sweet, but Quinn
doesn't feel anything. She doesn't even get the
slightest bit excited over the fact that Noah
Puckerman, ranked hottest guy in the school, is
asking her out. She's just not interested. She looks at
him with an inscrutable look in her eyes and curses
him inwardly. He just had to make things awkward,
didn't he? Quinn huffs and gently takes his hand.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Puck, but I just really can't do

relationships right now. And you don't actually want to
go out with me; you just wanna have sex. And after
what happened the last time, I'm not going to have
sex for a long, long time. With anyone." Quinn lets out
a weak laugh to diffuse the tension, but the look on
Puck's face is moody.

"I'm not always about sex, Quinn. You don't know me.
I take care of my people, and that baby is 'one of my
people' so that puts you under 'one of my people' too."
He pulls his hand out of hers. "Whatever, y'know. Just
send me your doctor's bills when you...Whatever,'
Puck says stonily before turning the corner and
stalking off. He gives in to the temptation to slam
Jacob Ben Israel into the lockers. It doesn't help the
heavy feeling in his heart, but it brings his badass
scowl back on his face instead of his broken-hearted
expression. The Puckasaurus didn't do broken-
hearted.

Quinn stands there, confused and slightly,

inexplicably guilty. She doesn't know why she feels
like she's the one at fault. Then a short, brunette
figure covered completely from head to toe in purple
Slushie races past her down the hallway. Frowning,
Quinn turns around and sees Santana ambling
towards her, Rachel's pink bag in one hand and a
Spanish textbook in the other. Brittany is next to her,
her arm around Santana's waist. Quinn scowls at
Santana, who quickly snaps at her. "Hey, I didn't do
anything, okay? She just chucked these on the floor
and Brittany wanted to pick it up but I didn't want her
to turn into the next Dame Edna Everage through
contamination so I grabbed them instead."

The pregnant blonde's scowl just grows deeper.

"What the hell happened?" she growls.

"Dave Karofsky had this giant bucket of Slushie with

him and he poured it over Rachel. Then he threw this
textbook at her and said something like, "I'm not afraid
of tubers. Bring it." Brittany frowns and squints at
Santana. "San, what're tubers?"

Santana smirks and hands Quinn the bag and the

book. Quinn raises her eyebrow and her broken wrist,
which makes Santana's smirk die and a scowl
replaces the smirk. "Tubers are plants like potatoes
and stuff, Brit. And Karofsky said Tubbers, not tubers.
He meant Quinn,' Santana explains, raising her
eyebrow at Quinn, who exhales noisily.

Quinn grips her books tightly in her hand. "That jerk!"

she explodes.

Then she goes on a rampage for Dave Karofsky's

head, ignoring Santana's furious yelling behind her for
her to stop, that she was a foot shorter than him and
who the hell cared about Rachel Berry getting
Slushied anyway. She ignores the slight throbbing in
her right arm and walks blindly down the hallway until
she sees Dave Karofsky laughing obnoxiously in front
of Rachel's locker, his football buddies huddled
around him. There is a puddle of melted purple
Slushie next to his feet, a discarded Styrofoam box
next to the puddle. "Hey!" she calls loudly.

Karofsky smirks widely and turns, his arms

outstretched. "What up, Virgin Mary? Oh, oh, should I
bow at your feet? Or maybe I should take off my
jacket so that you walk over the Slushie?" He guffaws
and his friends follow suit.
No one would have dared talk to Quinn Fabray like
that two days earlier and she didn't like it one bit.
There was this red haze of anger in her eyes that
blurred everything except Dave Karofsky's stupid,
ugly, laughing head. Later she will say that she's
pregnant and hormonal, but right then all she knows
is that the ruined textbook, covered in something
gross that she doesn't want to know about, Rachel's
Spanish textbook, is in her hand. She will say that she
didn't realize she had grabbed it from a reluctant
Santana. She will say she forgot the textbook was
thick and heavy. What she won't say is that she's
sorry she rolled the textbook up as best as she could
and slammed it over Karofsky's head as hard as she
could. She won't even bother apologizing for kicking
him between the legs. She will say she's glad she did
it because the bastard deserved it. She'll furiously tell
a nervous, borderline horrified/terrified Principal
Figgins that the next person who threw a Slushie at
someone would be reported to the authorities for
assault, and the school would be sued.

But right then and there, there was a shrieking

Karofsky rolling around on the ground, furiously
yelling threats at her. It mostly goes along the line of
'You fucking bitch, I'll fucking kill you and your
goddamn illegitimate baby!' and 'I'll rip your fucking
balls off!' and 'Cunt!' which Quinn finds very offensive.
She was surprised Karofsky knew the word
illegitimate, but being called a 'cunt' somehow pissed
the shit out of her. She throws the textbook hard and
it lands next to his face with a loud thump and a
squelch because it landed in the puddle of Slushie
which splashed up and landed on Karofsky's face.
Chain effects were great.

"Karofsky, I'm going to tell you again. No more fucking

Slushies. I swear to God if I see you ever throw a
Slushie at anyone ever again I will rip your fucking
balls off. I'm sick of watching you bastards throw
things at people like there aren't consequences at all!"

The textbook is covered in this slimy substance

Santana really doesn't want to think about so she
throws it on the floor. Berry probably didn't want it
back, anyway. She decides to wash her hand with
bleach as soon as she can. Then she snaps her
fingers in front of Quinn's angry, dazed face.

Quinn blinks rapidly and blushes. "What?" Santana

shakes her head and rolls her eyes dramatically.
"Nothing, I guess, unless you count you standing
there for two minutes ignoring everything I just said
and acting like you have a mental disorder."

Sighing, Quinn rolls her shoulders. She wishes she

really could go on a rampage against Dave Karofsky,
but she was raised a pacifist and until yesterday had
never really fought anyone before. If you could call
what she did the day before 'fighting'. Plus, seriously
going up against Dave Karofsky would have cost her
a lot more than a broken wrist. "He's a jerk. Stupid
asshole," Quinn grumbles moodily as they begin
walking to their class. Quinn and Brittany had Spanish
and Santana had a free period. She was only there
that early because Brittany had called her that
morning and whined about how she had left her Daffy
Duck toy in Santana's house and could Santana
please bring it to her by first period? And lo and
behold, there Santana was.

"San, do me a favour,' Quinn says, smiling as sweetly

as she could at Santana. The Latina sighs and nods,
a wary look on her face. As if it wasn't bad enough
she was lugging Rachel goddamn Berry's bag around
for no good reason. "Go beat the crap out of Dave
Karofsky and then go find Berry. She's probably
showering in the locker room and I think her clothes
are probably in her bag."

Santana's mouth drops comically and she stops

where she is, the students behind her parting and
walking around her as though they were afraid she
would bite their heads off. She might have, really, so it
was a smart assumption to make. "What the hell, Q?'
Santana splutters, 'You want me to find Berry and...
And help her? What's wrong with you? Oh my god,
you don't like her, do you?"

Smiling, Brittany just hugs Santana around the

shoulders and says with a pout, "C'mon, Santana.
You don't have anything else to do, anyway. I'll make
out with you in the locker rooms later?" Brittany offers.

"You'd make out with me in the locker room anyway,

B,' Santana smirks, then turns back to Quinn.
"Seriously, Quinn, what the hell?"

Quinn shrugs and makes to walk in the classroom,

but Santana grabs her by her cast and doesn't let go.
She could either cause herself a lot of pain or stay
and answer the Latina's questions. Damn Santana
and her sneaky ways. Quinn stops and whirls around
to face Santana. "I just don't like it, okay? Karofsky
Slushied her because of me and... And maybe I'm
living with her because I ran away from my parents so
just-"

"What the hell, Quinn Fabray?"Santana sounds

absolutely furious. "You moved in with Stubbles? Why
didn't you call me? Why the hell-"

Quinn eases her hand out of Santana's grip, or she

tries to, but then the other girl's grip tightens. "No way,
you are not getting out of this. Come with me,'
Santana snaps and starts dragging Quinn away,
presumably to the locker room. People part and give
way to the fuming Santana. There aren't many people
left in the hall anyway; most people have already
gone to class. "Santana, I have to go to class. I'll tell
you later. Let me go,' Quinn whines. Santana could
sometimes be a pansy. She has this soft spot for
blondes, after all...
The Cheerio shakes her head, not bothering to turn to
face Quinn. Brittany just smiles innocently and follows
behind Quinn. "It's okay. It's Mr. Schuester's class. He
won't even care,' she says helpfully.

Quinn grumbles all the way to the locker room, where

the sound of a shower and the quiet sobbing of a girl
can be heard. Santana noisily puts Rachel's bag on
one of the benches and a loud clang rings out. The
sobs silence themselves immediately. "Hey, Man
Hands. Your stupid bag's out here, okay?" Santana
calls out, an irritated tone in her voice.

A sniffle, then a soft "Okay. Thanks, Santana."

Santana just scowls and leans against the lockers.

"Spill, Fabray,' she growls. Brittany plops down on the

bench in front of her, pulling Quinn down with her.
Quinn protests by pointing at the showers, a pleading
look on her face. "I don't care,' Santana shrugs, 'And
since you seem to like her so much, you probably
shouldn't care either."

Quinn is confused at her best friend's reasoning, but

gives up. Arguing with Santana could sometimes be
like arguing with a brick wall. She slumps. "Fine,' she
growls. She is about to speak, then she hears Rachel
timidly call out her name. "Quinn, if you are Quinn,
could you pass me my bag and a towel, please?"
Santana's eyebrows almost fly off her forehead when
Quinn gets up and grabs a clean towel and Rachel's
bag and walks towards the showers without a word.

Quinn walks to the second last stall before she find

Rachel. The girl has a depressed look on her face
when she reaches out from behind the door to take
her things from Quinn. "Thanks,' is all the brunette
mumbles before slamming the door close. Quinn is
taken-aback, but she just furrows her eyebrows and
walks back to Santana. This is going to be so very
awkward, she thinks.

She sits and gazes up at a bemused Santana. "Look,

in short, I had breakfast with her yesterday and we
talked and stuff then I came back and broke my wrist,
right? Then my parents found out I was pregnant and
wanted to send me to China and Rachel convinced
me to stay with her. My mom called and I told my dad
to 'fuck off' and... Yeah. That's it, basically." Quinn
smiles slyly at the mind-boggled look Santana gives
her. Brittany just grins and grabs Santana around the
waist. "Okay, Quinn, thanks. We're gonna go make
out in the choir room though, so you can make out
with Rachel in here." Then she pulls a speechless
Santana out of the locker room, not letting go of her
waist, leaving a blushing and spluttering Quinn
Fabray behind. "I'm not going to make out with
Rachel, Brittany!" she yells. She can't help the
reluctant smile on her face, though. Her two friends
had always been very open about their relationship
around her.

A soft cough behind her reminds her that Rachel was

still in the locker room. Crap. Quinn turns slowly, a
grimace on her face. "That... You didn't... Brittany...'
her voice fails her when she sees the look on
Rachel's face. Her eyes are blank and emotionless
and swollen. Her hair is damp and kind of depressing.
Rachel wrings her hands and fidgets with the bag on
her shoulder.

"Thank you, Quinn. You should go back to class now."

She sounds like a robot and she just stares at a point
above Quinn's left ear. Her shoulders are hunched
defensively and this shocks Quinn most of all. She
had never seen the girl standing with anything but
perfect posture before.

"What did Karofsky do, Rachel?" Quinn probes,

pulling her legs up to sit Indian-style on the bench.
She pats the seat beside her, but Rachel ignores it.

"Slushie me, what does it look like? Just go back to

class, Quinn. It's nothing that hasn't happened
before." Outside, she is calm and controlled, but
inside, Rachel is seething and angry at everyone. She
had thought that after Quinn's outburst the day before,
the Slushie attacks might finally stop. She had been
foolish to hope so naively, because it just got worse.
Getting roughly 15 Slushies dumped on her in one
shot had not been fun. She usually didn't say anything
when she got Slushied, just shut her eyes and waited
until she could see well enough to stumble to the
nearest sink, but this time the Slushies had
immediately soaked through her clothes and
plastered itself to every inch of her. She had shrieked
at the feeling of the cold, sticky ice in her eyes, in her
shirt, in her hair, in every goddamn place, then she
felt something hard hit her in the stomach.

"Here's your stupid textbook, RuPaul. Maybe next

time you won't draw hearts around Finn Hudson's
name in it, huh? Oh, by the way, your locker was
fucking easy to break into, and uh,' Karofsky
pretended to blush, then laughed, 'I totally jizzed all
over your book. Have fun studying Spanish now. And
I'm not afraid of Tubbers. You can tell the bitch to
bring it on." Then, with his gang of douchebags
laughing with him, he strutted off. Rachel squinted at
her textbook through her purple haze and saw that it
indeed looked sticky, or maybe that was just her own
screwed up vision. Her bag, mostly Slushie-less, was
dropped on the ground and then she started running.
The tears in her eyes began to mix with the corn
syrup and it burned. The harsh laughter around her
was horrible to hear.

"Rachel?' Quinn's soft voice brings Rachel out of her

trance.

"What?' she snaps, 'Look, I know you're trying to help

or something, but just forget it, okay? Nothing in this
school is going to change. The jocks will continue to
be complete Neanderthals and the losers, like me, will
continue to be losers. It won't ever change, because
everyone is too scared of everyone else and what
people will do. It's a screwed up system and none of
the teachers ever do anything because they're all
scared of the students. We're 16 years old! The
teachers act more like children than most of us do.
And it's Lima, Ohio,' she sneers, 'where the parents of
students know the teachers and the parents of the
teachers and everyone's related and everyone with
power just squishes everyone else without. It's an age
old system and it won't ever change. So don't, Quinn,
okay? Maybe you're different, maybe you're not, but
just a week ago you would have been laughing right
there along with everyone else. So forget it. Nothing
out of the ordinary happened. Just another day in
McKinley High."

No one is more shocked by Rachel's outburst than

Rachel herself, but she just slumps her shoulders and
mutters, "Just leave it, Quinn,' then she stalks out of
the locker room.

(*) Are all song lyrics from Lily Allen's 'Fuck You'. I'm
sorry if some of you guys don't like that song or find it
offensive in any way, though I have no idea why you'd
find it offensive. I love that song. So... I know this
chapter is kind of depressing, but that's how it came
out and I don't think there's any other way it could be.
I don't know. This chapter just wasn't coming to me,
and I'm sorry for the delay. I don't think you need
lengthy explanations on why I used Lily's song for this
chapter. It's angry and angst-filled and everyone's just
angry, okay?

(i)I think it'd be good to tell you here that Quinn comes
from the name 'Cuinn' or 'Conn' which means
'wisdom'. That's what the Internet tells me, anyway.
And that Charlotte can be interpreted as 'strong
man/masculine' but generally has been understood to
mean 'strong woman'. The closest thing to Fabray I
could find was Fabry, which they use to mean
blacksmiths or iron-workers. So 'Quinn Charlotte
Fabray' is a seriously powerful name. I totes know
what I'm gonna call my kid in the future. Except for the
Fabray part. Thou shalt not steal my future baby's
name.

(ii)This isn't exactly what I had in mind, but if you want

to make Rachel's Very Berry Berry Special you can
check out this recipe. And once you've made it you
can tell me whether it's Very Berry Berry Special. ;)
Innuendos- I love them.
Find(dot)myrecipes(dot)com/recipes/recipefinder(dot)
dyn?action=displayRecipe&recipe_id=1673025

Also, just a heads up, there's going to be a lot of

Karofsky anger soon. Quinn VS Karofsky starts now. I
might have to up the rating on this story...

Oh god, this is so long, but I really hope you guys

don't hate this chapter. I don't even know if I should
post this. Review and tell me.

The title is Left Outside Alone – Anastacia, but the

entire chapter was loosely inspired by the emotions of
four songs: Left Outside Alone, Teenagers-My
Chemical Romance, Veronicas-When it all falls apart.

By the end of the school day, Quinn Fabray has

thrown up twice, fallen asleep in class once, caught
sight of Rachel Berry's blank face three times, caught
up to her not once, and seen neither hide nor hair of
Dave Karofsky. Needless to say, by the time it's time
for glee club, her hormones have upped her
annoyance level and she's frustrated as hell. Her
frustration only increases when she walks into the
choir room and the girl she's trying to talk to isn't there
yet. That Rachel Berry is for once not 15 minutes
early for glee is shocking and strange. In fact, glee
starts in 5 minutes and the only one missing is
Rachel. Even Brittany and Santana are already
seating there, but maybe it's just because they had
been making out in the choir room way before anyone
else got there. Quinn glares at them suspiciously and
gives them a wide berth, sitting behind Mike and Matt
instead. Santana gives the 'you're an idiot' look to
Quinn sitting on the opposite side of the room. Quinn
glares again and then ignores the girl.

Puck, sitting behind Brittany, folds him arms and

stares stonily ahead of him. His feet are propped on
top of the chair next to Brittany and he looks entirely
unpleasant. Finn just sits at the drums and hits the
bass drum with one drumstick absently. The foursome
sit in front of the drums, looking bored. Quinn realizes
that everyone looks bored of out their minds. Was it
always like that when Rachel wasn't there to be
annoying? Quinn half grimaces and half smirks on the
inside when it hits her that the short diva was actually
the life of Glee. At the very least, when she was there,
there was someone to watch in fascinated horror.
Without her, everyone just looked seriously...lifeless.

Mr. Schuester waltzes into the room with a grin on his

face that turns into a small frown when he sees how
utterly morose everyone looks. "What's up, you guys?
I can feel your boredom from where I'm standing."

Finn yawns but everyone else just shrugs or ignores

him. Mr. Schuester takes in all the glum faces and
then looks confused. "Where's Rachel? Isn't she
usually early?"

With that, everyone seems to get over their lack of

energy. A low buzz originates from a curious
foursome and Artie speaks up. "It's weird but... She's
not here."

Irritated, Quinn snaps snarkily, "And you all

justnoticed that? Talk about observant."

Mercedes looks offended and Kurt snaps back, "It's

not like we want the diva here lording over us. But I
was wondering why it was so quiet."

At this point, there is almost smoke seeping out of

Quinn's ears. Angry hormones, check. Everyone,
including Mr. Schuester, is leaning on the edge of
their seat, waiting to see how Quinn Fabray is going
to blow up. Her eyebrows slant into a dangerous 'V'
shape and her mouth is bared into a snarl. Kurt
abruptly realizes it was probably a bad idea to
antagonize the pregnant blonde. She opens her
mouth to say something that would insult Kurt and
possibly make him cry and throw himself out a
window, but then Rachel Berry stumbles into the
room. Literally, she stumbles like she's been pushed
and, unable to regain her balance, falls to the floor.

It's only then that they notice she is covered in bright

pink paint, and there is a hulking Dave Karofsky
behind her, blocking the doorway. Azimio, his African
American best friend, just as hulking as he is, stands
behind him. Several more football players stand
behind him. He slurs loudly, "Wassup, loser club?
Hey, maybe next time you'll keep your little animal
where she belongs- in a zoo!" Hooting with laughter,
Karofsky high-fives his friend and they start to stalk
off.

Fuming with anger, Mr. Schuester plus all of the glee

clubbers call out something angry at the same time.
Mercedes growls something about 'white trash', which
is probably racist but also quite probably true. Kurt
scowls and Artie tries to look intimidating. Quinn yells
something that sounds like 'asshole' and Santana
throws 'bitch' out there. Puck just slams his fist into
the palm of his hand and stands up fast, knocking his
chair over. Finn just looks stunned. Karofsky throws
an arm up and waves at them, still walking away. It's
only when Mr. Schuester furiously shouts out
"Karofsky! Stop right there!" that Karofsky halts and
turns around. His eyes look like they were about to
pop out of his head. Wide and dilated, it looked
almost coal black. The white parts that could be seen
were red and bloodshot. He sways slightly on his feet
and he slams a meaty hand on the doorway to steady
himself.

"The hell you want, man?" Karofsky spits out. The

other football players back away from him slightly.
They hadn't intended on going up against a teacher.
Karofsky, looking absolutely stoned, didn't seem to
realize that Mr. Schuester was the one talking to him.
He squints and then his mouth opens slightly. "Mister
Schue! Hey, sup, man?" He attempts a grotesque
grin, which results in him looking like a maniac.

Now worried as well as angered, Mr. Schuester steps

forward and stares up into Karofsky's eyes. "Are you
drunk? Are you... Are you high on something,
Karofsky?"

Tottering on his feet, Karofsky manages a 'Course

not.' His alcohol-tainted breath floats over to Mr.
Schuester, who grimaces and takes a step back.

Mr. Schuester looks behind Karofsky at his

teammates. "Is he stoned?" They shuffle their feet
and glare at each other and at Mr. Schuester, but
don't say anything. A few at the back quietly detach
themselves from the group and slink away. Mr.
Schuester quickly takes their names down,
determined to make sure none of the jocks get away.
In a steely voice, Mr. Schuester repeats his question.

"He's not. He's just being a dick. C'mon, man,' Azimio

steps up to pull Karofsky away, 'Seeya around,
losers."

Karofsky, not appreciating someone trying to move

him, whacks Azimio on the head and tries to scowl.
"What the fuck you talking about, retard? Course I'm
stoned! And it's fucking awesome!" Then Karofsky
bursts out laughter, then sways again.

Shaking his head in disapproval, Mr. Schuester

gestures for two shamefaced football players to come
forward. "Take him to the nurse. I'm pretty sure he's
going to pass out soon." They step forward and grab
a sagging Karofsky by the shoulders. "The rest of you
are coming with me."

"Where?" One of the jocks ask defensively. His name

was Allen and he didn't actually like throwing things at
people, which made him sort of an outcast among his
team mates. He only went along with Operation Fuck
Rachel Berry Up By Throwing Crap At Her so that he
wouldn't get crap thrown at himself. He absolutely did
not appreciate getting busted.

"To see Principal Figgins. What you all have done to

Rachel can be constituted as assault. Karofsky will
probably be charged for possession. Some of you
might be as well." He had noticed Jason and
Michael's hand creeping into their pockets as if to
check whether their stash was still with them. "I don't
think you understand the scope of what you've done.
This is serious; it's not a joke. You could have
seriously harmed Rachel. Now, go!" Mr. Schuester's
tone of voice is something none of them have heard
before. There is barely controlled anger fizzling
beneath his calm voice. The jocks, now extremely
uncomfortable, shove each other a few times and call
out derogatory names at each other while slumping to
the Principal's office. Some of them mutter that it
wasn't even their idea in the first.

Mr. Schuester turns back to look at the glee clubbers,

who all look somewhat furious, shocked and
flabbergasted by what just happened. Rachel is still
on the floor, her knees pulled up tightly against her
chest, her face tear-stained and paint-splattered. Her
hair, sticky and sloppy with paint, drip pink paint onto
the floor. Her face is obscured by her hair, but if it
wasn't, everyone would be able to see the completely
broken expression on her face. The floor around
Rachel is already messy and paint-stained. He sighs
and feels his heart go out to her. No one deserved
that. "The rest of you help clean... everything,' Mr.
Schuester says helplessly, 'And help Rachel out,
okay?" The brunette looks blankly up at the teacher
then slowly faces the floor again.

With that, Mr. Schuester walks off after the jocks. The
glee clubbers stare at each other, none of them quite
sure who was going to help Rachel out. Finn takes a
step forward, then hesitates and glances at Puck, who
looks at Quinn, who glares at all of them and lets out
a frustrated growl. "All of you suck so bad. Kurt,
Mercedes, Tina, come with me." She narrows her
eyes at them and all three of them gulp
simultaneously and stand up. The three of them follow
behind her as she quickly walks towards Rachel.
Behind her, she hears Brittany whisper to Santana, "I
think she's broken," and Santana's hum of agreement.

"C'mon, Rachel, can you get up?" she asks, her voice
suddenly losing the bite that had been there for the
past 3 hours.

Rachel turns her head to stare up at Quinn, her eyes

blank. She doesn't respond. The entire club watches
as Quinn does not insult, slap, or curse Rachel until
she did what she told the girl to do. Instead, they
watch as Quinn gently takes Rachel's paint covered
hand and pulls her up. They watch as Quinn leads the
broken brunette out of the room and down the
hallway, trailing bright pink paint all the way.

They leave it there, none of them wanting to clean it

up. The paint signified something to them. A turning
point of the school, maybe, or maybe just a reminder
of the idiocy and cruelty that mankind possessed.

They stop by her locker to get some clothes, but

Rachel just mutters, "Forget it. I don't have any more
clothes. I've already changed once today."

Quinn's eyes harden, but she doesn't say anything.

She just leads Rachel to the locker room. Tina,
Mercedes and Kurt follow behind, still too stunned
and confused to say anything. Watching Quinn
Fabray take care of Rachel Berry was plain freaky.
Quinn tugs Rachel's completely ruined argyle sweater
off.

Kurt is tempted to make a snarky comment about

argyle, but decides against it this time.

Rachel is left in a now-pink tank top and her argyle

skirt. Quinn pushes the half-dressed girl to the shower
stall and Rachel obligingly slumps into the shower.

Pulling off her own jacket to reveal a polo shirt, Quinn

hands the jacket to Tina. "Dress her in this when she's
done. And see if you can find her some pants or
something.
"I have a spare pair of shorts in my locker,' Kurt
grudgingly admits.

"Go get it,' Quinn commands. Kurt flees the locker

room gladly.

Tina and Mercedes regard each other curiously, and

Quinn exhales in frustration. "Stay with her and don't
let her break down. I'll be back." There is a
dangerous, scary glint in Quinn's eyes. The two of
them nod quickly and step away. They have no desire
to go up against Quinn Fabray. They let her storm out
of the locker room without saying a word.

As she storms down the stairs, Quinn can see a

crowd of football players taking up all the space in
Principal Figgins' office. Mr. Schuester stands next to
Figgins, talking heatedly and gesturing wildly. Figgins
looks tired and vaguely angry. He holds up a hand to
silence Mr. Schuester and starts to say something.

Before he can finish, however, a furious Quinn Fabray

slams the door to his office open, his secretary weakly
protesting behind her. Figgins blinks and says, "Miss
Fabray, I'm very sorry, but you'll have to wait outside.
As you can see, I'm very busy right-"

"Yeah, I can see what you're busy with,' she growls so

threateningly that Figgins shuts up immediately. 'Now,
Principal Figgins, you're going to put all of these
people under suspension for at least a week. You are
going to expel Dave Karofsky. And then I'm going to
kick his stupid ass. If you do not, well, my father
works at a law firm. You don't want him coming down
here, do you?"

It's quiet for awhile, then one of the jocks snorts and
mumbles something that sounds like 'Yeah right,
Preggo. Bring it.'

Quinn whirls around in a glory of blonde hair and

steps right into the crowd of football players. "What
the hell is wrong with you assholes? What will it take
until you get it? Does someone need to bring a gun
here and shoot some of you in the head until you
understand how not to be a barbarian? Is it going to
take one of you getting arrested until you understand
it's not a fucking game? Do you need someone to die
from one of your stupid pranks before you use your
admittedly small brains to think about the
consequences first? Is that it?" she challenges
fiercely, her fists clenched at her sides.

Mr. Schuester murmurs "Language, Quinn," from

behind her.

About half of the jocks look away from her fierce

gaze, shame showing on their faces. The others vary
between casting angry glances at her and regretful
looks at the ground.
"What,' Quinn snaps furiously, 'now you have nothing
to say? What happened to all the bravado you
dumbshits had? What happened to the bravery you
had in 15 of you dumping a pot of paint over a girl?
Well, say something, oh manly men,' she mocks,
venom dripping off her words.

"Quinn,' Mr. Schuester starts haltingly, but he's

interrupted by Azimio.

"Shut up, Fabray. On Monday you would have

laughed at what we did,' he retorts defensively.

Quinn looks like she's about to throw herself at him to

scratch his eyes out, but Mr. Schuester steps in front
of her. "Quinn, c'mon, you've made your point,' he
says, holding his hands out.

Glaring at him, Quinn gives Azimio the finger, but

backs down. It hits her that no, even on Monday, she
wouldn't have laughed. Slushies were one thing, but
what Dave Karofsky did today was way over the top.
Even Santana wouldn't have approved of this 'prank'.
It wasn't funny, it was just plain cruel.

"How serious a condition is Miss Berry in, Miss

Fabray?" Figgins suddenly asks.

Quinn shrugs and steps away from the circle of

testosterone-fuelled macho idiots. She grimaces and
says, 'I left her to shower in the locker room. She
wasn't saying a lot and she looked kind of… not
Rachel Berry at all. She looked depressed,' Quinn
admits.

"Figgins, this cannot go on any longer! My students

are persecuted and bullied and tormented every
single day. You've never done anything about it. They
threw paint on her, Figgins! They throw Slushies at
her every day. This has to stop, now," Mr. Schuester
emphasizes.

Figgins sighs. "It was just a little bit of paint, William.

They're teenagers; these things happen."

Quinn slams her hand on top of his desk, startling

everyone in the office with the loud bang. "It was not a
little bit of paint. It was a lot. It was enough to cover
her completely. They could have blinded Berry. And
what if she was allergic to something in the paint?
They could have killed her. She will be pressing
charges. This is assault, Principal Figgins. And if you
don't do anything about it, I will,' she hisses.

