Fic: I Will Try (And Fix You) - Prologue
Title: I Will Try (And Fix You)
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: PG-13ish, some bad words
Spoilers: Through "Journey."
Summary: Quinn is broken. Can Rachel put her back together?
A/N: I have no idea where this came from, or if I'll write any more of it. It was eating away at my muse, so I scratched it out - it's really bizarrely wordy, and way different than my usual stuff (in that it actually follows canon - well, the first season, at least - and there's less dialogue). It's odd, and we'll have to see if it goes anywhere... but I'm enjoying writing it, so there's more to come!
It was hard to say, exactly, when Rachel had noticed that there was something deeply wrong with Quinn since her return from summer vacation. It might have been the first time she saw her, her blonde locks cut short and her head down. It might have been the way she was slipping through the crowd of students rather than expecting them to part for her. Or it may have been when Jacob Ben Israel asked her something about her “bastard child” for his stupid blog and she slapped him so hard Rachel expected his head to turn all the way around like in a cartoon. She definitely knew something was wrong, though, when Quinn followed that up by slamming him against a bank of lockers and kneeing him in the groin, and when it was obvious that she was going to do worse until Santana and Brittany grabbed her and forcibly pulled her away. Rachel Berry was, if nothing else, observant.
She didn’t see the ex-Cheerio the rest of the morning, but when she got to Glee Quinn was sitting slumped down in her chair, looking for all the world as if she’d rather be anywhere else. Rachel took the chair in front of hers, and Quinn sighed.
“Quinn - may I inquire, are you all right?”
Quinn didn’t answer, just stared tiredly at the board. Rachel was about to follow up when Mister Schuester arrived, looking like someone had kicked his favourite puppy. Rachel wondered what crisis was occurring this early in the term. He put down the stack of sheet music books he was carrying and opened his mouth to speak, but Quinn was on her feet before he could say a word. “Quinn?” he asked, confused. “Did you have something you wanted to-” he faltered as he saw the tears running down her face. She walked past him without a word and out the choir room door, and the room was filled with murmuring.
“Does anyone know what that was about?”
Rachel pondered getting up and giving chase, but she decided to stay and find out exactly what had Mister Schue upset instead. A better teacher may have followed Quinn, but he -not the best of teachers sometimes - went right on with his lesson plan. She listened as he explained that, since Matt had transferred over the summer, they needed to recruit new members. She was as enthusiastic as everyone else when he suggested a very public performance to try and get other students interested in Glee as well - but a part of her mind stayed occupied wondering what exactly was happening with Quinn.
Their performance of “Empire State of Mind” didn’t exactly raise the roof the way they’d hoped - in fact, aside from the toe-tapping of the new exchange student, none of their classmates seemed to notice that they were there at all. Which, granted, wasn’t an entirely new phenomenon for New Directions, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. As the group began to dejectedly return to the choir room, Rachel caught sight of Quinn sitting on the steps. She wandered over, trying to appear casual as she sat down beside her.
“Quinn? Are you all right?” The scathing look she got was answer enough. “Would you care to talk to me about it? I’m hardly a qualified expert, I admit, but as a fellow member of your Glee family, I’d certainly be willing to listen if there was anything you wanted to tell me.”
For a fraction of a second, it looked like Quinn might answer her, but then her mouth slammed shut and she looked away. She took a pen from her bag and scribbled on a piece of note paper, then tore it out of her book and stuffed it in Rachel’s hands before getting up and walking away. Rachel watched her for a minute, trying to discern whether to follow, then looked down at the crumpled page in her hands. There were only five words, written with angry slashing strokes in purple ink.
Tell Mr. Schue I Quit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rachel called Santana first. Somewhere in between the threats of horrible violence for ever calling her phone, she discerned that neither she nor Brittany had been in any kind of regular contact with Quinn over the summer, and they didn’t know what was happening with her. When they’d pulled her off Jacob that morning, she’d shaken them off and left without a word to either of them. Rachel tried Finn next, and got roughly the same answer - no contact over the summer, no idea what was going on with her. Puck brushed her concerns off without really addressing any of them, and Mercedes hadn’t seen Quinn since she’d moved out of her guest room.
Which left her with only one option, as much as she dreaded it. She dialled Quinn’s number and held her breath as the phone rang. And rang. And rang. After four rings, her voicemail picked up the call.
“This is Quinn. If I didn’t answer, I don’t want to talk to you, so don’t bother leaving me a message.” There was a beep, and Rachel hesitated.
“Quinn - this is Rachel Berry. I was, uh,” she fumbled for words, unusual for her, “I was hoping to convince you to reconsider your decision to leave Glee. If you wanted to, please feel free to call me back.” She added her number. “I hope to speak to you soon, Quinn.”
She hung up her cell with the punch of a button, pondering one more phone call - and wondering whether the inevitable consequences she’d face for making it outweighed the benefits. Finally, she dialled the last number she could think of to try. The phone rang twice, and the voice that answered was female and quite obviously inebriated. “H’lo?”
“Miss Fabray, hello - this is Rachel Berry calling, I’m in Glee with Quinn. I wondered if I could speak to her about an upcoming project.”
The woman on the other end of the line gave an undignified snort. “Quinnie doesn’t live here anymore, sweetheart.”
“I don’t understand - where is she, exactly?”
“Try that filthy little room she’s renting.” Judy hung up the phone loudly, and Rachel winced. She sat back on her bed, processing what she’d been told. She grabbed a notebook from her bedside table - decorated, naturally, with a large gold star, and hurriedly wrote down a few words.
Operation Quinn.
Where is she living? Why isn’t she living at home, when her mother invited her back at Regionals?
Has she spoken - like, out loud - to anyone since she returned?
Tapping her pen against her chin, it occurred to Rachel that she had no real reason to be checking on the welfare of Quinn Fabray. The girl had, after all, made it her mission for years to make Rachel’s life as utterly miserable as possible. She’d been slushied on Quinn’s orders, Quinn had made unflattering comments about her myspace videos, drawn horrible pictures of her on the wall of a bathroom stall, and generally treated her like something she’d wiped off the bottom of her shoe. But then, the last year had changed the both of them. Quinn’s pregnancy and subsequent fall from grace had made her much more personable, and Rachel had been able to see a whole new side of her, vulnerable and scared under the tough front that she wore like armor.
And that was enough, Rachel thought. If her guard was so broken down that all of her pain was showing through, then the least she could do was attempt to be a good person and try to help. Nodding, decision made, she began to formulate her plan.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Quinn walked through the door of McKinley high the next morning, Rachel deliberately stepped in front of her. They both toppled over, and for a hopeful split-second Rachel could see a flash of her old anger in her hazel eyes, but it seemed to burn out just as fast. Quinn grabbed her books from the floor and kicked Rachel’s toward her as she apologised.
“I’m terribly sorry, Quinn - I hope you can forgive me? I’m just utterly clumsy today, and I’m very sorry to have barrelled you over like that. Are you okay?”
Quinn nodded, taking a silent inventory of her books. Convinced that she had them all, she stepped around Rachel and walked away down the hall. The first phase of Operation Quinn, then, had been a complete and utter failure. But it was only a temporary setback. She shuddered a bit at the thought of the next phase of the plan, but it had to be done. Collecting herself, she marched down the hall and into Coach Sylvester’s office.
She emerged ten minutes later - and if there had ever been truth to the myth about someone’s hair spontaneously turning white from stress, she would have emerged with thick white locks. Instead, she was merely shivering. There was some sort of conflict, Rachel had surmised, between Sue and the new football coach, and it had left McKinley’s most fearsome individual in a frenzy that she was more than grateful to take out on anyone else in the vicinity. Quinn had not, Sue informed her viciously, asked to be allowed back onto the Cheerios, and if she should so much as darken the door of her office, she’d be thrown out on her ear.
