fanfic: you were sent here (for the rescue) [2/5]
Title: You Were Sent Here (For The Rescue) [2/5]
Author: Jocelyn
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG 13
Pairings: Rachel/Quinn
Word Count: 3500
Warnings: Child abuse.
Spoilers: Nothing I can think of.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: Everyone needs a little saving sometimes.
A/N: I’m in a wonderful mood. Like so wonderful that I’m bouncing up and down on imaginary balloons or something. Pictures of J. Lawrence as Katniss in the Hunger Games (we we we so excited) were released, I found my USB and the finale songs for Glee were leaked. Oh, and I don’t have school for the next four days. I’m happy. Also thanks to volando voy for betaing! Okay. Happy times over. FF isn't letting me format it there -.-"
Rachel wakes up earlier than the rest of the house to begin her morning routine of brushing her teeth and washing her face followed by exercise that she plans to a T so that she’s done in time to take a shower and get ready for another arduous day of education.
Rachel plasters a bright smile on her face as she wanders into the guest room with more clothes (non-argyle to satisfy Quinn’s tastes) and sees the blonde still asleep, haired splayed around her face like an angelic halo. Throughout the night, Quinn has kicked the covers half on, half off, flung across her body. Rachel wanders closer and she has to hold a hand against her mouth to stop from suddenly gasping, although a small squeak escapes her anyway.
Quinn’s shirt has managed to ride up quite a bit during the night and welts on the blonde’s body blatantly stare Rachel down. They look fresh and it’s with a shaky hand that she traces them. She doesn’t get far though, the short squeak she emitted earlier seems to have woken the blonde up already. Quinn scrambles away from her touch but stops abruptly as a look of pain crosses her face.
“Quinn?” Rachel asks nervously, a hint of fear creeps into her voice.
“What are you doing, Berry?” Quinn growls, clutching herself protectively while trying not to move around too much. “Trying to rape me in my sleep?”
“While I undrestand that you are hurt, Quinn,” Rachel frowns. “I whole heartedly disagree with your insinuation that I would try to take advantange of you while you were sleeping.”
“I’m not hurt,” Quinn replies defensively.
Rachel glances at the flash of skin and her expression turns skeptical.
Quinn yanks her shirt down and winces again at the sharp pain.
“Look, Quinn...”
“No,” she intercepts more harshly than she means too. She sighs and tries to tone down the urge to snap and push Rachel away. “I’ll call Finn to pick me up for school. Thanks for letting me crash here, Rach.”
“I am perfectly capable of driving you to school,” Rachel argues.
“I’ve already taken up so much of your time. It’s okay.”
The brunettes tries not to feel hurt that the blonde is choosing Finn over her. She nods her head resolutely and hands over the clothes she originally came to give Quinn before she leaves.
“I’ll see you later then.”
-
Once Quinn departs from the Berry household with a cheerful wave and carefully hidden grimace, Rachel manages to find time in her busy schedule to sit down with her fathers and talk to them about what she’s just seen.
“Are you sure, dear?” Leroy asks. His brows are furrowed slightly at the revelation. “The Fabrays seem like such a happy family.”
“I’m quite certain of what I saw!” Rachel protests. “She keeps wincing when she moves and yesterday when she called me to pick her up from her house, I swear I saw blood.”
Hiram shares a dubious look with his husband. “We’ll have to talk about you sneaking out that late.”
Rachel rolls her eyes. “Back to the important topic?”
“Perhaps you simply had a misunderstanding. Why don’t you talk to Quinn about it today?” Leroy asks.
Rachel huffs in reply. “I tried when she woke up this morning. She was less than receptive to my interference.”
“I believe you should try again, Rachel. It wouldn’t do to make false accusations about such an important problem.”
Rachel sighs and nods her acquiescence. With a slight exaggeration, she finishes making her lunch before she steels herself for the following day and leaves for school.
-
Rachel catches Quinn later in the day on the way to English and falls in step with the blonde. The silence between the two of them is comfortable and familiar. Rachel clutches the book she’s holding tighter against her body and glances at the blonde out of the corner of her eyes. Triumphat and smiling, Quinn looks picture-perfect once again.
“Hi,” Rachel greets eventually, breaking the silence. “How are you doing, Quinn?”
“Great,” Quinn responds and Rachel has a hard time trying to figure out whether or not she is faking her enthusiasm. “You?”