"Alright, alright. I understand where you're coming

from. I will speak to this Dave Karofsky personally. I
would also like to see Miss Berry, Miss Fabray. If you
could bring her here?" Figgins reluctantly asks. He
honestly had no wish to deal with Rachel Berry; he
remembered what happened the last time he had to
deal with the girl. He had gotten a terrible headache
that refused to go away for the rest of the day.
Quinn gives Mr. Schuester a look that says very
simply, 'Do not let these… these assholes get away
with this,' then she walks out of the office.

Back in the locker room, Rachel is sitting numbly on

one of the benches. Dressed in Quinn's jacket and
Kurt's shorts, she curls into herself to keep warm.
Kurt, Tina and Mercedes, unsure of how to deal with a
quiet Rachel Berry, stand together and whisper
furiously to each other. Rachel catches words like,
'the hell did Karofsky', 'asshole', 'broken'.

She doesn't look like it, but under her catatonic

appearance, her mind is racing. In dramatic movie
sequences, she sees Karofsky pulling her behind the
bleachers. She sees his cruel smile and the paint
coming down from somewhere above her. She hears
the howling laughter from the football team echoing in
her ears again and again. And then she feels
Karofsky pressing against her, his breath hot and
smelling of alcohol against her own mouth. She
remembers shutting her mouth as tight as she could
and punching against his chest. She feels his hand
rough on her chest pushing her down onto the
ground.

She hears the whining of a few of his teammates

telling him to cut it out, that it wasn't funny anymore,
that he was going too far. She remembers Karofsky
snarling at them to fuck off, then he was yanking her
up and dragging her back into the school, his lackeys
trailing behind him. She remembers Karofsky hurrying
to change out of his clothes where they were stained
pink from pressing against her. She feels the thump of
her heart beating just as hard as it had when she felt
Karofsky's weight on her. Every detail was magnified
and fresh in her mind.

"D'you think Karofsky... y'know. You think he'd go that

far?" she hears Mercedes whisper anxiously.

She tilts her head back slowly and stares at the

ceiling. Yes, Karofsky would have gone that far. She
remembers his eyes. There was no empathy or
uncertainty at the time. There was only a maniacal
gleam that made him look like an animal.

Rachel hears Tina calling her name softly, as though

from a distance. She turns her head to face the Asian
girl. "Rachel, hey. D-Did Karofsky d-do anything to
you? Besides d-dumping p-paint on you, I mean.
Rachel?"

Rachel wants to respond, she does, but her throat is

dry and doesn't want to let her say anything. She
shrugs and turns her gaze onto the floor. She hears
Kurt say in a worried tone she has never heard from
him, "Rachel, sweetie, you have to say something."

"He tried,' she rasps, 'but his friends stopped him."

She hears Mercedes' angry voice start ranting, but
she tunes the girl out. She wonders what will happen
now. She wonders if there's any point in pressing
charges. Probably not. Karofsky's father was a well-
known asshole with other well-known connections. He
would easily be able to weasel his son's way out of a
conviction. She wonders if there's any point in doing
anything. She doesn't think so, so she doesn't.

Then someone slams the locker room door open.

Everyone, even Rachel, flinches when Quinn Fabray
walks in. She looks like there's a bad smell under her
nose, but her features soften when she saw the tiny
brunette curled up on the bench. She starts to walk
over to the girl but Mercedes pulls her back. From the
corner of her eye Rachel sees her whisper something
into Quinn's ear. She feels a slight flare of jealousy at
the close contact, but otherwise makes no reaction.

Quinn's eyes widen and her jaw drops. "That…

That…' she is left utterly speechless. After a few
seconds, she nods. "Go tell Figgins. He's in his office.
I'll bring Rachel over as soon as she's up for it,' she
tells them quietly. They nod and walk out, casting
worried and slightly perturbed glances at Rachel as
they did.

Rachel doesn't move when Quinn settles down next

to her. She leaves half a foot of space- enough for her
to shift closer to Rachel if necessary, but not
uncomfortable close. "So,' Quinn breathes.
Rachel hums noncommittally in reply.

"Rachel, what exactly did Karofsky…?" Quinn asks

urgently.

She sighs then swallows hard. There was something

about Quinn she couldn't ignore. She couldn't ignore
the girl's questions, the girl's presence… She couldn't
ignore the girl in general. So she swallows and forces
the words out. "He tried to kiss me after they dumped
paint on me, and when I refused to kiss him by
punching him in the chest, he pushed me onto the
ground." She shrugs.

Hanging onto the edge of the seat, Quinn frowns.

"And then?"

"And then he stopped. His gang of assholes told him

to stop,' she shrugs again. They lapse into silence.

Quinn starts to say something, but she doesn't know

what to say. She turns to look at the girl beside her.
With her knees pulled up tight against her chest and
her chin resting on them, Rachel's damp hair, still with
flecks of pink in it, covers her face partially. The look
on her face is pensive, tired and hopeless at the same
time. It occurs to Quinn that Rachel had vaguely the
same look on her face as when she found out she
was pregnant. She had sat on the bathroom floor in
the same pose, staring at the stick with that same
look on her face.

Quinn knows what the look signifies. It signifies a

complete lack of dreams, of hope. It signifies giving
up on the inside. She sighs.

"C'mon, Rachel. Let's go make sure Figgins does his

job properly,' she says soberly, holding her hand out.

Rachel furrows her eyebrows and looks up and

Quinn. Then she takes Quinn's hand and pulls herself
up. "Okay,' she says quietly.

I used those three songs because 'When It All Falls

Apart' is basically the theme. Everything's falling apart
in this shithole of a school. Which is kind of
depressing, but I'm kind of depressed and I'm sorry.
'Teenagers' reflects the anger in the chapter. 'Left
Outside Alone' is about Rachel and how she's always
left alone. That one is just sad.

I'm not quite happy about how Mad World is going. I

feel like I'm in a rut and the story is rambling on with
its own life, making no sense. I might take a hiatus
and come back. I don't know. Tell me, should I keep
going where I'm going or stop and wait? Also, this
was my shortest chapter so far. Again, I'm sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the songs. I only own

my plot, my own work, and some characters like
Phoebe and Amanda.
Note: I've decided not to be a depressed shithead
who wrote things that made people cry. Who knew it
was that easy to not be a depressed shithead? Huh.
Learn something new every day, eh? Hopefully, you'll
enjoy this chapter.

As the two girls walk towards Figgins' office, Quinn

suddenly smiles ironically. "Hey Rachel. This isn't very
funny, but remember when you told me Glee wasn't
dangerous?" She raises an eyebrow at the girl
walking by her side and holding her hand loosely.
"Funny, cause look at my hand,' she shrugs her right
shoulder, 'and look at uh, look at you."

At first Rachel turns to look at Quinn expressionlessly,

but then she rolls her eyes slightly and a ghost of a
smile flits across her lips. "It's true,' she comments,
then suddenly lets out a giggle. Quinn glances at
Rachel curiously. She knows her lame attempt at a
joke wasn't funny at all. The giggle turns into laughter,
which proceeds to quickly turn into full-blown,
unstoppable laughter… And eventually somehow
turns into Rachel Berry standing in the middle of the
hallway, sobbing hysterically into Quinn Fabray's polo
shirt.

Quinn leans her back against a locker, pulling Rachel

with her. "Shh,' she murmurs, gently rubbing the
brunette on her back, 'it'll be okay, I promise."
Rachel's entire body trembles and she clutches at
Quinn's shirt.
"How will it be okay, Quinn? Tell me. How? This will
never end. This is something they think they have to
do. This is something they think they're obligated to
do. And after they've done it, they enjoy it." Rachel
chokes on a sob. "How will it be okay?" she whispers
weakly.

At a loss for words, Quinn just holds the shorter girl as

she gasps for breath and tears stream down her face.
She struggles to control her own tears. This wasn't
her time to cry. She can feel the tears pooling in her
eyes, but she blinks them back. She swallows the
lump in her throat and hugs Rachel tighter. She
couldn't break down right now.

After a few minutes, Quinn could feel the brunette

calming down. Her breathing was less erratic and her
tears had almost stopped. Quinn reached into her
inside jacket pocket which made Rachel flinch, since
she was the one wearing the jacket. "Sorry,' Quinn
muttered, and pulled out a packet of tissues. Rachel
takes them and cleans her face as best as she can.
She points at Quinn's shirt. "I'm sorry,' she says
hoarsely.

"It's just a shirt, Rachel. Consider it payment for all the

shirts of yours that I ruined,' Quinn says, semi-
seriously.

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because

Rachel's lower lip trembles and her eyes blur with
tears again. Quinn quickly brushes the tears away
with her thumb and says, "I'm kidding. Really, it's fine.
It's just a shirt."

Rachel nods and turns away, rubbing her eyes with

the back of her hand. Quinn lets them girl breathe
slowly for a while, and then she asks, "Are you
ready?"

Rachel nods again and shyly grasps Quinn's hand

tightly in hers. Quinn smiles lightly and walks slowly
with the brunette until they reach Figgins' office. The
secretary just gives Rachel a onceover and points
them through. They can see a hulking Karofsky sitting
in front of Figgins and Mr. Schuester. Mr. Schuester
looks tired and frustrated, and Figgins looks furious.

"Wait,' the secretary calls out. The two girls turn

around, Rachel's free hand already on the door. "Miss
Berry, I called your parents. Mr. Berry is performing a
surgery but Mr. uh, Mr. Hiram Berry is coming over
right now." Her eyebrows furrow slightly.

"Thanks,' Rachel mutters, and then she pushes the

door open.

She stands in the doorway, her legs not taking her in.
It's only when Quinn squeezes past her and tugs her
in gently that she follows. Quinn brings Rachel to
stand next to Mr. Schuester, and she puts herself on
the other side of Rachel.

Rachel stares into Karofsky's red-rimmed eyes and

feels herself tremble with mild anger. Quinn wraps her
arm around Rachel's shoulders, seemingly
unconsciously. Rachel's shaking slows.

Figgins coughs and everyone's eyes snap to him. "Mr.

Karofsky, would you care to repeat what you said
earlier for us?" His voice is thinner and tenser than
any of the students have ever heard before.

Karofsky sighs and leans back against the chair. He

stares at the fountain pen on Figgins' desk and avoids
eye contact with everyone, especially Rachel, as he
speaks. "My brother, Renn, found out that I got beat
by a pregnant chick yesterday, and he thought it was
embarrassing. And it was, y'know, cause he's this
stupid hardass dealing shit and his brother's getting
shit from a girl. But he just laughed and this morning
he gave me a bottle of crap and told me to drink it and
start actin' like a man. So I drank it. It made me feel
really like, crazy and stuff, like nothing mattered and I
could do whatever the hell I wanted and it'd be fine."

Quinn reflexively clenches her fists. Mr. Schuester

scowls and stares out the glass doors. Rachel just
focuses on not fainting.

"And I was angry, y'know? So I came to school and I

did the usual shit I did, except with more stuff. And
then like, we found this pot of paint over by the
bleachers and I think it was prolly Ms. Sylvester who
was gonna use it, but we nicked it, me an' the guys.
Then I saw Berry walking across the field, so I
grabbed her to where the paint was and the guys
dumped it on her. It was just paint, y'know? Nothing
happened." Karofsky added defensively.

Quinn abruptly lets go of Rachel and slams her fist

into Karofsky's arm. He looks prepared to fight her,
but Figgins snaps for them to grow up and stop acting
like children. Quinn lets out an angry grunt and says,
"You conveniently left out the part where you almost
raped her, huh, Karofsky?"

And suddenly the blood is pounding in Rachel's ears.

It hadn't been real until someone said it. And now
Quinn had. The blonde seemed to realize that Rachel
was on the point of hyperventilating again. "Rachel,'
she mutters, at a loss for words yet again. The
brunette just grabs her around the waist and presses
her face into Quinn's shoulder.

Over the top of her head, Quinn and Karofsky are

locked in a glaring contest. Mr. Schuester gives
Figgins a quick look and coughs. "We didn't quite
believe Mercedes, Kurt and Tina when they told us."

Figgins nods. Karofsky squirms uncomfortably in his

seat. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to do it. I
was like, crazy and shit. I didn't know what I was
doing,' he protests weakly. He looks horror-stricken. "I
swear to god, Berry, I wasn't thinking! I just like,
wanted to kiss you and I kind of... I'm sorry, I swear."

Quinn shakes her head at him, scowling angrily. "Like

anyone's going to believe that,' she states coldly.

Just then, a burly, blonde man marches into the

office. He bears a striking resemblance to Dave
Karofsky and he holds an iPhone in one hand.
Everyone immediately knows he is the infamous
Harrod Karofsky. Well-known as a criminal defence
lawyer who almost always won his cases, even in the
face of blatant evidence and witnesses. Rich,
corrupted, but slyly smart, always a few steps ahead
of the law. He walks confidently to Figgins and holds
out a hand. In a smooth, deep voice, he says,
"Principal Figgins, I assume. It's a pleasure to meet
you, though perhaps the circumstances are not ideal."
He smiles, as though he had made a joke, and as
though there isn't a broken-looking teenager standing
not 5 feet away from him.

Reluctantly, Figgins shakes his hand. Harrod

Karofsky gives Mr. Schuester a quick look before
glancing at the two girls. The man looks at him with
barely-disguised disgust, but he surmises that he's
nothing to worry about. The short brunette is holding
the blonde tightly and is staring at both Karofsky's
with wide, confused eyes. The blonde girl makes him
feel vaguely uncomfortable. It's a feeling he has only
ever felt when he's on the verge of losing a court
case. There is just this look in her eyes that makes
her look like she could take on the world and win, and
even though he is half a foot taller and fifty pounds
heavier than her, he can tell she's the one in the room
he should be wary of.

Plastering a charming smile on his face, he faces

Figgins again. "What's David done this time, eh?" He
pats his son on the shoulder with a large hand,
making Dave wince and move away from his father's
touch. Dave knew what those huge fists could do
when angered.

Figgins clears his throat and begins to speak. "Mr.

Karofsky, your son has committed a several serious
offences. He-"

"Did he cut school? Perhaps a harmless prank? I'm

sure it's nothing as serious as you're making it out to
be, Principal Figgins. If there's something I need to
sign or perhaps a fine I need to pay, could we do it
right now? I've a very busy day ahead of me." Harrod
Karofsky casually slipped a cheque in front of Figgins.
"I trust that will be enough to cover whatever
vandalism my son has thoughtlessly carried out?
David, let's go,' he goes on, pulling his son up by the
arm. Dave looks stunned and confused, but stands
up.

Everyone looks completely confused and incapable of

action. Harrod Karofsky had walked into an out-of-
control situation and taken over it. Figgins stares at
the cheque in his hands. The amount was large
enough to fix several blocks of bathrooms and maybe
repaint a few walls but... He shook his head and put
the cheque down. "Mr. Karofsky,' he began, but was
shot down by a cold look from the older man.

Quinn recovers fast. "Principal Figgins!' she exclaims,

'you can't let him do that! It's illegal, and Dave-"

"Who are you, girl?" Harrod interrupts tiredly. "I am in

no mood for childish problems. I have a client waiting
for me back at the office and I do not need to waste
my time-"

"My name,' Quinn grinds out, speaking louder than

the man, 'is Quinn Fabray, and I've heard about you,
Mr. Harrod Karofsky, plenty of times. If I recall, you've
lost more than a few cases against my father, haven't
you?"

Harrod's countenance changes almost immediately.

His posture stiffens slightly and he looks decidedly
less relaxed. "Fabray, hmm? So what, girl? Cases are
lost, cases are won. It's the way of life."

"Mr. Karofsky,' Figgins loudly interrupts, 'your son this

very morning drank a bottle of what suspect was
alcohol mixed with several drugs, given to him by your
other son, Renn Karofsky, who, I might add, dropped
out of school last year. Mr. David Karofsky then came
to school with a bucket of Slushie and poured it on
Miss Berry here.' He gestures at Rachel, who's
holding tightly to Quinn's hand. 'After that, he found a
pot of pink paint and brought Miss Berry over to
where his friends could throw it on her, after which
he...' Figgins trails off, unsure how to continue.

"After which he tried to rape me,' Rachel finishes in a

hollow voice that seems so loud in the quiet office.

"What?" Hiram Berry asks disbelievingly. He had

come in just in time to hear Rachel speak. No one
had noticed him because Harrod Karofsky had been
blocking the view of the doorway. Immediately,
everyone turns to look at the 6'1" African American.
He had a cold look on his face. "Rachel, baby girl,
could you say that again?" He spits out.

"He tried to rape me,' she swallows and breathes

hard. She had never seen her daddy so angry. He
had always been the calmer one, the steady one, the
one who could face anything and meticulously sort it
all out without batting an eye.

Hiram nods slowly and then looks at Harrod Karofsky.

The two men size each other up and neither like what
they see. Hiram immediately feels a wave of disgust
for the handsome blonde man. There is a glint in his
blue eyes that is both sure of himself and how society
functions to serve him.
As the two men glare at each other, Dave's eyes land
on the short brunette. She is staring right at him, a
mixture of fear and hopelessness in her eyes. He
shakes his head and weakly says, "I'm sorry, Berry. I
swear I didn't know what I was doing." Rachel just
looks at him, then gives an imperceptible nod of her
head.

Quinn frowns and bends to whisper in Rachel ear.

"You can't let him off the hook like that, Rachel, you
can't."

Rachel looks up at the girl who had so painstakingly

taken care of her, the girl who had gone from arch-
enemy to friend to roommate, who had let her cry into
her shoulder, who had held her close and kept her
together and she let a tiny smile out. "Quinn, I-"

"I think we should speak alone, Mr..."

"Berry."

"Mr. Berry. Let's go outside,' Harrod Karofsky says

smoothly.

Hiram's eyes narrow, but he follows the blonde

outside. Figgins blinks and turns to Mr. Schuester.
"William. What on earth just happened?"

Mr. Schuester shrugs. "I have no idea. But you should

deal with Karofsky." Figgins nods and motions for
Karofsky to sit down again, which he does, with
reluctance. "Oh, and you should probably tear that
cheque up, Figgins," Mr. Schuester adds helpfully.

Figgins nods again and quickly tears it in half, his

fingers hesitating for the barest of seconds, and
hands it to the Spanish teacher. "Get rid of it, Schue. I
never want to see it again." He glances at the two
girls. Rachel had her arms around Quinn and was
staring up at her, muttering something. Quinn was
looking at Rachel, confusion evident on her face.
"William, take them with you. I will speak with
Karofsky alone."

Mr. Schuester nods and taps Quinn on her shoulder.

She turns, her eyebrows furrowed and her expression
thoughtful. "We should go,' he said.

Quinn tosses Karofsky an intense, icy look now

mingled with thoughtfulness, and then she pulls
Rachel out of the office. Mr. Schuester gives Karofsky
one last look before he leaves. For some strange
reason, he no longer sees a big blonde bully. He sees
a boy who had been shaped into who he was
unwittingly, a boy who maybe could change. Mr.
Schuester shook his head and left without another
word. Sometimes he really wondered why he didn't
get a less stressful job, like a drug dealer or a lion
tamer.
Down the hallway, the two grown men are locked in a
heated conversation, but they don't look like they are
about to come to blows. Mr. Schuester turns away
from them to look to his left. Rachel is speaking
emphatically to Quinn about something, and the
blonde girl looks thoroughly frustrated. She keeps
trying to cut in, but Rachel is on a roll. That small
Rachelism makes Mr. Schuester smile. Perhaps the
girl wasn't quite as broken as everyone thought. He
knew what it was like to try to convince Rachel of
something she was sure about.

"Girls,' he calls out. They turn to look at him. "Why

don't you take the rest of the day off? I'm sure the
other kids will understand."

The girls nod and Mr. Schuester walks off to the choir
room.

"Rachel, explain to me again why the hell you don't

want to press charges. It's an airtight case! There are
maybe a hundred witnesses in this school who can
back you up. Throwing Slushies on someone is not a
beauty makeover; it's assault. Throwing paint with the
intent to harm is so many times worse. Are you
worried about Harrod Karofsky? I mean, yeah, I know
he's a total asshole, but I could convince my father
to-"

"Quinn, shut up. Listen to yourself. You sound like a

lawyer,' she laughs weakly, 'Look, I understand where
you're coming from, but I don't see the point in
pressing charges. The only thing that will happen is
Karofsky maybe going to juvenile detention, where he
will meet others like him. He would never change. He
apologized, Quinn. That doesn't make it better but-"

"He apologized. Is that it? Just because he said he

was sorry doesn't mean he is. An 'I'm sorry' doesn't
make everything better, Rachel."

"And what about you, Quinn? Are you sorry?" Rachel

prods.

"What?' she taken aback at the sudden change of

topic, 'I mean, yeah, I really am. I never wanted to do
the things I did to you. It was just something that... It
happened, y'know? I was a cheerleader, you were a
Gleek. Social rules and stuff." As soon as Quinn was
finished speaking, Rachel began to nod.

"And that, my dear Quinn, is what I mean. If we go to

trial, and they ask me under oath whether anyone
else was involved in these continued assaults, what
am I supposed to say? Am I to put only Karofsky out
there to be judged, or do I name every single person
who decided one morning to throw a Slushie on the
girl who is always Slushied? I would end up naming
you, Quinn. I gave you a chance and you haven't
proven me wrong so far. I wouldn't be who I was
raised to be if I didn't extend this chance to Dave
Karofsky." Rachel finishes, nodding sagely.
Quinn opens her mouth to protest again, but then she
finally understands. She hadn't been much better than
Karofsky. It had been her who found out how hard
Slushies were to get out of one's clothes when she
accidentally spilled some on herself. It had been her
who suggested someone throw a Slushie on
someone like Rachel to see what would happen. She
had started the Slushie-torture. And if Rachel could
forgive her, wouldn't it be hypocritical for her not to
forgive Dave Karofsky?

Yes, what Karofsky did bordered on unforgivable, but

from what she had seen today, Quinn could see that
Dave Karofsky had a different kind of life at home that
she had. While her parents suffocated her in
perfection, his family was full of crooks and
deceptions and drugs. Each to her and his own. It
was a wonder that he had never committed a serious
crime before this. It wasn't entirely his fault, just like it
wasn't all her fault.

Feeling uncomfortable, Quinn shakes her head. "I

don't like it. You can't prove a point if you let him go
on his merry way like that."

"You don't prove a point by needlessly hurting people,

Quinn. You prove a point by making the first step
towards what you believe in. If you want things to be
equal, you have to believe in equality and
forgiveness. If I don't forgive Karofsky, to me, I'll be
just as bad as him. If I don't give him a chance the
way I gave you a chance, I would be a hypocrite. If I
don't take the first step towards forgiveness, how will
the rest of the school?"

Rachel speaks with conviction, a shine in her eyes,

determination in the set of her shoulders. She doesn't
look beaten down anymore, instead, she reminds
Quinn of the brave men and women who stood up for
what they believed in and got shot in the process. She
looks like a revolutionary. She looks beautiful.

Quinn unconsciously smiles gently and leans her

head down. There is a rushing in her ears and in her
eyes there is a glow around Rachel. She stops her
movement when she comes down face-to-face with
Rachel. Their faces are less than a few inches apart.

Rachel feels her breath hitch. At such a close range, it

hits her that Quinn's eyes, generally described as
hazel, actually only had flecks of hazel. Her eyes
were mostly a beautiful, startling green. Rachel felt
herself getting lost in those eyes. "Quinn...' she
breathes.

Quinn swallows hard, and then she quickly brushes a

light kiss across Rachel's cheek. Blushing furiously,
she straightens up and clears her throat. "You're
really nice, Rachel,' she mutters, still trying
desperately to swallow the lump in her throat. 'Too
nice, if I'm being honest. I just hope you know what
you're doing." For some strange reason, her heart is
beating wildly against her chest, begging to be
released into the world.

Disappointed, Rachel just shrugs. "It's better than

fighting, Quinn. Fighting for world peace is one of the
most ironic sayings in the world. If you want world
peace, then don't use guns or fists. Use your actions."
She turns away, feeling her cheek burn when Quinn's
lips had been for a grand total of one second.

Coughing awkwardly, Quinn cups Rachel's hand in

her own, back to palm. Rachel's palm is slightly
smaller and her fingers are slim and proportionate,
just the right length. It fits in her palm almost perfectly.
Shyly, she says, "Your hands aren't manly at all,
Rachel."

Rachel smiles back. She understood that with those

words, Quinn was taking back all the horrible things
she had said before. She was apologizing for
everything bad she had done and she was hoping
that Rachel would extend her forgiveness to her.
"They aren't, are they?" And with those words, she
was accepting Quinn as a new person. She was
accepting Quinn Fabray. Not Quinn Charlotte Fabray
the perfect daughter, or Quinn the cheerleader, or
pregnant Quinn. No, she was accepting Quinn
Fabray, defender of tortured, talented and short
brunettes.
Their moment is broken by a heavy shuffling of feet.
Two pairs of feet. Quinn abruptly lets go of Rachel's
hand. They turn to see Principal Figgins and Dave
Karofsky walking towards them.

"Miss Berry, if you could accompany us? There is

something that needs to be said, and I would like you
to be there." Figgins sounds older than Rachel had
ever heard him.

Rachel nods and follows behind Figgins and Karofsky

to where her father is glaring at Harrod Karofsky.

"Liar."

"Faggot."

"Criminal."

"Faggot."

"Bastard."

"Mr. Berry, Mr. Karofsky! Perhaps we could remain

civil?" Figgins quickly interjects.

"Of course, Principal Figgins. If I could just take my

son I can be away and I won't even press charges
against these vile accusations. Without proof, this is
all slander." Harrod Karofsky informs them all.
Dave Karofsky looks ashamed. "Dad, cut it out. Just...
stop it."

Harrod looks thunderstruck, but quickly regains his

composure. "Keep quiet boy, you don't know what
you're doing."

"Yes, I do, Dad. I've been expelled; we can go now.

Just stop it." Dave Karofsky sounds resigned and
regretful.

"You- what? You're expelled? For what, I'd like to

know." Harrod turns to glare at Figgins.

"Your son has been expelled for repeated incidents of

bullying that include throwing Slushies, food and spit
balls at many other students and also certain
teachers. He has also repeatedly targeted his assault
at Miss Rachel Berry and time and time again caused
her distress. Today it all came to a climax when he
decided to up his bullying and ended up almost trying
to rape a fellow student. He was also under the
influence of unidentified substances provided by his
brother. Had his friends not been there to stop him,
who knows what he would have done?

"I simply cannot have these shenanigans in my

school, Mr. Karofsky. He is a bad influence on the
other children and as Principal, I have a responsibility
to those children."
Harrod Karofsky gapes and then glares stonily from
Figgins to his son. His lips curl in disgust. "Go get
your things, boy. I'll meet you in the car. You don't
need this school,' he says coldly before turning
around and stalking out of the school.

Hiram hurries over to Rachel's side and embraces

her. "Oh, baby girl, are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Daddy. Can you let go of me, though?"

Rachel asks firmly. Hiram steps back and looks at his
daughter curiously.

He watches as she tells her principal that "To err is

human, to forgive divine. I don't want Dave Karofsky
expelled. Give him another chance, Principal Figgins.
I don't want to press charges, and I won't make things
hard." He exchanges a glance with Quinn, who just
shrugs and looks resigned. "She said what Karofsky
did to her was rather less severe than what Puck did
to me. I don't know; she's your daughter."

Hiram Berry watches as Figgins frowns in thought,

then nods and says, "Very well, Miss Berry. Mr.
Karofsky, you will assist Mr. Kinley the janitor in his
duties for the three months every day for three hours
after school. You will also have detention for three
months after that, and you will be suspended from the
team until the end of the year. And if I ever receive
reports again, Mr. Karofsky, I don't care how many
students ask me to let you stay. I will expel you. Miss
Berry, is that satisfactory?" he asks, turning to Rachel.

Hiram frowns because he feels that no, it wasn't

satisfactory at all, but then his daughter nods with a
sureness in her eyes and he knows that though he is
the adult, the choice is not his to make. And even
though what he really wants to do is give the blonde
jock a good thrashing, he feels a strange surge of
pride at how his daughter is handling the situation.

Rachel stands in front of the tall teen and nervously

extends her arm forward.

Karofsky looks confused for a moment, then he

reaches out to grasp her hand gently. "Thanks Berry.
And... I'm sorry. Really, I am,' he says sincerely. His
eyes are still red-rimmed and he looks vaguely
woozy, but Rachel could see that behind his tired blue
eyes, there really was remorse in them, and that was
enough for her. He let go of her hand. "I know you
probably don't really believe me but

"You can totally throw stuff on me whenever you want

and you can like, hit me, if you want,' Karofsky offers.

Rachel smiles thinly. "I haven't quite forgiven you yet,

Karofsky. I still don't like you, and if you ever do
anything even close to what you almost did today, I
won't ever forgive you, and not even your father will
be able to get you out of all the lawsuits piled on you.
On the other hand, I don't at all believe that violence
is the answ-'

Karofsky yelps as a Quinn's fist slugs him hard in the

shoulder. Then she does it again, then Rachel grabs
at her hand. She wonders how the blonde appeared
next to her so suddenly, but then she frowns.

"Quinn!" she scolds.

"What?' Quinn shrugs and flexes her left hand,

shaking it out. 'He's the one who offered."

Karofsky throws Quinn a fake smile, and then he rolls

his shoulders. "S'okay, Berry. I offered. So like,
thanks, y'know. I gotta go or my dad's gonna come in
here and kill me." He quickly turns and jogs down the
hallway.

Figgins nods to Hiram before gesturing at his office.

Hiram nods. "Girls, I'll meet you back at the house,
okay? Quinn, make sure she gets home."