So that ruled out a Cheerios-related problem as being the cause of Quinn’s melancholy and silence. Rachel found Operation Quinn rapidly unravelling, and decided that the best option for now would be more observation. She had one shared class with her in the morning, and she used it to watch her as surreptitiously as possible. Quinn sat silent and brooding through the class, ignoring the usual high-school antics around her and only shaking her head when she was asked a question by the teacher. She scribbled idly with a dull pencil, but Rachel didn’t need to see her notebook to know that what she was scribbling certainly wasn’t related to the class. She thought briefly about concocting a plan to steal her notes, but decided that the risk of getting caught was too high.
In her next class she was seated next to Finn, who pouted at her for being too distracted. Rachel explained logically that the Glee Club couldn’t lose another member without being in serious trouble, but that didn’t seem to dissuade her boyfriend from the funk he was in. Finally she kissed him, fleetingly, and that seemed to stop him from interrupting her thoughts with his occasionally inane rambling. Glee followed the class, and she found her gaze returning over and over to Quinn’s empty chair. When Schuester finally dragged himself in, she was surprised that he noticed it as well.
“Uh - does anyone know where Quinn is today?”
“She quit, Mister Schuester,” Rachel informed him. “She told me yesterday.” She could hear the talk begin among the other members of the group, but she didn’t listen to any of it.
“She, uh,” he floundered for something to say. “She quit? Did she tell you why?”
“I’m afraid not - I hoped, in fact, that she might have spoken to you at some point, and said something that would shed some light on her sudden departure.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Rachel. Well - I guess we should try and get on with things, then. I don’t need to tell you, our attempt to raise some interest in the Glee Club yesterday didn’t quite go as planned...” Rachel sighed, thinking again that a decent teacher would be interested enough in his students that if one of them suddenly cut loose a large portion of her social support network, he’d at least attempt to discern what was behind such a rash decision; it was starting to become clear to her that maybe he wasn’t the great teacher she’d believed him to be at the end of the previous school year. Glee passed quickly, ending with yet another inane assignment that would inevitably lead to someone else being given a solo that she should be performing, and she made a quick exit to avoid Finn - he was her boyfriend, and she cared for him, but if she had to answer one more silly question about his homework or clarify the difference between personification and objectification for him again, she was likely to scream.
She ran into Quinn again, this time unintentionally, as she left the choir room. This time there wasn’t even a trace of anger in her eyes, just a silent shake of her head as she passed Rachel her books back. She was gone toward her next class before Rachel realised that Quinn had passed her own notebook over in her hurry. She opened the front cover and quickly copied down the address that was written there in small block letters under the name ‘Q Fabray.’ Then she hurried after the other girl and handed the book over, receiving a wordless nod in place of a thank you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If Rachel had been terrified by Sue - and she had been - it was nothing compared to the feeling she had when Quinn opened her door that afternoon to find her waiting outside. The glare Quinn shot at her could have melted steel, but as scared as she was Rachel still did a little dance (mentally) when Quinn hissed “get in, then.”
The room was nicer than Judy Fabray had made it sound - it was a pretty typical one-room apartment, except for the fact that it seemed to be bare of any kind of decoration. There was a single picture hanging on the far wall, but Rachel couldn’t see it from where she was and Quinn obviously had no intention of letting her any further in.
“What the hell do you want?” Quinn’s voice sounded crackly, like it had been too long disused. “What’s so important that you stole my address out of my notebook?”
“I - I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”
“And if I say that I am and I want you to go away and never come back, will that do any good?” Quinn raised a hand to push her bangs out of her face and Rachel saw a flash of blue on her wrist, but couldn’t get a good look at it before she put her arm down again.
“If I thought you were telling the truth, it would.”
“And what,” Quinn sighed, sitting down on her bed and gesturing for Rachel to take the room’s single chair, “would make you think it’s not true?”
“Well, there’s the fact that you quit Glee, for starters. Or the fact that you haven’t even attempted to regain your spot on the Cheerios, something which I know is of great personal value to you. Oh, and there’s the small matter of your not having spoken a single word since you came back to school. Or your new accommodations.”
“What about them? I like it - it’s quiet here.”
“But - your mother offered you a chance to live in your family’s home again.”
“Please,” Quinn rolled her eyes. “Like that was really going to happen. Look, Rachel - I’m tired. I’ll give you three questions and then we’re done and you’re leaving, okay?”
Rachel’s mind raced as she tried to distil everything she wanted to ask into three questions. “Okay,” she said after a moment’s thought, “what happened to you over the summer?”
Quinn had to think for a moment herself, phrasing her answer. “I grew up, Rachel. Next question?”
“Why don’t you talk anymore?”
“I don’t have anything to say. Last question.”
Rachel felt her chance to learn what was going on slipping away, as Quinn had easily deflected her questions. Seizing on an impulse she couldn’t identify, she drastically altered her final question. “What’s the picture on your wall?”
She’d struck a nerve, she knew instantly. Quinn’s face crumpled, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. She pointed at the door. “Can you please leave now?”
“Quinn-”
“Don’t make me beg,” Quinn said softly. “Please just leave me alone.”
Rachel complied, but she was only halfway out the door when a quiet voice stopped her in her tracks. “Could you stay?” She turned back, and the pleading look on Quinn’s face was enough that she re-entered the small apartment and stood at the foot of the bed.
“Could - no, forget it,” Quinn wiped her eyes, “it’s stupid.”
“Quinn, I assure you that you can ask me anything at all.”
“Could you just sit with me? I just - I need to feel somebody with me for a while. I know it’s stupid - you don’t have to.”
Rachel took a seat beside her on the bed, and Quinn put her head in her lap. Rachel stroked her hair gently, feeling the other girl’s slight frame shake as she cried quietly, but didn’t say anything in fear that it might break the moment, might make Quinn close up again and order her out. She wasn’t sure at what point Quinn fell asleep but she didn’t leave, not wanting to disturb her. So she sat there in the quiet room, feeling Quinn’s fine blonde hair in her fingers, breathing in the scent of her - a subtle perfume, vanilla shampoo, and something indefinable that was just...Quinn. The head in her lap shifted, and she felt an involuntary jolt of arousal that shamed her. She was here to offer emotional support, and certainly not to be feeling that sort of inappropriate sensation.
Trying to distract herself, she looked over at the single picture on Quinn’s wall. Squinting, she could just barely make it out - and suddenly she wondered whether the obvious had been staring her in the face for days. The picture was of Quinn, in her hospital bed, holding the newborn Beth. It was almost certainly the only picture of the two of them together, and it certainly wasn’t a coincidence that it was the only picture that adorned the apartment. Was that what all of this was about, then? The lonely apartment, cutting herself off from her friends, staying away from the Cheerios? This would require a drastic redesign of Operation Quinn.
As if on cue, the subject of the operation stirred in her lap, blinking sleepily at her. She sat up suddenly, as if startled by whose lap she found herself in. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I’ll let you get home, though.”
“I can stay longer, if you’d like-”
“No - that’s okay, Berr-Rachel. Thanks again.”
The awkwardness of the moment took them both a bit off guard and Rachel shuffled awkwardly out of the apartment, taking a moment to collect herself in the hallway before departing from home.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She should have expected it, she realised, but Quinn’s cold shoulder to her the next morning still stung her. She understood where it originated - Quinn had always, she knew, become more vicious when her weakness was exposed - but it didn’t make it hurt any less. When they ended up in the bathroom together after first period, though, she was a bit kinder. Not that she said a word on either occasion, but there was a measurable difference in the type of silence she projected. In the bathroom, she met Rachel’s eyes in the mirror and gave her the barest hint of a smile, and it felt completely different than the silent treatment she’d doled out in the hallway before classes started. Rachel fought the urge to reach out and squeeze her arm, knowing the gesture would likely be rejected. She did, however, get a close look at Quinn’s wrist, and saw that the blue coloration she’d noticed the day before was a tattoo - small, but easily readable. It was the date of Regionals, Rachel thought at first - and then shook her head, realising the date meant something else altogether for Quinn.
