What's Broken: Quinn, Judy, PG
Title: What's Broken
Author: Kelsey / marliskelsey
Pairing,Character(s): Quinn Fabray, Judy Fabray
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,075
Spoilers: Through 1x22, Journey
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I can only dream.
Summary: Quinn wonders if what’s broken can ever truly be mended.
A/N: Just a little drabble I wrote to sort-of explore the dynamic between Quinn and her mother, and Quinn's views on her life now. Takes place during the summer after Regionals. Hope you enjoy!
It’s quiet in the house - her mother is grocery shopping. Even without Quinn’s father in the picture, her mother has a routine that she honours without question. Grocery shopping every Sunday morning, every week.
Quinn stretches her arms above her head and yawns.
She swings her legs over the side of the bed. A month of living in this house, the house she grew up in, and it still doesn’t feel like home. The minute she was told she wasn’t welcome was the minute the tie was severed. Quinn still can’t look into her mom’s eyes without seeing just a trace of disappointment.
She looks around her bedroom. They hadn’t really changed it in the time she was gone. The same posters, the towering shelves filled with cheerleading trophies and ribbons, nothing moved, nothing changed. Everything the same as she left it, packing clothes under the ominous threat of the microwave timer.
Quinn gets up to look at the trophies, something she hasn’t done since she came back.
They remind her of the glory days and Quinn smiles bitterly. The girl she used to be won these trophies. The girl who only worried about cheer routines and her boyfriend’s involvement in Glee and homework.
She is not that girl. She has a daughter now - somewhere in her new mom’s arms.
She’s been on the other end of a slushie.
Quinn’s not going to go back. She won’t let herself become who she was, a shell of a person. She only hopes that people will allow her to do that.
Quinn wonders if what’s broken can ever truly be mended.
She runs her fingers lightly over the surface of a plaque. Quinn got it when she made Head Cheerio. She can remember the ceremony and everything. Her mother cried. Her father was proud. And she was proud, happy. It made her important. Head Cheerio gave her power - something she’s always craved. Or was it control? Sometimes the two are one in the same.
Her mother would be so happy if Quinn could make the squad again. And in some ways, Quinn wants that, just as she always has. Making her parents proud of her has always been important.
And as if Quinn willed it, her mother appears in her doorway.
Judy stares almost reverently at the trophies on her daughter’s shelves. “Have you thought about trying out again?”
Quinn looks at her mother, who looks hopefully back at her, and shakes her head. “I don’t think so, Mom. Coach Sylvester has to invite you to be part of the team and I somehow doubt she wants me back. Did you go grocery shopping?”
Her mother nods.
She smiles a little, staring at the floor. “I bought that spaghetti sauce you love so much. I thought we could maybe have a family dinner tonight.”
Quinn thinks about it. They used to have family dinners when her father was here. Russell would sit at the head of the table just like a king, Judy across from him, Quinn along the side. It was cold and distant - like a metaphor for their family - and any conversation inevitably was about work or school or the goings-on at their country club.
Lately, their family dinners are crowded around the kitchen island, Quinn trying to avoid pointed looks from across the table.
“I’m…not really feeling well. I think I should just stay in bed today,” Quinn lies.
Her mother nods, her face slipping into a frown. “If that’s what you feel is necessary. I’ll save you a plate.” Judy gives a curt nod and bustles out of the room.
Quinn sighs and falls back down on the bed.
It’s hard to be here again. Quinn longs for the comfort and family that was always around in Mercedes’ house, where she didn’t have to watch what she said or did for fear of making someone upset. Her mother is so terrified of losing Quinn that she treats her like glass, like she’s going to shatter into a million pieces at the drop of a hat.
Quinn’s so used to being treated like she’s breakable when she’s not.
She rolls over onto her side, staring at the wall.
Suddenly, Judy storms back in. She stares at Quinn, who sits up quickly, and her face is a mix of angry and unsure. She takes a deep breath. “Quinn, I’m really trying. I - I know it’s hard without your father. It’s hard for me too. I ran into a friend at the supermarket who asked me where my husband was and I nearly had a breakdown in the aisle. And I know you haven’t forgiven me for what happened. But I - I’m doing the best I can here, and I’d appreciate if you would put in the same effort. For me. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’d like it, as your mother.”
Quinn stares at her mother, mouth agape. She doesn’t think she’s ever heard her mother raise her voice. Before, it was her father that did the yelling. Now everyone’s so busy walking on eggshells that the slightest angry inflection sends Judy into a spiral of guilt.
“I - I’m sorry, Mom.”
Judy presses her lips together and closes her eyes like she’s about to cry.
“Quinn, all I want is to make it right. That’s all I ever wanted. And I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner.”
Quinn feels the tears coming - months of crying have made her incredibly perceptive to her feelings - and they sit heavy and threatening behind her eyes. “It’s okay,” she whispers, half to her mother, and half to herself.
Judy nods.
“I’m glad you’re home, Quinn.”
It’s like saying “I love you” and Quinn knows that it’s the best her mother can do right now.
Quinn supposes that she’s always known why her mother did nothing - Judy’s urge to placate her husband stemmed from the urge to keep some semblance of family intact, whatever the cost. It doesn’t make it right, but it puts reason behind it. And Quinn can see reason.
“Dinner is at seven.” Judy smiles a little and turns to leave.
Quinn stares at the place her mother had been. It’s a long road to forgiveness - she travels it everyday, with Finn, with her mother and with her friends. And it’s hard.
But it’s possible. What’s broken can always be mended.