"Yessir, Mr. Berry,' she replies, wrapping an arm

around Rachel loosely and pulling the girl to follow
her. Rachel waves at her father and pulls back at
Quinn, saying something about her bag.

Hiram watches them walk away from him and he

smirks slyly. Whether they yet knew it or not... He
shakes his head to dislodge his thoughts. He could've
been wrong, after all. Looking at the world through
rainbow-tinted glasses did have its drawbacks. Who
knew, really, about these things? Anything could
happen. He follows Figgins back to his office, where
he sits through a half hour's worth of apologies and
assurances. He lets himself look faintly unsatisfied,
but inside he ponders on everything he had seen in
the past half hour. No, he probably wasn't wrong.
Still... It really was useless to ponder so much on his
daughter's love life, but he was her gay dad, after all.
What else was he supposed to wonder about?

I think the song title is rather self-explanatory. Let it

be, y'know? I'm on this stupid don't hate people
forever kick; I'm sure it'll pass soon.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed for the last chapter

and told me to keep writing. I really hope you like this.
Feedback?

I'd just like to head you off before you tell me about
how Karofsky doesn't deserve Rachel's forgiveness. I
agree. He doesn't. But Rachel thinks he does. She's
amazing; I'd marry her in a heartbeat. Er.. Back to my
point. Rachel forgives everyone, which is pretty scary.
Also, Karofsky never actually did anything, to be
honest. He never actually touched her in any way. So,
y'know, give him a chance. Boyfriends in high school
have done worse to their girlfriends than what
Karofsky did to Rachel.

Edit: Yes, I agree with you, firetiger. I am in no way

condoning their actions. People who take advantage
of either their boyfriends or girlfriends should be shot.
I was just trying to point out that before anyone tells
me Karofsky is pure evil, I'd like to point out that he is,
after all, a high school boy. I've read a lot of true
stories where people admit to their boyfriends
drunkenly or soberly *forcing* them to have sex and
they end up not only not breaking up but some even
get married. Go figure. Thanks for reviewing, btw.

Okay, I give up. Tell me how much you still don't like
the guy.

I wrote this chapter, then I decided I didn't quite like it,

left it a week or so, came back, edited it, decided I
wasn't going to change much and then... Posted it.
Leave me some love, yeh?

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the songs. I only own

my plot, my own work, and some characters like
Phoebe and Amanda.
Note:Things I'll Never Say' by Avril Lavigne. Also,
3,333. Most awesome fanfic-writing moment of my
life. And I've upped the rating to 'M', just in case. This
chapter isn't very 'M', though.

"Are you hungry?" Quinn asks while pulling out of the

parking lot. Clearly, Quinn was the better driver, so
now Quinn drove Rachel's car when they were
together. Rachel had had no say in the matter.
Besides, Quinn no longer had a car. Hers was
probably in the driveway, unless her dad had already
gotten rid of it, and she didn't particularly look forward
to asking her mother for the car.

"Not really. I actually feel strangely sleepy. I believe

the stress of the entire day has finally caught up to
with me and now my body is responding my sending
me signals to go to sleep and recuperate and- Quinn,
why are you humming?" Confused, Rachel inclines
her head to look at Quinn, who was indeed humming
what sounded suspiciously like Pink's 'So What'.

Quinn smirks and then glances at Rachel innocently.

"Humming? Was I? I didn't realise. I have been told I
unconsciously start humming when people start
elaborating too much, though."

Rachel takes the good-natured jibe in stride and

smiles. "No, Quinn, I'm not hungry."

Quinn gasps and Rachel frantically asks, "What?"

"You spoke for less than 10 seconds!"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Kidding. Go to sleep, Rachel. I'll wake you when

we're back at the house. I wouldn't, but I can't carry
you into the-" Quinn shuts up when she sees Rachel
has already slumped into the car seat and has her
eyes closed, breathing evenly.
Ten minutes later, only a repetitive poking of Rachel's
shoulder and calling of her name manages to rouse
the girl from her sleep. Quinn stands at the open door
and catches the small girl when she almost topples
over in her bleary state. She uses a foot to close the
door and lets Rachel, still half-asleep, lean against
her going into the house.

"Bed,' Rachel mumbles, 'tired."

Quinn wonders whether having the girl speak fewer

sentences was worth dragging her up the stairs.
However, with a little bit of effort to raise her feet
sometimes on Rachel's part, Quinn manages to get
Rachel to her room. The brunette immediately curls
up on the bed.

"I'm gonna go make you something to drink, okay,

Rachel?" She has this weird memory of Phoebe
always making her hot chocolate when her parents
were being useless. It used to help her, until she
could no longer drink hot chocolate on a regular basis
because Sue Sylvester trained a wolfhound to sniff it
out.

"Don't wanna chocolate, wanna pillow,' Rachel

mumbles into her pillow. Quinn grins and leaves the
room, letting the girl snuggle into her pillow in private.

The moment Quinn steps out of the room, Rachel

sighs quietly. This thing will Quinn, whatever it was,
was developing rather quickly. Quinn only had to
touch her lightly to make her heartbeat start to race.
Her emotions had always been a little too... strong.
She turns onto her back and stares up at her ceiling.
Glow-in-the-dark stars gaze back down at her. For
once she doesn't find it at all comforting. Rachel
groans and turns onto her side. Then she keeps
turning until Quinn walks back in.

She watches through half-lidded eyelids as Quinn

slips into the room again, a mug in each hand. Quinn
sets one mug down next to Rachel's bed, on the
bedside table. She abruptly loses her view of the
blonde but feels a tugging at her shoes before her
feet come free. When nothing happens after that,
Rachel dares to open one eye. Quinn was gazing
down at her with a slightly frustrated, confused look
on her face. There was some strange emotion in the
other girl's eyes.

Afraid that the blonde was about to regress and dump

another liquid on her, except this was hot chocolate
and would hurt a lot more, Rachel blurts out her
name. "Quinn?"

Quinn blinks and seems to come out of her reverie.

Rachel wriggles into an upright position, her back
against the headboard, and pulls her knees against
her. She smiles gratefully when Quinn hands her the
'Wicked' mug. Rachel holds it in two hands and sips
slowly, before grinning widely and saying, "Vanilla and
mini-marshmallows, Quinn?"

"I found them next to the cocoa powder. I figured you

were probably the one who bought it so I chucked it
in," Quinn mutters distractedly. She finds herself
looking around the room mindlessly. She doesn't even
know what's wrong with her. All she knew was that
she was suddenly replaying in her mind again and
again how she kissed Rachel on the cheek. It was just
a kiss on the cheek! Friends did that all the time. So
did parents. It was a gesture meant to provide
comfort, right? And Rachel needed comforting at the
time, didn't she? Right.

"Hello, Quinn? Are you there?" Rachel calls yet again.

Quinn shakes her head and nods. "Sorry. I'll go and

let you get to sleep." She turns to leave.

"Quinn, wait,' the words slip out before she can reel
them back in. "Stay with me for a while?" She pats the
bed.

Inwardly, Quinn fights a raging battle with herself.

Friends shared beds all the time, didn't they? Santana
and Brittany shared a bed all the time. That was a bad
example. She'd shared a bed with the two of them
before and it hadn't been weird at all. She wasn't even
going to sleep there, just stay with Rachel for a little
while. The girl had been through a lot and now Quinn
was just being a good friend, right?

Crap, now she was over-analysing.

But if it had been Brittany or Santana asking her for a

little bit of comfort, not that Santana ever would
except for the one time her dog died right after
Brittany decided it would be a good idea to kiss Mike
Chang, she would have been there without any
hesitation. And Rachel was... She was trying to be a
good friend to Rachel, and that meant treating her the
same way she treated Brittany and Santana. So why
was she hesitating?

"I mean, you don't have to, because obviously you

have homework to do, I'm sure." Rachel is rambling
again. And there, the perfect excuse. Homework. She
actually did have homework to finish. But then she
caught the flash of disappointment and dejection in
Rachel eyes and felt her desire to do homework
shrivel up into a tiny ball.

When she climbs onto the bed without warning,

Rachel squeals and sets her mug back on the table
because Quinn's foot had somehow caught the
underside of Rachel's and, unbeknownst to Quinn,
that was the most ticklish spot on her entire body.

Confused, Quinn settles into the spot next to Rachel.

"What?"
Blushing, Rachel hurriedly shakes her head. "Nothing.
Nothing at all. I didn't just squeal into your ear
because-" She cuts herself off abruptly.

"Because...?" Quinn presses, curious.

"I'm just... extremely ticklish there,' she admits. She

fully regrets the decision to tell Quinn this when the
blonde runs her foot over the same spot. Repeatedly.

"Quinn! Don't! I can't- Quinn!" Grinning, Quinn finally

pulls away and lets the brunette breathe through her
abating laughter.

It's as though the tension Quinn felt had melted away

with Rachel's laughter. She finds that she's suddenly
a lot more comfortable in the bed than she was a few
minutes ago. She turns on her side and watches in
amusement as Rachel calms down from her laughing
fit. Rachel smiles awkwardly at her and rolls her eyes
before picking up her mug again.

"Rachel, do you want to maybe talk about it?" The

question had just slipped out. She hadn't meant to ask
Rachel to once more relive the entire stressful day but
she had been curious as to how the girl could be so...
Rachel. There just wasn't any other way to describe it.

Misinterpreting and almost choking, Rachel splutters

out, "Talk about what?" Surely Quinn hadn't realised
that...
"Karofsky,' Quinn blurts out. "If you feel like you need
to talk about it." She looks uncomfortable.

"To be honest, Quinn,' Rachel says slowly, 'I don't feel

traumatised. I'm expected to feel that way, but I don't.
What he did to me isn't as bad as what he could have
done and could have been far worse. Compared to so
many other women I got off easy. I prefer to think of
myself as one of the lucky ones and just put it all
behind me and move on." She takes a sip of her drink
before softly continuing to say, "And it's hard to feel
afraid or depressed when you're here with me. It's
nice to have a friend," she ends in a whisper.

Quinn blinks rapidly to dispel the wetness in her eyes,

but that just makes the tears come faster. She roughly
rubs her tears away. Hormones. That had to be it.

"Why are you crying?"

Quinn shrugs and Rachel asks back, "Do you want to

talk about it?"

"About what?" Quinn shoots back defensively.

"About whatever you wish. You seem distracted and

worried about something. You also reacted far too
defensively than if there was nothing to talk about."
Rachel shrugs, mimicking Quinn's actions. "All I
meant, Quinn, is that you can talk to me if you want. I
won't judge you. I've been through years of being
judged and it's nothing new to me, but it's taught me
not to judge others. There's no point in it."

"Stop spewing wisdom at every turn, Berry. It's

beginning to make me think you're some kind of
centuries-old guru reborn into an annoying teenager's
body," Quinn quips to lighten the mood.

Rachel giggles and snuggles into her blanket. "I'm

sorry I'm smart, Quinn."

Quinn rolls her eyes and flicks the brunette on her

arm. "Go to sleep, guru."

Rachel flips over to stare Quinn in the eyes. Seriously

and apprehensively, she asks, "Will you leave me?"

There is a hidden question in her words. The most

obvious being whether Quinn would leave her alone
right after her traumatic experience that apparently
wasn't that traumatic. But Quinn senses that Rachel is
also asking the question in a much broader sense.
Was Quinn going to leave her when everything was
over? Was Quinn going to go back to the top and
leave Rachel in the pit of loneliness?

She doesn't know, but an honest answer lies on the

tip of her tongue and it blurts itself out before she can
stop or over-think it. "I don't think I can."
It seems to have been the right thing to say because
Rachel smiles winningly before closing her eyes to go
to sleep. "Thank you,' she whispers, burying her face
into her pillow. She is unaware of the intent, confused
stare Quinn gives her before the blonde also drifts off
to sleep. One sentence keeps replaying itself in her
mind on a continuous loop, her mantra instead of
counting sheep: 'It's nice to have a friend.'

She knows it is a dream. It has to be. How else could

she be standing on utter blackness, an empty void,
and not fall? But it a weird dream. She sees Santana,
Brittany holding her from behind and her chin on the
Latina's shoulder, standing with her hands perched on
her hips. "Q,' Santana barks, (literally, she barks like a
dog, but Quinn understands what she's saying), 'We
love you, seriously, but if you don't get over your
stupid obsession over being straight, I will tell Sue
Sylvester you were the one who scraped the paint off
her car while you were reversing."

It's hard for Quinn to talk because her mouth is full of

marbles. She can taste the cold glass on her tongue,
but somehow manages to warble out, "Wha?"

"Get over it already, Quinn! You're the most repressed

le-"

Quinn opens her eyes, blinking hard. She had had the
strangest dream. Santana had been telling her she
was a pressed lemon. That was... interesting. Then
she squints, because it seems she's still dreaming.
Santana and Brittany, in the exact same pose from
her dream, are standing in Rachel's bedroom
doorway. She closes her eyes to slip back into her
dream and maybe learn something about how she
was a pressed lemon.

"Wake your pregnant lard ass up, Quinn. Don't make

me walk over there. I don't want Berry germs."

Quinn groans. That was no dream. It was the real

Santana Lopez, through and through. "What are you
doing here?" She complains, automatically shifting
closer to the source of her warmth and snuggling into
it.

"Well, I was here to annoy you, but I see you're busy

with your afterglow. Should I leave you in case you
want to have sex under the sheets? Oh god, Q, you're
not naked under there, are you?" Santana smirks as
the blush rises rapidly from Quinn's neck up to her
hairline when she realises the warm thing she was
cuddling up against is actually Rachel Berry. She
hurriedly detaches her arm from around the brunette's
waist, wincing at the stiffness coming from her injured
right arm. Stupid arms.

She tries to push herself away from Rachel but ends

up slipping off the bed onto the floor. "Ow! Bitch!" she
exclaims.
Her cry wakes Rachel up, who up till now had been
comfortably asleep in her dream of graciously
accepting an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony
Award at the same time. It was a recurring dream she
had. She curiously turns to see that there are two
Cheerios standing in her doorway, though they're not
in their uniforms. She finds that she's weirdly amused
about this. She'd thought their Cheerios uniforms
were soldered to their skin. But they're in jeans and
matching t-shirts, though Santana's was black and
Brittany was in red. Quinn was right. How had she not
noticed they were dating?

"What are you doing here? In my house? In my

bedroom?"

Santana sighs in annoyance. She wonders why she

even bothered, but then she sees her girlfriend pulling
Quinn up from the floor and she remembers. Brittany
had innocently asked her out on a walk, and she had
walked to this house. God, she was so whipped.

"We came to look for you,' Brittany explains, brushing

Quinn off.

"Yeah, we came to look for you, you blonde bimbo

Barbie. Then Berry's dads liked me so much they
adopted me and told me that I was supposed to have
this room. I guess they forgot they already had a kid.
Also, dinner in twenty minutes," Santana says
sarcastically.
Rachel slumps back onto the bed before pulling the
blanket over herself. "Wake me up in 15 minutes,' she
grumbles.

"Adorable, isn't she?" Brittany comments before

flinging herself onto the bed and patting Rachel on the
head affectionately. "You're so annoying!" Quinn
growls as she smacks Santana in the arm, ignoring
Brittany.

"San, Quinn, stop antagonising each other. It's

beginning to get on my nerves. You know you love
each other; there is no need to hide behind a mask of
forced companionship. We're not in school, so chill
out," Brittany commands. Santana and Quinn
grudgingly stop harassing each other and Santana
pouts at Brittany before climbing into her arms, not
seeming to care that Rachel is staring at them while
stuttering unintelligibly.

"You'll have to speak up, Rachel. I couldn't quite catch

that," Brittany smiles wickedly. In response, Rachel
can only gape at the snuggling couple on her bed. On
her bed. Brittany said 'antagonising' and 'forced
companionship'. Brittany and Santana were snuggling
on her bed. Brittany was verbose. The sky was falling.

Santana chuckles as Quinn grins. "I might have

forgotten to mention this in all the excitement, but
Brittany is smart, Rachel."
"But Brittany... She's... She... She's adorably stupid!
She's dumber yet still cuter than Finn. At least, she's
supposed to be,' Rachel mutters.

"I wholeheartedly agree with the adorable part, but the

stupid part is only what you see, Rach,' Brittany
explains as she draws random shapes on Santana's
bare arm. "When you pretend to be an idiot and not
understand what people say, they speak simply. It
saves me from long-winded speeches because they
think I'll never understand. Except you, though. You
still say far too many things to me even though you
think I'm an idiot. Also, they show their true colours.
They assume that you don't understand their insults
because you're stupid."

"For example, I've learned that Artie can be kind of a

dick to people who he thinks aren't as smart as him. It
makes him feel better about himself because of his
disability. We have legs; he has brains and things like
that. Basically, it gives him something to gloat about,
and gloat he does." Brittany grimaces and, mockingly,
she imitates him. "Failed Spanish, hmm? Oh well. I
can't say I'm surprised. Now I'll roll, roll, roll away
because I'm a pacifist and I don't like conflict. Roll,
roll, roll." She mimes throwing up. "Just because no
one else knows about my 26 public speaking
awards-"

"39 dancing awards, 10 swimming medals, nine

English essay writing competition grand prize winning
essays-" Santana continues.

"Six short story Scholastic awards for six consecutive

years until she stopped entering, 2 dogs, one
hamster, and diploma in the piano-" Quinn drones on.

"And a partridge in a pear tree!" Santana sings to

finish off.

Rachel looks like she is about to faint. Brittany has the

grace to blush. "My mom likes to brag. Often,' she
mumbles. Santana laughs against her collarbone.
Quinn chuckles and starts struggling out of her
clothes into a t-shirt and shorts. She'd forgotten to
change before falling into bed with Rachel. Wow that
sounded bad. She blushes again and faces away
from her friends.

Rachel blinks rapidly and looks away from Quinn's

pale, smooth skin to find Brittany smirking knowingly
at her. She clears her throat and hurriedly says, "So,
to clarify, you're actually a genius but you enjoy
pretending to be dimwit to get inside people's heads
because you find it amusing."

"Yup!" Brittany agrees cheerfully.

"You and Santana are dating, but you're not out."

"Oh, we're out. It's not our fault the whole club is
fucking dense and blind to everything except their
own inconsequential problems,' Santana rants,
'They're all idiots. If they don't want to see what's
under their stupid noses, whatever."

Rachel nods, trying to wrap her head around it all.

"Stop stating the obvious, Rachel,' Quinn laughs,

earning her a glare from Santana.

The diva frowns thoughtfully, then adds, "Quinn is

pregnant with Puck's devil's spawn."

Santana lets out a bark of laughter while Quinn just

rolls her eyes. Brittany giggles and pokes Rachel in
her side. "Diva's got a sense of humour, huh?"

"Miss Airhead actually is Miss Know It All, huh? And

Miss Talent. And Miss Looks. And Miss Legs. Oh no, I
didn't just say that aloud." Rachel clamps her hands
over her mouth.

Santana hits Rachel on the head with a pillow while

Brittany guffaws. "Do not perv on my girlfriend, Berry,
or I swear to god I will cut you. Get your own damn
girlfriend to perv on."

Rachel nods hurriedly and glances from Quinn to the

entangled couple next to her. They were wound so
tightly against each other it was hard to tell who was
who. It hits her that just last week, the same three
girls had asked her whether she was going to go to
the prom for losers in Loserville, United States of
Argyle. Brittany was actually smart. Brittany and
Santana were actually BrittanyandSantana. Quinn
Fabray was living in her house. It's a mad, mad world,
this world of hers.

A t-shirt suddenly hits her in the face and she lets out
a squeal of protest.

"Get changed, Berry. I want my jacket back. And I

want to eat dinner. We'll meet you downstairs,' Quinn
commands, hauling the two Cheerios to their feet.

Rachel can only nod.

Pressed lemons are yummy. ;)

'Things I'll Never Say' by Avril Lavigne. I used this

song because there are so many things that they both
want to say but don't know how to say because they
don't quite know what they actually mean to say. And
if you understood all that, high-five!

Liked this chapter, hated it, loathed it, loved it, tell me,
aye? Someone asked for fluff, and I don't quite know
if I delivered. Also, sorry for the length. I'll try to make
the next chapter longer.

Note: Lost - Katy Perry

"Yesterday was rather strange,' Rachel comments.

"Not for me,' Quinn brakes abruptly into a parking lot

under a tall tree. There were only a few shaded
parking lots and most were usually taken by the time
they got there, but they are 20 minutes earlier than
usual this morning. "They're like that all the time.
Eventually you'll get over Santana being so
completely whipped and Brittany so… not the Brittany
you know."

"So, are you girls together in glee club? You're all

friends?" Hiram asks as he passes the mashed
potatoes to Rachel, who was sitting on his left. Rachel
freezes for the barest second before wordlessly
passing the bowl to Quinn, on her left, without taking
any.

Brittany and Santana, on the opposite side of the

table, glance at each other discreetly. Curious, Leroy
accepts the bowl from Quinn with a raised eyebrow.

Clearing her throat as Leroy passes her the bowl,

Brittany simply replies, "Yessir." Santana's eyes
widen marginally, but she makes no comment as
Brittany grins and scoops a heap of potatoes onto her
plate. Rachel pauses halfway through her broccoli,
but out of the corner of her eye, Quinn sees the slight
smile that flickers on her face.

Hiram chuckles and waves off the 'sir'. "None of that

'sir' business in this house, you hear me, missy?"
Brittany grins and nods.

Leroy frowns slightly at Santana, who tries her best to

not roll her eyes and glare back. Survival instinct
would always be survival instinct. "Santana Lopez, am
I right?" Santana just nods. Leroy relaxes slightly, and
says, "I know your father. He came in once early last
year for a broken leg, right?"

"Yeah. He fell out of our tree. He still has the scar, but
he walks just as fast as ever from the kitchen to the
couch." This elicits some laughter from the adults and
a fond smile from Brittany at her girlfriend being
friendly, but Quinn frowns. With her spoon still stuck
in her mouth, she curiously states, "I never heard that
story."

"He was getting rid of the old planks in the tree house
and putting new ones in because it was beginning to
get old and dangerous. And slightly moldy. Which was
dangerous, because we're bigger than we were 13
years ago, obviously." Quinn cocks her head at
Santana's slightly nervous rambling. That girl never
got nervous or rambled. Then Brittany speaks and
Quinn understands.

"Also, a lot of the 'moving around' we did up there

damaged the place a bit,' Brittany adds casually.

Hiram and Leroy burst into laughter while Rachel and

Quinn just blush. Santana has the grace to look
completely mortified, but she relaxes and flushes
when Brittany turns to give her a quick kiss on the
cheek.

Still curious about how Rachel was friends with the

other girls, Leroy steers the conversation back
nonchalantly. "You're all friends in school, then? You
girls 'hang out' together?" He takes a sip of his juice,
unaware of the rapid blinks the three cheerleaders
were passing each other. Rachel looks up from her
carrots, uncharacteristically not saying a word. She
wonders how they are going to be able to answer the
question without lying.

Smiling at Rachel, Brittany just says, "Yeah, Mr.

Berry. We're all friends in school now. We're all in
glee, too." None of the girls miss Rachel's sudden,
brilliant smile. Leroy gives Hiram a look that only
married couples understood, but Hiram shrugs. "Is Mr.
Schuester still trying to sabotage Rachel's future
extremely successful career on Broadway, then?" he
teases, drawing the conversation away and returning
a look to his husband that clearly said, 'Drop it.'

This time, all three girls reply with a "Yeah" in unison.

"Daddy! This is a very serious issue and not meant to
be taken lightly at all!" Rachel exclaims, setting her
fork down with a huff.

Everyone just hides their smiles and go back to

eating. Quinn gives Rachel an extra smirk and a
nudge without knowing why.

"About Brittany… I don't quite understand how she

can act like such an…"

Quinn twists her arm around the steering wheel to

turn the engine off. "Such an idiot?" They get out of
the car and start walking towards the main school
building. Quinn ignores the top of the Cheerio's
pyramid that she can see from where she is. It just
reminds her that she's not there and she would soon
have to confront Sue Sylvester, better known as the
devil in tracksuits, about that.

"Well, if you must use that word, I suppose so. She

should really just be herself. People would stop
thinking of her as a fool and respect her more. Getting
to know people for who they are is fun, sometimes,
but doesn't she get tired of the constant jibes at her
expense?" Rachel plucks Quinn's books from her right
hand. Her left hand isn't much use, being casted.

Quinn makes a grab for her books, but Rachel just

dodges out of the way. "Well?"

"Don't you?" is Quinn's cryptic reply. At Rachel's

confused look, Quinn explains. "People mock you for
being you. They, and by 'they' I mean including me, at
some point, mock you for your dress sense,
personality and talent. Yet today you are clad in a
horrifyingly bright yellow sweater, you still act the
same way, judging by how you wouldn't let me sleep
an extra five minutes this morning, and you were
singing along to Kelly Clarkson earlier in the car.
Would you change all of that, give all that up, to stop
people from mocking you?"

Rachel frowns as she accompanies Quinn to her

locker. "Your logic, put like that, is infallible and
undeniable. Unfortunately, Quinn, the difference is,
I'm being me. I wouldn't change, because this badly
dressed, socially awkward, extremely good performer
is me. If people were to like me for not being me, I
would rather they not. I would rather be mocked.
However,' she continues as Quinn slams her faulty
locker shut and they start walking to her locker,
"Brittany doesn't act like herself. She acts like
someone else. She acts… not smart."

"No,' Quinn disagrees, 'she acts like herself. The

"smart" Brittany is just as sweet and kind as the "not-
smart" Brittany. She just dropped the vocabulary and
the processing power when talking to other people.
Look, when she's at home, her parents fawn over her.
They constantly expect her to win competitions. But
the weird thing about them is that they don't expect
her to enter. If she enters, they fully expect first prize,
and she does get it almost all the time, but they don't
force her to enter. They don't even suggest she
enters. They let her be herself. Her parents are also
strange because they don't expect good grades."
Rachel shifts from behind her locker to look at Quinn
strangely. "They don't?"

"No. They trust her to do what she needs to do. If you

were a little more observant, you would notice that
Brittany has never failed anything. In fact, sometimes
she forgets and does better than her usual work, but
people just assume it's a fluke, or she copied
someone homework, but she never does. People
think she's stupid or slow or mentally disabled, but
she's is definitely not. They're the stupid ones,' Quinn
snarls suddenly, 'because they just assume and joke
and say things they shouldn't say. If they decided to
actually look closer, they'd notice that Brittany was the
only Cheerio besides Santana and I that didn't fail
Spanish."

Rachel thoughtfully closes her locker. "I never really

thought about that."

"I don't even know how Santana managed to get into

Spanish class anyway, but she refused to be bored
alone. Anyway, to quote a genius, 'be who you are
and say what you feel-"

"Because those who mind don't matter and those who

matter don't mind," Rachel finishes. "Really, Quinn?
Dr. Seuss?" she quirks an eyebrow at Quinn, who
grins and shrugs. Rachel tries not to notice the catlike
way Quinn rolls her shoulders through her thin t-shirt.
Why had she taken her jacket off? It wasn't that hot in
here. Crap. Rachel clears her throat.

"What you're saying is that the "real" Brittany enjoys

messing with people's heads? She just out of the blue
decided to do that? Wow. She's a really good actress,
then,' Rachel comments.

"Not so much out of the blue,' Quinn murmurs shiftily.

She changes the subject. "Did you just compliment
someone else, Berry?"

"I am very capable of giving praise where praise is

quite obviously due, Quinn Fabray." Rachel pouts.

"Of course you are,' Quinn smirks, ignoring the tug in

her belly she feels when she notices Rachel pout.
That was the baby, right?

Over the top of Rachel's head, Quinn notices a rapidly

approaching giant male monster. "Damnit,' she
mutters unconsciously.

"Hey, Rachel!" Finn calls boisterously. "Quinn,' he

adds, obviously less enthused.

"Hello there, Finn!" Rachel greets. "Finn." Quinn does

not sound at all amused. Perturbed, Finn just stares
at the two girls. He wonders why they're even
standing together without ripping each other's heads
off, but decides against asking. Quinn had that scary
"I will cut your face" look on her face again.

"Was there something you wanted to say, Finn?"

Rachel probes.

He focuses his gaze back on her. "Yeah, actually. I

wanted to talk to you about something. Alone,' he
adds pointedly, shooting a glance at Quinn.

Quinn arches an eyebrow but merely says, just as

pointedly, calculatedly, "Later, Rach."

Sure enough, Rachel snaps her head towards Quinn's

retreating back. "Um, bye, Quinn."

Equally disturbed, Finn bemusedly asks, "Did Quinn

just call you 'Rach', Rachel?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes, Finn, I believe she did." Rachel

bites her lip for a second, and then turns back to Finn.
"Now, what was it you wanted?"

Quinn groans under her breath as she stalks down

the hall. What on earth did she just do? Call Rachel
Berry 'Rach'? Her brain was melting out from the cut
on her head. She touches the cut gently and swings
her right arm back and forth slowly. Surprisingly
enough, the cast wasn't that much of a hindrance.
She could still drive, at any rate, and if Berry
occasionally braced herself to die, what of it?
Berry.

Berry.

God, what was wrong with her? The tiny brunette was
constantly invading her thoughts now. She just had
this overwhelming presence that called all the
attention to her, and now that Quinn was living with
the girl… Quinn shakes her head. And what was
wrong with Finn? She frowns. Had she called Rachel
'Rach' to piss Finn off or to make him jealous? Or
make her jealous? Jealous of what?