The tone in Glee that afternoon was muted - they’d had no success finding new members, and they were still two short of being able to compete at Sectionals. Will seemed to be taking their failure to attract anyone very personally, and he was short-tempered throughout their practice. By the time that half of their allotted hour had gone by, Rachel was finally frustrated enough to stop in the middle of the song they were rehearsing and loudly address him. “Mister Schue,” she tried to keep her tone non-confrontational, hoping not to provoke him, “I know that we still need members, but I hardly think that taking the lack of success of our recruiting drive out on our remaining members is a productive method of dealing with that. We’re doing our best, all of us.”
“Well, your best obviously isn’t good enough, Rachel, or we’d have people signing up. Let’s take it from the top.”
Rachel grabbed her bag and walked out of the room, Finn following on her heels. “Rach, wait up!” he called after her. “I thought you were done storming out of Glee!” She turned on her heel, staring daggers at him.
“This isn’t about me, Finn - I’m protesting the way Mister Schue is treating all of us. As my boyfriend, I would expect you of all people to understand and support my decision.”
“I, uh, I do!” he insisted decisively. “What do we do next?”
Rachel only barely kept from rolling her eyes. When he’d told her at Regionals that he loved her, it had seemed like the culmination of a year-long dream. But the more time they’d spent together over the summer, the more he seemed like a puppy that had been repeatedly dropped on its head - loyal, but not intelligent in the least. And sometimes there was a look in his eyes - like even his loyalty might be questionable. “Well,” she said slowly, making sure he could follow along, “I think our first order of business should be to convince Quinn to return to the club. That way, we would only have to find one new recruit.”
“Well, there’s this new kid, Sam,” Finn mused - or whatever passed for musing in his brain. “He’s on the football team, but he’s got a killer voice, and I saw him getting into it when we sang outside the other day. I can talk to him.”
“Good,” Rachel patted him on the shoulder. “You do that, and I’ll handle Quinn.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was no furious glare when Quinn opened her door that afternoon, just a sort of tired resignation. She opened the door wider and allowed Rachel in before shutting it and bolting it behind her. They stared awkwardly at each other for what seemed like an hour until Quinn finally broke the silence.
“What can I do for you, Rachel?”
“I wondered if I could ask you a few more questions today.”
Quinn sighed. She’d changed into a pair of McKinley sweats and a ragged t-shirt, and she looked desperately tired. “I want to ask you one first.”
“Of course - may I?” she pointed at the chair, and Quinn shook her head, pointing at the bed instead. “You can sit here.”
Rachel sat gingerly beside her, and Quinn met her eyes. “How did it feel when Shelby pretty much told you she didn’t want you?”
Rachel was taken aback, and needed a few deep breaths before she could begin to answer. “Well,” she said, her voice shakier than she’d have liked, “it was hard at first, but in the end we knew it was the right decision for us both.”
“How about you answer me again without feeding me a line of shit?”
Rachel blinked back tears. “It felt like someone had walked me right up to the gates of paradise and then said ‘no, sorry, you can’t come in.’ Like my whole world was pulled out from under me.”
Quinn nodded, clenching her jaw tightly against the sob that tried to escape, but it didn’t prevent Rachel from seeing her chest hitch. “Quinn-”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“That’s okay,” Rachel assured her. “I really only came over because I thought you slept well with me here yesterday and wondered if you could use the company again.”
Quinn’s eyes, red-rimmed from crying, narrowed suspiciously. “Why are you doing this, Berry? After everything I’ve done to you, why would you ever even be nice to me, let alone help me?”
“Because I think you’re drowning,” Rachel said simply, “and no one else seems to see it. If Glee really is a family, like we said so many times last year, then I couldn’t in good conscience let you drown without trying to help.”
Quinn couldn’t respond to that without sobbing, and she only nodded. Rachel pulled a pair of flannel pyjamas from her bag, and Quinn raised an eyebrow in a wordless question. “I thought it would be more comfortable for me to sit in,” Rachel clarified. “And,” she hesitated, unsure of how her next words would be received, “I thought I could stay the night, if you’ll have me. I’ve already informed my dads.”
“Rachel, I,” Quinn shrugged helplessly. “Yes, okay. But I don’t have much in the way of food.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Rachel promised. “Is there somewhere I could change?”
“Uh - the bathroom’s down the hall. The lock’s not great, though, so if you’d rather just change here then I promise I’ll look away.”
“That would be fine,” Rachel nodded, and Quinn turned to face the wall. Rachel quickly stripped and put her nightclothes on before taking her clothes for the next day out of her bag as well and hanging them in Quinn’s meagre closet. “Done,” she announced, and Quinn turned back. “Did you want to lie down before I order dinner?”
“Maybe for a while,” Quinn admitted, playing nervously with her hair. “If that’d be okay.”
“Of course,” Rachel took up the same position she’d had the previous afternoon, making sure to prop a pillow behind her back this time. Quinn lay down, head in her lap. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”
“Couple hours a night,” Quinn mumbled. She said something else that came out as a nonsensical jumble of words, and then she was asleep. Rachel put one hand softly on the back of her neck, and used the other to retrieve her phone from the pocket of her pyjama top and open an e-book to page through while the other girl slept. When Quinn stirred again, Rachel checked the time and was surprised to find that almost three hours had passed. Quinn rubbed at her eyes with closed fists, a gesture so adorable that Rachel could have melted on the spot. As she sat up, though, her t-shirt rode up and exposed exactly how thin she’d become over the summer. Rachel gasped, and tried to cover it with a fake yawn.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” Quinn murmured. “Thank you. Sorry I don’t have a tv or anything - I hope you weren’t too bored?”
“Not at all,” Rachel held out her phone. “I’ve got a nice e-reader on here, so I just read a book.”
“Cool. Listen - you don’t have to stay tonight if you don’t want to. I’ll be okay.”
“I’d like to, though, if it’s okay with you.”
“Sure,” Quinn nodded.
“Are you hungry at all?”
Quinn shrugged. “I could eat, I guess. I’ll pitch in for dinner, though.”
“Don’t be silly - this was my idea, and so it’s my treat.” Quinn started to protest, but Rachel shook her head. “You should know by now that it’s pointless to argue with me once I’ve made up my mind.”
Quinn chuckled. “True enough.” She yawned and stretched, retreating down the hall to the washroom as Rachel ordered from Fat Jack’s Pizza. They didn’t have anything specifically vegan on the menu, granted, but they did make a nice tossed salad that she’d had a few times before. For Quinn she ordered wings and a large pizza - she didn’t want to confront her over her weight loss, as that would likely lead to her being thrown out, but the protrusion of her bones was frightening, and went a long way to explaining the loose-fitting clothing she’d worn the last couple of days. Once she’d hung the phone up, she wandered over for a closer look at the picture of Beth and her mother.
Quinn, of course, chose that moment to re-enter the apartment, and her eyes narrowed. But the fight seemed to go out of her in a rush, and she just sighed instead.
“It’s a beautiful picture,” Rachel said softly.
“It is,” Quinn agreed, picking non-existent bits of lint off the bedspread. “Only one there’s ever going to be, so I’m glad it turned out well.” Rachel wasn’t sure how she could respond to that, so she stayed silent and let Quinn dictate the conversation. “She was beautiful. I had no idea - I mean, the doctors showed me movies of births and stuff a few times early in the pregnancy, but all those babies looked hideous, and I just thought that’s what she’d look like too. But then they put her in my arms,” she hiccoughed, “and she was perfect. And she was mine - every instinct, every part of me cried out that I was making a mistake, the biggest one I’d ever make.”