“Worried,” Rachel replies, thinking it’s simply best to dive head first into the problem. Her eyes shift to the ground for a moment. “About this morning...”
“I’m fine, Rachel.”
“But -”
Quinn raises her hand and shakes her head to silence Rachel as they enter the classroom.
“I’m fine,” the blonde reiterates.
The brunette surveys Quinn’s form for a moment and she has to admit that right now, Quinn does look fine. With a frown that seems to be taking up permanent residence on her face, Rachel drops the topic as they settle into seats beside each other. It’s unnerving to see the blonde paying attention only to the board. While Rachel always actively keeps herself involved in the class discussion and takes notes with rigorous precision, Quinn has always been the one to distract her.
This newfound silence is odd.
-
“Thanks for the ride, Finn,” she leans over the console between them and awkwardly places a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.
“Do you want to go to the new Italian restaurant later?” Finn questions when she’s half way out of the car.
“Um,” her eyes flicker to the house and her father’s car sitting ominously in the drive way, “I don’t think I’ll be able too.”
Finn’s smile falls slightly but brightens back up a second later. “I’ll text you later then.”
Quinn forces herself to smile, perhaps managing something more like a grimace before she closes the door behind her and begins to prepare. She has no doubt that her reception back will be unpleasant and her father’s anger is imminent. She swallows the lump in her throat but lifts her head and walks. Somewhere along the way, she manages to convince herself that the retribution for her actions are deserved. Her father only wants the best for her and she is a detestable child for running away.
She waves to Finn in his car once more before she opens the door to ‘home’ and slips inside. Immediately she’s on guard as the door swings close behind her and Finn’s car outside - her only get-away - drives away.
Quinn’s almost all the way up the stairs when she knows she’s not alone anymore.
“Where were you this morning?” a low voice asks from behind her and she curses that her attempt to sneak up to her room failed.
“I left early, Daddy,” she turns around and responds with her eyes trained to the ground. The lie slips past her lips easily. That’s one thing she admits she’s wonderful at. Generally, she’s good at taking her father’s anger as well but she’s not ready for the slap that sends her careening into the wall.
“Liar,” he hisses as he pulls her up and grabs her arm roughly, pinning her against the wall.
Protests want to slip from her lips, a part of her wants to back-talk and state that she isn’t lying but instead she simply closes her eyes and says nothing. It’s easier with her eyes closed to pretend that it isn’t her father hurting her but a stranger. Someone she didn’t grow up with, grow up loving. Quinn holds firmly onto a childhood belief that her father would always protect her and in some sick twisted way, maybe he still is.
She grits her teeth and resists the urge to push back. His eyes are a dark color and the rage inside is barely hidden.
The front door opens suddenly and both heads swivel to stare at the intruder.
“Russell?” Judy gasps. “Quinn?”
Russell bangs Quinn into the wall one last time before letting go of her.
“Welcome home,” he greets, sending one last withering glare towards Quinn before he leaves to join his wife.
Quinn slides to the ground ungracefully. Her legs shake and she nearly slips down the stairs. Her whole body quivers in fear and she draws her knees closer so she can rest her head on them. Tears begin to the stain the edges of her eyes before she realizes they have. She cries a lot now.
She closes her eyes, breathes in and prepares herself all over again. Quinn’s defences are barely standing. It’s not perfect but it will do.
Using the wall for support, she stands up on shaky legs and completes what she set out to do - go to her room and hide underneath the sheets and pray, pray to a God she doesn’t believe in anymore.
-
Rachel spends a majority of yesterday night thinking of a new plan after the failure of her first plan. It’s clear to her that Quinn does not want to talk about it. She knows that no matter how far along their friendship may have progressed, there will always be missing years when she wasn’t apart of Quinn’s life, just an onlooker from the outside. A time when it was only the soon-to-be popular kids.
“Noah,” Rachel says as she approaches Puck, and hopes this is the way to go and that she isn’t putting everything on the line for nothing. Than again, when had the blonde become everything?
“What’s up, Jew babe?” Puck asks, throwing an arm around Rachel’s shoulder.
Rachel glances at the football player and wonders what in the world made her choose him to talk to first but she’s already started and eventually, she has to confront him anyway. He has stood where she cannot.
“I need to have a conversation of utmost importance with you,” Rachel responds. “Do you know if Quinn has ever had problems with her family?”
Puck doesn’t seem to be all that into serious conversations, though. “Oh, this is cool. Do you have the hots for Quinn now?”