No. She had probably done it to piss him off. She did
that a lot when they were dating. He was just so
oblivious to everything! The 'annoy Finn with words he
doesn't understand' reflex had been ingrained into her
personality already. She sighs. She probably should
apologise to him. He hadn't really done anything
wrong, really.

She feels a gentle flicker of wind against her face

before she realizes that her feet have instinctively
carried her to the bleachers. She watches as Santana
leads the other girls in a routine she had suggested.
She watches as the girls twisted and twirled, leapt
and hoisted in tandem, their fluidity. This was why
they always won. Sue demanded perfection, and
being on the field, being part of that perfection was an
amazing feeling.
She watches as Santana takes her place on the top of
the pyramid and feels a mixture of pride, jealousy and
frustration course through her. Unconsciously, her
hand creeps down to cover her stomach. That spot is,
was supposed to be, her spot. It had always been her
spot. There had never been any doubt.

"Q!" she hears Sue Sylvester bark at her through

microphone, "Get your pasty white ass over here
before I die of old age!"

Just like the old days then. Bending to Sue's every

beck and call. Quinn almost, almost, misses that. She
prepares herself for the inevitable onslaught of verbal
abuse as she approaches the woman, who today is
clad in a lime green tracksuit. Kurt was going to die of
an aneurysm once he saw her. She suppresses a
smirk. No one could smirk in front of Sue Sylvester
and live, except for Sue Sylvester herself. It's there in
the rulebook, Rule #35 paragraph 3 line 5.

"You think this is hard? Try being me watching you

decimate these simple routines and not die! That's
hard! Hit the showers!" Sue shouts.

"Fabray!" Oh. She's turned off the Microphone of Evil,

Death and Despair.

"Coach Sylvester,' Quinn replies as calmly as she

could. Showing fear was the worst thing a person
could do when confronted with one Sue Sylvester.
She reacts to fear like sharks react to fresh blood.

"Don't 'Coach Sylvester' me, Fabray. And don't stand

so close to me; I can see your Nationals-losing uterus
from here just fine,' she snaps. "What were you
thinking when you decided to impregnate yourself
with a Jewish gigolo's child, Q? No, don't answer that,
because I do not care. You can't stay on the team.
What if that thing flies out of you with '666' inscribed
on its forehead and hits the judges in the face while
the rings of fire are activated? It's not impressive if it
doesn't pass through the middle ring. No, Q, I can't
have that. That will lose us Nationals and without
Nationals I can't get my hovercraft."

Quinn blinks, opens her mouth, closes it again.

"You know what I'll do if I don't get my hovercraft,

Fabray? I will kill Will Schuester and then reincarnate
him as the pony he is and harness him to my carriage
and ride around in that, that's what I'll do."

"Coach Sylvester, you don't have to worry. I'm quitting

the Cheerios,' Quinn says clearly, cutting in before the
cheerleading coach could start on how much she
hates Mr. Schuester. That would be a long, drawn
out, painful conversation.

"You what? You're quitting the Cheerios? No one

quits the Cheerios, Quinn. There are only two ways
out: death or death by humiliation. You die, you're off
the team. Or, I humiliate you horribly, kick you of the
team, and then you die. You can't quit." Sue says
incredulously.

"Well,' Quinn coughs softly, 'I quit. I recommend

Santana or Brittany take my place or perhaps they co-
captain. Santana would keep them in line but
Brittany's a natural at-"

"Don't tell me how to do my job, preggers," Sue

growls, but there is less bite in her voice than usual.
She sounds almost resigned.

"But you are letting me quit,' Quinn furrows her

eyebrows. This is surprisingly, deceptively easy. Too
easy.

"Listen, Q,' ah, the catch, 'if you ever tell anyone else
this so help me I will string you up from the choir room
ceiling naked and leave you there to die, but when I
was your age, a little older, in a moment filled with
hormones and weakness,' Sue grimaces, 'I got
pregnant. Turns out you can't control your ovaries
with will power alone."

Quinn's jaw is somewhere on the jaw. She's not sure;

she can't find it to hinge it back closed.

"Like you, I was the best. I was on top. Unlike you, I

insisted on staying there. I fell, lost the baby and grew
up into the Sue Sylvester that now stands before you,
cold, mean and alone: The Bitter Bitch from Hell. I will
not have that happen on my field."

For a moment, Sue Sylvester looks almost human,

almost vulnerable. Then the moment passes and she
scowls darkly. "And now forget everything I just told
you and beat it."

Quinn blinks back tears. "Forget what?" Quinn replies

softly, sadly.

Sue Sylvester nods once, the corners of her eyes

softening the tiniest bit, and then in true Sylvester
fashion, she turns on her heels and stalks off.

"Thank you for dinner, Mr. Berry,' Santana says

politely as she and Brittany step out the door. Hiram
nods but hesitates. Rachel and Leroy are cleaning up
in the kitchen and Quinn is returning Brittany's quick
hug. He decides that there couldn't be a better time.

"Girls,' he starts quietly, but Brittany shakes her head

and holds up her hand.

He stares at her curiously.

"You've figured it out, haven't you?' she asks, 'You've

figured out that the three Cheerios who used to bully
her are the three of us."

Hiram nods. "I'm not sure what to say about it. Seeing
all of you here today, seeing my daughter react so
well to your presence is shocking. I am also rather
appalled. I can't believe you girls did all that to her.
The name calling was bad enough, but to lead
Slushie attacks on her? I'm surprised she's never
gotten grievously sick from the constant cold."

"We're sorry." This, shockingly, is from Santana. She

clears her throat. "It's high school, y'know, Mr. Berry?
We were a bunch of idiots who only cared about what
everyone else thinks. But we've seen our fair bit of
bad this week, and I can guarantee you that the
bullying of the past? It will never happen again." The
sincerity in her voice seems to surprise and gratify
Hiram at the same time.

He nods and gruffly says, "You make sure it doesn't,

or the next time your dad comes in with a broken leg,
I'm directing him to an intern."

Santana nods, a careful smile on her face, and then

she sticks her hand out. Hiram shakes it just as
carefully. He then nods at the other two, lets his gaze
linger on Quinn with a slight frown, and says, "I'll
leave you girls to it." Still looking perturbed, he walks
back into the house.

Quinn grabs Santana and hugs the girl roughly.

Santana, for once, doesn't pull away. She just lets the
blond hug her while Brittany moves to her side to
intertwine their fingers. She puts her other hand on
Quinn's shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly.

"It's in the past, Quinn,' Brittany smiles. Santana

mumbles something and ducks out of Quinn's
embrace.

Quinn wipes her eyes hurriedly with the back of her

hand. "I just... I never really thought about how bad it
was. I wish I could go back. He's still accepting me
into his home, even after all we've done. How did we
manage to insult her fathers like that before?"

"We didn't know any better, Q,' Santana gently

punches Quinn in the arm. "Berry forgives you, right?
And us?"

Quinn nods, blinking back tears.

"So let's just not... Let's not fuck it up this time, yeh?"
she smirks slightly.

This time, Santana doesn't pull away when Brittany

pulls all three of them into a close hug.

"So like, I'm sorry about… stuff. I could throw

Karofsky in the dumpster if you want?" Finn offers.

Rachel smiles despite herself and shakes her head.

"Really, Finn, no more throwing people into
dumpsters, not even Karofsky. Though he may or
may not deserve it, it is not up to us to judge and
decide that. And it wasn't your fault, so there is no
need to be sorry."

Finn grins widely. "You wanna go out on Friday

night?" he asks hopefully.

Rachel wonders how unethical it was to go out with

the very recently exed-boyfriend of the girl she had an
unrequited crush on, the girl who happened to be
living in her house, as a matter of fact. Her fathers
wouldn't have approved. Finn wouldn't be happy
when she told him she was more interested in his ex,
either.

"Rachel?" Crap. She was thinking far too long for a

simple yes or no question. She could have feelings for
the boy, couldn't she? She'd been interested in him at
one point. Feelings like that didn't go away just
because Quinn Fabray decided to be nice to you.
They didn't. Finn was, is, a very good guy, especially
when compared to the Neanderthals in the school.
The only boys who weren't as bad were probably Matt
and Mike. They just didn't do much.

"Look, if you don't want to go,' Finn starts.

"Yes, I'll go, I'll go. I mean, I would love to go,' Rachel
steps in hurriedly. It was better than staying at home
alone again on a Friday night while her fathers
worked overtime on the people who came in after
partying the night away. At home. Oh shit. She
wouldn't be alone. Quinn was living with her. Oh shit.

"Great. I'll pick you up at six?"

"Okay." Oh crap. What had she just agreed to? It

wasn't that bad, though, was it? No one expected her
to actually expect Quinn to like her back. That girl was
as straight as an arrow. She was pregnant, for
goodness sakes. No, going out with Finn was a great
idea. She could distance herself from Quinn and use
the time away from the blonde to get over her. Pining
for Quinn Fabray would do nothing except get her into
trouble and a broken heart.

Plus, surely it was better to be with Finn than to mope

around the high school alone? Finn was popular, tall
enough to see oncoming Slushies from a mile away,
(though hopefully Slushies were going to be banned
at McKinley High), and cute. Rachel continues
nodding as Finn told her about the joys and wonders
of Halo 3 and how much better it was compared to
Halo 2. Really, was her 'I am completely uninterested'
vibe not strong enough for him to pick up on?

She knows, however, that all she has to do is nod and

agree to everything he says. He would be happy, she
would have someone who wanted her, everyone
would be happy. It was a win-win situation.

Besides, it left her free to speculate on her new

nickname. 'Rach'. Hmm. Quinn had called her that in
front of Finn Hudson, of all people. There were only a
few possible reasons something like that had
occurred.

One, she could have let it slip by accident. Obviously,

Quinn would be feeling quite grateful towards Rachel
right now, and, if she dared to believe it, they were
friends. With all those friendly feelings running
rampant through her body, it wasn't that surprising
that she would shorten Rachel's name to 'Rach'.
Friends did that all the time. Quinn called Brittany and
Santana 'Brit' and 'San', didn't she?

Rachel admits it seems unlikely. Quinn had said the

word very deliberately. She might have done it to
annoy Finn, of course, or to 'get back' at him for being
so very rude to her this morning. The human defense
mechanism struck out rather strangely that way.

A niggling voice whispers in her ear, it might've been

jealousy. Barely a day after they break up and already
Finn is trying to go out with someone else. But then,
jealousy for who? For you or for him? She clamps
down on the voice, strangles it and sits on it,
squashing the voice firmly under her. It had probably
been just a slip of the tongue. There was no point in
dwelling on it. Her crush on Quinn was screwing with
her thought processes and needed to be gotten rid of
as soon as possible.

Rachel smiles at Finn's enthusiasm as he continues

his video game idolizing. At least it couldn't possibly
get any worse, she muses.

Then Noah Puckerman joins them and the two of

them start excitedly talking about Mario. Rachel
groans and curses the universe. It was going to be a
long day.

Sure enough, by the end of the day, Rachel is

exhausted. Finn has tailed her like a lost puppy in
need of love whenever they weren't in class.
Eventually, he had given up trying to talk to her about
video games. They talked about glee club once, and
that took up the time he needed to walk her to her
next class. She then smiled at him and agreed to
spend lunch period with him. Her lunch period had
then been spent watching Finn chomp his way
through the suspicious looking mystery meat while
she cringed and lost her appetite for the peanut butter
and jelly sandwich she had packed.

And she thought she was clingy. Obviously, Finn had

some serious self-esteem issues after learning his
girlfriend had slept with him best friend but really, was
following her around supposed to make him feel
better? She was, after all, still the lowest of the low on
the totem pole. A week ago, she would have loved the
attention he was now giving her. Finn Hudson was a
sweet guy, good looking and talented, if a little lacking
in the tact and brains department. The only problem
was that she just couldn't bring herself to feel
interested.

Rachel sighs and leans back against her locker. Finn

had finally left her and gone home after she had
insisted multiple times that she didn't need a ride,
leaving her to her thoughts. She just wanted to spent
time with Quinn and be friends. She didn't need her
hormones and feelings getting in the way of their
budding friendship.

Of course, just as she was thinking this, Quinn would

pop up next to her. "Boo."

After letting out a bark of surprise, Rachel berates the

smirking girl. "Quinn Fabray! It is not good for my
peace of mind to be shattered like that, I'll have you
know. You could have just- Quinn, stop smirking, it's
not funny." Quinn just nods and smirks harder.

Rachel huffs. "Well, are we going back or not?"

"Unless you feel like staying in school until Monday.

Or are you waiting for Finn?" Quinn shoots back
casually.

Rachel groans. "He was following me everywhere. I

swear I couldn't come out of class without seeing him
3 feet away. Also, creepy when he nearly followed me
into the bathroom. It was kind of sweet, but also just a
little bit reminiscent of a stalker." Rachel stares
suspiciously at Quinn. "I saw you hanging around a
few times as well, Quinn. You could have helped me
out!"

"I was with Brit and San,' Quinn says defensively.

'Besides, it was fun seeing you squirm,' she adds.

Rachel shuts her locker indignantly. "It was most

certainly not fun! There are only so many merits of
'Halo 3' and 'Streetfighter' I need to know about."

"You looked like you were enjoying yourself anyway,'

Quinn mumbles. "You can have him, y'know, if you
want,' she adds in an even softer mumble as they
walk to Rachel's car.

Pretending to not have heard, Rachel says, "Well of

course I looked like I enjoyed his constant rambling
on games I have never heard of and will never play! I
was being polite and feigning interest. At the very
least he enjoyed himself. Sometimes I wonder about
high school boys." Rachel shakes her head, then
lunges for the car keys that Quinn has just pulled out
of her pocket.

Reacting quickly, Quinn raises them high above her

head. "The hell, Berry?"

"I refuse to allow you to drive anymore, Quinn. What if

we get pulled over? You have a broken arm! We
nearly died four times this morning alone." She
stretches onto her tiptoes but the keys are just out of
her reach and she refuses to lose even more of her
dignity by jumping for them. "Quinn Fabray!" Rachel
complains.

Amused, Quinn leans against the red Lexus and

laughs. "Say please, Rachel, and I'll lower my arm by
an inch."

Rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a grin at the

absurdity of the situation, Rachel sarcastically pleads,
"Please, Quinn, please could you lower your left arm
by the slightest inch so I will be able to take back the
keys to my car that you are withholding from me?
Because otherwise we won't get home any time soon.
Please?"

Quinn pretends to think about it and earns herself a

glare. She chuckles and tusks the keys into Rachel's
hands abruptly. "Let's go."

"What do you think I was trying to do, Quinn?"

When Rachel turns to the opposite direction of where

her house is, Quinn curiously asks, "Where are we
going?"

Instead of answering her, Rachel mysteriously says,

"We are going where I am driving us. You'll see soon
enough. Curiosity killed the cat."

Shrugging, Quinn just leans back comfortably and

switches radio stations to a rock channel. Muse's
'Uprising' starts playing. The shocking part is when
Rachel starts singing along.

"They will not force us

They will stop degrading us
They will not control us
We will be victorious "

She stops when she notices Quinn looking at her

strangely. "What?"

"You just sang along to... to 'Muse'. How do you even

know this song?" Quinn realises that Rachel turns the
harsh song into something that sounds slightly easier
on the ears and is somehow even more soulful.

"I know and like this song, for your information. I don't
only listen to Broadway musical soundtracks. I listen
to a wide diversity of music that ranges from pop to
punk to indie to even death metal. Who knows what
style a future director will ask me to sing in? It is
always good to be prepared for all kinds of potential
situations where I may be required to sing, or who
knows, rap onstage."

And then she adds, "And I like the lyrics. It's...

empowering."

"I see. Huh. I learn something new about the elusive

Rachel Berry every day,' Quinn chuckles.
"It's not that hard to learn about me. You just never
really bothered to,' she says frankly.

"Right. Sorry,' Quinn mutters, unsure of what to say.

Rachel beams and waves it off before taking a left

turn.

"Rachel,' Quinn starts cautiously, beginning to

recognise the roads. "I don't suppose we would
happen to be heading towards "Patty and Man's
Place", would we?"

"Why yes, Quinn,' Rachel says brightly, 'We are!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm hungry and they are a gay-friendly

restaurant. Why don't you want to go?"

"Because Phoebe is mean and she makes fun of me

all the time!" Quinn whines.

"All the more reason to go, then,' Rachel just smirks at

the glare Quinn gives her. She resists the powerful
urge to kiss the pout that appears on Quinn's face.
Three things hold her back. One, she's driving and
doesn't feel like dying. Two is her seatbelt. Three is
Quinn's heterosexuality.
"There are other places to eat,' Quinn argues, 'places
that serve food other than food that is fried, grilled or
deep fried."

"Your baby needs food, Quinn. Salad is not an option.

And I skipped lunch so now I am starving."

"Why'd you skip lunch? Weren't you with Finn?' Quinn

smirks. 'Oh. They served mystery meat today, right?"
Quinn lets out a laugh. "I bet it was fun watching him
eat."

Rachel shudders in her seat. "I may have been put off
meat forever."

"I still don't get why that means we have to go to my

cousin's diner. It's a diner, Berry. They serve
unhealthy food."

"They also serve eye candy,' Rachel shrugs.

"Ew."

"Hullo, lil' cuz. Back so soon?" Phoebe grins, throwing

an arm around Quinn and winking at Rachel when
they walk into the diner. Rachel grins back and slips
into the seat they had occupied just days ago.

"Someone wanted to eat unhealthy food,' Quinn rolls

her eyes and looks pointedly at Rachel.
"I like you,' Phoebe says bluntly to Rachel, her face
serious, but her eyes twinkling.

"Thank you, but I would never go out with a married

woman,' Rachel deadpans.

Quinn mutters something about gay people being so

damn gay, but Phoebe laughs and says, "Food?"

Phoebe takes their orders and ruffles Quinn's hair

before dancing off to the kitchen. Rachel excuses
herself to go use the bathroom and Quinn leans back
against the soft leather, breathing in familiar scents
she had grown fond of over the years. She feels
herself relax as the smell of food and casual laughter
fill her senses. Then her phone rings.

When she sees the name on the display screen, she

freezes. The phone keeps ringing. She hesitates, and
then picks up.

"Mom,' Quinn says quietly.

"Quinn,' Judy Fabray breathes, 'hi, baby girl. Quinnie."

"Hi,' Quinn says uncertainly.

"How are you?" Judy knows how bad it is that she has
to ask her daughter that over the phone, but she can't
do anything else. She feels herself relax as she hears
Quinn quietly talk about her day and how she had quit
the Cheerios. "You quit the Cheerios?" Judy asks,
surprised.

"Yes, mom. Did you forget that I was- that I was

pregnant?" She stutters over saying she is pregnant.
It doesn't come easily to her lips. Not yet. Not when
she still wishes it never happened.

"No, of course not, Quinnie. I just, of course, yes, you

would leave the Cheerios, of course,' Judy sounds
slightly flustered. A mother wasn't supposed to feel
this sad or nervous talking to their own child, was
she? But of course, she had been more of a mother to
the bottle of vodka than her own daughter…

A moment of silence, then, "Why did you call me?"

Quinn winces at the harshness in her voice, but she
couldn't help herself. Did her mother think a phone
call was going to make up for the years of
meaningless, empty words she had listened to?

"I'm sorry,' Judy blurts, and then winces. She slides

her free index finger around the rim of her water glass
absentmindedly. She had this long speech planned
out to convince her daughter that she regretted all the
years of the past, all the times she wasn't there for
her. She had planned to tell her daughter that she
loved her no matter what, pregnant or no, Cheerio or
no, perfect or imperfect. But all that managed to slip
out was 'I'm sorry', but perhaps that was as a good a
start as any.
"Oh,' Quinn replies emotionlessly. She can see
Phoebe walking out of the kitchen, plates in hand, a
curious look on her face at Quinn's frown. "Okay."

"Quinn, I-I know that I'm quite a- a bad, if not the

worst mother, and I'm so, so sorry for that,' she takes
a breath, 'It was always easier to lose myself than to
find you again."

And Quinn understands, because it was easier to lash

out at the world than to go back to a time when she
was a happier person, a person who wouldn't insult
people for no reason but to demean them. It was
easier to become a bitch than to stay human. And
she'd taken Santana with her, too, but Santana had
Brittany. Sweet Brittany, who never caved, who was
always herself and never lost herself. She kept herself
afloat of the meanness and did her best to take Quinn
and Santana with her whenever she could, but she
never could unless they were alone in their bedrooms,
just the three of them.

But Quinn had sunk like a stone. And one of her

victims had been Rachel Berry. The irony was in that
in pushing Rachel Berry over, she had been the one
to go down. Rachel just bounced back up every time,
time and time again.

"Quinn?" her mother calls worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm here,' she says quietly as Phoebe sets the
steaming plates down in front of her before perching
herself on the edge of the seat and watching Quinn
curiously. "What did you want, again?"

"I was just,' Judy hesitates, not knowing if she has the
right to care about these things anymore, 'I was
wondering where you were staying right now?"

"Are you going to ask me to go home?" It's funny how

the word 'home' sits so unfamiliarly on her tongue, as
though her home wasn't a home.

Judy coughs and uncomfortably admits, "No, I'm

sorry. You can't." Quinn scoffs, and Judy hastens to
add, "I would love it if you would, but I don't think it's
good for you if you do. Russell… He's still angry and I
don't know what he would do if you came back to live
under his roof. It's good that you're out of the house,
honestly, for your own sake, Quinnie."

"Oh,' Quinn blinks. That was unexpected.

"So where are you staying right now? I hope it's

somewhere safe and not somewhere like a shelter…"
Judy trails off.

"I'm staying with a friend,' Quinn says cautiously. She

sees Rachel walking back from the bathroom out of
the corner of her eye. "Her name is Rachel." Instinct
tells her to avoid Rachel's last name.
"Well,' Judy coughs uncomfortably, 'if you're going to
stay with her for long, maybe you could move
somewhere? Maybe move in with family? Like your
cousins' place?"

"Phoebe?" Quinn asks with surprise. Opposite her,

Phoebe grins and gives her the thumbs-up. Quinn
looks at her suspiciously.

"Yes, I've cleared it with her. She says she would love
to have you and I would feel less guilty if you were at
least with family,' Judy pleads. 'Of course, if you don't
want to you don't have to do anything. I mean,
honestly, I'm not the best person to talk about family
but-"

"Yeah,' Quinn blurts, stopping her mother's nervous

rambling, 'I'll move in with Pheebs. But uh, I'll talk to
you later, mom?" Phoebe smirks and nudges Quinn
when Rachel looks confused. Oh crap, Rachel.

"Oh, okay,' she sounds surprised at the abrupt

goodbye, but she quickly adds, 'Bye, Quinnie. I love
you."

"Um, I love you too, mom." Surprisingly enough, it

isn't that hard for the words to come out. She hasn't
said it in a while, but she finds a little bit of warmth
spread through her chest when her mother warmly
replies again, "I love you, Quinn. And I'm proud of
you."

The line goes dead before she can figure out how to
reply to that.

She clears her throat and looks up at the two people

looking at her. Phoebe looks vaguely amused and
has a small smile on her face, as though she knows
exactly how the conversation went down. Rachel
looks worried and confused.

"Rachel, thank you for everything you've done these

past few days, but I have to move out." She thought it
was a good idea to say it quickly, rather than draw it
out. But she doesn't miss the flicker of hurt that
flashes across Rachel's face.

"Of course, Quinn. You're most welcome. I assume

you're moving back in with your family? It's always
best to be with your own 'kind', I suppose. And my
parents will be disappointed you stayed for such a
short while, but-"

"Rachel, shut up, please,' but Quinn grins to show she

doesn't mean it. "Really, thank you so much for
everything you've done. But I'm not moving back in
with my parents. I'm going to go stay with Phoebe,
apparently." She gestured at her cousin, who moves
to squeeze her shoulder. "Nothing against you, but I
feel guilty staying at your place and not contributing,
especially after everything I've… done to you." Quinn
smiles apologetically.

"Oh,' Rachel swallows. "Of course."

"You're welcome to come visit anytime, Rachel,'

Phoebe offers.

"Thank you, Phoebe,' Rachel smiles graciously, but

behind the smile, she is anything but calm. She feels
strangely saddened by Quinn moving out. It wasn't
unexpected though, was it? Quinn had had to move
out eventually. Surely she hadn't expected that by
living in her home, Quinn would inexplicably return
her feelings? Feelings for someone of the same sex
couldn't be contracted by living in a home where
being gay was accepted. You either were or you
weren't. Quinn… wasn't.

Rachel smiles and sits down. It had to happen

eventually. She is not surprised or sad. She's not.

Abrupt, sad ending to chapter for a few weeks until

my exams are over? Indeed. Sorry about that. Also,
I'm sorry about any mistakes because I don't have the
time to read through this. If you spot any, please tell
me so that I can correct it.

I was looking for a song for this chapter but nothing

would fit. Then iTunes gave me this and well, it
worked for me, so there you have it. It's the feelings, I
think. Everyone's just a little bit lost in this world and
trying to find their own way.

Review?

Also, I use a lot of horizontal rulers in this chapter.

Sorry about that.

Also, huge thanks to Sarah and Kari, respectively

Recall The Love and Angelic Tourniquet, for beta-ing
this chapter for me, putting up with my insanity etc. If
you haven't read their works, you need to right now.
They are amazing.

Living with Phoebe and Amanda is… interesting.

They make her eat right, go to bed on time, and
actually make sure she does her homework. Even her
parents hadn't cared as much about what she did.

But it's also nice, because at least someone finally

cares. And at breakfast and dinner, they talk and they
joke and they laugh, which is a very welcome change.
And it's sweet to live with a couple who so obviously
love each other. They don't blatantly make out in front
of her like Brittany and Santana, thank goodness, but
it's the little things.

It shows when Phoebe brushes past Amanda in the

kitchen when she's cooking and she drops a light
touch on her back and a quick kiss on the cheek or
when they're watching tv and Phoebe falls asleep and
Amanda just pulls her down to lie in her lap. They've
been together so many years and yet, they seem to
be just as in love as they were when they first started
dating. It's a harsh contrast to what Quinn sees daily
in her own home.

And there's the cooking, of course. There is

something to be said about living with a fantastic
cook. There's also something mouth-wateringly
delicious about it.

And then there are the dreams.

It starts off innocent enough. They're in Santana's

living room and somewhere in the background
someone has turned on a song with too much bass
and too little singing. Quinn frowns. It's probably Puck.
She's on the sofa, someone in her lap, Brittany on her
right. They're all very rationally and deeply involved in
a conversation about how cats reading your diary
obviously proved that ducks lived in hats.

Then Santana, of course, walks over to drop into her

girlfriend's lap and, without further ado, starts to make
out with her neck. Brittany looks like she's enjoying it
very much, but she doesn't stop her very serious
conversation with Quinn about gay sharks and
dolphins and kookaburra birds until Santana firmly
pulls her around to make out with her mouth. Quinn
just rolls her eyes and leans her face against the back
that she was facing. She breathes in the scent and it's
familiar and warm and heavenly. There's a definite
scent about it, but she can't make it out. Roses?
Freesia? Vanilla? Whatever it was, it was addictive.

The person giggles and Quinn wraps her arms around

the girl and nuzzles her nose against her back.
"Quinn, that tickles!" the person laughs. The voice
sounds like home. But she doesn't know who she is.
All she can see are curls of brunette hair. She runs
her fingers through it and the girl tilts her head back to
kiss Quinn.

And then she wakes up.

Quinn sits in the dark, her eyes wide and her heart
racing, a lump in her throat. Already the details of her
dream are slipping away from her mind like water
trickling through her fingers. But she remembers the
important details. She remembers the tingling that
started from her toes that ran to her fingertips at the
weight of the girl on her lap. She remembers the
comfortable delight she'd felt at the girl's presence.
She remembers that she wanted to kiss the girl. She
remembers that the girl was a girl.

She cups a hand over her mouth to prevent the sound

of her heavy, terrified breathing waking Amanda or
Phoebe up. No, she isn't gay, she isn't bisexual, and
she isn't interested in girls. She isn't.It was fine if other
people were and if they were happy, so be it. Brittany
and Santana are happy. Phoebe and Amanda are
happier together than most of the heterosexual
couples she'd seen. But she isn't. She'd never be
interested in girls. She never would be. It wasn't
wrong so much as not her. She isn't.

Trembling, she turns the bedside lamp on and slips

out of bed. She quietly opens the door and heads to
the kitchen, turning on the dimmest light. Head resting
on her left hand, water on the counter, she waits for
her breathing to slow. She wasn't, isn't gay. She's
pregnant, for Christ's sake! And she had a boyfriend,
who she cheated on with another guy. She's the
epitome of straight. 'I'm not gay,' she says to herself
firmly. It was just a dream. She's wasn't gay.

It slips out in a whisper. "I'm not gay." The silence of

the kitchen and the ticking of the clock on the wall
mock her. "I'm not. I like boys,' she tells the glass
firmly. It ignores her. "I'm pregnant. A boy
impregnated me," she says to the glass. It stands
resolute. Quinn groans quietly into her palm. It's bad
enough being pregnant. Does she really have to go
insane and start talking to inanimate objects too?

"Quinn?" Amanda is leaning against the wall, looking

sleepy and gazing at her curiously. "Were you talking
to the glass?"

Quinn blushes. "I was just, I was talking to… myself…

And the glass was… there,' she trails off weakly.
Amanda chuckles and her green eyes twinkle. Quinn
smiles sheepishly and admits, "Yeah, I was talking to
the glass. It was ignoring me though."