“Giving her up, you mean.”
“Yeah. And when it was all over, when I’d had time to think, I was just so angry at my mother. If she hadn’t been so cowed by my father, if she’d made her offer to help raise Beth when I still had time to think about it, instead of hours before she was born, I might have changed my mind!” Quinn’s voice was loud, angry, but Rachel didn’t interrupt, wanting her to get it out. “I might not have given away the only good thing I’ve ever done in my life!” Breathing heavily, she turned away. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this anyway.”
“Maybe because I’m the only one who’s asked?”
Quinn snorted. “Yeah, maybe.”
“And because unlike Santana, I won’t hold any of this over your head.”
“True enough.”
“Is that why you moved out of your mother’s house?”
“No,” Quinn shook her head. “I never moved in. I just told Mercedes I was so she’d let me leave.”
“How do you afford this place?”
“I had a decent savings account. Shelby paid me, too.”
“I thought that was illegal.”
“Not for Beth - I don’t mean it like that. She just knew there are...some expenses after birth, and she wanted to make sure I was covered.”
“What sort of expenses?” Rachel was confused.
Quinn blushed a deep crimson. “Rachel, unless you want to talk in great detail about my breast milk and other things like that, you’ll stop asking.”
“Oh,” Rachel blushed too, returning her attention to the picture. “Why would you say she’s the only good thing about your life? You have the Cheerios, and Glee, and friends-” Quinn scoffed.
“That’s how I know you really don’t know me at all, Berry. I don’t have friends. I have people like Santana, who were happy to be associated with me when I was in charge. People who’ve been more than happy that I’m invisible now, because it means they’re on top. Finn only wanted a girlfriend, not a friend, and Puck has pretty much avoided me since Beth was born. I’m done with the Cheerios now, since there’s no way Sue would ever consider letting me back in, and I don’t see any of the Glee Club breaking down my door to ask me to reconsider. I can’t stand to look at my mother, and my father is off traipsing around Europe with whatever random slut he’s banging this week. Beth is the only thing in my whole life that was mine, that truly belonged to me, and I gave her up.”
“You’re wrong.”
Quinn whirled around. “What did you say?”
“I said you’re wrong. I can’t speak for Santana or the rest of Glee, but I’d be grateful if you considered me your friend. And that means you have something. Someone in your life that cares about you.”
Quinn struggled to keep her composure - Rachel watched the struggle, hesitating over what the right course of action might be - but finally stumbled to the bed and laid face down on it, her body wracked with harsh sobs. Rachel immediately felt guilty and sat down beside her, rubbing her back in small circles. Eventually the storm passed, and Quinn looked up at her with puffy eyes. “Sorry,” she said hoarsely. “All I’ve done when you’ve been over here is cry, it seems like.”
“If you need to cry, Quinn, then it seems foolish to resist the urge, whether I’m here or not. And if I’m here and I can make you feel better in any way, shape or form then I’m glad you can cry while I’m here.”
There was a knock at the door and Rachel answered, paying the delivery driver in cash and tipping him well. Noticing that there was no table in the apartment, she laid the boxes on the bed instead, and sat at the head of it while Quinn sat at the foot. Quinn passed her the salad and opened the other two boxes, looking uncertainly at Rachel.
“Aren’t you vegan? This isn’t exactly vegan-friendly.”
“It’s not for me.”
“You know I’m not pregnant anymore, right? I can’t eat all that.”
“Not tonight, of course - but you can keep the leftovers in your fridge. And I’m sure you can eat more than you’ve obviously been eating lately,” the last sentence was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she regretted it instantly when Quinn’s expression suddenly became guarded and her body language closed.
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I only - you’re too thin, is all I meant. For goodness sake, I can very nearly count your ribs through your shirt.”
“I think you should leave,” Quinn began closing up the boxes. “And take your dinner with you.”
“Quinn, wait - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, and I’d ask that you give me another chance.” Quinn didn’t answer. “Please - I’m really very sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No,” Quinn said, “it’s not.” She shrugged, though, and reopened the boxes. “You’ve put up with me this long; I guess I owe you another chance.”
“Thank you, Quinn - I greatly appreciate it.”
“Sure. Oh - can I get you anything to drink? I have water, or - well, water.”
“Water sounds great,” Rachel smiled, and some of the tension went out of the room.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Quinn agreed to share her bed that night, since she had no extra blankets or anything for Rachel to use, on the promise that she’d keep her hands to herself. But when Rachel woke early the next morning, she found Quinn moulded to her side, an arm thrown over her and her face nuzzled into her neck. Rachel felt the stirrings of lust between her legs, and scowled. It wasn’t a surprise, granted - she’d known she was bisexual since she was thirteen, and Quinn was a very attractive young woman - but these feelings could hardly be helpful in the current situation. And then Quinn moaned softly in her sleep, and logic took a brief holiday as a rush of heat shot to her center. She gasped and tried to wriggle away from the sleeping girl, to create some distance between them, but Quinn’s grip only got tighter.
She moaned again, and the arm she had over Rachel’s chest shifted, her hand finding its’ way unerringly to her breast and squeezing softly. Rachel gasped, biting down on her lip to stifle a groan. “Please,” Quinn mumbled against her throat, “please - I need you.”
Rachel risked turning her head to look down at her, but she was very obviously still asleep and dreaming. Not wanting any awkwardness between them if Quinn were to suddenly wake and realise what she’d done in her sleep, she slipped carefully out of Quinn’s embrace and quietly sat in the chair opposite, trying to calm her racing hormones. The task wasn’t helped when Quinn turned over in the bed, her hand slipping down her pyjama pants - still completely asleep.
“Oh, god,” Rachel turned the chair around, grabbing her phone from her bag and putting her earphones in, the music turned up loudly to drown out any sound from behind her. She sat and took long, deep breaths - which must have calmed her down, as she was woken by a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, and Quinn looked sheepishly at her.
“Sorry - was I kicking you or something?”
“Just a little bit,” Rachel nodded hastily. “It’s perfectly okay, though - this chair is surprisingly comfortable.”
“It is,” she nodded. “I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve spent sitting there, thinking of - well, anyway, I’m going to go and have a shower - if you want breakfast, there, uh, isn’t any.”
“I’ll grab something on the walk to school, if you don’t mind waiting for me. Are you going to-“
“Don’t start on this again, okay? I’ll eat when I’m hungry.” Quinn walked out, closing the door emphatically behind her, and Rachel sighed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The walk to McKinley was quiet - Rachel finally broke the silence as they approached the school’s doors. “Quinn?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you come back to Glee?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
“Because I’m happy when I’m there,” Quinn answered simply, and walked away, leaving Rachel to try and process that statement. She was interrupted, though, when Finn approached her with a hangdog expression. He wore his usual attire, a McKinley Titans t-shirt and jeans.
“I tried calling you last night,” he pouted.
“Oh - I’m sorry, Finn, I slept over at a friend’s last night.”
“That’s cool,” he nodded. “I wanted to tell you, I got Sam to audition for Glee - he’s supposed to be by this afternoon.”
“Excellent - good job, Finn.” He beamed, and she only barely resisted the urge to pat him on the head and ask if he wanted a snausage.
“Did you talk to Quinn?”
“I did - unfortunately, she’s not interested in returning.”
“Did she say why she quit?”
“She did, but I think she’d like that to stay private.”
“Okay,” he agreed, nodding. “Come on - l want to hear Sam sing, I think you’ll really like him.”
“Finn, it’s eight in the morning. We have class. Glee’s not until lunch.”
“Right,” he nodded again. “What class do I have?”