Quinn has to believe that.
Author: Kelsey / marliskelsey
Pairing,Character(s): Quinn Fabray, Judy Fabray
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,075
Spoilers: Through 1x22, Journey
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I can only dream.
Summary: Quinn wonders if what’s broken can ever truly be mended.
A/N: Just a little drabble I wrote to sort-of explore the dynamic between Quinn and her mother, and Quinn's views on her life now. Takes place during the summer after Regionals. Hope you enjoy!
It’s quiet in the house - her mother is grocery shopping. Even without Quinn’s father in the picture, her mother has a routine that she honours without question. Grocery shopping every Sunday morning, every week.
Quinn stretches her arms above her head and yawns.
She swings her legs over the side of the bed. A month of living in this house, the house she grew up in, and it still doesn’t feel like home. The minute she was told she wasn’t welcome was the minute the tie was severed. Quinn still can’t look into her mom’s eyes without seeing just a trace of disappointment.
She looks around her bedroom. They hadn’t really changed it in the time she was gone. The same posters, the towering shelves filled with cheerleading trophies and ribbons, nothing moved, nothing changed. Everything the same as she left it, packing clothes under the ominous threat of the microwave timer.
Quinn gets up to look at the trophies, something she hasn’t done since she came back.
They remind her of the glory days and Quinn smiles bitterly. The girl she used to be won these trophies. The girl who only worried about cheer routines and her boyfriend’s involvement in Glee and homework.
She is not that girl. She has a daughter now - somewhere in her new mom’s arms.
She’s been on the other end of a slushie.
Quinn’s not going to go back. She won’t let herself become who she was, a shell of a person. She only hopes that people will allow her to do that.
Quinn wonders if what’s broken can ever truly be mended.
She runs her fingers lightly over the surface of a plaque. Quinn got it when she made Head Cheerio. She can remember the ceremony and everything. Her mother cried. Her father was proud. And she was proud, happy. It made her important. Head Cheerio gave her power - something she’s always craved. Or was it control? Sometimes the two are one in the same.
Her mother would be so happy if Quinn could make the squad again. And in some ways, Quinn wants that, just as she always has. Making her parents proud of her has always been important.
And as if Quinn willed it, her mother appears in her doorway.
Judy stares almost reverently at the trophies on her daughter’s shelves. “Have you thought about trying out again?”
Quinn looks at her mother, who looks hopefully back at her, and shakes her head. “I don’t think so, Mom. Coach Sylvester has to invite you to be part of the team and I somehow doubt she wants me back. Did you go grocery shopping?”
Her mother nods.
She smiles a little, staring at the floor. “I bought that spaghetti sauce you love so much. I thought we could maybe have a family dinner tonight.”
Quinn thinks about it. They used to have family dinners when her father was here. Russell would sit at the head of the table just like a king, Judy across from him, Quinn along the side. It was cold and distant - like a metaphor for their family - and any conversation inevitably was about work or school or the goings-on at their country club.
Lately, their family dinners are crowded around the kitchen island, Quinn trying to avoid pointed looks from across the table.
“I’m…not really feeling well. I think I should just stay in bed today,” Quinn lies.
Her mother nods, her face slipping into a frown. “If that’s what you feel is necessary. I’ll save you a plate.” Judy gives a curt nod and bustles out of the room.
Quinn sighs and falls back down on the bed.
It’s hard to be here again. Quinn longs for the comfort and family that was always around in Mercedes’ house, where she didn’t have to watch what she said or did for fear of making someone upset. Her mother is so terrified of losing Quinn that she treats her like glass, like she’s going to shatter into a million pieces at the drop of a hat.
Quinn’s so used to being treated like she’s breakable when she’s not.
She rolls over onto her side, staring at the wall.
Suddenly, Judy storms back in. She stares at Quinn, who sits up quickly, and her face is a mix of angry and unsure. She takes a deep breath. “Quinn, I’m really trying. I - I know it’s hard without your father. It’s hard for me too. I ran into a friend at the supermarket who asked me where my husband was and I nearly had a breakdown in the aisle. And I know you haven’t forgiven me for what happened. But I - I’m doing the best I can here, and I’d appreciate if you would put in the same effort. For me. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’d like it, as your mother.”
Quinn stares at her mother, mouth agape. She doesn’t think she’s ever heard her mother raise her voice. Before, it was her father that did the yelling. Now everyone’s so busy walking on eggshells that the slightest angry inflection sends Judy into a spiral of guilt.
“I - I’m sorry, Mom.”
Judy presses her lips together and closes her eyes like she’s about to cry.
“Quinn, all I want is to make it right. That’s all I ever wanted. And I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner.”
Quinn feels the tears coming - months of crying have made her incredibly perceptive to her feelings - and they sit heavy and threatening behind her eyes. “It’s okay,” she whispers, half to her mother, and half to herself.
Judy nods.
“I’m glad you’re home, Quinn.”
It’s like saying “I love you” and Quinn knows that it’s the best her mother can do right now.
Quinn supposes that she’s always known why her mother did nothing - Judy’s urge to placate her husband stemmed from the urge to keep some semblance of family intact, whatever the cost. It doesn’t make it right, but it puts reason behind it. And Quinn can see reason.
“Dinner is at seven.” Judy smiles a little and turns to leave.
Quinn stares at the place her mother had been. It’s a long road to forgiveness - she travels it everyday, with Finn, with her mother and with her friends. And it’s hard.
But it’s possible. What’s broken can always be mended.
Quinn has to believe that.