The older woman seats herself across from Quinn.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Quinn swallows. "Talk about what?"

Amanda shrugs. "It's 2am in the morning, you're

sitting in the kitchen talking to a glass of water and…
Yeah, I'm pretty sure there's something to talk about,
if you wanted to talk. May I?"

Quinn slides her glass over to Amanda and sighs. "I

woke up because I had a dream. And then I just
wanted some water." She shrugs, looking away.

Something about the way Quinn shirked around the

word 'dream' tips Amanda off. Her eyes soften and
she wonders how she's going to approach it. She
hesitates and then asks, "Was it a bad dream?"

Quinn chews on the inside of her cheek and shakes

her head. She can feel heat rising up her neck at the
memory of the dream. "No,' she says softly, 'It wasn't
a bad dream at all."

Amanda nods and waits for Quinn to continue. It's

quiet for a while, then Quinn blurts out, "I was at a
party. With a girl. And I really, really liked her." The
words are bitter in her mouth, but she feels lighter at
having uttered them. She's sure her entire face is
flushed by now and she's grateful for the dim lights.
Embarrassed, she looks away.

A slight smile tugs at Amanda's lips. She remembered

being at this point so many years ago with Phoebe.
But at least Quinn, unlike Phoebe, wasn't trying to run
away. Then Quinn stands up and stutters a good
night. Amanda rolls her eyes in exasperation.
Fabrays. They were all so repressed it was ridiculous.

"Quinn, get back here,' she says, jokingly stern.

"I'm sorry I woke you,' the teenager mutters, falling

back into the seat.

"You didn't. I always wake up around this time to get

some water. I usually don't encounter troubled teens
who talk to water glasses though…" Amanda smiles
at her and Quinn chuckles, relaxing slightly.

She clears her throat. "Let me tell you a story about

two girls who fell in love. One was an annoying, dumb
blonde who refused to acknowledge she was
completely gay. The other was a frustrated gay girl
who was completely infatuated with the stupid idiot."

Quinn bursts into giggles. "Seriously?"

"Yeah,' Amanda whispers conspiratorially, 'Phoebe

thought she was straight as an arrow. Dated guys on
and off from the moment she turned 16. Infamous
serial dater. Then she met me." She winks, which
makes Quinn smirk. "We were fighting over the same
guy. Or so she thought. The only reason I was half
naked in his house was because I was with his sister."
Amanda rolls her eyes. Quinn chokes on her water.
The older woman nods seriously as Quinn stares up
at her with tears in her eyes.

"Don't choke to death in my kitchen, honey. And then

she broke up with Don without letting him explain, but
he was an idiot anyway and she was probably already
looking for a reason to dump him. And then Michelle
decided that she was just using me to get Samantha
back so then we were both single. Anyway, I spotted
her crying in an alley a couple days later because
Don, that dumbshit, was already with another girl. We
bonded over our mutual failings and became friends."

"And then I realized I wanted her to be more than a

friend." Quinn is unconsciously hanging off the edge
of her seat. Amanda sighs wistfully. "She was perfect,
your cousin. Everyone wanted her, or so I heard. But,'
Amanda smiles ruefully, 'I was the one person who
couldn't have her. She was only 16 and I was 22. I
was twenty-two. Technically it was legal but... At the
time, though she didn't act like one, she was still a
teenager and I was still an adult. I buried all thoughts
of being with her at the back of my mind. We became
pretty good friends, but I doubt she ever harboured
any thoughts for me. I was an adult, but I didn't act
very much like one. I was still floating around doing
odd jobs, trying to find my place in the world. So I
hung out with a 16 year old that I was crushing on. It
sounds terrible, doesn't it?' she chuckles. "Then one
day she broke my heart."

Quinn gapes. Phoebe and she had spoken a lot, but

never much about the time she got kicked out. It had
been too sensitive a subject for either one of them to
approach.

"She came to me one day looking like hell. We usually

met at a cafe and that day, she started crying into a
napkin. She said she'd been having these dreams
about a girl every night for a week and she thought
she was going to kill herself because she was straight
and she'd never thought about any girls that way
before. She knew I was gay and she was fine with
that but her first question to me was 'How do I stop?'"

"I'm not gay, Amanda,' Phoebe chokes into the damp

napkin. They're sitting in a secluded corner of the
cafe. "I'm not. I know you are and I'm fine with that but
I'm not gay. I don't like girls. I can't... I can't be a
lesbian. My parents would kill me. I'd die, Amanda.
How...How do I stop this?" She tearfully looks up at
the older woman who she could quite honestly call
one of her best friends. Amanda was gaping at her
and she sniffs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

Amanda shakes her head. "You didn't offend me,

Phoebe." She takes the girl's hand and holds it gently,
despite the painful tugging in her chest. She's not
sure whether it was pain at Phoebe's sobbing or pain
that the girl longed for another. "Look, it was just a
few dreams, right? Maybe you just... admire this girl."

It wasn't the correct advice. She should be trying to

tell the girl that there was nothing wrong with being
gay. Love was love was love. But then she would
catch sight of Phoebe's red-rimmed eyes and the
thought of making her cry even more broke her
resolve. So she just tries to reassure her.

But then Phoebe just shakes her head and buries it in

her arms. Amanda hears a muffled "I was kissing her
in most of the dreams, and I was... I was enjoying it."
She hears another choked sob and feels her heart
crack. She squeezes Phoebe's shoulder, the only part
of her she could reach and says, "Phoebe, it'll be
okay."

And then she's a whirl of angry, sad blonde hair and

she's glaring at Amanda and she's snarling "How will
it be okay, Amanda? How?"

Amanda just stared back at her in shock, not sure

what to say. She'd never seen Phoebe this distraught
before. "I don't know,' is the only thing that slips out
from her lips.

Phoebe seems to collapse into herself. "Of course,'

she murmurs. And then she's running out of the cafe
and all Amanda can do is stare at her retreating back,
unable to move a muscle, because the muscle in her
chest, the one keeping her alive, is shattered and she
can't bring herself to try to use it.

Quinn in entranced in the woman's story. "What did

you do after that?"

"Well, after I was done being a selfish jerk obsessing

over my own feelings, I called her and convinced her
to talk to me instead of run." Amanda raises her
eyebrow at Quinn, who grins weakly. "And I told her...
I told her she shouldn't worry about it."

"Phoebe."

"Amanda." They sit side by side on a park bench.

They break the silence at the same time.

"How are you-"

"I'm sorry I-"

They cough awkwardly and laugh weakly. "I'm sorry I

blew up at you. You didn't deserve it,' Phoebe says
sincerely.

Amanda shakes her head. "You're a teenager,

Phoebe. I'm not exactly surprised that you did what
you did. But you have years and years ahead of you.
You should relax and enjoy your high school life.
Don't worry so much over your dreams and just take
them in stride. They'll stop soon enough."

"Oh," Phoebe says.

"Or you could try just going with it and asking the girl
out," Amanda glances around nonchalantly.

"But I'm not-"

"You might or you might not be. It doesn't matter.

Just... as long as you have fun, y'know. You're a kid;
you should enjoy life. Live a little, Phoebe. The world
isn't a box, and if it is then you should think outside of
it. Besides, would it be so bad if you were? There's
nothing wrong with being gay, despite what a lot of
people say," Amanda pushes gently.

"I don't know. I've never even thought about it before.

It's just not something I've ever thought about,"
Phoebe mumbles honestly.

They sit in silence for a little while longer. Amanda

breaks it this time. "Who's the girl?"

Phoebe blushes bright red. "Some redhead on the

basketball team. She's... really sweet to other people."

"To you?"
Phoebe half-grimaces. "We're kind of crazy to each
other. We trade insults all the time."

Amanda plasters a smile on her face. "You should ask

her out."

Pensively, Phoebe kicks at the ground. "Y'know what,

'Manda? I just might." And then she blushes again.

"That was when she embraced her little baby

gayness. Obviously, she and the redhead were pretty
into each other and they dated for a few months until
they mutually broke up. They were too hot-headed for
each other but they're still friends to this day. You
know Leanna?" Quinn nods.

"Her hair is blue now, but she's still the same 16 year
old who called Phoebe a 'blonde bimbo'. Of course,
Phoebe called her 'Archie' so... Mm, anyway, I don't
suppose you got my point throughout the entire story,
did you?" Amanda laughs sheepishly.

"I think maybe I sort of did. I'm not sure yet."

"Really, Quinn, don't worry so much about it. Whether

you are or you're not, you've still got us. And if it's just
a phase and you turn out straighter than Phoebe was,
then, well, you've still got us. Goddamn that was
cheesy."

"Yeah,' Quinn laughs, 'it was. But thanks."

Amanda stands and gives her a one-armed hug and
ruffles her already messy hair. "Go back to bed,
youngster. You've got school tomorrow."

Quinn rolls her eyes but returns the hug and then
returns to bed. Sleep is hard to come by but she
forces all her confusing thoughts away. Sleep first,
then in the morning she would wonder about her
sexuality.

But even in sleep, she searches for a brunette with

the taste of vanilla on her tongue.

She crawls out of bed and almost face plants into her
cereal when Phoebe slaps her on the back. "I always
knew you had it in you, Quinn!" Quinn glares at her
cousin, who just grins back cheekily. "You told her?"
It's a rhetorical question. Amanda and Phoebe tell
each other everything.

"Don't worry about it, Quinn. You'll figure it out,'

Phoebe says, seriously this time.

She shrugs. By the time she's dropped off at school

she is presentable, but tired. Thank goodness it's
already Friday. Santana and Brittany stroll over to her,
students ducking out of Santana's way. Santana looks
like she's about to deliver Quinn her daily pregnancy
insult, but at the tired look in Quinn's eyes, she falters.
"What's wrong with you today, Q? Spent the night
crying or something?" Santana gives Quinn a
onceover. "You look like crap, by the way."

"I'm fine,' she says shortly, slamming her locker shut.

"I just... didn't sleep very well."

Brittany loops her arm into Quinn, and, between her

and Santana, they make it to History in record time.
Quinn slumps into her usual seat right at the very
back, Santana on her right, Brittany in front of her.
"What happened? You're living with your cousins
now, right?"

Quinn nods and bites her lip. She could talk to her two
best friends about this, right? Santana would probably
laugh and tease her a lot, but she'd give good advice
too. And Brittany would say something wise and make
it all better. She takes a breath.

"I had a dream last night." The words get stuck in her
throat. Brittany smiles knowingly, but Santana looks
confused. "Did you dream about bacon?"

"No!" Quinn exclaims. "It was... it was about a girl."

And she knows by the widening of her eyes that
Santana knows what she means. And she knows that
it'll be okay when Santana smirks.

"Well, Fabgay, it's about time,' the girl drawls. Brittany

chuckles, but tells Santana to shut up.
Thunderstruck, Quinn hisses, "What do you mean 'it's
about time'?"

Santana shrugs. Under her breath, Brittany mutters,

"Pornographic bathroom wall doodles."

Quinn gapes at the two of them. "It was just a dream!

I'm not... I'm not..." But she can't bring herself to finish
the sentence, because what if she was? Was she?

Santana takes pity on the bewildered, spluttering girl.

"Chill, Quinn."

Quinn just stares at her, a wounded look on her face.

Santana rolls her eyes. She hates it when Quinn did
that. It made her feel less like being a bitch and more
like being a comforting friend. Ugh.

"Look, who'd you dream about anyway?"

Embarrassed again, Quinn mutters "I don't know. I
couldn't see her face. But she smelled like vanilla."

When the Cheerios turn to stare at her, Quinn groans,

a deep flush creeping up to cover her entire face, and
slumps onto the table. She feels stupid now, for
saying that last part.

"Wow, Q, you are seriously not straight, at the very

least. I don't care that you're the next Juno." Santana
sounds amused.
Thoughtfully, Brittany muses, "I remember kissing a
girl who smelled like vanilla. It was a few months
ago... I think it was either Anna or Rachel..."

Santana's jaw drops and she discreetly wipes her

mouth. "You kissed Rachel Berry? What the hell,
Brittany! That is disgusting! And Anna is... ew. Do you
even know what that slut puts into her mouth? Oh my
god, I need mouthwash right now."

Brittany glares adorably at Santana. "It was months

ago. Anna was drunk and you were making eyes at
Puck. Back off. And I kissed Rachel a few weeks ago
because she looked like she needed a kiss. It's no big
deal. She made me 'thank you' cookies... She's a
good kisser though." Brittany shrugs.

Santana is still making gagging motions when she

notices Quinn staring straight ahead looking like she's
about to go into shock. She waves a hand in front of
the blonde's face, all imitations of puking forgotten.
"Hey, Q, blondie, hey, you okay?" Brittany, worried,
gazes into Quinn's eyes. Blank hazel-green eyes blink
back at her.

Vanilla. Rachel Berry. Soft brunette locks. "Quinn, that

tickles!" That laugh. "I'm just... extremely ticklish
there." No, no, NO.

Quinn takes shallow breaths and swallows with

difficulty. She looks up at Santana and Brittany's
worried faces and people begin to trickle into the
classroom.

"I think in that dream… The girl I wanted to be with

was… Rachel Berry."

And then she runs to the bathroom to throw up.

She was cutting class so often these days compared

to her impeccable record a week ago…

"So I'll pick you up at 6?" Finn grins at her as he pulls

books from his locker.

Rachel smiles back and follows him down the

hallway. "Yes. Don't be late, Finn. I find punctuality a
very attractive trait in a person. Just so you know."
Finn's grin turns uncertain.

A few feet ahead of them, a blonde girl barrels past

the people in the hallway into the girl's bathroom. Finn
squints. "I think that was Quinn."

Rachel nods slowly. "I think that was Quinn, too." She
hadn't really spoken to Quinn since the girl had so
abruptly, but with many repeated gracious thanks,
moved in with her cousins two days ago. They didn't
have the same classes and glee club didn't meet until
today.
Finn stops her from walking into the doorframe.
"Later, Rach,' she nods as Finn heads towards his
Math class. Rachel bites her lip and then makes her
decision.

Really, who needed History anyway?

The sound of someone retching comes from the

second last stall. Rachel nods approvingly to herself.
It would've been rude to mess the first few stalls up
and the last stall was always where people went to
throw up, so it was really gross. She nudges the door
open. Quinn coughs into the toilet bowl and flushes,
then freezes when she turns and notices Rachel.

"Hello, Quinn,' Rachel greets lightly.

Quinn blinks like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Hey, Rachel,' she croaks out, then squirms past the
girl to wash her mouth out. She had no desire for the
girl she was possibly crushing on to catch any scent
of her morning sickness breath. Milk and cereal going
down was pretty dull on the taste buds, but coming
up? Disgusting.

"Are you okay, Quinn?" Rachel stands awkwardly at

the sink, then she realises how ridiculous it is to ask
someone a question when they're busy swishing
water around in their mouth. But then Quinn tries to
answer and the blonde ends up choking the water
back into the sink. She coughs painfully, feeling her
throat burn.

Rachel pats Quinn on the back delicately. "Breathing

would be a good idea,' she suggests. Quinn nods and
tries to move away from Rachel without appearing to
move away from Rachel. She couldn't deal with being
so close to the girl, not when she seemed to be
crushing on her. Not only did it have to be a girl, it had
to be Rachel Berry.

Really though, it isn't that bad. Rachel is quite

obviously pretty, almost hot, if Quinn allowed herself
to really look. Those skirts don't hide very much of her
fantastic legs, and though argyle was a terrible design
that should never have been allowed to live, the
sweaters are flattering on her figure. Her very nice
figure. And she has a heart made of gold. She is
admittedly amazing inside and out and normally,
Quinn would be all over someone like her.

But she is a girl. And Quinn isn't gay. She is just...

confused, probably. Puberty's a bitch, no?

Rachel frowns at the speechless girl. Quinn's eyes

are darting everywhere and Rachel wonders whether
the blonde is suffering from some kind of fit. "Quinn,
are you alright? Would you like to go to the nurse?"

Quinn shakes her head, focusing on the moment.

"No, I'm fine. I, uh, thanks for asking, but I have to...
get back to class!" Quinn grabs onto the first excuse
she can think of. "History. I have to get back to
History. Yeah,' she mumbles.

Bemused, Rachel says, "Okay. I'll walk with you. You

are aware we share the same History class?"

And then Quinn blinks rapidly because it had slipped

her mind. She shrugs non-committally and heads
toward the door after wiping her hands and mouth
with a paper towel. But she holds the door open for
Rachel self-consciously. Rachel shoots her a small
smile.

"See you in glee later,' Rachel mutters when Quinn

opens the classroom door before slipping inside.

When she walks into class together with Rachel, she's

pretty sure Santana almost has a heart attack and
Brittany might squeal with delight, but then she
discreetly and sombrely shakes her head at them.

She wasn't gay for Rachel Berry. Not in the least. But
yes, maybe she did have the tiniest crush on her.
Nothing to write home about. It was the size of Earth
compared to the entire Universe. Just the smallest
flame for Rachel legs Berry.

Shit. Quinn's pen slips from her fingers to clatter

noisily onto the floor. Santana hands it back to her
with a raised eyebrow and a murmured 'Pull it the fuck
together, Quinn.' Shitshitshitshitshit. She'd caught
herself staring at Rachel's legs from two rows across.
Shitshitshitshitshit. Mary mother of Jesus. She really
was kind of gay for Rachel Berry. Shit.

Rachel is disappointed, but not too surprised, when

Quinn seems to go out of her way to avoid her for the
rest of the day. It was noticeable. For the past two
days she had walked past her with quick smiles and
greetings, but today, Quinn practically knocks Tina
over in her haste to go back down the hallway when
she sees Rachel.

She sighs as she slams her locker shut. She's

disappointed, but she's not hurt. She's not. It was for
the best. The further Quinn stayed away from her, the
less she would think about the blonde, and the less
she thought about the blonde, the more she could
think about Finn. Who she had a date with in 6 hours.
Yes, it was best to not think about Quinn or the pain in
her chest when she watched the blonde almost run
away.

Her inner voice snickers and mocks her. You're not

exactly not thinking about her. She scowls. Shut up,
she tells it. You're supposed to be in my head, not
annoying the crap out of me. The voice rolls its eyes
but shuts up. Great, now there was a screenplay
going on in her head. Rachel sighs again as she
heads to lunch. It had only been a matter of time until
Quinn got tired of her, of course. Finn was only
sticking around because no one else seemed
interested in him, which was strange. Friends. Who
was she kidding?

When she walks into the cafeteria, she's almost

immediately accosted by Mercedes and Kurt. She
obligingly follows them to the table where Tina and
Artie are already sitting rather than risk trying to
wrench her arms away.

"Hey, Rachel,' the two of them greet her in unison.

"Tina, Artie, hello there." She sets her brown paper

bag down and sits down opposite them. Mercedes
and Kurt drop onto the seats on either side of her.
"How've you been, Rachel?"

"I'm fine, thank you for asking, Mercedes,' Rachel

starts nibbling around her cheese sandwich.

"You're not going to break down for no reason or

anything like that, are you?"Kurt asks suspiciously,
and though he tries to mask it, Rachel is grateful to
hear the sincerely worried tone in his voice. He tries
to cover it up with a nonchalant, "Because then
Sectionals would be much harder to take, but...
Y'know..." he trails off weakly.

Rachel allows herself to smirk. "I'm a perfectly well

adjusted teenager, Kurt. I'm so glad you care. On the
other hand, you being one of the only out
homosexuals on the team, are you under any
pressure? Would you like someone to talk to?" she's
teasing him and he knows it. He smiles sheepishly
and says, "No, Rachel, I don't need any of your argyle
help, thanks."

"Okay, okay, time to break up this love fest,'

Mercedes jokes. They chuckle and then she and Kurt
start gossiping about Anna Berkeley and how she and
Adam McAdam (really who the hell actually named
their kid that?) had been spotted in the park at
midnight together. Tina objects to this, telling them
that Jacob Ben Israel was a terrible source of
information. Artie rolls his eyes at Rachel and offers to
trade her half of his peanut butter and jelly.

"They're like that all the time,' he stage whispers to

her. Rachel grins and passes him half of her own
sandwich. Well, perhaps she did have friends, even if
they were kind of bitchy and self-absorbed. Really, it
was worth sitting with them listening to inane topics
when she sees Kurt's eyes pop out and he almost
chokes to death when Mercedes points out Sue
Sylvester's lime green tracksuit.

Having friends was amusing. And when Tina laughs

with her, it's a nice change from the laughter she
usually hears that's directed at her. Yes, having
friends was nice.

And then Quinn walks in.

"C'mon, let's go sit with Kurt,' Brittany tugs on
Santana's arm, who in turn pulls Quinn along. She
stops when she realises the ex-Cheerio isn't following
her. Santana scowls. "Move your ass before I drag
you over there, Q."

"But Rachel's over there,' she mumbles.

"I don't care. Where the fuck is your backbone? Get a

grip, woman." With that, Santana pushes her until her
feet reluctantly carry her over to the table. Kurt
welcomes Brittany cheerfully and Tina moves over to
make room for Santana. The only space left is
between Kurt and Rachel, and Brittany quickly, with a
sly grin at Quinn, slips into the seat next to Kurt. Shit.

"Hi, Rachel,' Quinn says quietly.

"Greetings, Quinn."

Quinn is hyperaware of Rachel's every movement to

lift her sandwich up to her mouth. And when she licks
her lips, Quinn flushes.

"You okay, Q? Your face looks a little red,' Santana

comments. She hides her smirk remarkably well.

Rachel's bare leg brushes against Quinn's bare one

and Quinn almost yelps. Rachel hides her own blush
better than Quinn, but she does catch a glimpse of
Quinn's flaming cheeks and she feels herself grow
worried. "Santana's right, Quinn. Do you feel feverish?
You might be coming down with something."

Quinn shakes her head rapidly. "I'm fine." She coughs

awkwardly.

"We should have a sleepover,' Brittany suddenly

announces. Santana agrees lewdly, which makes
Kurt grimace and Artie blink. "A proper one, San,'
Brittany pouts.

"Are you inviting us as well?" Tina looks confused and

slightly apprehensive.

"Just the girls. And I guess Kurt." Brittany shoots him

an apologetic look, but he doesn't look offended in the
least. "When and where?" he asks, immediately
thinking of activities.

"Well, usually it's just me, San and Quinn at Quinn's

house but..." Brittany glances over at Quinn, who
shrugs.

"My house,' Santana offers at a poke from Brittany.

"Tonight, since Puck's usual Friday booze night is
cancelled."

Artie looks a little put out, but Tina grins at him and,
resigned, he just holds her hand.

Quinn nervously draws circles on her knee with her

finger. Rachel watches her discreetly as Quinn shifts
her leg away from hers. The blonde was acting
strangely and she couldn't quite put her finger on why.
Lost in their own jumbled thoughts, neither girl hears
the question directed at them until Mercedes repeats
herself in an exasperated tone.

"Are the two of you coming?"

Quinn nods absentmindedly, ignoring Santana's huge

smirk at Mercedes' choice of words, and stiffens
slightly when Rachel shakes her head. "As much as I
would love to join you all for a night of girl-talk and
whatever other decidedly excited activities, I have a
prior engagement with Finn. We're going on a date,'
she explains when they stare at her strangely.

Tina shrugs and they continue making plans, but

Quinn can't swallow past the lump in her throat. Finn.
Of course. Just when she'd figure out that she might
be sort of maybe interested in the brunette, she would
have an 'engagement' with Finn. The thought makes
her shiver involuntarily. Rachel glances at her
curiously and touches her palm to Quinn's forehead.
"You don't feel like you're coming down with anything,'
Rachel remarks, 'but you should probably go see the
school nurse."

"She's not coming down with anything,' Santana says

dismissively before crudely adding under her breath,
'She might want to go down on someone though."
Tina, the only one who hears, looks at Santana in
confusion. Rachel mirrors the look when Quinn rapidly
gets out of her seat. "That's a great idea. I'll go see
her right now. Bye." And then she's gone.

"What in the name of Gaga's Alejandro video is wrong

with her?"

"No idea. She's probably just feeling a little... under

the weather. She might want to come out from under
it soon though,' Santana grins evilly. Everyone else
looks confused, but Brittany kicks her under the table.

Rachel frowns at the table. Quinn wasn't trying to

avoid her that badly, was she? Surely being in
Rachel's company wasn't that unbearable.

Quinn is glad to find that the school nurse is no long

Terri Schuester. Quite frankly, the woman scared her
only slightly less than Sue Sylvester. She's still
struggling with the decision of whether or not to tell
Mr. Schuester that his wife was lying to him. It's not
her place to tell, but then, as she's found out, lying
didn't do anything except delay the inevitable, painful
truth. On the other hand, she didn't want to be
responsible for breaking up a marriage. She sighs as
her feet take her past the nurse's office to the
guidance counsellor.

Emma Pillsbury might have been a germaphobe, but

she was pretty nice and tried to help the students out
as much as she could. Quinn takes a breath and
knocks on the open door. She peers into the
seemingly empty office and almost walks away, but
then she sees a shock of red hair emerge from under
the desk.

Miss Pillsbury, her eyes huge as usual, blinks at

Quinn. "Quinn! I was just cleaning the underside of
my desk. There were uh- never mind. Was there
something you wanted to talk to me about?" Emma
asks as she clambers back onto her chairs, almost
immediately squeezing a dollop of hand sanitizer into
her palm and rubbing her hands together.

The redhead gestures at the chair across her desk

and Quinn nervously slides into the seat. "I... recently
began to develop feelings for someone I really
shouldn't have feelings for." Quinn bites her lower lip
anxiously. It was different to admit her feelings to
Emma than to admit them to people like Brittany and
Santana. She'd known them for years.

Emma Pillsbury wonders yet again why she'd decided

to be a guidance counsellor. She herself had
practically no relationship experience, and seeing as
she was now in love with a married man, she was
probably the worst person to ask for relationship
advice. But that seemed to be the only thing
teenagers worried about nowadays.
"Well, um, why shouldn't you have feelings for this
person?" Emma asks cautiously as her fingers twitch
to adjust the pens in front of her.

Quinn clears her throat. "It's a girl. And it's Rachel

Berry. I think I might be gay,' she adds hoarsely.

Emma blinks rapidly, her hands skimming the tops of

her neat row of brochures. She frowns when she
realises that she has nothing that could help. 'I can't
stop touching myself' didn't seem very suitable. Oh
dear. She wasn't very well-equipped to handle this
situation. She struggles with her words

"We're at a point in time when there's nothing wrong

with being gay, Quinn. It's perfectly normal if you are,'
Emma says, trying to comfort the worried-looking
teen. Quinn just gives her a half shrug and mutters
again, "But it's Rachel Berry."

"What's wrong with Rachel Berry?" Emma is confused

here.

"She's... she's... she's Rachel Berry!" Quinn throws

her hands up in frustration and slumps onto the desk,
tears leaking out of her eyes even though she doesn't
know why. "I'm not supposed to be gay,' she chokes
into her arms, 'I'm already pregnant and disgraced
and out of my home. Do I really need to- to be, to be
gay on top of that?"
Emma bit her lip and patted Quinn's shoulder in what
she hoped was a comforting manner. "There's nothing
to be ashamed of,' she says quietly, and then ignoring
the germs that surely are on Quinn's hands, she takes
one and squeezes it gently.

Quinn looks up at her, tears in her eyes. "I know,' she

whispers, 'but..."

"You're 16 years old, Quinn. You should... relax and

not worry about it so much." Emma pats Quinn on the
shoulder one last time. It's probably in her head, but
her palm itches and she desperately tries to resist the
urge to sanitise her hands again.

The blonde raises her head and the weight of the

world seems to be resting on her shoulders. "That's
what everyone keeps telling me, but it's not exactly
something I can control, is it?" She huffs. "Never
mind. I don't suppose I should have expected any
other advice. Thanks anyway." She gets up to leave.

Struck by a sudden bolt of sadness, a word slips out

from Emma's lips unbidden. "Wait."

Quinn stops and waits.

"Quinn, you don't need a label for this. If you feel what
you feel... You should ask her out." Emma isn't sure
where the words come from, because she surely
couldn't take this advice for herself, but a crooked
smile appears on Quinn's face. "Thank, Miss
Pillsbury."

The next time Rachel sees Quinn, she's seated

between Finn and Matt. Brittany, from behind Quinn,
waves at her and Rachel waves back, but Quinn just
shoots her a brilliant, friendly smile. Santana rolls her
eyes and drags the other two to the back of the room,
Quinn whispering furiously into Santana's ear as she
does.

Rachel sighs and turns back to Finn, who is telling her

how weird it is that people put pineapples on their
pizza. When she turns to Matt, he gives her an
amused grin.

She groans inwardly.

"Santana, fucking let me go!"

"To do what, Preggers? Jump her bones? Look, if you

really want to gay out over Rachel Berry I'm not going
to stop you, but you need a fucking plan, okay? Did
you not notice the overgrown manchild sitting on her
left?" Santana almost forces Quinn to sit between her
and Brittany.

Quinn groans quietly. "I don't know, S. I just... Can I

not label this?"

"If you don't want to then don't,' Brittany says quietly.

She trails a finger along Santana's shoulder. "Don't be
so hard on her, San. Be nice."