Rachel could only sigh.
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: PG-13ish, some bad words
Spoilers: Through "Journey."
Summary: Quinn is broken. Can Rachel put her back together?
A/N: I have no idea where this came from, or if I'll write any more of it. It was eating away at my muse, so I scratched it out - it's really bizarrely wordy, and way different than my usual stuff (in that it actually follows canon - well, the first season, at least - and there's less dialogue). It's odd, and we'll have to see if it goes anywhere... but I'm enjoying writing it, so there's more to come!
It was hard to say, exactly, when Rachel had noticed that there was something deeply wrong with Quinn since her return from summer vacation. It might have been the first time she saw her, her blonde locks cut short and her head down. It might have been the way she was slipping through the crowd of students rather than expecting them to part for her. Or it may have been when Jacob Ben Israel asked her something about her “bastard child” for his stupid blog and she slapped him so hard Rachel expected his head to turn all the way around like in a cartoon. She definitely knew something was wrong, though, when Quinn followed that up by slamming him against a bank of lockers and kneeing him in the groin, and when it was obvious that she was going to do worse until Santana and Brittany grabbed her and forcibly pulled her away. Rachel Berry was, if nothing else, observant.
She didn’t see the ex-Cheerio the rest of the morning, but when she got to Glee Quinn was sitting slumped down in her chair, looking for all the world as if she’d rather be anywhere else. Rachel took the chair in front of hers, and Quinn sighed.
“Quinn - may I inquire, are you all right?”
Quinn didn’t answer, just stared tiredly at the board. Rachel was about to follow up when Mister Schuester arrived, looking like someone had kicked his favourite puppy. Rachel wondered what crisis was occurring this early in the term. He put down the stack of sheet music books he was carrying and opened his mouth to speak, but Quinn was on her feet before he could say a word. “Quinn?” he asked, confused. “Did you have something you wanted to-” he faltered as he saw the tears running down her face. She walked past him without a word and out the choir room door, and the room was filled with murmuring.
“Does anyone know what that was about?”
Rachel pondered getting up and giving chase, but she decided to stay and find out exactly what had Mister Schue upset instead. A better teacher may have followed Quinn, but he -not the best of teachers sometimes - went right on with his lesson plan. She listened as he explained that, since Matt had transferred over the summer, they needed to recruit new members. She was as enthusiastic as everyone else when he suggested a very public performance to try and get other students interested in Glee as well - but a part of her mind stayed occupied wondering what exactly was happening with Quinn.
Their performance of “Empire State of Mind” didn’t exactly raise the roof the way they’d hoped - in fact, aside from the toe-tapping of the new exchange student, none of their classmates seemed to notice that they were there at all. Which, granted, wasn’t an entirely new phenomenon for New Directions, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. As the group began to dejectedly return to the choir room, Rachel caught sight of Quinn sitting on the steps. She wandered over, trying to appear casual as she sat down beside her.
“Quinn? Are you all right?” The scathing look she got was answer enough. “Would you care to talk to me about it? I’m hardly a qualified expert, I admit, but as a fellow member of your Glee family, I’d certainly be willing to listen if there was anything you wanted to tell me.”
For a fraction of a second, it looked like Quinn might answer her, but then her mouth slammed shut and she looked away. She took a pen from her bag and scribbled on a piece of note paper, then tore it out of her book and stuffed it in Rachel’s hands before getting up and walking away. Rachel watched her for a minute, trying to discern whether to follow, then looked down at the crumpled page in her hands. There were only five words, written with angry slashing strokes in purple ink.
Tell Mr. Schue I Quit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rachel called Santana first. Somewhere in between the threats of horrible violence for ever calling her phone, she discerned that neither she nor Brittany had been in any kind of regular contact with Quinn over the summer, and they didn’t know what was happening with her. When they’d pulled her off Jacob that morning, she’d shaken them off and left without a word to either of them. Rachel tried Finn next, and got roughly the same answer - no contact over the summer, no idea what was going on with her. Puck brushed her concerns off without really addressing any of them, and Mercedes hadn’t seen Quinn since she’d moved out of her guest room.
Which left her with only one option, as much as she dreaded it. She dialled Quinn’s number and held her breath as the phone rang. And rang. And rang. After four rings, her voicemail picked up the call.
“This is Quinn. If I didn’t answer, I don’t want to talk to you, so don’t bother leaving me a message.” There was a beep, and Rachel hesitated.
“Quinn - this is Rachel Berry. I was, uh,” she fumbled for words, unusual for her, “I was hoping to convince you to reconsider your decision to leave Glee. If you wanted to, please feel free to call me back.” She added her number. “I hope to speak to you soon, Quinn.”
She hung up her cell with the punch of a button, pondering one more phone call - and wondering whether the inevitable consequences she’d face for making it outweighed the benefits. Finally, she dialled the last number she could think of to try. The phone rang twice, and the voice that answered was female and quite obviously inebriated. “H’lo?”
“Miss Fabray, hello - this is Rachel Berry calling, I’m in Glee with Quinn. I wondered if I could speak to her about an upcoming project.”
The woman on the other end of the line gave an undignified snort. “Quinnie doesn’t live here anymore, sweetheart.”
“I don’t understand - where is she, exactly?”
“Try that filthy little room she’s renting.” Judy hung up the phone loudly, and Rachel winced. She sat back on her bed, processing what she’d been told. She grabbed a notebook from her bedside table - decorated, naturally, with a large gold star, and hurriedly wrote down a few words.
Operation Quinn.
Where is she living? Why isn’t she living at home, when her mother invited her back at Regionals?
Has she spoken - like, out loud - to anyone since she returned?
Tapping her pen against her chin, it occurred to Rachel that she had no real reason to be checking on the welfare of Quinn Fabray. The girl had, after all, made it her mission for years to make Rachel’s life as utterly miserable as possible. She’d been slushied on Quinn’s orders, Quinn had made unflattering comments about her myspace videos, drawn horrible pictures of her on the wall of a bathroom stall, and generally treated her like something she’d wiped off the bottom of her shoe. But then, the last year had changed the both of them. Quinn’s pregnancy and subsequent fall from grace had made her much more personable, and Rachel had been able to see a whole new side of her, vulnerable and scared under the tough front that she wore like armor.
And that was enough, Rachel thought. If her guard was so broken down that all of her pain was showing through, then the least she could do was attempt to be a good person and try to help. Nodding, decision made, she began to formulate her plan.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Quinn walked through the door of McKinley high the next morning, Rachel deliberately stepped in front of her. They both toppled over, and for a hopeful split-second Rachel could see a flash of her old anger in her hazel eyes, but it seemed to burn out just as fast. Quinn grabbed her books from the floor and kicked Rachel’s toward her as she apologised.
“I’m terribly sorry, Quinn - I hope you can forgive me? I’m just utterly clumsy today, and I’m very sorry to have barrelled you over like that. Are you okay?”
Quinn nodded, taking a silent inventory of her books. Convinced that she had them all, she stepped around Rachel and walked away down the hall. The first phase of Operation Quinn, then, had been a complete and utter failure. But it was only a temporary setback. She shuddered a bit at the thought of the next phase of the plan, but it had to be done. Collecting herself, she marched down the hall and into Coach Sylvester’s office.
She emerged ten minutes later - and if there had ever been truth to the myth about someone’s hair spontaneously turning white from stress, she would have emerged with thick white locks. Instead, she was merely shivering. There was some sort of conflict, Rachel had surmised, between Sue and the new football coach, and it had left McKinley’s most fearsome individual in a frenzy that she was more than grateful to take out on anyone else in the vicinity. Quinn had not, Sue informed her viciously, asked to be allowed back onto the Cheerios, and if she should so much as darken the door of her office, she’d be thrown out on her ear.
