Invitational 16: Break on through the other side
Hello World
A Glee/Little House On The Prairie Crossover
1 fic (3700 words) (77 points)
1 wallpaper 800x600 (20 points)
1 fic rec (3 points)
(Fanfiction)
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Glee/Little House on the Prairie
Pairing: Quinn/Puck
She rises early, sweeps her hair from her face and pins it in soft curls behind her sun-pink ears as she lights the stove, setting a kettle of well water in the glowing flame. Noah is out doing the morning chores and he’ll expect breakfast on the table when he comes in; she never disappoints. The cotton bell of her skirt sweeps the ground as she steps out of their small home, letting herself into the chicken coop and coaxing the hens from their nests, relieving them of a few eggs that she tucks neatly into the pockets of her white apron.
She scrambles the eggs, warms a couple cornbread muffins, and fries a little bit of side bacon from their cold store, all the while keeping her eyes on the window so that she’ll see Noah on his way in. She sets the silverware on the table, reaches for the cracked mugs that rest on their wooden shelves, but even this simple task takes her longer than usual. Her body is weary, heavy with the burden of a baby expected any day now, and she’s dismayed to find herself slow and sore this morning.
Her skin is round and tight under the billowing skirt of her petticoat and she frets that if the baby doesn’t arrive soon, she’ll be forced to let out her dresses once again. She loses focus and Noah surprises her when he comes in, kissing her flushed cheek and wishing her,
“Good morning.”
She smiles faintly, sets out a small container of molasses (white sugar is scarce and expensive these days) next to the tin cup of milk he brought in from their jersey cow. He washes his hands in the basin of water by the stove and pours himself a cup of coffee while he waits for her to set breakfast on the table.
“I have to hitch up the horses and ride down a ways to help the new family - Hudson - with their barn raising. You’ll be alright?”
She sets the food out and sits across from him, her chair pushed back from the table to make room for the baby, nodding slowly without quite meeting his eye. He watches her speculatively before she relents and asks,
“It’s not far, is it?”
He shrugs, “A little ways, hard to say. You’re feeling alright?”
He juts his head towards her belly pointedly and she says,
“I feel tired and sore, but it’s nothing that should keep you from your day.”
If she’s being honest, she’s anxious about being left alone as the time for the baby’s birth draws near. This is their first child and she’s still young, just eighteen, with no experience caring for or delivering babies. He finishes his breakfast and offers,
“You’re welcome to join me; Hudson has a young wife about your age and two small boys. I’m sure you must have something in common.”
She shakes her head; just the thought of hurrying through her own morning chores to accompany him is exhausting and a bumpy wagon ride, as well as an encounter with a strange woman and her children, holds no appeal.
“I’ll be alright. You’ll be home for dinner? Do I need to send something with you for lunch?”
“I’ve been promised lunch and yes, I’ll be sure to make it home by dinner. You’re able to get to the Evans’ and send Sam for me if your time comes?”
“I’ll find a way.” She says with a smile, clearing their plates and setting them in the basin to soak.
He kisses her again, his broad hand covering the expanse of her stomach, before he leaves and she catches a hint of concern in his expression as he says,
“Send for me if there’s any question, Quinn.”
“Of course.”
He tells her he loves her and she echoes the sentiment before he heads out the door, hitching the horses quickly and setting off down the dry prairie road towards their neighbour’s home. She watches him go and feels the heaviness of the morning engulf her again; she feels no urge to do the dishes or the remainder of her morning chores. Something is amiss and she can’t quite put her finger on it.
She cleans the dishes as quickly as she can, fighting her laziness, and heads out to the garden with a hand woven wicker basket to bring in the fruits of her own labour. The cucumbers seem to have ripened overnight and she gathers handfuls of them, setting them in her basket alongside a few spindly carrots and a decent crop of beans. She’s planning a supper of fried chicken with green beans and a loaf of fresh bread but her stomach turns at the thought of taking one of the hens out to the block and she wonders if there’s anything in their cold store that she can use instead.