Santana rolls her eyes apologetically. You can tell

with Santana. If she was being mean, she would roll
them with a snarl on her face. If she was just being
sarcastic, the rest of her face wouldn't move. If she
didn't mean it, which was as close to an apology as
you could get with Santana Lopez, she'd roll her eyes
while chewing on her tongue. It had been this way
ever since they were 9. Quinn wonders if Santana
herself knows her tells.

"Fine. Look, just chill, alright? There's no need to be

such a repressed lesbian or bisexual or whatever the
fuck you are."

Something goes off in Quinn's mind. 'Repressed

lesbian'. 'Pressed lemon'. So subconsciously she'd
always known she wasn't completely straight. She
crumples over the chair in front of her.

"God, what's wrong with me?"

"I don't know. You were born like that,' Santana

smirks and Brittany flicks her on the head. "Ow, Brit!"

"You had it coming,' Quinn mumbles.

"Shut up."
"No, you shut up."

"Are you coming straight over or are you going back

to pick up some stuff? I do have pyjamas that would
fit you." Brittany interjects, breaking up their age-old
argument. Some things never change, she thinks.

"I'll just go back with you guys, if you don't mind. I

don't have a car anymore and I don't want to trouble
Phoebe or Amanda."

"Great!" Brittany grins.

"Okay, you guys!" Mr. Schuester announces while

walking into the room, effectively cutting off all
conversation. He walks to the whiteboard and
scribbles 6 unintelligible letters. He turns to face the
confused club.

"Who can tell me what this is?"

Brittany's hand goes up abruptly. "It's a male duck,'

she says. Sniggers are heard all around and Mr.
Schuester looks confused.

"Brittany, a ballad isn't a male duck. It's a song

through which a person can express their feelings-'

He is cut off by Rachel, who raises her hand as high

as it will go. Mr. Schuester nods in her direction,
slightly put off. "Actually, Mr. Schuester, a ballad is a
narrative poem, often of folk origin and intended to be
sung, consisting of simple stanzas and usually having
a refrain or the music for such a poem. A ballad is
now most commonly a popular song especially of a
romantic or sentimental nature."

"You took that from the Internet,' Kurt points out.

Rachel glares at him and folds her arms across her
chest haughtily.

Brittany rolls her eyes, unnoticed by the rest of the

club who have turned back to face the front. She
nudges Quinn and mutters, "His handwriting is so bad
I thought he wrote 'mallard'. Jerkface,' she pouts, and
Quinn grins.

"Thank you, Rachel. Anyway, it's Friday today so I will

give you until Tuesday to practice on a ballad you will
sing with one other person. But the catch is, this
person will be decided... by fate!" He suddenly whips
out a hat. Discreetly raised eyebrows are exchanged
all around.

"Each person will pick a name out of the hat. Inside

the hat are the names Rachel, Tina, Brittany, Kurt,
Puck and Artie. Would everyone else kindly step
forward to pick a name?"

Amid half-hearted protests, the other six of them do

get up and head towards the hat. Finn is the first to
grab a name. He looks weirded out. "Puck."
Puck makes a face. "Dude, we're not singing some
wimpy love song to each other. That's just gross." He
misses the narrow-eyed glare Kurt shoots him.

Mr. Schuester hastens to say, "As Rachel very kindly

pointed out, a ballad can be a narrative poem. It's a
way to say things through song that you wouldn't say
in words."

Neither of the boys look convinced, but Finn shrugs

and walks back to sit next to Rachel. Rachel finds that
she's relieved he hadn't picked her name out of the
hat. She squashes the relief under the weight of his
hand on hers.

Matt takes a name next but before he can say who he

picked, Santana casually sticks her hand into the hat
and says "Brittany" without even glancing at the
paper. She artfully passes him her paper. Matt shrugs
and says, "Tina."

Mike gets Kurt, who looks thoughtful, and then it's

Quinn's turn. Her heart is pounding hard in her chest.
She chooses the folded paper on the left, leaving the
last one for Mercedes. Rachel and Artie wait for her,
Rachel with a hurriedly squashed hope-devil on her
shoulder.

"Rachel,' she says, hoping her voice doesn't sound as

constricted as her throat feels. Once again, raised
eyebrows are exchanged all around except by
Brittany and Santana, who shoot each other sly grins.
The rest hadn't seen Quinn tormenting Rachel since
she'd been Slushied, and though some of them had
seen Quinn be quite protective and rage over the
brunette's rights, they didn't know what their feelings
toward each other were. Kurt wonders whether they
would sing something like Simple Plan's 'Shut Up' or
some other passive-aggressive song.

Mercedes takes the last name, and, unsurprised, says

"Artie." The wheelchair-bound boy looks bemused.

"Well then! Good luck with your partners and I will see
your performances on Tuesday. Right, now if Mike
and Brittany could come up and demonstrate some
steps for us?"

Quinn stares hard at the back of Rachel's head.

Almost as if she'd noticed, the brunette turns and
meets Quinn's eyes. She makes a telephone out of
her hand, motioning for Quinn to call her 'to discuss
what song we will sing'. Rachel mouths the last part
and Quinn gives her a weak thumbs-up.

"Well, Fabray, you just got hit in the face with 'Plan I
Will Bone Rachel Berry after I Sing a Ballad with Her'.
As gross as it is, congratulations,' Santana's barb is
muttered only distractedly under her breath though,
because at the front of the room, Brittany is being
spun around by Mike and Santana is busy
appreciating the view.

"Bone?" Quinn squints at Santana. Santana gives her

a look. "Right,' Quinn breathes out, 'bone, right."

After rehearsals, Quinn only has the time to give

Rachel a quick wave before Finn closes in and
Santana and Brittany drag her away before she can
snarl at him.

Later, she receives a text that reads 'If you're free on

Saturday you could come over and we'll figure out a
song to sing. Is that okay?'

Her first reply went something along the lines of 'I

would love to come over. Why don't you pick some
songs first? I figured you'd want to do something from
'Wicked', knowing you. Haha. ;P'

She deleted the entire thing.

Her actual reply was 'Sounds great. C u then.'

Pathetic, she tells herself. Absolutely pathetic.

"Rachel, what's wrong? You look distracted. In fact,

you've looked like that since I picked you up." Finn
takes a gulp of his soda.

Her fork swirls the pasta around and she's entranced

by the way it keeps spinning around on her plate. "I
just have a lot on my mind, Finn. Sorry,' she glances
up at him. Finn shrugs and takes another bite of his
burger.

They're sitting in Breadstix because it's the only place

where students can eat affordable food. Lima, Ohio is
not a place with many dining options.

The pasta was slightly lumpy.

Rachel frowns and sets her fork down. Finn is still

working through his burger. She wonders what she
really expected from this date. It was as normal a date
as a date could be. They'd watched a movie where
Rachel couldn't understand why everyone tried to kill
everyone else and Finn was enraptured by the guns
and cars, and now they were having dinner at
Breadstix. She hadn't expected anything more, and
now she wasn't getting anything more. It was a date
with Finn Hudson, who had opened the car door for,
held her hand as he paid for the tickets, and let her
choose whether she wanted the aisle seat or the one
next to the wall. He tried to listen to her, but she could
tell when his eyes began glazing over by her fifth
sentence. She'd changed the subject.

It wasn't so much boring as just... dull. Finn was dull.

He was a great catch. He's sweet and as thoughtful
as a sixteen-year-old guy could be, but for Rachel
Berry, he was duller than watching Mr. Schuester rap.
They didn't have any interests in common. They didn't
click.

Rachel's head turns when she sees a blonde walk

into the restaurant. Her head whips back when she
realises what she'd just done. Guilt settles into her gut
next to the lumpy pasta. For two seconds, she'd
hoped that it had been...

But that was ridiculous. Quinn was at the sleepover.

The one you were invited to but declined to go
because you had a date with Finn. I hope you're
enjoying yourself. Well, there's her annoying inner
voice, back right on cue too. Shut up, she tells it. I'm
on a date with Finn. Stop making me think of Quinn.
She's straight and not interested. I'm not ruining this
friendship.

I'm not making you think of anything. I am you. I'm just

pointing out that- Okay enough shut up already.She
forces herself to stop talking to herself in her head. It's
just that when you didn't have a lot of friends, you
ended up desperately looking for someone to talk to
and, well, you always had yourself, after all.

Rachel queasily pushes the pasta away from her and

resolves to never again order it if she ever again had
the unfortunate cause to come to Breadstix.

Finn looks up and pauses in his meal to ask her, "Are

you gonna finish that?"
Rachel shakes her head. "I'm full,' she lies, surprised
at how easy it was.

"Do you mind if I-"

"No, go ahead,' Rachel pushes the plate towards him.

He shoots her a grin.

She really shouldn't be that surprised that he had

such a big appetite. The boy was a giant. But still, she
excuses herself to go to the bathroom when he starts
finishing off her pasta with gusto.

Rachel Berry takes one look at herself in the

bathroom mirror and finds resentment bubbling right
under the surface of her skin. Resentment at Finn, for
being so hard to hurt, resentment at Quinn, for being
so hard to resist, and resentment at herself, for being
so good at lying to herself. But mostly resentment at
herself for being a terrible person who was willing to
forge false feelings for another person just to be able
to walk down the hallway with someone willingly
walking by her side. Rachel bites her lower lip hard
and tastes blood.

She resolves that it's time to stop lying to them both. It

had never been the time. But she's tired of telling
herself that her feelings for him would come back. He
would make a good friend and probably a great
boyfriend, but just not her great boyfriend.
Rachel wonders whether Quinn is having a better
time at the sleepover than she is at her date. She
hopes so.

When the bottle lands on her, Quinn doesn't hesitate

to say "Truth." Half an hour ago, Santana had
intercepted Brittany's dare by Mercedes to eat an
entire can of suspicious-looking tuna that made her
throw up. Santana, in true Lopez-roundabout-revenge
fashion, dared Kurt to finish an entire bag of Sour
Patch Kids within 4 minutes which made him throw up
and get extremely annoyed with Mercedes. Quinn had
since resolved to avoid dares for the rest of the night.

Tina says, "Are there any guys you like right now? Or
do you still like Finn or Puck or... whatever?" Her
finger tapping against her root beer is the only
betrayal of her nerves at asking Quinn the question.

An image of Rachel in jeans leaps into Quinn's mind

unbidden and Quinn almost chokes on her Mountain
Dew. She sets it down while she coughs, buying
herself some time. She could always lie, but then...
She was surprised to find that she wasn't that
reluctant to admit it.

They'd enjoyed the evening, with Kurt being smarmily

hilarious and Mercedes being less of a diva than
usual. Quinn realised that Tina was really nice under
all her Goth-wear and Brittany and Santana were...
BrittanyandSantana. At least they hadn't snuck off to
have sex... yet. But so far the evening had been pretty
fun and hearing Santana admit that her worst fear
was unicycles had been the funniest thing she'd ever
heard.

The two cheerleaders are staring at her with

identically raised eyebrows, waiting for her to lie, but
the other three are just waiting for her impatiently.
"Spill, Quinn,' Kurt demands, a wicked grin on his
face.

Quinn lets out a breath. Well, at least the majority of

them there were already gay anyway. "It's not Finn or
Puck," she says slowly and Kurt seems to relax. She
swallows and mutters, "And it's not a guy."

Brittany pats her knee sympathetically while

Mercedes exclaims in utter disbelief. "Say what?" Tina
just blinks sporadically and Kurt, after a few seconds
of shock, nods sagely. "I knew I couldn't have been
the only gay person in glee club. Besides those two
anyway,' he gestures at Santana and Brittany. The
Latino looks up from her spot on Brittany's shoulder to
glare at him. He continues, 'But they're sketchy. And it
is, after all, a glee club."

"So I'm in a room full of gay people?" Mercedes just

sounds vaguely amused now. Tina objects with, "I'm
straight and I have a boyfriend," which starts them off
on a discussion over the sexual orientation of the
other boys in glee. Mike is mentioned several times
and Puck is completely ignored in their conversation.

Relieved that her confession hadn't elicited anything

more dramatic than that, Quinn meets Kurt's curious
gaze. "Not that I'm not completely delighted at your
sudden coming out, but you haven't told us who it is,'
Kurt says slyly, but with a grin.

Quinn blushes and looks to Brittany for support. She

rolls her eyes when she sees the blonde whispering
into Santana's flushed neck. "Cut the PDA, you two,'
she grimaces. Brittany detaches herself with small
smile, but Santana gives Quinn an unamused look.

"Q, just because you're sexually frustrated because

the chick you want is with some other dude right now
doesn't mean you get to cockblock me. F'off."

The three of them exchange wide-eyed glances

before Kurt blurts out, "Oh my god, you like Rachel
Berry."

Santana groans. "Oh my god, you losers, you just

figured that out?"

Quinn buries herself under a pillow. Someone drops

down beside her and pats her on the back. "Don't
worry, Quinn, we won't tell her. Or blackmail you. But
it's tempting." She looks up at Kurt, who smiles at her
awkwardly.
"Thanks,' she mumbles.

"You're singing a ballad with her, aren't you?" Tina

chirps in.

"It's the perfect opportunity, Quinn,' Kurt nods.

"As gross as thinking about you and Rachel is, I'm

with them,' Mercedes admits.

Confused, Quinn just cocks her head. "What are you

talking about?"

"Fate has laid a hand, Fabray, and we are Fate's

helpers. We're going to help you get the girl,' Kurt
points at Quinn dramatically.

"I love romance stories,' Tina sighs.

"Hey, speaking of ballads, Matt told me he actually

got Brittany,' Mercedes laughs and Santana blushes.

"San, you made Matt lie?"

"You made me end up having to duet with Matt? I've

never even heard him speak much less sing. Thanks
a lot, Santana,' Tina grumbles at a glowering Santana
Lopez.

"Shut up, you losers."

"You're whipped,' Kurt says as if it's the most obvious
thing in the world. A pillow hits him in the head, barely
avoiding Quinn's nose.

"Shut up!"

Quinn just lets herself smile.

Review?

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the songs. I only own

my plot, my own work, and some characters like
Phoebe and Amanda.

Note: This Kiss-Faith Hill

Also, I'm sorry this took forever, but I had exams and
then the chapter refused to be written. Fairly filler-ish,
but I hope to get the next chapter out as soon as
possible.

Quinn fidgets in seat for a minute before Santana rolls

her eyes and snarls, "Are you getting out or not,
wimp?" The trio is sitting in Santana's car outside
Rachel's house.

She cracks her knuckles nervously. "I don't know if

this is a good idea. I mean, what if-"

"For fuck's sake, woman. We already helped you pick

out a fucking song. Just go and sing the damn song
already." Santana had never been a morning person
and having to wake up at 8a.m. to send her best
friend to a midget's house had not improved her
mood. Brittany prods Santana in the shoulder, "Don't
be mean, San," and turns to face the backseat. "Look,
Quinn, you're Quinn Fabray. She would be an idiot to
not like you. Oh and I think I forgot to mention this but
I saw her watching you change when we were in her
house the other day. And she looked like she liked
what she was seeing." Brittany grins.

Quinn gapes. "Really?" She should feel creeped out,

really, it's unhealthy to feel quite so flattered, but the
thought of Rachel watching her sends a shiver down
her spine. She blushes when Santana makes a face.

"Okay out of my car. Brit and I need to practice for this

stupid thing, too."

Quinn lets out a quick breath and grabs her bag.

"What're you two singing anyway?"

Santana smirks cockily. "You'll see. Now out! And

take your backbone with you too, Fabray!"

Quinn rolls her eyes but gets out of the car. "Thanks
for the ride."

She straightens her back and gives the moving car a

half wave as she started towards the front door.

When she rings the bell, it's Hiram who opens the
door for her. "Quinn,' he greets sombrely.

"Morning. Is there a problem?" she feels an abrupt

surge of worry for Rachel before Hiram rubs his eyes
and shakes his head.

"Not exactly. Come on in. Rachel... Last night... I'll let

her tell you herself. Go on upstairs." Quinn tosses
Leroy a quick hello and a wave before hurrying up the
stairs while trying to appear as though she wasn't
hurrying up the stairs. It was a swift walk. Very swift.

The door opens right after she knocks on it and she's

greeted by Rachel who has deep eye bags under
eyes. "You look terrible,' she blurts out before she can
stop herself. It's not untrue, per se, but Rachel is
wearing shorts and a tank and she looks fantastic, but
her face is drawn and... She looks terrible.

A slight smile flickers across Rachel's face. She

wasn't insulted because there wasn't the least bit of
malice in Quinn's voice and she did know that she
looked terrible. "I know."

The brunette swings the door open the rest of the way
and slumps back onto her bed, staring up at the
ceiling. Quinn sets her bag down on the floor but
doesn't do anything else. "What's wrong?"

Rachel sighs tiredly. "It's not so much wrong as just

very frustrating and highly annoying. Boys are so
stupid! Ugh!" She flops over to stuff her head under
her pillow. Quinn tries not to stare at the smooth curve
of Rachel's back as her tank top rides up a little.

"Uhh,' she swallows hard, 'I take it your date with Finn
didn't go very well?"

Rachel groans and turns back around. "It's not like we

were going to do anything, you know?"

Quinn can't help but grimace. Every time she and

Finn had ever come close to doing anything and, well,
Finn wasn't a master of control, was he? And the
thought of him doing the same thing with Rachel...
She can't stop the immature 'ew's' running through
her head.

"I mean, we watched a movie and then we had dinner

and then... I should have been allowed an option,
shouldn't I? Relationships work both ways, don't
they?" Rachel sounds irritated now.

"Did Finn try to do anything, Rachel?" Quinn asks

quietly, the fingers of her unbroken arm curling up and
forming a fist, holding back the rage that threatens to
spill out of her.

"No! I don't think Finn would ever do anything like

that, but... Okay, look, what happened was that
halfway through the date I went to the ladies and
while I was there, I had an... epiphany. Let's leave it at
that. I realised that while Finn is a very nice boy, we
are highly unsuited to each other and as such I
decided to break things off before they got any more
serious and we became even more involved in the
relationship."

"What?" Finn looked completely bewildered.

Rachel cleared her throat and clearly but quietly

repeated herself. "I said, I think that we shouldn't go
out anymore. We're simply rather incompatible as a
couple and if we keep deluding ourselves to that fact
then this relationship will just drag on for an indefinite
period of time while we angst over how we don't seem
to fit together properly in both physical and mental
terms. It's in our best interests than we end it where
we are right now before it goes any further."

Finn still looked confused. "You're breaking up with

me?"

"Well technically this is our first date where we are

both free agents and we have yet to establish
ourselves as a couple, so I cannot 'break up' with you,
but in simplified terms then I suppose so, yes. I would
like us to not go out together with romantic notions
involved. This means that I would, however, love to
stay friends with-"

"You're breaking up with me?" Finn repeated slowly,

disbelief flooding his voice. "After everything I've been
through, after you've wanted us to be together for so
long, you'rebreaking upwith me?"

Rachel bit the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "Name

one good quality of mine, Finn."

Thrown, Finn blinked and doesn't respond for several

seconds. "You're uh, pretty... You're pretty. And you're
a good singer. And you're awesome." He grinned
widely at her.

The girl sighed. "I suppose I should thank you, but

your compliments are rather untrue. My nose is too
big and I am not a good singer, quite frankly, Finn, I
am a fantastic singer. My point, however, is that you
simply cannot name one good thing about me beside
my apparently aesthetically pleasing features and my
voice. I however would be able to tell you that while
you have a heart of gold, you are incredibly oblivious
and that-"

"You talk a lot,' he pointed out, 'but I don't know if

that's a good quality or not."

Rachel slumped back into her seat. "I'm sorry, Finn,

but it's not going to work out."

Finn scowled. "You're not even trying! Why'd you

even want me in the first place? Was it because I was
with Quinn? Now that I'm not you, you what, you want
to go after some other guy who has a girlfriend?"
She flinched. "That's not fair, Finn,' she mumbled. "I
know that sometimes I want what I can't have,' an
image of Quinn's laughing face flashes into her mind,
'but it's not fair to imply that I am some sort of a-"

"Slut?" Finn snapped coldly.

Rachel gaped. She'd never heard him be so crude

before. She shook her head slowly, as though she'd
misheard. "Excuse me? Did you really just call me a
'slut', Finn?"

He looks a little surprised at himself and he has the

grace to look uncomfortable, but he doesn't apologise
either. "Maybe I did. Who cares? It's not like you have
someone else on the sidelines. Or is that why you're
breaking up with me? Are you in love with somebody
else?"

Rachel leaned as far away from Finn and his acidic

words as she could in the small booth. "Finn, you
need to calm down. This isn't you. And yes, it may be
true that nobody else wants me, but it's not like you
really want me either, is it? You can't even name one
thing good about me. Face it, Finn. You just want
someone by your side, solidifying your status as the
quarterback who can date whomever you want to. But
you need to learn to walk without anyone by your
side, just like I've been doing for the past 16 years."
"Is that what this is about? Are you trying to get back
at me for what they did to you? That's bullshit!' Finn
hissed loudly. People were beginning to stare at
them.

"That wasn't what I said at all. All I meant to say was

that I do not wish to pursue a romantic relationship
with you because we're not suited to be with one
another,' Rachel said firmly, but impatiently.

"It's both ways, isn't it? I don't get to say anything? If

you want me, you'll chase after me and now that you
don't, you can just dump me? What the hell, Rachel? I
thought you were better than that."

"Finn,' Rachel sighed again.

"Whatever, Rachel. I'm outta here." Finn slapped a

few 10 dollar notes on the table, enough to cover for
the meal, before enacting a storm-out out of the
restaurant that could have rivalled Rachel's.

The brunette's head thumped back against her seat.

That went well, she thinks.

Quinn leans against the doorjamb casually, trying to

quell the burning hopefulness in her chest and
focusing on her irritation at Finn. "He left you
stranded? I know it's Lima but you're still kind of small
and-"
Smiling wryly, Rachel interrupts Quinn. "Yes, he did. I
suppose he forgot that I went there in his car, but at
any rate, my dad was nearby buying milk so he just
came by to pick me up when I called him. No harm
done."

Still mildly annoyed at the bumbling idiot, Quinn

shakes her head again. "I can't believe he called you
a slut. I didn't even know he knew that word."

"I doubt he meant it anyway,' Rachel smiles lightly.

Quinn folds her arms over her chest, or would, if one

of her arms wasn't in a cast. She settles for wrapping
one arm around herself. "Doesn't matter. He shouldn't
have called you that."

Rachel shrugs and rubs her eyes, blinking hard. "How

was the sleepover?"

"Fun,' Quinn shrugs, "You should've come." Rachel

shrugs back at her.

"So... are you okay?" Quinn prods. "Why do you look

like you didn't get any sleep?"

Rachel swallows. "I... I was thinking about the things

he said. In some ways, he's right. I do want things I
can't have, and sometimes I wonder whether I want
them because I'll never have them and it's safer to
want them because she's amazing but she'll also
never return my feelings and so I spent most of the
night thinking about how Finn Hudson was actually
right and- Shit." She clamps her hands over her
mouth and blushes furiously.

"Oh,' Quinn said non-committedly. Inside, her heart is

thumping hard and her throat goes dry. She swallows.
Don't get your hopes up, she scolds herself. She
could be talking about any girl. Her heart sinks
because, shit, she probably was talking about some
other girl. There's no way Rachel could possibly feel
for her that way after everything she'd done to her...

"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,' Rachel says

quietly. She prays that Quinn thinks it's someone else.
She couldn't lose this... this friendship or whatever it
is. Finn forgot to mention one thing. She's selfish, too.
She's selfish and she wants Quinn and she wants this
thing they have where they hug and they grab each
other's hands and they smile at each other. She
wants it all so much.

"No, it's fine. We should just... practice. I um, I actually

have a song prepared... I'd actually like to sing it for
you and if you like it we could go from there,' Quinn
feels the heat rise up to turn her ears red and she
plucks a CD out of her bag, waving it with a weak
smile on her face. It was going to be so awkward now
that she knew Rachel liked someone else, but what
could she do?
Rachel helps Quinn insert the CD into her (pink,
embarrassingly Bedazzled) radio, their hands
brushing against each other. Quinn turns red to the
very tips of her ears, but Rachel doesn't notice. She
wonders what duet Quinn had in mind for them to
sing. She had several songs picked out, but she
wasn't quite sure whether Quinn would agree to doing
a Wicked song.

Quinn forces her nerves away and presses the play

button. Rachel's eyes widen in disbelief the moment
she hears the easily recognisable tune.

"What you need to sing is a song of lament," Kurt

declares.

"Seriously, gay boy? Did you just say 'lament'?"

Santana scoffs.

He gives her a haughty glare before clearing his

throat and saying, "Yes, I said lament, Santana. And
do you know why, Quinn?" This he directs at Quinn,
who looked like she regretting agreeing to letting them
help her.

"Uh, no?"

Kurt sighs theatrically. "Because, my dear baby gay,

she's with someone else. So you need to sing
something which tells her that you want her but you
know you can't be with her because of that. Our dear
diva will be so overcome with emotion that she won't
be able to help herself and demand that Finn break
up with her so he can date me." He blinks.

Quinn narrows her eyes at him. "Kurt..."

"What? I'm kidding. Mostly. Once he's a free agent

and doesn't have a girl on his arms, he'll be able to
finally realise how adorably gay he actually is. I
always have two parts to my plans," Kurt admits.

"So are you doing this for me or for you?" Quinn asks
pointedly. She tries not to roll her eyes at her two
friends who are trying not to look like they want to get
a room.

Hint: it's not Tina and Mercedes.

"I'm doing this for both of us, Quinn. I do hope it works

out with you and Rachel, if only because you'll be able
to keep her occupied and far away from my solos.
And perhaps because I think you'd be good for each
other. I think you could keep her grounded. And yes,
maybe I think you could make each other happy. But
you didn't hear it from me."

Quinn smirks widely. "Aww, is widdle Kurtsie a softie

inside? Is he? Aww." She mock-pinches his cheek
and earns herself a glare.

"At any rate, Finn is just a distant dream, a hunk of

man I would dearly love to have, but nonetheless, a
dream. It's nice to dream sometimes, Quinn," Kurt
sighs.

Quinn pats him on the shoulder comfortingly, raising

her Mountain Dew to him.

Tina calls to them from across the room where she's

sitting with Mercedes. Pointing at the computer
screen, she says, "I think you should sing this one."

Curiously, she walks over and sees, then hears the

song Tina is talking about. Her smile falls off her face.
"Yeah. Sounds perfect."

"Don't worry, Quinn. Rachel Berry is Rachel Berry and

you're Quinn Fabray. She would be nuts to say no to
this."

"So she sings this to her and she, what, falls into her
arms?" Mercedes asks sceptically.

"That's the idea, yes," Kurt agrees. Mercedes still

looks unconvinced. Tina keeps scrolling.

Santana and Brittany could care less, because

Santana is trying not to stick her tongue down
Brittany's throat and Brittany is trying not to tell them
all to shut the fuck up and give them a damn room or
beware the consequences.
Quinn wonders how she fits into all the insanity.

For a long moment, Quinn wonders whether she was

insane or brain damaged to have agreed with Kurt,
Tina and Mercedes' plotting..

"My life is brilliant, my love is pure, I saw an angel,of

that I'm sure*." Quinn stares hard at the foot of
Rachel's bed, feeling herself blush deeper with every
word. Rachel just gapes, a warm feeling beginning to
spread through her fingers at Quinn's breathy voice.
The blonde sings with so much feeling in her voice.
She'd never really noticed it before, having never
heard Quinn singing a solo.

"I saw your face in a crowded place,and I don't know

what to do,'cause I'll never be with you."Quinn chokes
and stops singing when Rachel turns the music off.
She wets her dry lips as the brunette seems to
struggle for words.

"Quinn…"

"I'm… I'm sorry, Rachel. I should go." Quinn grabs her

bag and has one foot out of Rachel's bedroom door
before Rachel grabs her arm gently to prevent her
from leaving. "I like you,' Quinn blurts, 'and I know you
have feelings for some other girl and I hope you're
very happy with her and I'm sorry for everything I've
ever done to you." She tries to tug her arm away but
Rachel has this strange smile on her face.
"Did you mean what you sang?" she asks. Quinn
nods, embarrassed. She had never put herself out
there this way before, and the raw feeling in her heart
makes her feel like throwing up.

"What makes you think you'll never be with me?'

Rachel smiles teasingly. She feels a very peculiar mix
of emotions. No one had ever put themselves on the
line to sing to her quite like that before, and she feels
foolishly happy and very flattered. And delighted. And
confused, because surely she was dreaming this
scene? In fact, doesn't she have a small screenplay
written out in her journal that seems eerily similar to
this very scene? Except in her screenplay the
beautiful damsel ends up with some stupid guy
because the world hates her. She grimaces briefly on
the inside.

But no, because Quinn is looking at her hopefully and

dropping her bag back onto the floor with a light
thump. "I don't... Do you mean what I think you
mean?"

Biting her lower lip, Rachel takes Quinn's hands in her

own. Carefully, she says, "If you mean to ask whether
that girl I was talking about is you then yes, that is
what I meant."

Quinn is too surprised to really absorb the meaning of

that, but it doesn't matter because she feels Rachel
rub her thumbs gently over her palm and her cast
(which is a little strange but it's Rachel Broadway
Berry and she's known for her theatrics) and the girl is
stepping into her personal space and she doesn't
mind very much at all.

The taller girl leans down a little and then there's not
much space between them and Rachel stops moving
when her forehead touches Quinn's. "Are you sure?"
she whispers against Quinn's lips.

The blonde feels a shiver run down her spine again.