So that ruled out a Cheerios-related problem as being the cause of Quinn’s melancholy and silence. Rachel found Operation Quinn rapidly unravelling, and decided that the best option for now would be more observation. She had one shared class with her in the morning, and she used it to watch her as surreptitiously as possible. Quinn sat silent and brooding through the class, ignoring the usual high-school antics around her and only shaking her head when she was asked a question by the teacher. She scribbled idly with a dull pencil, but Rachel didn’t need to see her notebook to know that what she was scribbling certainly wasn’t related to the class. She thought briefly about concocting a plan to steal her notes, but decided that the risk of getting caught was too high.
In her next class she was seated next to Finn, who pouted at her for being too distracted. Rachel explained logically that the Glee Club couldn’t lose another member without being in serious trouble, but that didn’t seem to dissuade her boyfriend from the funk he was in. Finally she kissed him, fleetingly, and that seemed to stop him from interrupting her thoughts with his occasionally inane rambling. Glee followed the class, and she found her gaze returning over and over to Quinn’s empty chair. When Schuester finally dragged himself in, she was surprised that he noticed it as well.
“Uh - does anyone know where Quinn is today?”
“She quit, Mister Schuester,” Rachel informed him. “She told me yesterday.” She could hear the talk begin among the other members of the group, but she didn’t listen to any of it.
“She, uh,” he floundered for something to say. “She quit? Did she tell you why?”
“I’m afraid not - I hoped, in fact, that she might have spoken to you at some point, and said something that would shed some light on her sudden departure.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Rachel. Well - I guess we should try and get on with things, then. I don’t need to tell you, our attempt to raise some interest in the Glee Club yesterday didn’t quite go as planned...” Rachel sighed, thinking again that a decent teacher would be interested enough in his students that if one of them suddenly cut loose a large portion of her social support network, he’d at least attempt to discern what was behind such a rash decision; it was starting to become clear to her that maybe he wasn’t the great teacher she’d believed him to be at the end of the previous school year. Glee passed quickly, ending with yet another inane assignment that would inevitably lead to someone else being given a solo that she should be performing, and she made a quick exit to avoid Finn - he was her boyfriend, and she cared for him, but if she had to answer one more silly question about his homework or clarify the difference between personification and objectification for him again, she was likely to scream.
She ran into Quinn again, this time unintentionally, as she left the choir room. This time there wasn’t even a trace of anger in her eyes, just a silent shake of her head as she passed Rachel her books back. She was gone toward her next class before Rachel realised that Quinn had passed her own notebook over in her hurry. She opened the front cover and quickly copied down the address that was written there in small block letters under the name ‘Q Fabray.’ Then she hurried after the other girl and handed the book over, receiving a wordless nod in place of a thank you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If Rachel had been terrified by Sue - and she had been - it was nothing compared to the feeling she had when Quinn opened her door that afternoon to find her waiting outside. The glare Quinn shot at her could have melted steel, but as scared as she was Rachel still did a little dance (mentally) when Quinn hissed “get in, then.”
The room was nicer than Judy Fabray had made it sound - it was a pretty typical one-room apartment, except for the fact that it seemed to be bare of any kind of decoration. There was a single picture hanging on the far wall, but Rachel couldn’t see it from where she was and Quinn obviously had no intention of letting her any further in.
“What the hell do you want?” Quinn’s voice sounded crackly, like it had been too long disused. “What’s so important that you stole my address out of my notebook?”
“I - I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”
“And if I say that I am and I want you to go away and never come back, will that do any good?” Quinn raised a hand to push her bangs out of her face and Rachel saw a flash of blue on her wrist, but couldn’t get a good look at it before she put her arm down again.
“If I thought you were telling the truth, it would.”
“And what,” Quinn sighed, sitting down on her bed and gesturing for Rachel to take the room’s single chair, “would make you think it’s not true?”
“Well, there’s the fact that you quit Glee, for starters. Or the fact that you haven’t even attempted to regain your spot on the Cheerios, something which I know is of great personal value to you. Oh, and there’s the small matter of your not having spoken a single word since you came back to school. Or your new accommodations.”
“What about them? I like it - it’s quiet here.”
“But - your mother offered you a chance to live in your family’s home again.”
“Please,” Quinn rolled her eyes. “Like that was really going to happen. Look, Rachel - I’m tired. I’ll give you three questions and then we’re done and you’re leaving, okay?”
Rachel’s mind raced as she tried to distil everything she wanted to ask into three questions. “Okay,” she said after a moment’s thought, “what happened to you over the summer?”
Quinn had to think for a moment herself, phrasing her answer. “I grew up, Rachel. Next question?”
“Why don’t you talk anymore?”
“I don’t have anything to say. Last question.”
Rachel felt her chance to learn what was going on slipping away, as Quinn had easily deflected her questions. Seizing on an impulse she couldn’t identify, she drastically altered her final question. “What’s the picture on your wall?”
She’d struck a nerve, she knew instantly. Quinn’s face crumpled, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. She pointed at the door. “Can you please leave now?”
“Quinn-”
“Don’t make me beg,” Quinn said softly. “Please just leave me alone.”
Rachel complied, but she was only halfway out the door when a quiet voice stopped her in her tracks. “Could you stay?” She turned back, and the pleading look on Quinn’s face was enough that she re-entered the small apartment and stood at the foot of the bed.
“Could - no, forget it,” Quinn wiped her eyes, “it’s stupid.”
“Quinn, I assure you that you can ask me anything at all.”
“Could you just sit with me? I just - I need to feel somebody with me for a while. I know it’s stupid - you don’t have to.”
Rachel took a seat beside her on the bed, and Quinn put her head in her lap. Rachel stroked her hair gently, feeling the other girl’s slight frame shake as she cried quietly, but didn’t say anything in fear that it might break the moment, might make Quinn close up again and order her out. She wasn’t sure at what point Quinn fell asleep but she didn’t leave, not wanting to disturb her. So she sat there in the quiet room, feeling Quinn’s fine blonde hair in her fingers, breathing in the scent of her - a subtle perfume, vanilla shampoo, and something indefinable that was just...Quinn. The head in her lap shifted, and she felt an involuntary jolt of arousal that shamed her. She was here to offer emotional support, and certainly not to be feeling that sort of inappropriate sensation.
Trying to distract herself, she looked over at the single picture on Quinn’s wall. Squinting, she could just barely make it out - and suddenly she wondered whether the obvious had been staring her in the face for days. The picture was of Quinn, in her hospital bed, holding the newborn Beth. It was almost certainly the only picture of the two of them together, and it certainly wasn’t a coincidence that it was the only picture that adorned the apartment. Was that what all of this was about, then? The lonely apartment, cutting herself off from her friends, staying away from the Cheerios? This would require a drastic redesign of Operation Quinn.
As if on cue, the subject of the operation stirred in her lap, blinking sleepily at her. She sat up suddenly, as if startled by whose lap she found herself in. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I’ll let you get home, though.”
“I can stay longer, if you’d like-”
“No - that’s okay, Berr-Rachel. Thanks again.”
The awkwardness of the moment took them both a bit off guard and Rachel shuffled awkwardly out of the apartment, taking a moment to collect herself in the hallway before departing from home.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She should have expected it, she realised, but Quinn’s cold shoulder to her the next morning still stung her. She understood where it originated - Quinn had always, she knew, become more vicious when her weakness was exposed - but it didn’t make it hurt any less. When they ended up in the bathroom together after first period, though, she was a bit kinder. Not that she said a word on either occasion, but there was a measurable difference in the type of silence she projected. In the bathroom, she met Rachel’s eyes in the mirror and gave her the barest hint of a smile, and it felt completely different than the silent treatment she’d doled out in the hallway before classes started. Rachel fought the urge to reach out and squeeze her arm, knowing the gesture would likely be rejected. She did, however, get a close look at Quinn’s wrist, and saw that the blue coloration she’d noticed the day before was a tattoo - small, but easily readable. It was the date of Regionals, Rachel thought at first - and then shook her head, realising the date meant something else altogether for Quinn.
