Pieces of Her, 13/?
Title: Pieces of Her, 13/?
Author: Kagekamay
Rating: R
Length: 2,604
Spoilers: AU after Special Education
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Rachel Berry wasn't unbreakable. Now she's broken and the only person who can put her back together is Quinn Fabray. WARNING deals with self harm
The sound of her phone beeping at seven in the morning wasn't as unpleasant a thing as Rachel would have once believed. With her eyes closed, she felt around for her phone on her nightstand, finally locating it and squinting at the text message that had quickly become a regular occurrence over the past week.
Morning :) I'll be there in 30 minutes ~Q
Rachel felt a small smile forming on her lips, and she placed her phone back on her nightstand before slowly easing herself out of bed, heading to her closet with her eyes half closed from exhaustion. Sleep was still proving elusive for her, but she wasn't about to let that stop her from being ready in time for Quinn. The first time the blonde had picked her up had been the Monday after their impromptu sleepover last Saturday. When she had seen a car idling in their driveway, for a fleeting moment she had thought it was Finn, until she saw Quinn poke her head out of the car and wave to her to hurry up.
It was times like those that almost kept her feelings of self-loathing and doubts at bay. Once Quinn was gone though, everything came crashing back down on her. The cuts that she hid so carefully during the day taunted her at night, reminding her how worthless she really was. She felt her eyes being pulled inexplicably towards them now, forcing herself to see what she had done. Even worse, the cuts held the promise of what she would continue to do. The wounds on her wrist weren't too bad, but the cuts on her legs were healing slower. It wasn't painful to walk, but she had been forced to wear tights to cover them. Except now she had run out of tights. Making a mental note to do more laundry, she chose a pair of jeans and grabbed a long-sleeve shirt to hide her arms, relieved that the weather was cold enough that her outfit wouldn't draw too much attention.
As she came down the stairs, her dad, Hiram, gave her a quick greeting before hurrying into the kitchen to grab his morning coffee. He and James had come back a week ago, but with the amount of time that Rachel actually saw them, they might as well have not been there at all. She tried not to take it personally. After all, a doctor and lawyer were always busy, but it seemed like they were going out of their way to avoid her. She followed her daddy into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of orange juice while he talked into his phone.
" - yes I got the two consults. Thank you, Lisa."
No sooner had his phone slammed shut, then the pager on his hip started beeping, alerting him that he had more consults on the way.
"Where's daddy?" Rachel asked, as her father shut off the pager.
"He went in early since he got that promotion. He told you yesterday, remember?"
Rachel shifted uncomfortably, remembering that conversation a little too well for her liking.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
"Rachel, what do you think?"
Rachel started in surprise and looked up at her daddy, who was staring at her oddly. She had zoned out again, and she hadn't really been paying attention to him while he had been talking.
"I'm sorry, what did you say, Daddy?"
"I was saying the office has promoted me to a higher position, which means I won't be home until later. You'll be okay home alone for most of the day then?"
Her stomach dropped and she stared at her food, mindlessly pushing around the peas on her plate, "Y-yeah. Of course I will be."
"That's my girl," the man smiled, ruffling her hair as he stood up to clear his plate.
"May I be excused, Daddy? I don't feel so well," Rachel said, willing the tremor to stay out of her voice. James nodded distractedly and she left the table. They hadn't even asked if she was okay. They had just let her go.
Anger was welling up inside her again, and she needed to feel calm. Feel in control. She quietly closed the door to her room, looking around for her razorblade that was usually waiting for her on her sink. She couldn't find it though, and now the urge was growing. Looking around wildy, her eyes landed on her geometric compass that was still on her desk from her homework the night before. The sharp tip glinted invitingly at her, and without preamble she grabbed it, sinking down onto the floor as she pressed it against her skin. She had to put more pressure on it, and it didn't glide quite as smoothly as the razorblade, but it worked. The blood trickled out of the fresh cuts on her arm, but the anger and hurt was still beating down on her.
Her gaze dropped to her legs, a half remembered memory coming to her. For a moment, she was sitting in a bathroom, dragging the blade across her thigh. She shivered, as she remembered how amazing the high had been, how deep the cuts had been. That's what she needed right now. She needed to forget about her dads, lose herself in the pain that somehow kept her clinging onto sanity. Her hand moved again, digging just as deep as she had on that day, and finally the calm she craved enveloped her. The compass fell from her fingers and she exhaled in relief.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
Her leg twitched from the memory, and she smiled unconvincingly at her dad while she sipped her juice, "Of course. Sorry, it slipped my mind."