“Noah,” she admonishes. “Please answer the question.”
Puck shrugs in response. “Quinn’s getting by. I mean, her parents are always drunk when I’m over these days but they’re cool - minus the uptight Christians part.”
“So you’ve never seen...” Rachel shifts uncertainly. She doesn’t know how to phrase the question without insinuating something. “You’ve never seen Quinn with bruises or anything?”
“She’s a bitch sometimes,” Puck tells her with a smile, almost as if he’s proud of Quinn. “It’s not my problem if she gets into fights.”
“So her father’s never raised a hand to her?” the words tumble forth from her lips before she can stop herself. She’s grasping onto anything. If her confrontation with Quinn the other day hadn’t happen, she wouldn’t have been sure if it all hadn’t been a dream. Maybe it still is.
“Whoa, girl,” Puck’s voice is shocked as he waves his hands around. “Her dad might be an asshole and a bit of an alcoholic, but I’m pretty sure Quinn’s not getting beat.”
Rachel sighs. Either Puck is telling the truth or Quinn is really good at hiding her problems. “Thanks, Noah.”
She wouldn’t put it past the blonde at being good at appearances and lies.
With one down, there are only three more to go.
It doesn’t take her long to find a blonde haired dancer by the name of Brittany - the easier of the two formidable former Cheerios to approach. Although, as she uneasily glances around the hallway, she knows that it’s just as likely that the dancer’s other half is lurking somewhere nearby. With wary eyes, Rachel approaches the much taller blond.
“Hello, Brittany.”
“Hi, Rachel!” is Brittany’s energetic response.
“I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for -”
“Midget,” a cool voice greets her from behind before Santana sneaks around to encompass Brittany in her grasp. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, Santana, I also attend this high school for education, however insufficient it is.”
The Latina’s unamused expression makes her backtrack immediately.
“I wanted to ask Brittany - and you - about something actually.”
“Well hurry up and ask it then hobbit.”
Rachel briefly wonders if Santana ever gets tired of mocking her shorter stature - knowing the other girl, probably not.
“I was wondering if you two spent much time around Quinn’s family?”
“Why the sudden interest?” the dark-haired girl asks. “Do you want to tap that ass or something? Because let me tell you, being a stalker isn’t the way to go about it.”
Rachel blushes profusely. Today it seems like everyone believes she’s in love with Quinn, which isn’t true. Sort of.
“While I am certainly not against, as you so crudely put it, tapping that ass, that isn’t the reason -” her hand flies up to cover her mouth.
“Oh this is good,” Santana’s eyes gleam. “So good.”
Rachel’s eyes widen at the repercussions of what she’s just said come swarming at her. Of all the people to accidentally reveal her slow-burning crush on Quinn to, it has to be Santana. The girl who Kurt had aptly named Satan, the one with no heart unless there’s a blonde and tall cheerleader involved. Well, one specific blonde and tall cheerleader.
“Well, um...” She wants to run away but pushes her own emotions aside in order to see this through, for Quinn’s sake. “...ignoring my proclamation of love, I am serious when I ask. Lately Quinn’s been acting differently.”
“Look,” Santana says with an impressive eye roll. Rachel is surprised that the Latina doesn’t continue to tease her. “You can claim that fine ass if you want, I don’t care. Blondie’s probably PMSing if she’s acting like a bitch again.”
She grabs onto the blonde beside her and walks off.
“My ass is finer, right, San?”
Rachel is left there wondering why Santana knows Quinn has a fine ass.
-
These are the moments when Quinn is extremely thankful that she is no longer part of Sue Sylvester’s cult - er, the Cheerios. She knows without a single doubt that she wouldn’t be able to perform any of those ridiculous routines before landing on the floor, curled up and crying out in pain. Besides, the red and white cheerleading uniforms did little to cover up her skin and she’s grateful that she can choose her own clothing now.
The medication she took before coming to school numbs the pain mildly, but not enough (it’s never quite enough) and every step is a shuddering, haunting reminder of what she’s hiding underneath clothes, make up, and false smiles and laughter.
Before she realizes what’s happening, Brittany bounds up to her and envelops her in a morning hug. Stiffening in pain, Quinn tries not to burst into tears and struggles to push the lankier girl off of her. Brittany seems to understand Quinn’s flailing and backs off with a sad smile, and Santana shoots her a look like she wants to blow up at Quinn for putting the frown there.