The tone in Glee that afternoon was muted - they’d had no success finding new members, and they were still two short of being able to compete at Sectionals. Will seemed to be taking their failure to attract anyone very personally, and he was short-tempered throughout their practice. By the time that half of their allotted hour had gone by, Rachel was finally frustrated enough to stop in the middle of the song they were rehearsing and loudly address him. “Mister Schue,” she tried to keep her tone non-confrontational, hoping not to provoke him, “I know that we still need members, but I hardly think that taking the lack of success of our recruiting drive out on our remaining members is a productive method of dealing with that. We’re doing our best, all of us.”
“Well, your best obviously isn’t good enough, Rachel, or we’d have people signing up. Let’s take it from the top.”
Rachel grabbed her bag and walked out of the room, Finn following on her heels. “Rach, wait up!” he called after her. “I thought you were done storming out of Glee!” She turned on her heel, staring daggers at him.
“This isn’t about me, Finn - I’m protesting the way Mister Schue is treating all of us. As my boyfriend, I would expect you of all people to understand and support my decision.”
“I, uh, I do!” he insisted decisively. “What do we do next?”
Rachel only barely kept from rolling her eyes. When he’d told her at Regionals that he loved her, it had seemed like the culmination of a year-long dream. But the more time they’d spent together over the summer, the more he seemed like a puppy that had been repeatedly dropped on its head - loyal, but not intelligent in the least. And sometimes there was a look in his eyes - like even his loyalty might be questionable. “Well,” she said slowly, making sure he could follow along, “I think our first order of business should be to convince Quinn to return to the club. That way, we would only have to find one new recruit.”
“Well, there’s this new kid, Sam,” Finn mused - or whatever passed for musing in his brain. “He’s on the football team, but he’s got a killer voice, and I saw him getting into it when we sang outside the other day. I can talk to him.”
“Good,” Rachel patted him on the shoulder. “You do that, and I’ll handle Quinn.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was no furious glare when Quinn opened her door that afternoon, just a sort of tired resignation. She opened the door wider and allowed Rachel in before shutting it and bolting it behind her. They stared awkwardly at each other for what seemed like an hour until Quinn finally broke the silence.
“What can I do for you, Rachel?”
“I wondered if I could ask you a few more questions today.”
Quinn sighed. She’d changed into a pair of McKinley sweats and a ragged t-shirt, and she looked desperately tired. “I want to ask you one first.”
“Of course - may I?” she pointed at the chair, and Quinn shook her head, pointing at the bed instead. “You can sit here.”
Rachel sat gingerly beside her, and Quinn met her eyes. “How did it feel when Shelby pretty much told you she didn’t want you?”
Rachel was taken aback, and needed a few deep breaths before she could begin to answer. “Well,” she said, her voice shakier than she’d have liked, “it was hard at first, but in the end we knew it was the right decision for us both.”
“How about you answer me again without feeding me a line of shit?”
Rachel blinked back tears. “It felt like someone had walked me right up to the gates of paradise and then said ‘no, sorry, you can’t come in.’ Like my whole world was pulled out from under me.”
Quinn nodded, clenching her jaw tightly against the sob that tried to escape, but it didn’t prevent Rachel from seeing her chest hitch. “Quinn-”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“That’s okay,” Rachel assured her. “I really only came over because I thought you slept well with me here yesterday and wondered if you could use the company again.”
Quinn’s eyes, red-rimmed from crying, narrowed suspiciously. “Why are you doing this, Berry? After everything I’ve done to you, why would you ever even be nice to me, let alone help me?”
“Because I think you’re drowning,” Rachel said simply, “and no one else seems to see it. If Glee really is a family, like we said so many times last year, then I couldn’t in good conscience let you drown without trying to help.”
Quinn couldn’t respond to that without sobbing, and she only nodded. Rachel pulled a pair of flannel pyjamas from her bag, and Quinn raised an eyebrow in a wordless question. “I thought it would be more comfortable for me to sit in,” Rachel clarified. “And,” she hesitated, unsure of how her next words would be received, “I thought I could stay the night, if you’ll have me. I’ve already informed my dads.”
“Rachel, I,” Quinn shrugged helplessly. “Yes, okay. But I don’t have much in the way of food.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Rachel promised. “Is there somewhere I could change?”
“Uh - the bathroom’s down the hall. The lock’s not great, though, so if you’d rather just change here then I promise I’ll look away.”
“That would be fine,” Rachel nodded, and Quinn turned to face the wall. Rachel quickly stripped and put her nightclothes on before taking her clothes for the next day out of her bag as well and hanging them in Quinn’s meagre closet. “Done,” she announced, and Quinn turned back. “Did you want to lie down before I order dinner?”
“Maybe for a while,” Quinn admitted, playing nervously with her hair. “If that’d be okay.”
“Of course,” Rachel took up the same position she’d had the previous afternoon, making sure to prop a pillow behind her back this time. Quinn lay down, head in her lap. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”
“Couple hours a night,” Quinn mumbled. She said something else that came out as a nonsensical jumble of words, and then she was asleep. Rachel put one hand softly on the back of her neck, and used the other to retrieve her phone from the pocket of her pyjama top and open an e-book to page through while the other girl slept. When Quinn stirred again, Rachel checked the time and was surprised to find that almost three hours had passed. Quinn rubbed at her eyes with closed fists, a gesture so adorable that Rachel could have melted on the spot. As she sat up, though, her t-shirt rode up and exposed exactly how thin she’d become over the summer. Rachel gasped, and tried to cover it with a fake yawn.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” Quinn murmured. “Thank you. Sorry I don’t have a tv or anything - I hope you weren’t too bored?”
“Not at all,” Rachel held out her phone. “I’ve got a nice e-reader on here, so I just read a book.”
“Cool. Listen - you don’t have to stay tonight if you don’t want to. I’ll be okay.”
“I’d like to, though, if it’s okay with you.”
“Sure,” Quinn nodded.
“Are you hungry at all?”
Quinn shrugged. “I could eat, I guess. I’ll pitch in for dinner, though.”
“Don’t be silly - this was my idea, and so it’s my treat.” Quinn started to protest, but Rachel shook her head. “You should know by now that it’s pointless to argue with me once I’ve made up my mind.”
Quinn chuckled. “True enough.” She yawned and stretched, retreating down the hall to the washroom as Rachel ordered from Fat Jack’s Pizza. They didn’t have anything specifically vegan on the menu, granted, but they did make a nice tossed salad that she’d had a few times before. For Quinn she ordered wings and a large pizza - she didn’t want to confront her over her weight loss, as that would likely lead to her being thrown out, but the protrusion of her bones was frightening, and went a long way to explaining the loose-fitting clothing she’d worn the last couple of days. Once she’d hung the phone up, she wandered over for a closer look at the picture of Beth and her mother.
Quinn, of course, chose that moment to re-enter the apartment, and her eyes narrowed. But the fight seemed to go out of her in a rush, and she just sighed instead.
“It’s a beautiful picture,” Rachel said softly.
“It is,” Quinn agreed, picking non-existent bits of lint off the bedspread. “Only one there’s ever going to be, so I’m glad it turned out well.” Rachel wasn’t sure how she could respond to that, so she stayed silent and let Quinn dictate the conversation. “She was beautiful. I had no idea - I mean, the doctors showed me movies of births and stuff a few times early in the pregnancy, but all those babies looked hideous, and I just thought that’s what she’d look like too. But then they put her in my arms,” she hiccoughed, “and she was perfect. And she was mine - every instinct, every part of me cried out that I was making a mistake, the biggest one I’d ever make.”