She knows what Rachel is asking. Is she sure she
wants to do this? Is she sure she's actually attracted
to a girl and that girl is Rachel Berry? Is she sure she
wants to do something that will label her and make
some people turn against her? Quinn swallows.
"Yeah. I've just… I've never done this before. Kiss
another girl, I mean."

"Mm-hmm." One of Rachel's hands comes up to

press against the back of Quinn's head and the other
wraps itself against her slim waist. And then Quinn is
surprised at how soft the lips caressing her own are
and her hands are tangled in Rachel's soft hair and oh
god, everything is so damn soft and she wonders why
she'd never tried this before.

Rachel's foot fumbles with the door behind Quinn and

then it's shut and Quinn is pressed back against the
door gently, their lips not breaking apart. Quinn lets
Rachel take the lead, enjoying the warm feeling of
being kissed. This was so very much preferable to
insistent tongues and coarse hands, Puck's
occasional prickly stubble and Finn's fumbling wet
kisses. Hot damn, Rachel Berry is a fucking good
kisser. Who knew her mouth could do so much more
than sing? And then Rachel is kissing the corner of
her mouth and she pants, drawing greedy breaths,
unaware that they'd been kissing long enough for her
to run out breath. Small teeth scrape against her
jawbone and, trembling, she pulls Rachel against her.

"Wait,' she breathes into the shorter girl's ear. The

part of her that enjoyed watching people squirm
cheered when a noticeable blush rises up her neck.
Rachel pulls back, her eyes dark and her lips red.
Quinn supposes that she looks the same way. She
plays with the hem of Rachel's tank top as the girl
loosely wraps her arms around her waist.

"What, I mean, I don't know, like, I've never..." Quinn

blushes again and hides her face against Rachel's
neck.

Rachel giggles and Quinn feels the vibrations against

her nose. She smiles. "We're just kissing, Quinn.
Relax." Quinn impulsively presses her lips against
Rachel's neck and the brunette involuntarily lets out a
soft moan. Quinn was just pressing soft, closed-
mouth kisses against her neck shyly but Rachel
thought it was the best feeling in the world.
Again, but this time because of Rachel, they stop.
"We don't really need to do anything, but... Despite
you having never done anything like this before you're
extremely talented with those lips and I don't think my
legs are going to hold up much longer."

Quinn smirks, her confidence coming back to her in a

sudden rush of adrenaline. "Do I make you swoon?"
she asks breathily against Rachel's neck.

Rachel nods blankly, not sure what she's agreeing

with because Quinn is staring down at her predatorily
and she feels like she really might fall over. She
wraps her arms around Quinn's neck for support.
Quinn pushes her backwards step by step until the
backs of Rachel's legs hit her bed.

And then Rachel is on the bed and Quinn is lying on

her side facing Rachel. She brushes the hair out of
Rachel's face and just stares down at her. Rachel's
eyes are dark but patient, and happy. Her lips look so
damn kissable, so Quinn kisses them languidly. The
angle is different but the feeling is still the same. It's
amazing. Quinn whimpers when a wet tongue slips in
between her lips.

It's a lot more heated after that and somehow Rachel

is supporting herself on top of Quinn, straddling her
and any thoughts Quinn harboured about this being
wrong are long gone because nothing wrong could
possible feel so, so right. And the weight on top of
her, staring at her like she's the only thing in the
world, giving her this look that tells her she's the one
making them feel good, makes her fly.

Rachel tastes like vanilla, and she knows that she's

never going to be able to go back to chocolate.

Then Rachel's hands are trailing goose bumps up

Quinn's side and Quinn pulls back to shake her head.
The words spill out of her in a blur. "I can't, I'm not..."

Rachel silences her with a soft kiss and then rolls off
her to lie on her side. There's a euphoric smile
plastered on her face and, grinning widely, she says,
"Okay. It's okay. That was... amazing. Oh my god. Oh
my god.I just made out with Quinn Fabray."

Said girl chuckles lowly and reaches for Rachel's

hand. She holds it between hers and, a similar grin on
her face, says, "Yeah, yeah you did. I feel so unlike
myself right now."

"It's understandable. You've just engaged in a heated

make out session with me against what you've been
taught most of your life and it's a completely new
experience for you. I can understand completely.
Also, I won't pressure you into doing anything you
don't want to. Any time you tell me to stop I'll stop,
okay?" Rachel asks shyly, worrying her bottom lip
between her straight teeth.
"Okay,' Quinn smiles.

"Unless you wish to continue, I suggest we get some

water and start practicing for our duet. As much as I
have discovered I adore your lips, I refuse to be
unprepared for our performance." Rachel starts to
move off the bed but Quinn slips an arm around her
waist and tugs her back down to fall onto the bed in a
huff. Smiling, she surprises herself by giving Rachel a
long, deep kiss that leaves them both breathless.

Stunned and blinking, Rachel just gapes when Quinn

pulls away. "So, practice?" She grins when Rachel
just shakes her head slowly, a conflicted expression
on her face. She could really get used to this kissing
girls thing.

"Dude."

"Yeah?"

"What the hell are we going to sing for that stupid

duet?" Puck grumbles as he blows a zombie's head
off on the television.

Finn shrugs and swears when his character gets his

head bitten off and he goes down. "Crap! Damnit!
Argh, I dunno." He looks around his room, as though
the music to a suitable song will fall down onto his
desk through the roof. Puck blasts another couple of
zombies dead before he too is overwhelmed by the
masses.

"Hey is that your old Gameboy?" Puck suddenly asks,

leaning over the bed and grabbing a yellow Nintendo
Gameboy Advance on top of Finn's pillow.

"Yeah I found it a couple days ago. Pokémon Blue is

the only game that still works though. All my other
cartridges are lost or something."

"Dude!" Puck punches Finn in the shoulder hard and

Finn scowls.

"What?" he asks, punching Puck back.

"I know what we're gonna sing."

"What do you want to sing?" Tina asks uncomfortably.

Matt shrugs.

Tina sighs.

"How about this one?" Artie presses play on his

iTunes. "I am an arms dealer, fitting you with weapons
in the form of**-"

"Oh hell to the nah! We are not singing that."

Mercedes crosses her arms and stares down at the
wheelchair-bound boy, one eyebrow raised
threateningly.

"Fine,' Artie shrugs and shuts his laptop. "What do

you want to sing, then?"

"Relax, I've got the perfect song."

Artie tries not to look afraid.

"So... I kind of have the perfect song in mind for us to

sing,' Brittany admits shyly as Santana peppers her
bare back with kisses.

Santana only hums in response.

"San..." Brittany reaches behind her to pull Santana

off and earns herself a groan of complaint. "We need
to practice this,' she says firmly. She blushes when
Santana just stares at her with a sultry expression
before her dark eyes travel all along her body.
"C'mon, later. After we practice."

Sighing, Santana says, "Fine. Here,' she adds,

handing Brittany her clothes back.

With a small victory smile, Brittany begins to put her

clothes on, feeling Santana's eyes continue to rove
across her body as she does. She smirks. "I was
thinking about this song." She selects a CD and slides
it into her CD player before skipping to the third song.
Santana's eyes widen as Brittany starts singing along.
"Brit,' she calls softly.

Brittany looks crestfallen. "I'm sorry, I know, you don't

really want to-"

"Brit,' Santana says more insistently, getting up and

putting a gentle finger on Brittany's lips, "It's perfect."

"This is a really weird song to sing," Mike comments

as he spins around in Kurt's chair.

"I know for a fact that there will be plenty of drama on

that day, so I thought we could sing something a little
lighter. And I was hoping this song would help some
other people as well,' Kurt adds, trying not to snicker.

"Okay. But it's all in good fun, right? I mean, because

I'm really not..." Mike trails off uncomfortably.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "No, you're not. Shame,' he sighs

dramatically. "Anyway, let's try this one more time."

"Prior to us kissing, I had several songs prepared.

Now I'm not quite sure. I think... I think we need to
talk, Quinn."

The blonde girl lies back against the pillows as the

short brunette paces the room, stopping every few
seconds to shuffle through the pile of music in her
arms. "Okay,' she says simply.
"I mean, this all depends on what we are and whether
we are going to come out to anyone at all. I fully
understand, if I don't quite like, the idea of not telling
anyone that we're... together? Are we together?"
Rachel asks hopefully. She doesn't want to push and
she's afraid Quinn will realise who she's actually with
and run away but she's Rachel Berry and she needs
confirmation. She needs someone to tell her that
she's worth more than someone's reputation in
school. She doesn't know if Quinn is that someone.

"Hey, c'mere." Quinn gestures for Rachel to sit down

next to her. The diva slumps down onto the bed and
looks up at Quinn pleadingly. It hits Quinn that while
Rachel acts like nothing affects her, a lot of things do
and she just hides it all the time.

She brushes Rachel's hair out her face, running her

thumb over Rachel's closed eyelids, her cheekbones,
her lips, and thinks about what she's supposed to say.
Rachel relaxes into her touch and sighs softly.

"Rachel, I can't promise you that I won't be afraid of

people finding out about us. People, I'm not even
talking about Lima, I'm talking about people in
general, they're not... accepting. My father, my
mother... I can't promise that I won't try to run away
instead of talk to you, that I'll stop being a bitch to
people I don't like. I strike out when I'm upset and I
know it's terrible but that's me and what I do know is
that I really do like you I think... I think I'd like to... to
date you." Embarrassed, Quinn shyly turns away.

Rachel looks at Quinn thoughtfully before pressing a

kiss to her cheek. "Okay,' she says easily, 'okay."

"Okay? Is that it?"

Rachel grins. "Yes, that's it."

"I pour my ice cold, empty heart out to you and all you
can say is 'okay'? Really, Berry?"

Rachel pouts. "Is there really any need to avoid

calling me by my first name, Quinn? You are, after all,
my girlfriend now, yes?"

Quinn blinks. "Uh, girlfriend?"

"No?" Rachel looks confused.

"Well, yes, but, I mean, I..."

Rachel furrows her eyebrows. "No?" she asks again.

"If that's not what you-"

"I mean yes, yes. Girlfriend,' Quinn rolls the unfamiliar

words around her mouth. "Hmm."

"Quinn Fabray, will you be my girlfriend?" Rachel

gives Quinn a lopsided grin.
Quinn pretends to ignore her and makes a grab for
the music sheets. There was a title she'd noticed
early... Yes. She pulls it out and hands it over to
Rachel, who looks slightly put-off. Then the brunette
looks down at the music sheet and there's her
answer.

"You, Quinn, are a complete dork." But the smile on

her face doesn't go anywhere else except stay on her
face.

"We'll sing this, okay? For the Glee duet. But... I'd
prefer if we don't tell the entire school just yet.
Please? It's just... a lot."

"It's perfectly understandable," Rachel nods. "I am

inclined to agree with you so, yes, let's not change our
Facebook statuses just yet?"

"And I'm the dork here?"

After they practice the song a few times, they just

stand there for a bit. It so happens that at that
moment, Hiram knocks on the half-open door and
asks them what they want for lunch. Quinn hurriedly
twirls away from between Rachel's arms where she
was standing, as though it's part of the choreography.
She blushes again. God, she was blushing so much
lately. Her cheeks were going to become permanently
inflamed.
"Leroy's actually got a few friends coming over from
England that he's taking out for lunch and I was
thinking about going out with him. But if you want I
could cook something for you girls first or I could call
takeout,' Hiram offers.

Rachel turns to Quinn, who shrugs. "Anything's fine."

"We might go out for lunch later, daddy. It's okay.

Have fun!" she adds enthusiastically.

"I'll leave some money on the kitchen table under the

lemon container, okay? Also, from now onwards,
open door policy, Rachel, you got that?" Hiram adds
nonchalantly.

Quinn splutters hard, desperately trying for an excuse

but Rachel just glares at her father. "Daddy, I would
like to inform you that we're both old enough for-"

"Okay, okay! I was joking! But please, don't do

anything while we're around. We might be open-
minded, Rachel, but the thought of it makes me want
to rip out a portion of our wall. Ugh. And if you need
any information I could-"

"Thank you very much, daddy, but I think I could find

any information I need by myself," Rachel cuts in
hastily.
"Alright then. Oh, and I think Quinn's about to choke
to death," he chuckles before walking away.

True enough, Quinn face is bright red and looks like

she's about to faint to get away from all the
awkwardness she was feeling.

"Calm down, Quinn. My parents like you, and oddly

enough they've never really liked Finn... But anyway,
the point is, they clearly don't mind."

"I'm not even going to ask how he figured it out when I

barely... Whatever. What about your dad?"

"He probably won't be quite as happy, but he'll be fine

with it. Don't worry so much, Quinn."

"Hey, did he say lemon container?"

"Yes. It was a gag gift from one of dad's relatives. It's

a giant lemon in the shape of a uh, lemon. You can
put napkins in rows in it." Rachel sticks her tongue out
at Quinn, who shakes her head.

"You're all crazy."

Quinn stays at Rachel's place for the rest of the day.

They alternate between kissing, watching movies,
practising the song a few more times, and accusing
each other of eating the last piece of pizza.
They end up sprawled on top of the couch in front of
the television where Lindsay Lohan is still a kid and
Regina George was getting hit by a bus. Rachel can
quote the entire movie word for word, whereas Quinn
has watched it only once before. Still, the blonde
muses, playing with Rachel's hair while she narrates
the entire script was pretty nice. Rachel's back is
warm against her front, and she has her casted arm
wrapped around her middle. It's surprisingly
comfortable.

It's different, because she's never before been holding

someone else before. With all the boys she has ever
been with, she'd always been the one being held, and
there was always a niggling feeling at the back of her
mind that it didn't quite seem right but she'd pushed it
away.

But this, her holding Rachel, Rachel snuggled into her

side as though Quinn is protecting her from Regina
whatshername, this is nice. This is... it feels good. It
feels...

Perfect.

The word hits her like a punch in the gut. 'Perfect'.

Really? She'd been together with Rachel less than a
day and already her brain was giving her words like
'perfect'? She glances down at the girl she's holding
and frowns.
Soft brown locks; thick, half-closed lashes; warm
brown eyes; straight, high nose that was actually kind
of cute and suited her face, now that Quinn actually
looks at it instead of just calling her RuPaul the large-
nosed Snowbear on impulse; and her lips. Her lips.
Her talented, blasphemy-inducing lips.

Quinn starts playing with Rachel's fingers

absentmindedly. Her fingers were slim and she has
small hands, and their hands fit together in a way that
Quinn's has never quite fit with anyone else's before.
She chews on her lower lip thoughtfully, mulling these
things over.

Perfect, huh? Well, that remained to be seen. But still,

so far, pretty damn nice.

Phoebe doesn't say anything when Quinn gets into

the car, even though she's dying to. She couldn't help
but notice her baby cousin kissing Rachel Berry at her
doorstep now, could she? But better to watch Quinn
squirm for a while waiting for her reaction.

No one could really tell, but Phoebe Fabray-Grey

really liked to mess with other people's heads.

Quinn turns the air conditioning up and switches to a

different radio station. Then she cracks. "For fuck's
sake, ask me whatever you want to ask me already. I
know you want to."
Phoebe smirks happily before taking a left turn. "What
makes you think I have anything to ask, hmm?"

"Well unless you're blind, my dearest cousin, you just

saw me kissing Rachel Berry. On the lips," Quinn
adds pointedly. She's slightly surprised that the words
come out with such ease. "So say what you want to
say, tease me if you want to and I know you're dying
to, you evil biatche. Get it over with." She pretends to
close her eyes and brace for impact.

The older blonde just takes one hand off the steering
wheel to squeeze Quinn's shoulder. "Don't hurt her,
Quinn. You probably will, because you're kind of a
bitch, but you're related to me and that should count
for something yeah? Have some fun. You only live
once."

Quinn cracks open one eyelid. Bewildered, she says,

"Is that it?"

Phoebe shrugs. "Well there's the part where I thought

about giving you tips on how to have sex, but I figured
you wouldn't appreciate that part very much."

Quinn shudders. "No, I wouldn't, thanks."

"Well there you go. But seriously, don't break her

heart. It'll come back to me somehow and I wouldn't
want my rep tarnished thanks to my repressed cousin,
yeh?"
The not-so-repressed-anymore cousin just rolls her
eyes and turns the volume of the radio up.

Amanda's reaction is a little less unenthusiastic.

Quinn can barely breathe after her hug.

Quinn was planning on seeing Rachel again on

Sunday, but then her mother calls her at 7.30a.m. in
the morning, which would've woken her up if she
wasn't already awake and staring at her phone willing
it to ring. She hadn't been hoping for her mother to
make it ring though.

"Mom?"

"Hello, Quinn. How are you?"

Quinn bites back all her words in favour of a quick

breath. She didn't want to snap at her mother that she
was better than she'd ever been since her parents
had started spending more time with vodka and
whiskey than their own children, nor did she want to
ecstatically blurt out that she was dating Rachel Berry
and she thought she might've been maybe kind of
falling in love even though love really was just
chemical reactions in your brain and she knows that
but still.

"I'm okay,' she says instead. 'You?"

"I've... I've been trying to stop drinking, actually."

"Really?' Quinn tries not to sound hopeful, 'how's that

going? And shouldn't you be in church right around
now?"

"Well, your father did ask me to go to church but then

he ended up back in front of the toilet bowl throwing
up before he could get past the front door. He's
passed out on the bed right now. He's been drinking
more and more since you le- Since he- Since we
practically kicked you out," Judy corrects herself
guiltily.

Quinn pretends not to care, pretends that the image

of her father heaving into a toilet bowl, sweat dripping
down his face, doesn't make her heart hurt, doesn't
make her want to punch a wall and then fix the world.
Instead, she says again, "And how's that not drinking
going for you, mom?"

"It's difficult,' Judy admits, 'but I'm trying. I'm talking to

you right now, aren't I? Sober?"

"You're sober, huh?" Quinn retorts before she can

stop herself.

Judy sighs. She has a glass next to her hand, but the
only thing inside it is water. She's trying, she really is.
She hasn't touched a drop of alcohol for three whole
days. It's progress, but when her own daughter is
doubting her and her husband is passed out on their
wedding bed, it's hard and it makes her want to fill up
the tub with Grey Goose and lie in it.

The notion sounds utterly ridiculous even in her head.

"Yes, Quinn, I'm sober. I've been sober for three days
and I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm trying
but it's hard. I'm your mother and I want to be able to
take care of your like I should have done all these
years but that's hard too but I'm trying. I'm trying and
I'm trying and your father is passed out and I'm
praying he doesn't choke to death on his own vomit
and I'm just... I'm trying, okay, Quinnie?" Judy's voice
cracks and she swallows her sob.

There's silence on the other end. There are unshed

tears in Quinn's eyes and she's just trying not to burst
into gigantic sobs because she's cried more in the
past week than she has for the past 5 years combined
and her tear ducts probably needed a break.

"I'm sorry I'm not the perfect mom, Quinn," Judy says
quietly. She knows she has never been and will likely
never be, but the thought that she's failed in this
situation makes her want to drown her sorrows in a
bottle of vodka. It's not helping her resistance at all.

Quinn sniffles and blows her nose. "I'm not. Nobody's

perfect, mom." She's just recently begun to realise
this herself. She had tried so hard to be the perfect
student, the most popular and well, it had all blown up
in her face, hadn't it? "I love you," she says sincerely.

Mrs. Fabray's eyes water and she rubs at them

hastily. If her daughter wasn't going to cry then she
sure as hell wasn't going to break down. "I love you
too, Quinnie, I really do. Do... do you want to go have
lunch later this afternoon?" So what if Russell Fabray
wasn't going to approve of this when he found out?
He wasn't going to kick her out of the house. Just like
everything else he couldn't tolerate or get rid of, he
would just ignore. Being ignored by her bigoted
alcoholic husband didn't seem like a very big price to
pay in return for her daughter talking to her.

"I, uh, okay, sure," she agrees before remembering

that Rachel had suggested they go out for lunch.
Crap. "Where?"

"You remember that little Spanish place we used to

go to all the time?" the older Fabray smiles a little at
the memory of a younger Quinn Fabray bouncing up
and down in her seat impatiently while waiting for her
tortilla to arrive.

Quinn grimaces slightly, because all she remembers

is her father telling her firmly to stop bouncing up and
down or he'd take her home for a tuna sandwich
instead. "I remember."

She still doesn't like tuna.

It's a little strange making arrangements with her own
daughter like that, but she clears her throat and says,
"Is noon alright?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

Quinn ended up cancelling with Rachel, who sounded

a little bit disappointed but at the same time delighted
that her relationship with her mother was improving.
Quinn again agreed to Rachel picking her up on
Monday to go to school.

When Rachel hangs up with a quick 'Bye babe Have

fun!', Quinn finds herself strangely giddy. It absolutely
wasn't because Rachel had just called her 'babe'. Not
at all.

She knows Rachel wants to go with her, but she can't

do it. She can't take Rachel with her because she
knows that her mother will sense something and she's
not ready to lose this fragile maybe-relationship with
her mother. Not again.

The restaurant was only a few blocks away from the

apartment, so Quinn opts to walk. She gets there a
little before noon and asks for a booth. The decor was
almost exactly the same, though the giant sombrero
hanging upside down from the ceiling seemed to
overdo it a little bit. There were a few kids running
around one of the tables with paper sombreros on
their heads and crayons in their hands. Quinn gazes
at them, her hand unconsciously splaying across her
flat stomach.

Lost in thought, she doesn't notice her mother until

the older woman slowly slides into the seat opposite
her. "Quinn," Judy greets.

Quinn jumps a little, but then a sombre smile graces

her features. "Mom."

Judy smiles back but before she can say anything,

the waitress appears next to the table with two menus
in her hand and she starts rattling off the list of
specials they had that day. Quinn stares firmly at the
menu while the waitress talks. She quietly orders the
same thing she'd had 10 years ago. Judy orders a
salad, to which the waitress raises her eyebrows, but
takes down the orders and leaves anyway.

Judy's face seems a little more lined than the last time
Quinn had seen her, but it didn't seem possible. She'd
only been gone what, a week? She sips at her water
and wonders what on earth they're supposed to talk
about.

"How's... school?"

Quinn shrugs. "Okay. Mr. Schuester has us singing

ballads for next Tuesday. A duet."
"Oh. Who are you paired with?" Judy sounds
genuinely curious, but Quinn has a bad feeling about
the direction the conversation is taking.

"Uh, Rachel. Rachel Berry."

"I see. What are you girls singing?" Judy suddenly

realises that she has nothing to do with her hands and
starts to fiddle with her napkin, folding it and unfolding
it over and over again.

Quinn swallows and starts tapping out a rhythm on

the table with her index finger nervously. She tells her
mother, trying not to blush.

Judy's hands still and she slowly puts down the

napkin. She stares at a point next to her daughter's
head and nods slowly. "I see," she says slowly. It
goes on for another minute before she stops nodding.
She shakes her head in a short, sharp move and then
nods again, just once.

The younger Fabray feels slightly nauseous and she

doesn't think it's because of the bun in her oven. She
swallows the bile that seems to be rising in her throat
and takes another sip of water. She stares resolutely
at her glass.

Her mother clears her throat and says, "Have you

thought about which hospital you want to have your
baby in?"
No way. No way her mother was just going to ignore
this. But apparently, yes, she was, because she's
continuing with "and of course, it's your choice, but I
want you to know that I have enough put away to
cover all your medical expenses. If Russell happens
to be in a good mood I might ask him but I don't-"

"I don't want anything from him,' Quinn cuts in

sharply, 'and... Are you just going to ignore what I
said?"

Judy Fabray hesitates and searches for the right way.

Carefully, she says, "Okay then, I won't ask for
anything from your father."

"Mom."

Said woman sighs. "Alright, alright. Let me tell you a

story, Quinn."

Quinn leans back in her seat to gaze at her mother

coolly. If she tries to tell her about Adam and Eve...

"There was once a girl about your age, maybe a year

older. Let's say... 17. A 17 year old girl with blonde
hair and blue eyes and a head full of lies. She went to
an all-girls Catholic school. Let's say she was a girl
guide." Judy stops when the food arrives. She nods at
the waitress as Quinn pokes at her food.
"Let's say when she was 17, she had a best friend.
She thought she loved her friend very much, but as a
friend. Or so she thought. Do you know what I mean?"
Judy catches Quinn's gaze and Quinn swallows. She
nods. "And then one week, they went for a camp with
the other girl guides. The two of them were paired up
and they shared a tent..."

For a few minutes, there's silence except for the clink

of cutlery. "I had my heart broken,' Judy admits
quietly, 'and maybe that's why I was so eager to
believe how wrong it was. I don't know. All I know is
that if she makes you happy, then go, have fun. But
you're my daughter and I don't want to you get hurt
because I love you. Do you understand?"

Quinn nods and blinks back tears.

"That's really quite lovely, Quinn."

"But sad,' Quinn counters, 'I mean, just imagine if I'd

been born and I had two moms? I would be different. I
wouldn't be who I am now. I'd probably be a better
person."

"I like who you are now,' Rachel argues, her shoulder
holding the phone against her head as she flipped
through the files looking for the PFLAG brochure she
knew she had, 'Plus, if you had had two mothers and I
had two fathers, we probably would have inevitably
have bonded as friends and we would never have
what we have now."

"That doesn't sound that bad. At least we could help

each other clean the slushies off,' Quinn jokes.

"True, but then as your platonic friend, I wouldn't have

been able to use my tongue to clean you off."

"Rachel!" Quinn chokes and laughs, pretending not to

blush as she buries her head in her pillow. She
certainly doesn't have imagery in her mind.

"I'm simply being honest, Quinn. At any rate,

everything you went through and everything I went
through shaped us into who we are now, enabling us
to get together. There is simply no point in thinking
about 'what ifs'."

"I know. Still, it's interesting. She never told me

before, and well, I can see why." Quinn shakes her
head. Her mother, her straight Christian recovering-
alcoholic mother, had once fallen in with a girl. It
boggled the mind.

"So when can I meet her?"

"What?"

"Your mother, Quinn, when are you going to introduce

me? Parents love me! It's not something they can
really help though, because I am rather lovab- Ah! I've
found it!" Rachel raises the brochure up to peer at it,
grinning widely.

"You've found what? And no, I'm not introducing you

to my mother. At least, not yet. I think it's a little bit
soon."

"Nonsense. You've met both of my dads; meeting one

of your parents will be a piece of cake. And what I've
found, babe, is the PFLAG brochure I'm going to give
to make copies of to distribute to the glee club and
your mother when I see her." Rachel quickly
calculates in her mind how many copies she needs
and whether she can get away with using the
Cheerios copy machine. She knows Sue Sylvester's
schedule pretty well by now, and with a few diversions
it should be no problem. On the other hand, did she
need to make copies for Brittany and Santana? Were
they friends of lesbians or just... lesbians? She
frowns.

"You, you what?' Quinn splutters, 'What in the world is

a... PFLAG? And why do you want to give one of
those brochures to my mom? Oh god, Rachel, it
better not be about how to have sex, because ew, but
I think my mom's already covered that part." She
shudders and blocks her mind out to the images.

"The PFLAG, for you information, stands for Parents,

Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. It is a
national non-profit organization with over 200,000
members and supporters and over 500 affiliates in the
United States. This vast grassroots network is
cultivated, resourced and serviced by the PFLAG
National Office, located in Washington, D.C., the
national Board of Directors and 13 Regional Directors.
PFLAG promotes the health and well-being of lesbian,
gay, bisexual and transgender persons, their families
and friends through: support, to cope with an adverse
society; education, to enlighten an ill-informed public;
and advocacy, to end discrimination and to secure
equal civil rights. Parents, Families and Friends of
Lesbians and Gays provides opportunity for dialogue
about sexual orientation and gender identity, and acts
to create a society that is healthy and respectful of
human diversity.***" Rachel heaves a breath.

"Okay, okay stop!' Quinn hurriedly cuts in before

Rachel could get any further, 'I get it, I get it! But why
on earth would you just happen to have that brochure
with you?"

"It's always good to be prepared, Quinn. I'm like a boy

scout, except I'm a girl and I hate bugs and camping
scares me."

"Right…"

It is a little weird to see Rachel hurriedly hop out of

her car to open the door for Quinn, but oh, how it
makes her beam like a love-struck fool.
Like a love-struck fool. She's not actually... struck by
love...

And when Rachel stands on her tiptoes to kiss Quinn

on the cheek, what can she do but blush?

Living in a romantic movie was not as appealing as it

sounded. For one thing, Quinn knows her cheeks will
soon fall off because they are not built to withstand so
much blood rushing to them so often.

And of course, Quinn only lets Rachel carry her books

for her because the dramatic diva looked like she
would cry if Quinn refused. Plus, her broken arm
itched and you can't scratch an arm when the other
arm is full of books. And yeah, okay, the smug look on
Rachel's face makes her want to kiss it off and maybe
that's Rachel's intention but the hallway is full of
people who already look curious but look! The choir
room is empty.

Quinn thinks it's not so bad, this having a semi-secret

girlfriend thing. She can't really think, because Rachel
kind of has her pressed up against the closed door
(again!) and her tongue is absolute magic against her
own, but she could really get used to this.

And then the bell rings and they realise that on

Mondays, they only have one class together. One.
Quinn ends up staring at the clock for much of her
first class before she snaps herself out of it and
concentrates on what the teacher is saying. But then
the bell rings and she thinks she just spotted a short
brunette outside her classroom which is weird
because Rachel's class was at the opposite end of
the school.

Still, when Rachel insists on taking her two books

away from her despite her protests, she can't help but
smile again.