Her dad kissed her quickly on her forehead and patted her shoulder, failing to notice that she winced slightly in pain, "That's okay. I'm sure you'll be just fine home alone. You've done it before, right?"
She nodded faintly, "Yes. I suppose so."
Hiram hadn't heard her. He was already back to business with the phone to his ear, checking in with his patients.
" - well Mr. Wilson has been complaining about chest pain, but I haven't put him on medication yet - "
His voice faded as he walked out the door, not even glancing back to wave at his daughter before it shut behind him. Rachel finished her juice, ignoring the emptiness she felt now that she was alone once again. She didn't have to struggle for too long. The doorbell rang, and her heart leaped as she knew who would be waiting for her. Sure enough, Quinn was beaming at her when she opened the door, and relief flooded through Rachel.
"Hey," Quinn greeted, hugging Rachel briefly before stepping back and surveying the brunette's outfit, "You should wear jeans more often."
"Well, I didn't have much of a choice, since I ran out of tights this morning," Rachel explained as she closed the door behind her and started walking to Quinn's car.
Quinn nodded, and Rachel caught the flash of worry across the cheerleader's face as she slid into her seat.
"So how are things between you and Sam?" the diva asked casually, hoping to steer the conversation away from any mentions of her cutting.
The previous week, Sam had spent most of his time tailing Quinn in a feeble attempt to apologize to her again. Quinn had at first blatantly refused to talk to her boyfriend, but that hadn't deterred the blond boy one bit. If he hadn't spent the time he wasn't gazing longingly at Quinn shooting suspicious glances at her, Rachel might have admired his determination. As it was, she couldn't help feeling a (very) small amount of pity for him, and she made it a point to remind Quinn that she couldn't avoid him forever. The cheerio had grumbled, and told Rachel that she would talk to Sam when she felt like it, which coincidentally turned out to be the day after Rachel had brought it up. It hadn't been much of a discussion, but the couple had come to an understanding. It was still obvious that Sam wasn't thrilled that Quinn was still friends with her, but he kept his mouth shut and seemed genuinely happy that Quinn was talking to him again.
"They're okay," Quinn answered indifferently, keeping her eyes on the road.
"You don't sound too enthusiastic," Rachel observed.
"Well we're going to have dinner at Breadstix on Wednesday," Quinn shrugged.
"That's a start," Rachel replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.
The cheerio rolled her eyes, "We've gone out to Breadstix before, Rachel. It's nothing to get too excited about, and I'm still pissed that he didn't believe you and I were friends to begin with. I mean is it really that hard to believe?"
Rachel felt a small rush of happiness as Quinn continued to rant. She didn't miss the way Quinn's jaw was set in anger, or how tightly she was gripping the steering wheel. It was small things like these that had convinced Rachel that trusting Quinn wasn't such a bad idea after all. The girl really did have her best interests at heart. By the time Quinn pulled into the parking lot, they were already running a little late. The pair of them rushed inside, not too worried about getting to class on time. One of the perks of being friends with the Head Cheerio was that people got out of your way if they knew what was good for them. Today, however, people didn't seem to be bothered, and it took them a little longer to get to their lockers. Rachel noticed that Quinn seemed a little perturbed at this strange development, but the cheerio didn't comment. Instead, she waited dutifully at Rachel's locker to make sure she had her books for her first few classes before walking her to her first period.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
To the amazement of Rachel and the glee club at large, they found Mr. Schuester waiting for them in the choir room when they entered for glee later that day.
"Woah, Mr. Schue is something wrong?" Puck asked, voicing what they were all thinking.
"Not now, Puck," the teacher said excitedly, gesturing frantically for them all to take their seats, "I was talking with Miss Pillsbury - "
"You mean Mrs. Howell?" Mercedes cut in.
Mr. Schuester deflated slightly at the mention of the surname, "Uh right of course. As I was saying, Mike, Brittany, could you come up here please?" He gestured at the two of them, and they walked to the front, standing on either side of him looking slightly confused.
"It has come to my attention that our dance choreography has been lacking lately. So - " he punctuated the word by placing a hand on Mike and Brittany's shoulders, " - I figured the best thing we could do is have our two expert dancers lead us in a little friendly competition."
That got everyone's attention. Rachel felt the old drive to prove herself stir within her and she glanced excitedly at Quinn, who returned the look, grinning in anticipation.