“Giving her up, you mean.”
“Yeah. And when it was all over, when I’d had time to think, I was just so angry at my mother. If she hadn’t been so cowed by my father, if she’d made her offer to help raise Beth when I still had time to think about it, instead of hours before she was born, I might have changed my mind!” Quinn’s voice was loud, angry, but Rachel didn’t interrupt, wanting her to get it out. “I might not have given away the only good thing I’ve ever done in my life!” Breathing heavily, she turned away. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this anyway.”
“Maybe because I’m the only one who’s asked?”
Quinn snorted. “Yeah, maybe.”
“And because unlike Santana, I won’t hold any of this over your head.”
“True enough.”
“Is that why you moved out of your mother’s house?”
“No,” Quinn shook her head. “I never moved in. I just told Mercedes I was so she’d let me leave.”
“How do you afford this place?”
“I had a decent savings account. Shelby paid me, too.”
“I thought that was illegal.”
“Not for Beth - I don’t mean it like that. She just knew there are...some expenses after birth, and she wanted to make sure I was covered.”
“What sort of expenses?” Rachel was confused.
Quinn blushed a deep crimson. “Rachel, unless you want to talk in great detail about my breast milk and other things like that, you’ll stop asking.”
“Oh,” Rachel blushed too, returning her attention to the picture. “Why would you say she’s the only good thing about your life? You have the Cheerios, and Glee, and friends-” Quinn scoffed.
“That’s how I know you really don’t know me at all, Berry. I don’t have friends. I have people like Santana, who were happy to be associated with me when I was in charge. People who’ve been more than happy that I’m invisible now, because it means they’re on top. Finn only wanted a girlfriend, not a friend, and Puck has pretty much avoided me since Beth was born. I’m done with the Cheerios now, since there’s no way Sue would ever consider letting me back in, and I don’t see any of the Glee Club breaking down my door to ask me to reconsider. I can’t stand to look at my mother, and my father is off traipsing around Europe with whatever random slut he’s banging this week. Beth is the only thing in my whole life that was mine, that truly belonged to me, and I gave her up.”
“You’re wrong.”
Quinn whirled around. “What did you say?”
“I said you’re wrong. I can’t speak for Santana or the rest of Glee, but I’d be grateful if you considered me your friend. And that means you have something. Someone in your life that cares about you.”
Quinn struggled to keep her composure - Rachel watched the struggle, hesitating over what the right course of action might be - but finally stumbled to the bed and laid face down on it, her body wracked with harsh sobs. Rachel immediately felt guilty and sat down beside her, rubbing her back in small circles. Eventually the storm passed, and Quinn looked up at her with puffy eyes. “Sorry,” she said hoarsely. “All I’ve done when you’ve been over here is cry, it seems like.”
“If you need to cry, Quinn, then it seems foolish to resist the urge, whether I’m here or not. And if I’m here and I can make you feel better in any way, shape or form then I’m glad you can cry while I’m here.”
There was a knock at the door and Rachel answered, paying the delivery driver in cash and tipping him well. Noticing that there was no table in the apartment, she laid the boxes on the bed instead, and sat at the head of it while Quinn sat at the foot. Quinn passed her the salad and opened the other two boxes, looking uncertainly at Rachel.
“Aren’t you vegan? This isn’t exactly vegan-friendly.”
“It’s not for me.”
“You know I’m not pregnant anymore, right? I can’t eat all that.”
“Not tonight, of course - but you can keep the leftovers in your fridge. And I’m sure you can eat more than you’ve obviously been eating lately,” the last sentence was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she regretted it instantly when Quinn’s expression suddenly became guarded and her body language closed.
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I only - you’re too thin, is all I meant. For goodness sake, I can very nearly count your ribs through your shirt.”
“I think you should leave,” Quinn began closing up the boxes. “And take your dinner with you.”
“Quinn, wait - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, and I’d ask that you give me another chance.” Quinn didn’t answer. “Please - I’m really very sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No,” Quinn said, “it’s not.” She shrugged, though, and reopened the boxes. “You’ve put up with me this long; I guess I owe you another chance.”
“Thank you, Quinn - I greatly appreciate it.”
“Sure. Oh - can I get you anything to drink? I have water, or - well, water.”
“Water sounds great,” Rachel smiled, and some of the tension went out of the room.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Quinn agreed to share her bed that night, since she had no extra blankets or anything for Rachel to use, on the promise that she’d keep her hands to herself. But when Rachel woke early the next morning, she found Quinn moulded to her side, an arm thrown over her and her face nuzzled into her neck. Rachel felt the stirrings of lust between her legs, and scowled. It wasn’t a surprise, granted - she’d known she was bisexual since she was thirteen, and Quinn was a very attractive young woman - but these feelings could hardly be helpful in the current situation. And then Quinn moaned softly in her sleep, and logic took a brief holiday as a rush of heat shot to her center. She gasped and tried to wriggle away from the sleeping girl, to create some distance between them, but Quinn’s grip only got tighter.
She moaned again, and the arm she had over Rachel’s chest shifted, her hand finding its’ way unerringly to her breast and squeezing softly. Rachel gasped, biting down on her lip to stifle a groan. “Please,” Quinn mumbled against her throat, “please - I need you.”
Rachel risked turning her head to look down at her, but she was very obviously still asleep and dreaming. Not wanting any awkwardness between them if Quinn were to suddenly wake and realise what she’d done in her sleep, she slipped carefully out of Quinn’s embrace and quietly sat in the chair opposite, trying to calm her racing hormones. The task wasn’t helped when Quinn turned over in the bed, her hand slipping down her pyjama pants - still completely asleep.
“Oh, god,” Rachel turned the chair around, grabbing her phone from her bag and putting her earphones in, the music turned up loudly to drown out any sound from behind her. She sat and took long, deep breaths - which must have calmed her down, as she was woken by a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, and Quinn looked sheepishly at her.
“Sorry - was I kicking you or something?”
“Just a little bit,” Rachel nodded hastily. “It’s perfectly okay, though - this chair is surprisingly comfortable.”
“It is,” she nodded. “I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve spent sitting there, thinking of - well, anyway, I’m going to go and have a shower - if you want breakfast, there, uh, isn’t any.”
“I’ll grab something on the walk to school, if you don’t mind waiting for me. Are you going to-“
“Don’t start on this again, okay? I’ll eat when I’m hungry.” Quinn walked out, closing the door emphatically behind her, and Rachel sighed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The walk to McKinley was quiet - Rachel finally broke the silence as they approached the school’s doors. “Quinn?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you come back to Glee?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
“Because I’m happy when I’m there,” Quinn answered simply, and walked away, leaving Rachel to try and process that statement. She was interrupted, though, when Finn approached her with a hangdog expression. He wore his usual attire, a McKinley Titans t-shirt and jeans.
“I tried calling you last night,” he pouted.
“Oh - I’m sorry, Finn, I slept over at a friend’s last night.”
“That’s cool,” he nodded. “I wanted to tell you, I got Sam to audition for Glee - he’s supposed to be by this afternoon.”
“Excellent - good job, Finn.” He beamed, and she only barely resisted the urge to pat him on the head and ask if he wanted a snausage.
“Did you talk to Quinn?”
“I did - unfortunately, she’s not interested in returning.”
“Did she say why she quit?”
“She did, but I think she’d like that to stay private.”
“Okay,” he agreed, nodding. “Come on - l want to hear Sam sing, I think you’ll really like him.”
“Finn, it’s eight in the morning. We have class. Glee’s not until lunch.”
“Right,” he nodded again. “What class do I have?”
Rachel could only sigh.