“Hey, Brittany,” Quinn says with a nod, studiously ignoring eye contact with the other girl. “Santana.”
“Hi, Q!” Brittany immediately responds, the reason she was sad already leaving her mind.
Quinn wistfully wishes that life could be as easy as that for everyone else.
“Congratulations, I’d like to inform your hopeless romantic self that Rachel wants to fuck you,” Santana says in greeting.
“What?” Quinn asks, shocked and faintly blushing.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Q. Rachel Berry,” she says slowly to enunciate her words, “wants to get into your pants.”
“And she wants to know about your fairies,” Brittany interjects. “I want to meet a unicorn. They’re rare and magical, sort of like Rachel’s voice.”
Quinn glances at Santana and arches one delicate brow.
“Family,” Santana translates.
“Will you take me to see a unicorn, San?”
The Latina pats the blonde on the shoulder and takes it in stride. “Maybe later after school, alright, Britt?” she says and she hopes that her counterpart will forget about unicorns by the end of the day because she does not relish trying to find a white horse and sticking a horn on it. “And don’t ask me why the dwarf wants to know. I can barely understand why she’s crushing on you instead of me.”
“And I’m friends with you how?”
-
Quinn’s joking around on the outside but inside she’s a torrential mess. A smidgen of hatred fills her at the fact that the future star is once again interfering with things she doesn’t understand. She wants Rachel to trust her (to believe her lies), not that she’s done much to earn Rachel’s trust and there’s always the constant fear that the brunette with her big mouth will reveal valuable information. Rachel can hardly understand what she’s going through considering the loving family she has. The blonde has met the Misters Berry before and they were all too sickeningly sweet.
So hopelessly sweet that she craves that atmosphere and it revolts her to want it, to be envious of Rachel.
She needs to put an end to this ridiculous bout of Detective Rachel before the day is over.
The day is almost half over before she finds the girl who occupies way too much space in her mind. Rachel leans into Finn’s body, jabbing a finger into his chest before waving her hands around animatedly with an intense expression on her face as Quinn approaches from behind.
“Are you sure you know nothing?” she exclaims and Finn nods. “It’s like all of you are her friends and significant others but none of you know anything about her?”
“Know nothing about who?” Quinn asks, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She flashes to the emotion she knows best though, anger and she can find a lot of reasons (half assed or not) to be mad at Rachel.
“Oh. Uh, Quinn,” Finn mutters. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Hello, Quinn,” Rachel acknowledges in a quietly flustered voice.
“Just the person I was looking for,” Quinn glowers at Rachel. “Can you leave, Finn?”
Finn stares at the two of them nervously and wonders if he’ll have a blood-bath on his hands but he decides that he’d rather not have his blood added to the total and disappears as fast as his long legs can take him.
“Stop this, Rachel,” Quinn begins.
“Stop what?” the brunette asks innocently.
“I know you’ve been talking to my friends about...things,” a light blush colors her face at the thought. “Stop it, okay? I’m fine. I just fell in the shower by accident.”
“Quinn,” Rachel is staring at her with exasperation, “if you choose to lie, at least create a believable story. I would suggest one where the causes of your injuries actually make sense. Falling in the shower does not equate welts of that severity.”
All this manages to do is make Quinn picture Rachel in the shower, naked.
“Whatever,” Quinn tries to say flippantly as she pulls her mind out of the gutter. “I’m fine, you’re fine. Everybody’s fine.”
Skeptical, Rachel touches Quinn’s torso and the blonde pulls back with a wince.
“Stop trying to feel me up,” she hisses angrily as she side steps Rachel’s hand once again.
“See!” Rachel exults. “This proves it, you’re hiding something underneath that excellent taste in fashion, you are most definitely hurting.”
“You don’t understand, Rachel. I can handle this on my own,” Quinn insists, scowling. “I’m fine, so stay out of it.”
Rachel looks at her, eyes holding a secret that Quinn deciphers all too easily, but it’s gone in the next second and the blonde isn’t sure that it was ever there - isn’t sure she wants to believe it was there.
“I don’t want to stay out of it,” Rachel replies in a frustrated one. “I want to understand, Quinn. I do.”
Quinn swallows nervously. She can see the earnest truth in Rachel’s eyes but she’s terrified. The idea of letting someone in is foreign to her. The thought of someone finding out about the abuse is appalling and alarming.