"Brittany will lead the girls and Mike will lead the guys. By next Friday, both teams will have had to perform their routine, and you will be judged by a panel of judges including myself, Coach Beiste, and Emma. I want you guys to put your best effort into this because the winners will have their song featured at Regionals."
Excited chatter broke out among the glee clubbers as they divided themselves into their groups. The girls took the upper right side of the bleachers, congregating around Quinn and Rachel. All of them were throwing out different song ideas, except for Lauren who stood slightly apart from them, looking bored.
While Santana and Mercedes were arguing loudly over whose song choice was better suited for a dance routine (I'm not dancing to another Tina Turner song, Wheezy!), Quinn pulled Brittany over to her and Rachel and murmured, "Do you think you could go a little easy on the dance routines for Rachel? She's still our strongest singer, and it would be difficult for her to sing if she's out of breath from the dance routines."
Rachel was grateful that Quinn was talking to Brittany for her. She knew Quinn wasn't really concerned about her breath control, but was really still worried about her putting too much pressure on her legs. She had a feeling Quinn suspected she had cut her legs again, and she wasn't exactly wrong.
"Sure," Brittany agreed readily, smiling at Rachel, "I can work something out."
"Hang on," Santana snapped, holding up a hand in Mercedes' face to stall their argument, "Why is Stubbles getting special treatment?"
"She's our best singer, S," Quinn shot back, glaring at the Latina, "and I told you to stop with the names."
Rachel shrank into her seat as Quinn stood in front of her, effectively blocking her from Santana's line of sight.
Santana scoffed, "Oh please, Q. You're going to have to do better than that."
"Back. Off." Quinn warned, "We don't need this right now. We need to be focusing on what we're going to do for our routine."
The Latina acquiesced, but she gave the blonde a look clearly saying things were far from over. Rachel was still on edge as Santana resumed her argument with Mercedes, still trying unsuccessfully to disappear into her seat. Quinn sat back down, unthinkingly taking Rachel's hand in hers as she kept an eye on her second in command. Her touch comforted Rachel, who finally remembered how to breathe normally. Quinn looked at her worriedly, and mouthed 'Are you okay?' She nodded shakily and returned her gaze to the floor, resisting the impulse to lean on the blonde's shoulder. If she did, Quinn would know just how far from okay she really was.
Author: Kagekamay
Rating: R
Length: 2,604
Spoilers: AU after Special Education
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Rachel Berry wasn't unbreakable. Now she's broken and the only person who can put her back together is Quinn Fabray. WARNING deals with self harm
The sound of her phone beeping at seven in the morning wasn't as unpleasant a thing as Rachel would have once believed. With her eyes closed, she felt around for her phone on her nightstand, finally locating it and squinting at the text message that had quickly become a regular occurrence over the past week.
Morning :) I'll be there in 30 minutes ~Q
Rachel felt a small smile forming on her lips, and she placed her phone back on her nightstand before slowly easing herself out of bed, heading to her closet with her eyes half closed from exhaustion. Sleep was still proving elusive for her, but she wasn't about to let that stop her from being ready in time for Quinn. The first time the blonde had picked her up had been the Monday after their impromptu sleepover last Saturday. When she had seen a car idling in their driveway, for a fleeting moment she had thought it was Finn, until she saw Quinn poke her head out of the car and wave to her to hurry up.
It was times like those that almost kept her feelings of self-loathing and doubts at bay. Once Quinn was gone though, everything came crashing back down on her. The cuts that she hid so carefully during the day taunted her at night, reminding her how worthless she really was. She felt her eyes being pulled inexplicably towards them now, forcing herself to see what she had done. Even worse, the cuts held the promise of what she would continue to do. The wounds on her wrist weren't too bad, but the cuts on her legs were healing slower. It wasn't painful to walk, but she had been forced to wear tights to cover them. Except now she had run out of tights. Making a mental note to do more laundry, she chose a pair of jeans and grabbed a long-sleeve shirt to hide her arms, relieved that the weather was cold enough that her outfit wouldn't draw too much attention.
As she came down the stairs, her dad, Hiram, gave her a quick greeting before hurrying into the kitchen to grab his morning coffee. He and James had come back a week ago, but with the amount of time that Rachel actually saw them, they might as well have not been there at all. She tried not to take it personally. After all, a doctor and lawyer were always busy, but it seemed like they were going out of their way to avoid her. She followed her daddy into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of orange juice while he talked into his phone.
" - yes I got the two consults. Thank you, Lisa."