She flashes a sly wink at Rachel before grabbing her

books and heading to her usual seat in History
casually, like she didn't just very purposefully run her
fingers down Rachel's arm while taking her books.
Her fingers certainly didn't dance across Rachel's own
and her breath definitely hadn't been blowing against
the back of Rachel's neck.

Like her guardian angels, or more accurately, the

personification of the metaphorical angel and the devil
on her shoulders, Santana and Brittany appear almost
immediately to drop into the seats on either side of
her. Rachel looks a little flustered and a little awkward
standing at the front of the class with her mouth
slightly agape, but after a few seconds she hurries to
her own seat, deliberately ignoring Quinn.

"Fucking hell, Fabray, the two of you have boned

already? I don't usually say this, but I'm impressed."

Quinn's confident exterior falters and she slumps

down into her seat. "Shut up, Santana. It's been two
days. Not all of us fall into someone else's bed within
hours of meeting them."

"Don't think I won't kick your ass just because it got

itself pregnant, bitch."

"Oh fuck you, Santana," Quinn sneers back.

"Shut up, both of you. This has gotten a lot more

boring and far less amusing to watch after 16 fucking
years. Jesus."

The two of them automatically mumble apologies to

Brittany, who shakes her head. "Like a bunch of
starving dogs, the two of you. Stop going for each
other's throats before I throw the both of you in a
room and lock you there for a week."

Quinn and Santana grimace, no doubt remembering

the long week while they were 10 where Brittany did
just that. Sleepovers were conducted at either Quinn
or Santana's place since then. Brittany Susan Pierce
was not to be trusted when she had the keys to a
room. Stupid blue eyed innocent looking blonde that
no one would ever suspect of being an evil
mastermind when she wanted to be.

"So,' Brittany continues cheerfully, 'what happened on

Saturday?"
"We uh, made out,' Quinn blushes, 'and, talked and
stuff. I mean, I want you guys to know before anyone
else we're kind of, I think, dating. But we're not going
to tell the school or whatever. Just glee club. But I
wanted you guys to know first."

"That's hot," Brittany comments before getting up

wrap herself around Quinn in a tight hug. "I'm proud of
you," she says seriously, making Quinn chuckle.
"Thanks, Brit."

Santana holds her fist out for a fist bump, the

expression on her face grave. Quinn furrows her
eyebrows in confusion and amusement, because
really? But she bumps her fist back against
Santana's, and the other girl nods. "Don't fuck it up" is
her only advice.

It's surprisingly hard for Rachel to keep her hands to

herself in school, but seeing Finn lurking around
corners helps. It's slightly annoying, because he looks
kind of bad and like he wants to apologise, but she
changes seats in Biology anyway because dealing
with Finn Hudson was not high on her wish list of
Things To Do Before I Hit 30 And People Start Telling
Me I'm Too Old To Do These Things.

It just leads to her fleeing her classes after every

class in a hurry to get to Quinn's classroom. Finn
seems to be pretty much avoiding Quinn so she was
pretty safe while with the blonde. That was the only
reason. She did not memorise Quinn's entire
schedule while carrying her books for the sole
purpose of being able to help Quinn carry her books
everywhere. Not at all. Not even close.

Except she kind of did and she's kind of whipped

except Quinn just seems adorably confused and
loving it.

Rachel Berry is not whipped without ever having

actually been whipped. She's not. But look, Quinn
wants some water and there is a ridiculously long line
at the water fountain and Rachel knows she has
some water in her locker.

After Rachel drops her back at the apartment to go for

her dance class, Quinn spends most of her day doing
homework. Or, well, she spends the better part of her
day getting Rachel's face out of her face before
adding a few more sentences to her essay. Rinse and
repeat.

She almost loses a few fingers to the dishwasher

when Phoebe jokes about her acting like a love-struck
young fool. The two of them end up on the couch,
Phoebe trying to wipe the soap suds off her head onto
Quinn's face. Amanda sighs and absentmindedly
wipes the suds off... only to wipe them down the front
of Phoebe's shirt, which makes the blonde woman
shriek.
It distracts Quinn, anyway, even if it does make her
laugh until tears are streaming out of her eyes when
Phoebe starts chasing Amanda around the small
apartment.

*You're Beautiful – James Blunt

** This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race – Fall Out
Boy
***I stole/borrowed all this from the actual PFLAG
website. Yes, they are real and not made up in the
least.

I realise it ended a little awkwardly, but review and tell

me what you thought anyway?

Note: It wasn't supposed to turn out so short or

sudden, but this is the last chapter. Chapter title is
Prozzak's song.

"Today's the day," Rachel reminds Quinn before

shutting the car door and getting into the driver's seat
as though afraid Quinn would forget something that
had kept her up all night.

Quinn just nods. "Yeah."

"Are you nervous? I have plenty of songs we could

sing if you change your mind and decide that you
don't want us to sing this song. No pressure on you,
of course. It's perfectly fine if you don't want to come
ou-"
Quinn entwines her hand with Rachel's free hand and
cuts her off gently, "I'm nervous, but it's okay. I don't
want to lie anymore. I don't want to have to pretend to
hate you or dislike you. I like you a lot, and to be
frank, my social standing is already fucked. I could
care less if the entire school knew if I knew they
wouldn't do anything to you. But I can't protect you
against bullying and I can't protect you against
homophobic asses. So I'd like for only the glee club to
know, because half of them already know and I don't
think the other half would care very much."

Rachel flashes Quinn a brilliant smile before abruptly

grimacing. "Except Finn."

"And Puck," Quinn adds morosely.

"What will we do, though, if they quit?" Rachel says

quietly, glancing at Quinn.

The blonde shrugs. "If it comes to that, we'll think of

something. Don't worry about it."

And then school is over and then they're sitting in the

choir room next to each other and all Quinn wants to
do is grab Rachel's hand except she can't and she
feels like punching Matt in the face, which is mean,
because all he's doing is sitting there.

Then Rachel sneakily takes her hand to hold anyway

and then you can't tell whose fingers belong to whom
but it doesn't matter because their hands are between
the chairs and no one can tell anyway. The brunette
gives Quinn a shy smile.

Finn walks in and looks like he's about to go sit on

Rachel's other side, but then Brittany is dropping into
the seat, Santana's legs instantly across her lap, and
Finn sighs, taking a seat next to Puck instead. The
rest of the members file in fairly quickly after that.

Brad the pianist is already sitting there and most of

the members are just sitting with their duets partner
looking bored. The minutes tick by, during which
Rachel informs the club that being punctual is a virtue
and that those who are not punctual will one day miss
their chance at success. Quinn stifles a grin because
the brunette was very clearly talking about Mr.
Schuester who is, as often as not, late. She guesses
that he's either chatting up Ms. Pillsbury again, or he
is chatting up Ms. Pillsbury.

Most of the club ignore her as usual, but Quinn

decides to have some fun.

"What if you miss your chance because you're early?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Quinn, if you're already

early then you're not late and if you're early then
you're already where you want or need to be, which
means you won't miss whatever you're looking for."
Nodding like she understands what Rachel is saying,
Quinn smirks. "And what if, for example, you
accidentally spill coffee on your soulmate while
rushing into the office because you were late? If you'd
been early you wouldn't have been rushing and you
wouldn't have spilled the drink and then you wouldn't
have met that person."

Rachel rolls her eyes even better than Quinn does.

"Quinn, these hypothetical situations make no sense
at all. If they were truly your soulmate then you would
hardly miss out on them just by being punctual. Also,
I'm talking about success. Your future employer is
hardly going to employ you if you're late for your job
interview, is he?"

"Well maybe the person you see when you're late

turns out to be someone looking for someone like you
for a different, better job."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Rachel splutters.

"Now you're just making up unrealistic situations to
confuse me and possibly annoy me."

"Am I succeeding? On time?" Quinn teases.

Huffing, Rachel lets go of Quinn's hand and crosses

her arms. "Whatever."

"Get a room," Santana mutters under her breath, just

loud enough for Brittany, Quinn and Rachel to hear.
Artie looks a little weirded out, but Tina nudges him
and asks him what he's singing and she raises and
eyebrow when he tells her. "You're singing what?"
she asks again in confusion.

Before he can answer, Mr. Schuester (finally!) walks

in, a depressed look on his face. He looks kind of...
broken, Quinn thinks. He looks like... he looks like
her, the way she looked when she thought that her
world was over. When the only thing her world
consisted of was popularity, her boyfriend and her
popularity. Before she'd discovered a new world,
where she had friends not just people who feared her,
where she had a mother who cared, where she had
Rachel Berry.

"Mr. Schuester..." she starts before Rachel can

lecture him on punctuality and its importance in life.

The teacher gulps in a breath before muttering, "Terri

left me."

The kids glance at each other nervously, not sure

what they're supposed to do or say. "Are you okay,
Mr. Schue?" Finn asks nervously.

He shrugs and sighs again. "She admitted she wasn't

pregnant and that she lied to me. Then she went to
her sister's for the night."
Santana fights the urge to tell him that really, he does
not need to unload on them like that and he's
probably better off without that scary, scheming bitch,
but then Brittany wraps her index finger and thumb
around her ankle and gives her a warning glare. The
man looked depressed enough; she hardly needed to
add to his misery. She rolls her eyes at her blonde
counterpart, but swallows her comment.

Mr. Schuester clears his throat and claps his hands

together once. "Anyway, it's not anything you guys
should worry about. So, who would like to sing first?
You're supposed to sing a ballad in twos, right?"

Shockingly enough, the first person to raise their hand

is not Rachel, but Brittany. Everyone looks a little
confused, but Santana pulls her legs back to herself
and gets to her feet and Mr. Schuester is gesturing for
them to take the floor so they just shrug and settle
back down.

Quinn raises a mocking eyebrow at Santana, who

scowls in her direction. The eyebrow said 'whipped',
and the scowl said 'shut up, bitch'. Quinn grins and
casually puts her arm along the top of Rachel's chair.
The brunette leans back and rests against Quinn's
arm, a small smile gracing her features.

"What song are you guys singing?"

There's a cocky smile on Santana's face, but

underneath the cockiness she's nervous. She cracks
her knuckles, a move that Quinn knows just means
she's nervous. "You'll see."

Brittany stands next to the piano and Santana sits on

a chair several feet away. Brittany nods and the music
starts. "*Do you hear me? I'm talkin' to you. Across
the water, across the deep blue ocean under the open
sky, oh my, baby I'm trying."

Santana smiles uncharacteristically shyly as the glee

clubbers let out a few whoops upon recognizing the
song, but she chimes in. "Girl I hear you, in my
dreams, I feel your whisper across the sea, I keep you
with my in my heart, you make it easier when life gets
hard."

Brittany pulls Santana up to twirl her around slowly for

the chorus. "I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend,
lucky to have been where I have been, lucky to be
coming home again."

Santana flashes a sly grin at the club as she sings the

line 'They don't know how long it takes, waiting for a
love like this." Puck waggles his eyebrows at the
Latino when she dances past him, and she spares
him a sneer before Brittany spins her away again.

"You'll hear the music fill the air,' Brittany sings at

Santana, who has leapt up the steps next to Quinn in
an unrehearsed move, confusing the blonde. Quinn
deftly slips Santana a rose, as per her mysterious
arrangement, and the dark-haired Cheerio does just
what her line commands her to do. 'I'll put a flower in
your hair,' prompting the glee kids to burst into
applause and even giggles when Santana falls
dramatically backwards into Brittany's arms when she
sings, 'You hold me right here right now.'

And then they finish the song to fierce applause and

more than a few 'about time's directed mostly at
Santana. There's a happy flush on Brittany's face and
Santana is strangely sweet about it all, not making
any jibes or sarcastic retorts. Will Schuester claps
slowly, his worries temporarily forgotten. There is a
wistful smile on his face as he says, "That was great,
girls. Congratulations. Even though it wasn't exactly a
ballad... Who's next? Finn?" he interrupts Finn, who is
nudging Puck and telling him that he probably turned
Brittany and Santana gay.

Confused, Finn snaps around, and then at a punch on

the shoulder from Puck, he shrugs. "Sure, yeah,
okay."

Most of the members have to clamp their hands over

their mouths to not burst into ridiculously loud laughter
from the very first second the song begins. "**I wanna
be the very best, like no one ever was. To catch them
is my real test, to train them is my cause," Finn sings
seriously.
Puck, grinning like a nerd, in Santana's opinion, dives
into the next line with relish. "I will travel across the
land,searching far and wide, each Pokémon to
understandthe power that's inside." The way he sings
it while smirking at Mercedes makes it sound almost
perverted, but all 10 of the members are grinning at
the nostalgia of the days where they knew all the
words of the song, even Rachel and Kurt. They can't
help but to join in the chorus.

"Pokémon, gotta catch 'em all," they sing loudly,

acting like this is totally normal. "It's you and me,' Finn
points at Rachel, whose smile falters slightly, 'I know
it's my destiny."

Oblivious to her girlfriend and ex-boyfriend's

exchange, Quinn grins at Rachel. You're my best
friend, she mouths and the brunette's smile almost
blinds her.

"Pokémon, gotta catch 'em all, Pokémon!" they

exclaim exuberantly in unison. It's ridiculous and
they're 16 and probably a little too old for this, but this
is what they live for. That moment where they're
above all the petty relationships and quarrels, where
they're just one group, one group of friends bonded by
their quirks and their love of music, and apparently
now, their love of Pokémon.

High-fives and fistbumps are exchanged all around

and Quinn resists the urge to punch Finn in the face
when he smiles adorably up at Rachel from his seat a
few steps down. Rachel grins back, but then she
looks at Quinn's slight scowl and she nudges her
girlfriend before kissing her in the cheek, not caring
who saw.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, most of them

were facing the front and Kurt, Brittany and Santana
were the only ones who'd noticed. Kurt gives her a
thumbs-up and a wave.

"Alright, alright," Mr. Schuester calls out, a wide grin

on his face now. "That was great, you guys. Even
though it wasn't technically a ballad, it was still a song
that brought you guys closer together and that's what
was amazing. Good job, you two." Finn and Puck
high-five again, pleased smiles on their faces.

"So, who's next? Um, Rachel, maybe you'd like to go

for it? Quinn?"

And then suddenly her heart is thundering in her

chest and her throat is dry and there's no way she can
sing this song with Rachel because oh god, what if
either Finn or Puck try to kill either one of them? What
is someone throws rotten tomatoes at them? What if
someone throws a lemon?

Quinn sucks in a quick breath, telling herself to calm

down. She is being utterly ridiculous. Then a warm
hand is holding hers and she forces a smile when the
brunette tugs her towards the front of the room. They
don't bother hiding the hand-holding anymore,
drawing confused looks from the boys except Kurt
when they don't let go.

Brittany waves at Quinn and Santana mouths the

words 'Man up, woman!' which Quinn finds ironic.

Smiling at her fellow glee clubbers, Rachel says, "The

song Quinn and I will sing today is 'I Run To You' by
Lady Antebellum. They co-wrote the song with Tom
Douglas. It's their group's first number one single,
reaching that peak in July 2009. Other than being in
the group's self-titled debut album 'Lady Antebellum,
the song also appears on 'Now That's What I Call
Country Volume 2' as well as 'Now That's What I Call
Music 31'. Now, in this song, already a duet, the
narrators state that they turn to each other to escape
the negativity and prejudice of the world."

"Wait, it's a love song?" Finn cuts in abruptly. Puck's

face darkens.

"I've heard that song on the radio... Isn't it a love

song?"

Quinn nods, looking away from her mother. "Yeah,'

she says quietly, 'it is."

"Oh."
Taken-aback, Rachel glances at Quinn, who nods.
"It's an expression against hate and prejudice, but
also the redemption of love," she says quietly. She
wonders how Rachel had convinced her to memorise
the description on the Wikipedia page.

"The two of you... are singing a love song." Puck

states clearly, just the barest hint of disbelief in his
voice. Quinn stares him down, and just as clearly
says, "Yes, we are."

His fist clench and he crosses his arms tightly. Finn

looks extremely offended, but speechless. Mr.
Schuester clears his throat for them to continue but
Rachel looks hesitant. Quinn squeezes her hand,
ignoring the strange looks they're getting from the still-
speechless members, and nods at the band. She
smiles at Rachel again before singing, "***I run from
hate, I run from prejudice, I run from pessimists, but I
run too late."

Rachel smiles back, drawing courage from her

girlfriend's (girlfriend, Quinn Fabray, her girlfriend!)
smile. "I run my life or is it running me, run from my
past, I run too fast or too slow it seems."

"When lies become the truth, that's when I run to

you." And Quinn can see that for once, Rachel is
singing not to the audience, but to her, to her and her
alone. She is the sole focus of Rachel's intense gaze
and even as the familiar words slip out of her mouth,
she has butterflies in her stomach, back flips in her
heart and a hand in Rachel's hair and she knows
there's probably a foolish smile on her face but she
keeps singing, even when Rachel's hand slips around
her waist and they're just singing to each other like
they're in a goddamn cheesy romance movie.

She's going to get so much shit from Santana later,

but right then nothing matters except Rachel beaming
at her like nothing else matters.

"Whoa, oh, I run to you, girl," Quinn sings to Rachel.

"This world keeps spinning faster," Rachel twirls

away, one hand tangled with Quinn's, 'into a new
disaster so I run to you, I run to you baby."

And then all the girls except for Santana are clapping
enthusiastically and Mike is wolf-whistling at them and
Rachel is blushing. Matt claps, but though there's a
slight smile on his face, he looks bored, as though he
isn't shocked in the least. Artie looks thoughtful, but
he claps as well.

The only people not clapping are Puck and Finn. Finn
looks like he's about to burst into a million question
marks whereas Puck just looks irritated. He stands up
and stares down at Quinn, who glares right back at
him. "You picked Rachel Berry over me, Quinn?
What, is going out with me that despicable that you'd
rather go out with Berry? Did Finn turn you gay or did
I?"

Quinn winces. "It's not about you, Noah. We're not...

We're not going to happen. And I like Rachel. I'm
sorry." Rachel grips Quinn by the waist tighter in a
show of possessive defence, a move that doesn't
escape Puck's notice at all. He scowls and stalks out
of the room.

The two girls glance at Finn. He shakes his head. "Is

she why you didn't want to be with me?" His question
is directed at Rachel, who sighs.

"Finn, I never meant to hurt you and it's not you.

We're just... We're not going to happen." Rachel looks
hopelessly at Quinn. It's not an answer, but they both
know he isn't really looking for one. The boy nods,
clenching and unclenching his fists a few times before
nodding again. "Okay," he says softly, not looking at
either of them. "Okay, I get it. You... like each other?"

"Yeah," they say simultaneously. Finn blinks, looking

a little uncomfortable. His ex-girlfriend and his ex-
almost-girlfriend were together. He shakes his head
and frowns, saying, "I have to go think for a bit,"
before walking out less dramatically than Puck had.

"Oh my god, get over it, losers. They've been gay for
each other since forever," Santana sneers. Kurt
sniggers and Tina smiles at the pair.
"Well, uh, you girls sounded great together," Mr.
Schuester says awkwardly. He glances at the door.
The rest of the members look from the door to the
girls who are still standing in front of them to the
ground and back again.

Artie doesn't understand how they can stand each

other at all, but they're both hot, and that he can
appreciate, even if Puck cannot. The logic behind
their relationship doesn't really matter to him.

Mike thinks Quinn looks happier, at least compared to

a week ago. When she'd still been lying, with Finn and
with Puck trying to make her explode into a screaming
wreck, she'd walked around with an invisible weight
on her shoulders. Her dancing, he'd noticed, had
been less loose. She'd been tired and he'd noticed,
even if she'd been trying to hide it. But now she
looked happier, calmer. Oh, and Rachel seemed to be
talking a little less, which he thinks is nice. At least
she wasn't trying to start the 'Cauc-Asian Society' with
him anymore...

Matt's hungry. He'd missed lunch because Tina had

wanted to make sure he knew the words to the duet
they were singing. Who didn't know the words to
'Hakuna Matata'? Rachel and Quinn looked sweet
together though.

Tina suddenly wonders what it was like to kiss a girl.

She blushes.
Mercedes wonders whether they'll ever be able to
have a normal practice for once.

Kurt looks down at his nails and marvels at the fact

that despite all the suffocating pressure in the room,
his nails have yet to crack.

"Are we going to get on with it or are we just going to

sit here? Or is practice cancelled again?" Santana
asks sarcastically. Brittany tugs lightly at Santana's
ponytail, but there's a slight smile on her face that
says she agrees with Santana.

Rachel glances at Mr. Schuester, who looks lost. She

shakes her head. "Maybe we should just stop here,
Mr. Schuester." The teacher shrugs helplessly. If even
Rachel Berry didn't want to practice..."Does anyone
want to continue?"

Almost immediately, the club stands and starts

gathering their things. "No way we were going to get
anything done today anyway," Mercedes mutters.

"Okay then, I'll see you kids later." And then he

slumps out the room, looking a little less depressed
than he had been when he first walked in.

Rachel pulls Quinn a little closer to look up at her.

"You should go find Puck."
"Probably," Quinn frowns. "You want to talk to Finn,
huh?" She can't help the faintest trace of jealousy that
creeps into her voice.

"Need to, not want to," Rachel corrects her girlfriend,

pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Go on. I'll meet you by
the car after."

"Noah."

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name." Quinn desperately tries not to roll her

eyes at how petulant he sounds.

"No it's not. It's the name my dad gave me and I don't
give two shits about him or that name so don't call me
that!" Puck growls.

Quinn nods before delicately sitting down a step

below him on the bleachers. The football field is
empty, the sky blue, and the tension between them
tangible. "I'm sorry," she says softly.

He sighs and he suddenly looks older than 16. The

sunlight glances off him and as he looks away, and
she thinks that maybe, if they'd both been a little older
and things had turned out a little bit different, he could
have been the one she'd want to be with instead. But
he's not, she's not, and she isn't.
"I'm always going to be the last choice, huh? Even
when we were kids, I could tell. You'd already decided
he was going to be the boyfriend you 'fell in love' with,
be Homecoming Queen, rule the school.' Puck laughs
mirthlessly. 'And me? I was the delinquent, wasn't I? I
was always the boy who doesn't do anything except
cause trouble and shove people into dumpsters and
fuck older women. Always the last choice. Right,
Fabray?"

What can she say to that? It's not true? But it was.
She'd chosen Finn over him, then she'd chosen
Rachel over him. Despite herself, she feels guilty. He
sounded extremely hurt, but again, what he'd said
was true. He was bad news, or that's what he showed
the world.

"For someone out there, you're the first choice," she

offers him a smile. He shakes his head again.

"Santana fucking dumped me for a girl. I got you

pregnant and then you got a girl. Do I just turn chicks
gay or something?"

"Maybe you're gay, too," Quinn says seriously, but

with a grin on her face and he smiles back weakly.
Then the smile falls off.

"I've loved you for a while." He stares at his shoes

firmly.
Quinn sighs. "Puck..."

"Yeah, I get it. Nothing between us and all that crap.

But y'know, if Berry ever loses interest... What is it
about you, Fabray, that makes the most unlikely
people fall for you?" He looks up at her, gazing at her
with a look on his face that turns him from Puck to
Noah Puckerman.

Quinn swallows. "I don't know. I don't deserve her. Or

Finn. Or even you, for that matter."

"Bullshit."

She shrugs.

"Whatever." He stands up, stretches. "Never thought

I'd say this to anyone, but I think... I think I'll always
love you a little bit. Or if Berry doesn't want to put out,"
he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Quinn nods, knowing that he's just bringing his walls

back up, his refusal to have a heart. "You're a good
guy, Puck. Or you could be, maybe, if you wanted to."

He falters for a second, and then scoffs. "Sure. Seeya

round, Quinn."

He's about the length of a swimming pool away when

he yells back her, "And if you ever want a threesome,
you know my number!"
She can only watch as he walks off. She bites her lip.
This was... good, right? But still, she can't help but
think she'd made a mistake judging him so easily. She
unconsciously puts a hand on her stomach and
frowns.

No, she wasn't wrong. What was done was done, and
they'd both have to deal with the consequences and
move on. No matter what, he would always be the
boy who forgot or didn't want to use a condom and
got her pregnant and made her world come crashing
down. And he wasn't the only one to blame for it,
because things happen, but Quinn knows that for a
long time, that's all Puck will be in her mind.

"Rachel, I'm in here."

The brunette glances into the empty, dim classroom

and squints before she notices Finn sitting next to the
window. She turns on the light.

"Hi." She perches herself on the teacher's desk.

"Hey." Rachel waits for him to speak, looks at him

while he struggles with his words. Would she have
fallen for him at some point? Could she have? She
narrows her eyes. Did she want to?

"Look, I'm really, really sorry about what I said the

other night. I- I don't usually say stuff like that. I don't
know why I said that and I really didn't mean it. You're
not... You're not a... that," he said uncomfortably.

"I accept your apology,' Rachel says slowly, 'and I

guess I'm sorry, too. I suppose from another
perspective it would be like I led you on, but I didn't
mean too. I didn't want to be with you while thinking of
someone else. It wouldn't have been fair on either of
us. So I broke off whatever we were before it could
get any more serious the moment I realised. But I
would still like to be friends with you."

Finn nods. "That'd be cool."

Rachel nods awkwardly.

"So... you like her?"

"Yes."

He looks away. "More than me?"

"I like you in different ways and I don't think you really
want the answer to that question," Rachel replies
calmly, but sharply.

Finn looks up at her pleadingly. "What did I do wrong?

Why does everyone keep falling for Quinn Fabray?
She cheated on me and lied to me; she was like, evil
to you! She called you names and loads of other stuff.
She doesn't even like you!"
It takes all of Rachel's self control to not hurl the
duster at Finn's head. "If you recall correctly, Finn
Hudson, you were never particularly nice to me until
you joined Glee Club and figured out I liked you,
either. You never stopped anyone from throwing
Slushies at me, calling me names or treating me like
I'm nothing. Yes, she didn't treat me particularly well,
but I'd like to think I'm right in thinking she's changed.
She's been nothing but sweet to me since everything
fell apart and maybe it's just wishful thinking, but I
don't think she'll go back to who she was.'

"You're not faultless, Finn. None of us are. But what's

perfect about each one of us is the ability to look past
all of that. Look past her mistakes and accept that she
was scared and had no one to turn to. She was afraid
and she did the only thing she could think of. Don't
blame her for that. And don't forget that what you did
was part of what led her to doing what led to her
pregnancy."

It's quiet in the classroom for a while again before

Finn speaks. "You're right," he admits.

Quinn knocks on the door, startling the both of them.

"Finn. Do you mind if I talk to Rachel alone?"

He shrugs and stands up. He stops next to her before

leaving. "I'm sorry."
The blonde nods. "I'm sorry too," she hugs him lightly.
He nods at the both of them and walks out, his
shoulders hunched.

And so ended one high school romance, a romance

that never really was, Quinn ponders. She'd used him
and thrown him away, and he had fallen down and
into two pieces. How many people was she going to
break before she stopped? Was she going to break
Rachel? By accident, by mistake...

She looks sadly at her girlfriend who is still seated on

the teacher's table. Quinn moves to stand in front of
her and Rachel tugs her close. "Hey," she smiles.

Quinn pensively runs her hands through Rachel's

hair. "If I ever go back to who I was, shoot me."

Rachel gasps and pokes her in the side. "Quinn

Fabray, were you listening outside the door?"

"I was walking past the door and I happened to hear

you so I stopped to listen because I absolutely adore
your voice,' Quinn raves, 'and I simply couldn't resist
the urge to- Ow! Poke me again and I swear I'll-"

Rachel cut her off with a kiss and Quinn tries not to
roll her eyes at how cliché it all is. She kisses back
instead.

Grinning, the brunette pulls back. "Eavesdropping

charmer," she teases.

Quinn smiles. "I mean it though. I don't ever want to

go back to being who I was."

"Me neither," Rachel says simply.

Quinn tucks her head against Rachel's neck and

sighs. "Do you think our lives would have been easier
if we were with the people we're supposed to be
with?"

Rachel scowls. "You mean Finn and Noah?"

"Yeah."

"What makes you think I'm not the person you're

supposed to be with?" Rachel fires back, subtly
pushing Quinn away.

Quinn hides a smile and presses her lips against

Rachel's neck, halting her girlfriend's mild protests. "I
meant,' she murmurs against Rachel's jaw line, 'the
people we were expected to be with."

"Oh,' Rachel replies, not really concentrating what

Quinn is saying, her focus more on where her lips are,
'I suppose lots of things would be much simpler,
certainly. But if everything went as expected life would
be pretty boring."
"Are you bored now?"

"Absolutely not in the least. But maybe this would be

more comfortable on a bed?"

Quinn leans back and laughs. "You're like a teenage

boy."

Rachel shrugs. "Never denied it."

"C'mon, horndog,' she helps Rachel off the table and

pulls her out the door. "Hey, we sounded great
together earlier."

"We did,' Rachel agrees, 'You sounded perfect."

Raising her eyebrows, Quinn says, "Really?"

Rachel blushes. "Almost. You wavered a little at the

beginning, and you went a little bit sharp on some of
the notes. But it's nothing a few more practices won't
fix. It's a good song. We could probably even sing it
for Sectionals! It's a song with an excellent message,
at least."

Quinn grins and listens as Rachel keeps talking while

they walk.

Epilogue or no?

*Lucky – Colbie Caillat ft Jason Mraz

** Pokémon Theme – Billy Crawford
*** I Run To You – Lady Antebellum