“I...I can’t let you in,” Quinn murmurs softly, shaking her head before she turns around and leaves.
Author: Jocelyn
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG 13
Pairings: Rachel/Quinn
Word Count: 3500
Warnings: Child abuse.
Spoilers: Nothing I can think of.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: Everyone needs a little saving sometimes.
A/N: I’m in a wonderful mood. Like so wonderful that I’m bouncing up and down on imaginary balloons or something. Pictures of J. Lawrence as Katniss in the Hunger Games (we we we so excited) were released, I found my USB and the finale songs for Glee were leaked. Oh, and I don’t have school for the next four days. I’m happy. Also thanks to volando voy for betaing! Okay. Happy times over. FF isn't letting me format it there -.-"
Rachel wakes up earlier than the rest of the house to begin her morning routine of brushing her teeth and washing her face followed by exercise that she plans to a T so that she’s done in time to take a shower and get ready for another arduous day of education.
Rachel plasters a bright smile on her face as she wanders into the guest room with more clothes (non-argyle to satisfy Quinn’s tastes) and sees the blonde still asleep, haired splayed around her face like an angelic halo. Throughout the night, Quinn has kicked the covers half on, half off, flung across her body. Rachel wanders closer and she has to hold a hand against her mouth to stop from suddenly gasping, although a small squeak escapes her anyway.
Quinn’s shirt has managed to ride up quite a bit during the night and welts on the blonde’s body blatantly stare Rachel down. They look fresh and it’s with a shaky hand that she traces them. She doesn’t get far though, the short squeak she emitted earlier seems to have woken the blonde up already. Quinn scrambles away from her touch but stops abruptly as a look of pain crosses her face.
“Quinn?” Rachel asks nervously, a hint of fear creeps into her voice.
“What are you doing, Berry?” Quinn growls, clutching herself protectively while trying not to move around too much. “Trying to rape me in my sleep?”
“While I undrestand that you are hurt, Quinn,” Rachel frowns. “I whole heartedly disagree with your insinuation that I would try to take advantange of you while you were sleeping.”
“I’m not hurt,” Quinn replies defensively.
Rachel glances at the flash of skin and her expression turns skeptical.
Quinn yanks her shirt down and winces again at the sharp pain.
“Look, Quinn...”
“No,” she intercepts more harshly than she means too. She sighs and tries to tone down the urge to snap and push Rachel away. “I’ll call Finn to pick me up for school. Thanks for letting me crash here, Rach.”
“I am perfectly capable of driving you to school,” Rachel argues.
“I’ve already taken up so much of your time. It’s okay.”
The brunettes tries not to feel hurt that the blonde is choosing Finn over her. She nods her head resolutely and hands over the clothes she originally came to give Quinn before she leaves.
“I’ll see you later then.”
-
Once Quinn departs from the Berry household with a cheerful wave and carefully hidden grimace, Rachel manages to find time in her busy schedule to sit down with her fathers and talk to them about what she’s just seen.
“Are you sure, dear?” Leroy asks. His brows are furrowed slightly at the revelation. “The Fabrays seem like such a happy family.”
“I’m quite certain of what I saw!” Rachel protests. “She keeps wincing when she moves and yesterday when she called me to pick her up from her house, I swear I saw blood.”
Hiram shares a dubious look with his husband. “We’ll have to talk about you sneaking out that late.”
Rachel rolls her eyes. “Back to the important topic?”
“Perhaps you simply had a misunderstanding. Why don’t you talk to Quinn about it today?” Leroy asks.
Rachel huffs in reply. “I tried when she woke up this morning. She was less than receptive to my interference.”
“I believe you should try again, Rachel. It wouldn’t do to make false accusations about such an important problem.”
Rachel sighs and nods her acquiescence. With a slight exaggeration, she finishes making her lunch before she steels herself for the following day and leaves for school.
-
Rachel catches Quinn later in the day on the way to English and falls in step with the blonde. The silence between the two of them is comfortable and familiar. Rachel clutches the book she’s holding tighter against her body and glances at the blonde out of the corner of her eyes. Triumphat and smiling, Quinn looks picture-perfect once again.
“Hi,” Rachel greets eventually, breaking the silence. “How are you doing, Quinn?”
“Great,” Quinn responds and Rachel has a hard time trying to figure out whether or not she is faking her enthusiasm. “You?”
“Worried,” Rachel replies, thinking it’s simply best to dive head first into the problem. Her eyes shift to the ground for a moment. “About this morning...”