No sooner had his phone slammed shut, then the pager on his hip started beeping, alerting him that he had more consults on the way.
"Where's daddy?" Rachel asked, as her father shut off the pager.
"He went in early since he got that promotion. He told you yesterday, remember?"
Rachel shifted uncomfortably, remembering that conversation a little too well for her liking.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
"Rachel, what do you think?"
Rachel started in surprise and looked up at her daddy, who was staring at her oddly. She had zoned out again, and she hadn't really been paying attention to him while he had been talking.
"I'm sorry, what did you say, Daddy?"
"I was saying the office has promoted me to a higher position, which means I won't be home until later. You'll be okay home alone for most of the day then?"
Her stomach dropped and she stared at her food, mindlessly pushing around the peas on her plate, "Y-yeah. Of course I will be."
"That's my girl," the man smiled, ruffling her hair as he stood up to clear his plate.
"May I be excused, Daddy? I don't feel so well," Rachel said, willing the tremor to stay out of her voice. James nodded distractedly and she left the table. They hadn't even asked if she was okay. They had just let her go.
Anger was welling up inside her again, and she needed to feel calm. Feel in control. She quietly closed the door to her room, looking around for her razorblade that was usually waiting for her on her sink. She couldn't find it though, and now the urge was growing. Looking around wildy, her eyes landed on her geometric compass that was still on her desk from her homework the night before. The sharp tip glinted invitingly at her, and without preamble she grabbed it, sinking down onto the floor as she pressed it against her skin. She had to put more pressure on it, and it didn't glide quite as smoothly as the razorblade, but it worked. The blood trickled out of the fresh cuts on her arm, but the anger and hurt was still beating down on her.
Her gaze dropped to her legs, a half remembered memory coming to her. For a moment, she was sitting in a bathroom, dragging the blade across her thigh. She shivered, as she remembered how amazing the high had been, how deep the cuts had been. That's what she needed right now. She needed to forget about her dads, lose herself in the pain that somehow kept her clinging onto sanity. Her hand moved again, digging just as deep as she had on that day, and finally the calm she craved enveloped her. The compass fell from her fingers and she exhaled in relief.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
Her leg twitched from the memory, and she smiled unconvincingly at her dad while she sipped her juice, "Of course. Sorry, it slipped my mind."
Her dad kissed her quickly on her forehead and patted her shoulder, failing to notice that she winced slightly in pain, "That's okay. I'm sure you'll be just fine home alone. You've done it before, right?"
She nodded faintly, "Yes. I suppose so."
Hiram hadn't heard her. He was already back to business with the phone to his ear, checking in with his patients.
" - well Mr. Wilson has been complaining about chest pain, but I haven't put him on medication yet - "
His voice faded as he walked out the door, not even glancing back to wave at his daughter before it shut behind him. Rachel finished her juice, ignoring the emptiness she felt now that she was alone once again. She didn't have to struggle for too long. The doorbell rang, and her heart leaped as she knew who would be waiting for her. Sure enough, Quinn was beaming at her when she opened the door, and relief flooded through Rachel.
"Hey," Quinn greeted, hugging Rachel briefly before stepping back and surveying the brunette's outfit, "You should wear jeans more often."
"Well, I didn't have much of a choice, since I ran out of tights this morning," Rachel explained as she closed the door behind her and started walking to Quinn's car.
Quinn nodded, and Rachel caught the flash of worry across the cheerleader's face as she slid into her seat.
"So how are things between you and Sam?" the diva asked casually, hoping to steer the conversation away from any mentions of her cutting.
The previous week, Sam had spent most of his time tailing Quinn in a feeble attempt to apologize to her again. Quinn had at first blatantly refused to talk to her boyfriend, but that hadn't deterred the blond boy one bit. If he hadn't spent the time he wasn't gazing longingly at Quinn shooting suspicious glances at her, Rachel might have admired his determination. As it was, she couldn't help feeling a (very) small amount of pity for him, and she made it a point to remind Quinn that she couldn't avoid him forever. The cheerio had grumbled, and told Rachel that she would talk to Sam when she felt like it, which coincidentally turned out to be the day after Rachel had brought it up. It hadn't been much of a discussion, but the couple had come to an understanding. It was still obvious that Sam wasn't thrilled that Quinn was still friends with her, but he kept his mouth shut and seemed genuinely happy that Quinn was talking to him again.
"They're okay," Quinn answered indifferently, keeping her eyes on the road.