She sets the vegetables inside and returns to the barn, walking to the end stall. Her mare, a quiet chestnut quarter horse, bobs her head over the door and nickers softly as Quinn walks down the small aisle. She came with Quinn when she left her family in the city to marry Noah and follow him out to the prairie, a parting gift from her parents. Her father, in particular, was furious when Noah asked for her hand in marriage, even moreso when he learned that Quinn intended to give up her new position as the teacher for the one room schoolhouse in their small town. She’s surprised they sent her with anything, but she left with her mare and a small trunk of ‘necessary items’ from her mother.
She lets herself into the stall and strokes the horse’s flank, then down over her swollen sides. The mare lets out another soft nicker and presses her soft nose to Quinn’s stomach, mouthing at the folds of cotton over her belly. Noah is hoping the mare delivers a strong, healthy colt that can be sold at the market but, while Quinn knows they need money, with the baby due to arrive any day, it saddens her to think of the mare being separated from her foal so soon.
Her own baby wakes and stirs within the confines of her belly, tipping and rolling against her skin. It makes Quinn smile to feel such liveliness within her, makes her body burn with excitement as she waits to meet this little one that she’s grown so attached to.
She gives the horse a last pat, locks the latch behind her and finishes up the milking before she heads back to their small home. It’s a simple cabin with a dirt floor and three small rooms, a latrine just a few steps from the back wall, but she’s proud of their home. Noah built it himself, with the help of a few men within riding distance, and she helped make it home by outfitting their rooms with thick quilts for the winter and dainty needlepoint to liven up the wooden walls. She worries about what they’ll do when they have more children but Noah assures her that they’re able to knock out the back wall and expand, tells her that they’ll be just fine.
They’re lucky; she worked as a schoolteacher for a year before she was married and Noah worked with a blacksmith for almost three years, so they were able to save enough for a small stove and an assortment of other goods that make their living easier. Nowadays, they have to rely on the growth of their own crops, livestock, and working with others in the community for their income. It’s more difficult but it also fosters a sense of community with the neighbours and Quinn feels proud every time she’s bring her fruits, vegetables and eggs in to town in exchange for a small list of items from the general store.
The sun is high in the sky so she knows it’s near lunch time and fixes herself a simple lunch of buttered bread and cheese. Her stomach turns as she eats so she just nibbles at the bread and returns the cheese to their stores, quietly cursing her body. She just can’t put her finger on what’s happening today but she feels unwell; she prays that she hasn’t picked something up and sacrifices one of their precious oranges to drink in its goodness and boost her body’s strength.
She lies down on their straw mattress for a spell in the afternoon and wakes up groggy and irritable. Her back and hips ache mercilessly and the baby feels impossibly heavy, draining her energy and making it difficult for her to muster up the strength to make dinner. She brings in a hock of ham because she still can’t face the thought of slaughtering a hen and sets it to cook in the oven while she prepares the beans and warms the bread.
The first pain takes her by surprise, catching her off guard as she lifts the ham out to turn it. She gasps sharply, hurries to set the meat on the stove, and trembles a little bit as she catches her breath. She mistakes it for a common pregnancy pain, exaggerated by her activity, and hurries to get the ham back in the oven.
Her back aches as she moves about the small kitchen, hurrying to set plates on the table and get a fire started in the hearth before Noah returns. She frets over the stove and pours milk into small tin cups, ignoring the pains as they build and ebb with time. She’s near certain it’s simply her body preparing itself, eager to welcome the baby before its time, so she does her best to pay no mind.
There’s a sudden pull, deep within her, and fluid soaks through her fall stockings and undergarments, marking the dirt floor as she steps back in surprise. She’s terrified, suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that she’s left the city with its doctors and their skilled hands in favour of a prairie desert with no one but her absent husband. Tears burn in her eyes as she rubs at her taut belly, mind racing with what she’s to do.
She hopes that Noah will be home soon but she frets that he might return late and now that she recognizes the pains for what they are, she worries that he won’t be home with enough time to fetch Ma Evans. Her hands tremble as she pulls dinner from the stove, pushes the fire down so it won’t build in her absence, and reaches for her light shawl as she hurries to the door. She debates hitching her mare to the single wagon in the barn but she’s as heavy with her foal as Quinn is and it won’t do to have both of them caught between the two houses; she’ll have to walk.