“I’m fine, Rachel.”
“But -”
Quinn raises her hand and shakes her head to silence Rachel as they enter the classroom.
“I’m fine,” the blonde reiterates.
The brunette surveys Quinn’s form for a moment and she has to admit that right now, Quinn does look fine. With a frown that seems to be taking up permanent residence on her face, Rachel drops the topic as they settle into seats beside each other. It’s unnerving to see the blonde paying attention only to the board. While Rachel always actively keeps herself involved in the class discussion and takes notes with rigorous precision, Quinn has always been the one to distract her.
This newfound silence is odd.
-
“Thanks for the ride, Finn,” she leans over the console between them and awkwardly places a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.
“Do you want to go to the new Italian restaurant later?” Finn questions when she’s half way out of the car.
“Um,” her eyes flicker to the house and her father’s car sitting ominously in the drive way, “I don’t think I’ll be able too.”
Finn’s smile falls slightly but brightens back up a second later. “I’ll text you later then.”
Quinn forces herself to smile, perhaps managing something more like a grimace before she closes the door behind her and begins to prepare. She has no doubt that her reception back will be unpleasant and her father’s anger is imminent. She swallows the lump in her throat but lifts her head and walks. Somewhere along the way, she manages to convince herself that the retribution for her actions are deserved. Her father only wants the best for her and she is a detestable child for running away.
She waves to Finn in his car once more before she opens the door to ‘home’ and slips inside. Immediately she’s on guard as the door swings close behind her and Finn’s car outside - her only get-away - drives away.
Quinn’s almost all the way up the stairs when she knows she’s not alone anymore.
“Where were you this morning?” a low voice asks from behind her and she curses that her attempt to sneak up to her room failed.
“I left early, Daddy,” she turns around and responds with her eyes trained to the ground. The lie slips past her lips easily. That’s one thing she admits she’s wonderful at. Generally, she’s good at taking her father’s anger as well but she’s not ready for the slap that sends her careening into the wall.
“Liar,” he hisses as he pulls her up and grabs her arm roughly, pinning her against the wall.
Protests want to slip from her lips, a part of her wants to back-talk and state that she isn’t lying but instead she simply closes her eyes and says nothing. It’s easier with her eyes closed to pretend that it isn’t her father hurting her but a stranger. Someone she didn’t grow up with, grow up loving. Quinn holds firmly onto a childhood belief that her father would always protect her and in some sick twisted way, maybe he still is.
She grits her teeth and resists the urge to push back. His eyes are a dark color and the rage inside is barely hidden.
The front door opens suddenly and both heads swivel to stare at the intruder.
“Russell?” Judy gasps. “Quinn?”
Russell bangs Quinn into the wall one last time before letting go of her.
“Welcome home,” he greets, sending one last withering glare towards Quinn before he leaves to join his wife.
Quinn slides to the ground ungracefully. Her legs shake and she nearly slips down the stairs. Her whole body quivers in fear and she draws her knees closer so she can rest her head on them. Tears begin to the stain the edges of her eyes before she realizes they have. She cries a lot now.
She closes her eyes, breathes in and prepares herself all over again. Quinn’s defences are barely standing. It’s not perfect but it will do.
Using the wall for support, she stands up on shaky legs and completes what she set out to do - go to her room and hide underneath the sheets and pray, pray to a God she doesn’t believe in anymore.
-
Rachel spends a majority of yesterday night thinking of a new plan after the failure of her first plan. It’s clear to her that Quinn does not want to talk about it. She knows that no matter how far along their friendship may have progressed, there will always be missing years when she wasn’t apart of Quinn’s life, just an onlooker from the outside. A time when it was only the soon-to-be popular kids.
“Noah,” Rachel says as she approaches Puck, and hopes this is the way to go and that she isn’t putting everything on the line for nothing. Than again, when had the blonde become everything?
“What’s up, Jew babe?” Puck asks, throwing an arm around Rachel’s shoulder.
Rachel glances at the football player and wonders what in the world made her choose him to talk to first but she’s already started and eventually, she has to confront him anyway. He has stood where she cannot.
“I need to have a conversation of utmost importance with you,” Rachel responds. “Do you know if Quinn has ever had problems with her family?”
Puck doesn’t seem to be all that into serious conversations, though. “Oh, this is cool. Do you have the hots for Quinn now?”