"You don't sound too enthusiastic," Rachel observed.
"Well we're going to have dinner at Breadstix on Wednesday," Quinn shrugged.
"That's a start," Rachel replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.
The cheerio rolled her eyes, "We've gone out to Breadstix before, Rachel. It's nothing to get too excited about, and I'm still pissed that he didn't believe you and I were friends to begin with. I mean is it really that hard to believe?"
Rachel felt a small rush of happiness as Quinn continued to rant. She didn't miss the way Quinn's jaw was set in anger, or how tightly she was gripping the steering wheel. It was small things like these that had convinced Rachel that trusting Quinn wasn't such a bad idea after all. The girl really did have her best interests at heart. By the time Quinn pulled into the parking lot, they were already running a little late. The pair of them rushed inside, not too worried about getting to class on time. One of the perks of being friends with the Head Cheerio was that people got out of your way if they knew what was good for them. Today, however, people didn't seem to be bothered, and it took them a little longer to get to their lockers. Rachel noticed that Quinn seemed a little perturbed at this strange development, but the cheerio didn't comment. Instead, she waited dutifully at Rachel's locker to make sure she had her books for her first few classes before walking her to her first period.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
To the amazement of Rachel and the glee club at large, they found Mr. Schuester waiting for them in the choir room when they entered for glee later that day.
"Woah, Mr. Schue is something wrong?" Puck asked, voicing what they were all thinking.
"Not now, Puck," the teacher said excitedly, gesturing frantically for them all to take their seats, "I was talking with Miss Pillsbury - "
"You mean Mrs. Howell?" Mercedes cut in.
Mr. Schuester deflated slightly at the mention of the surname, "Uh right of course. As I was saying, Mike, Brittany, could you come up here please?" He gestured at the two of them, and they walked to the front, standing on either side of him looking slightly confused.
"It has come to my attention that our dance choreography has been lacking lately. So - " he punctuated the word by placing a hand on Mike and Brittany's shoulders, " - I figured the best thing we could do is have our two expert dancers lead us in a little friendly competition."
That got everyone's attention. Rachel felt the old drive to prove herself stir within her and she glanced excitedly at Quinn, who returned the look, grinning in anticipation.
"Brittany will lead the girls and Mike will lead the guys. By next Friday, both teams will have had to perform their routine, and you will be judged by a panel of judges including myself, Coach Beiste, and Emma. I want you guys to put your best effort into this because the winners will have their song featured at Regionals."
Excited chatter broke out among the glee clubbers as they divided themselves into their groups. The girls took the upper right side of the bleachers, congregating around Quinn and Rachel. All of them were throwing out different song ideas, except for Lauren who stood slightly apart from them, looking bored.
While Santana and Mercedes were arguing loudly over whose song choice was better suited for a dance routine (I'm not dancing to another Tina Turner song, Wheezy!), Quinn pulled Brittany over to her and Rachel and murmured, "Do you think you could go a little easy on the dance routines for Rachel? She's still our strongest singer, and it would be difficult for her to sing if she's out of breath from the dance routines."
Rachel was grateful that Quinn was talking to Brittany for her. She knew Quinn wasn't really concerned about her breath control, but was really still worried about her putting too much pressure on her legs. She had a feeling Quinn suspected she had cut her legs again, and she wasn't exactly wrong.
"Sure," Brittany agreed readily, smiling at Rachel, "I can work something out."
"Hang on," Santana snapped, holding up a hand in Mercedes' face to stall their argument, "Why is Stubbles getting special treatment?"
"She's our best singer, S," Quinn shot back, glaring at the Latina, "and I told you to stop with the names."
Rachel shrank into her seat as Quinn stood in front of her, effectively blocking her from Santana's line of sight.
Santana scoffed, "Oh please, Q. You're going to have to do better than that."
"Back. Off." Quinn warned, "We don't need this right now. We need to be focusing on what we're going to do for our routine."
The Latina acquiesced, but she gave the blonde a look clearly saying things were far from over. Rachel was still on edge as Santana resumed her argument with Mercedes, still trying unsuccessfully to disappear into her seat. Quinn sat back down, unthinkingly taking Rachel's hand in hers as she kept an eye on her second in command. Her touch comforted Rachel, who finally remembered how to breathe normally. Quinn looked at her worriedly, and mouthed 'Are you okay?' She nodded shakily and returned her gaze to the floor, resisting the impulse to lean on the blonde's shoulder. If she did, Quinn would know just how far from okay she really was.