She’s lucky that the Evans’ are their closest neighbours, but the walk still takes over an hour and Quinn has to pause to catch her breath with every pain. It’s Sam that sees her approaching and he runs to her from the barn, helping her to the main house as she says,
“Noah’s helping the Hudson family with their barn raising; he said to send for him if my time came.”
Sam’s already tossing tack over their saddle horse’s back before his Ma has Quinn sitting at the kitchen table, holding a cup of water to her lips and telling her quietly to breathe. She presses her hand to Quinn’s belly and nods briskly when Quinn breathes shakily through the next pain,
“They’re coming nice and strong, are they coming often?”
Quinn nods, “Every few minutes.”
“And your water’s intact?”
Quinn flushes, knowing the woman isn’t going to be pleased to hear that she’s walked almost three miles after breaking her water, but shakes her head and meekly says,
“It broke at the house.”
Her lips purse but she simply says, “Sit here for a spell while I fetch my bag and harness the horses. Brittany, come stay with Quinn while I get my things.”
The willowy blonde is a year younger than Quinn and married Sam just six months ago, but Quinn knows she’s been working with Ma Evans since Sam started courting her and she expected her presence at the delivery. She strokes her fingers lightly over Quinn’s spine when the next pain comes and Quinn tenses, toes curling in her black boots as a soft cry passes her lips. She worries aloud that they won’t make it back to her home in time for the birth but Ma Evans shakes her head, setting her bag on the kitchen table,
“You’re not there yet, dear and it’s but a short ride to your home.”
True to her word, Ma Evans gets her back home, but the ride feels long and tortuous as she continues to moan and shift through her pains. Ma helps her from the wagon and tells Brittany to build the fire and set water to boil on the stove so she can soak small cloths before they’re needed.
Quinn’s body shudders and trembles as Ma Evans guides her to the back bedroom, stripping her of her soiled garments and helping her into a simple, white nightgown. She moves to get into their bed but Ma shakes her head,
“Stay standing as long as you can Quinn, it brings the birth on quickly.”
She wants to cry and protest; she’s spent and utterly exhausted, but she obeys and braces herself against the bed while Ma Evans stretches thick, dark linens over the mattress. Brittany fills a basin in the corner with boiling water, soaking handfuls of white cloths, and drapes a cool one across Quinn’s neck as she sways by the bed. Quinn lifts her eyes in thanks and Brittany smiles gently before retreating to the kitchen.
She hears the horses before she sees the boys return, but she catches a glimpse of Noah jogging towards the house while Sam brings the horses to the barn. Ma Evans shuts the bedroom door without a word but Quinn begs,
“Please - please let me see him.”
Ma surveys her with a pensive expression and says, “Men bring nothing but distraction to the birth of a child, I need all of your focus to be on bringing this baby into the world.”
“Please, Ma - just for a moment. I promise it won’t be long.”
She hears his sharp tone as he talks to Brittany, demanding to be let in, and her calm, firm reply. She hears him curse and Ma raises her brow as if to say ‘Don’t you see?’, but Quinn stands firm and Ma relents. She steps out to have a word with him before he’s allowed in, but then he’s at Quinn’s side and she’s crying into his chest,
“Noah, I was so frightened. The baby - I didn’t know -”
“It’s alright,” He says gruffly, “You’re alright.”
She nods against him, her grip tightening on his neck and a sharp cry escaping as the next pain starts. He holds her gingerly, as if he’s afraid to do her harm, and she feels the tension in his shoulders as her cry builds.
“Ma Evans -” She hears him say, his voice laced with trepidation.
“She’s fine.” Ma says quietly, “She’s drawing close to her time.”
She gives them another minute and then she touches Quinn’s shoulder lightly and says, “Quinn, Noah’s going to stay out in the main room. Brittany’s fixed him dinner so he’ll eat while we work with this baby.”
She lets him go reluctantly and he tips her chin up to he can kiss her before he says,
“You’re strong, Quinn.”
She nods but she feels anything but strong as he leaves, shutting the door behind him and leaving her to Ma Evans and the turmoil that her body has unleashed. It feels as though mere seconds have passed when the next pain starts and she cries out in despair, body arching away from the pain as it consumes her.