“Noah,” she admonishes. “Please answer the question.”
Puck shrugs in response. “Quinn’s getting by. I mean, her parents are always drunk when I’m over these days but they’re cool - minus the uptight Christians part.”
“So you’ve never seen...” Rachel shifts uncertainly. She doesn’t know how to phrase the question without insinuating something. “You’ve never seen Quinn with bruises or anything?”
“She’s a bitch sometimes,” Puck tells her with a smile, almost as if he’s proud of Quinn. “It’s not my problem if she gets into fights.”
“So her father’s never raised a hand to her?” the words tumble forth from her lips before she can stop herself. She’s grasping onto anything. If her confrontation with Quinn the other day hadn’t happen, she wouldn’t have been sure if it all hadn’t been a dream. Maybe it still is.
“Whoa, girl,” Puck’s voice is shocked as he waves his hands around. “Her dad might be an asshole and a bit of an alcoholic, but I’m pretty sure Quinn’s not getting beat.”
Rachel sighs. Either Puck is telling the truth or Quinn is really good at hiding her problems. “Thanks, Noah.”
She wouldn’t put it past the blonde at being good at appearances and lies.
With one down, there are only three more to go.
It doesn’t take her long to find a blonde haired dancer by the name of Brittany - the easier of the two formidable former Cheerios to approach. Although, as she uneasily glances around the hallway, she knows that it’s just as likely that the dancer’s other half is lurking somewhere nearby. With wary eyes, Rachel approaches the much taller blond.
“Hello, Brittany.”
“Hi, Rachel!” is Brittany’s energetic response.
“I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for -”
“Midget,” a cool voice greets her from behind before Santana sneaks around to encompass Brittany in her grasp. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, Santana, I also attend this high school for education, however insufficient it is.”
The Latina’s unamused expression makes her backtrack immediately.
“I wanted to ask Brittany - and you - about something actually.”
“Well hurry up and ask it then hobbit.”
Rachel briefly wonders if Santana ever gets tired of mocking her shorter stature - knowing the other girl, probably not.
“I was wondering if you two spent much time around Quinn’s family?”
“Why the sudden interest?” the dark-haired girl asks. “Do you want to tap that ass or something? Because let me tell you, being a stalker isn’t the way to go about it.”
Rachel blushes profusely. Today it seems like everyone believes she’s in love with Quinn, which isn’t true. Sort of.
“While I am certainly not against, as you so crudely put it, tapping that ass, that isn’t the reason -” her hand flies up to cover her mouth.
“Oh this is good,” Santana’s eyes gleam. “So good.”
Rachel’s eyes widen at the repercussions of what she’s just said come swarming at her. Of all the people to accidentally reveal her slow-burning crush on Quinn to, it has to be Santana. The girl who Kurt had aptly named Satan, the one with no heart unless there’s a blonde and tall cheerleader involved. Well, one specific blonde and tall cheerleader.
“Well, um...” She wants to run away but pushes her own emotions aside in order to see this through, for Quinn’s sake. “...ignoring my proclamation of love, I am serious when I ask. Lately Quinn’s been acting differently.”
“Look,” Santana says with an impressive eye roll. Rachel is surprised that the Latina doesn’t continue to tease her. “You can claim that fine ass if you want, I don’t care. Blondie’s probably PMSing if she’s acting like a bitch again.”
She grabs onto the blonde beside her and walks off.
“My ass is finer, right, San?”
Rachel is left there wondering why Santana knows Quinn has a fine ass.
-
These are the moments when Quinn is extremely thankful that she is no longer part of Sue Sylvester’s cult - er, the Cheerios. She knows without a single doubt that she wouldn’t be able to perform any of those ridiculous routines before landing on the floor, curled up and crying out in pain. Besides, the red and white cheerleading uniforms did little to cover up her skin and she’s grateful that she can choose her own clothing now.
The medication she took before coming to school numbs the pain mildly, but not enough (it’s never quite enough) and every step is a shuddering, haunting reminder of what she’s hiding underneath clothes, make up, and false smiles and laughter.
Before she realizes what’s happening, Brittany bounds up to her and envelops her in a morning hug. Stiffening in pain, Quinn tries not to burst into tears and struggles to push the lankier girl off of her. Brittany seems to understand Quinn’s flailing and backs off with a sad smile, and Santana shoots her a look like she wants to blow up at Quinn for putting the frown there.