Time passes quickly and then it seems to slow to a crawl, marked by contractions and warm teas that Brittany keeps pressing to her lips. It’s dark outside, the house alight with the warmth of the fire and a handful of lanterns scattered through the rooms, but Quinn registers the slam of a door and sees Noah heading out towards the barn. He paces by the door as she cries out again and she knows this must be killing him.
“Help Quinn back to bed.” Ma Evans says quietly and Brittany attempts to do so.
“I’m not distracted.” Quinn protests feebly.
Ma’s eyes soften and she says, “No, Quinn - you’re ready to deliver this baby. We’re merely drawing them for privacy.”
Brittany slips out to tell Noah what’s happening as Ma urges Quinn back into bed, holding another cup of tea to her lips. When Quinn protests, saying that her stomach is off and she feels rather queasy, Ma insists,
“Just a sip, dear. It’s to help bring the baby quickly.”
She sips at it gingerly between pains and watches Noah as Brittany talks to him quietly. He seems to pale but then he’s nodding and returning to the house, settling himself at the kitchen table to wait. She doesn’t keep him waiting long; with the next few pains she feels this deep, uncomfortable pull between her legs that becomes near unbearable. She’s later ashamed to admit that, until Ma Evans gave her an encouraging pat on the knee and said, ‘Come now, Quinn - push this baby out’, she really had no idea what she was to do.
Thankfully, her body seems to know and, before she can really try to figure it out on her own, it’s working to deliver this baby. It’s awfully painful and absolutely the hardest thing Quinn’s ever done in her life but just before midnight, she sags back into the pillows and skewed bedding as the newborn lets out a sharp cry and Ma says,
“You’ve done good, Quinn. You have a beautiful daughter.”
She cries as Ma eases the calming baby into her outstretched arms, staring at her daughter in wonder. She knows that Noah was hoping for a boy to help on the farm and take over some of the chores but their daughter? She’s so beautiful with her soft, red cheeks and a head of wispy blonde hair. She’s about the tiniest thing Quinn’s ever seen and she loves her; she’s never felt this way about anything before.
She can hear Noah waiting anxiously for news but Ma insists on cleaning her up and having her drink one last tea to slow the bleeding before she opens the bedroom door with a warm smile,
“Noah, come meet your daughter.”
There is no disappointment in his eyes as he learns that he has a daughter. There’s anxiety, or course, for both Quinn and the new baby, but Ma assures him that both mother and babe are doing well. Quinn smiles and she’s positively beaming as she beckons him forward. He sits at the edge of the bed and he seems equally awestruck by the newborn, tracing his large fingers over her little forehead and watching it crease with worry. He looks up at her and she sees the unabashed pride in his expression as he says,
“She’s beautiful, Quinn.”
She smiles tiredly, proudly, and sinks back into the feather tick, letting the newborn fit between her side and her arm. She’s quiet but alert, blinking confusedly as she take in her bright, unfamiliar surroundings. She studies her for a little while before asking,
“Elizabeth? Do you think it still suits her - Elizabeth Anne?”
Noah grins, “Just Beth - it suits her better.”
“Beth.” Quinn repeats softly, stroking her thumb over the baby’s cheek.
Noah’s right, Beth does suit her better. They’ll mark Elizabeth on her birth certificate for formalities sake but she doubts that they’ll ever call her anything other than Beth. Noah presses a kiss to her forehead, then the baby’s, when Ma Evans shoos him out with the declaration that both mom and baby need rest. If she’s honest with herself, Quinn completely agrees - she’s completely exhausted. Ma forces her to take a small amount of broth and bread, helps her nurse Beth and then leaves her bedside to stay in the main room, where she’ll reside for the next couple days.
She knows she should sleep but she takes a few minutes to study her daughter, sound asleep in the bassinette alongside their mattress. It was hard work and she’s heard of the twilight sleep that they’re starting to introduce in the cities, a stark contrast to the delivery she just endured, but when she really thinks about it? She wouldn’t change it for the world.
Fic Rec:
Way Off Line by unconditional_w
A Juno/Glee Crossover
Rated R, Quinn Centric
http://unconditional-w.livejournal.com/21278.html#cutid1
Summary: Quinn Fabray and Juno MacGuff meet in university.
(I love this fic; I love the parallels that are drawn and the fact that the two of them, as roommates, have this common thread of giving up a baby for adoption. It really is a great crossover!)