“Hey, Brittany,” Quinn says with a nod, studiously ignoring eye contact with the other girl. “Santana.”
“Hi, Q!” Brittany immediately responds, the reason she was sad already leaving her mind.
Quinn wistfully wishes that life could be as easy as that for everyone else.
“Congratulations, I’d like to inform your hopeless romantic self that Rachel wants to fuck you,” Santana says in greeting.
“What?” Quinn asks, shocked and faintly blushing.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Q. Rachel Berry,” she says slowly to enunciate her words, “wants to get into your pants.”
“And she wants to know about your fairies,” Brittany interjects. “I want to meet a unicorn. They’re rare and magical, sort of like Rachel’s voice.”
Quinn glances at Santana and arches one delicate brow.
“Family,” Santana translates.
“Will you take me to see a unicorn, San?”
The Latina pats the blonde on the shoulder and takes it in stride. “Maybe later after school, alright, Britt?” she says and she hopes that her counterpart will forget about unicorns by the end of the day because she does not relish trying to find a white horse and sticking a horn on it. “And don’t ask me why the dwarf wants to know. I can barely understand why she’s crushing on you instead of me.”
“And I’m friends with you how?”
-
Quinn’s joking around on the outside but inside she’s a torrential mess. A smidgen of hatred fills her at the fact that the future star is once again interfering with things she doesn’t understand. She wants Rachel to trust her (to believe her lies), not that she’s done much to earn Rachel’s trust and there’s always the constant fear that the brunette with her big mouth will reveal valuable information. Rachel can hardly understand what she’s going through considering the loving family she has. The blonde has met the Misters Berry before and they were all too sickeningly sweet.
So hopelessly sweet that she craves that atmosphere and it revolts her to want it, to be envious of Rachel.
She needs to put an end to this ridiculous bout of Detective Rachel before the day is over.
The day is almost half over before she finds the girl who occupies way too much space in her mind. Rachel leans into Finn’s body, jabbing a finger into his chest before waving her hands around animatedly with an intense expression on her face as Quinn approaches from behind.
“Are you sure you know nothing?” she exclaims and Finn nods. “It’s like all of you are her friends and significant others but none of you know anything about her?”
“Know nothing about who?” Quinn asks, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She flashes to the emotion she knows best though, anger and she can find a lot of reasons (half assed or not) to be mad at Rachel.
“Oh. Uh, Quinn,” Finn mutters. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Hello, Quinn,” Rachel acknowledges in a quietly flustered voice.
“Just the person I was looking for,” Quinn glowers at Rachel. “Can you leave, Finn?”
Finn stares at the two of them nervously and wonders if he’ll have a blood-bath on his hands but he decides that he’d rather not have his blood added to the total and disappears as fast as his long legs can take him.
“Stop this, Rachel,” Quinn begins.
“Stop what?” the brunette asks innocently.
“I know you’ve been talking to my friends about...things,” a light blush colors her face at the thought. “Stop it, okay? I’m fine. I just fell in the shower by accident.”
“Quinn,” Rachel is staring at her with exasperation, “if you choose to lie, at least create a believable story. I would suggest one where the causes of your injuries actually make sense. Falling in the shower does not equate welts of that severity.”
All this manages to do is make Quinn picture Rachel in the shower, naked.
“Whatever,” Quinn tries to say flippantly as she pulls her mind out of the gutter. “I’m fine, you’re fine. Everybody’s fine.”
Skeptical, Rachel touches Quinn’s torso and the blonde pulls back with a wince.
“Stop trying to feel me up,” she hisses angrily as she side steps Rachel’s hand once again.
“See!” Rachel exults. “This proves it, you’re hiding something underneath that excellent taste in fashion, you are most definitely hurting.”
“You don’t understand, Rachel. I can handle this on my own,” Quinn insists, scowling. “I’m fine, so stay out of it.”
Rachel looks at her, eyes holding a secret that Quinn deciphers all too easily, but it’s gone in the next second and the blonde isn’t sure that it was ever there - isn’t sure she wants to believe it was there.
“I don’t want to stay out of it,” Rachel replies in a frustrated one. “I want to understand, Quinn. I do.”
Quinn swallows nervously. She can see the earnest truth in Rachel’s eyes but she’s terrified. The idea of letting someone in is foreign to her. The thought of someone finding out about the abuse is appalling and alarming.
“I...I can’t let you in,” Quinn murmurs softly, shaking her head before she turns around and leaves.