Hands on My Hips 1/4
Title: Hands on My Hips 1/4
Author: emmelia24
Rating: Right now, I’m going to say PG-13 for some angstyness but no smut
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or the show Glee, but boy would it be different if I did. Still, all of this is my imagination :)
Spoiler: This is AU-ish. I guess to be safe everything but really, if you don’t know that Quinn had a child and gave it up at Regionals…where have you been?
Summary: It has been one year since Quinn gave up her child. It has also been one year since she has uttered a word. She has lost her literally lost her voice and it will take time and a determined brunette for her to find it once again.
A/N: Hello there! Okay so this is my latest story. I plan for it to be about four chapters, nothing major. I took a little break from writing but here I am once again! I truly hope you all enjoy this. Comments and reviews are always welcome, even if they are telling me the story is a failure. As always I must thank my incredible kickass beta cdn_torii for helping me get through my writer’s block and for editing like a boss. Thanks for reading!
With an argyle binder clutched tightly to her chest and heart beating a million miles per minute, Quinn Fabray walked cautiously down the deserted hallways of McKinley High.
Class was in session and as she passed classroom after classroom she observed sleepy bored students staring at their teachers absentmindedly. Her flats padded lightly against the linoleum floors as she turned the corner into the choir room, praying no one would be in there. The door swung open and to her surprise the room was empty. To her right were two guitars standing upright next to an unplugged amp. The grand piano resided center stage, looming before the familiar red chairs she and her peers sat in each and every day.
Quinn shut the door behind her quietly and walked over to one of the acoustic guitars, her slender hands quickly handling the wooden instrument as a rush of familiarity and safety overcame her. As she ran her palms over the soft base and slick strings, she pulled the strap over her shoulders and took a seat at the piano bench. It had been a long time since she had done this, sat alone with a familiar guitar slung around her shoulder.
Her fingers grabbed the first chord and began to strum idly, the idle strumming morphing soon into a much more purposeful movement as she began the song that had been haunting her since Regionals. It was like she had never stopped playing. The chords switched effortlessly and a small smile graced her normally pursed lips. It felt exhilarating. Ignoring the small bit of pain that shot through her raw fingers, Quinn continued on more and more viciously.
Though there was no soul in the room, Quinn felt self conscious almost as if she was performing in front of a crowd of thousands. The music flowed out of the instrument naturally but she couldn’t will herself to sing. She’d open her mouth once or twice but no sounds would come out. This shouldn’t have been such a surprise but for some reason she had fantasized walking into the room, smoothly picking up the guitar and crooning out a heart wrenching ballad alla Rachel Berry; she was thoroughly disappointed.
Finally, after what felt like years of endless chords, she decided to just do it, let out some sort of noise. She inhaled deeply and exhaled, hoping it would sort of resemble a note; again, she was thoroughly disappointed. Like a bird cawing or a moose dying, Quinn released a sound that immediately caused her fingers to stop their graceful movements. The room was suddenly deathly silent. Her eyes welled up with tears, the sound of her horrid voice still echoing throughout the corners of her mind. It was worse than she had expected. She felt her throat burning from its lack of use and from the tears that were fighting for freedom. Quinn desperately fought back, pushing them furiously down her throat. What the hell was wrong with her?
She threw the guitar viciously out into the room and watched it crash to the ground with a loud bang. Without thinking she began to pace, burning holes into the ground with each heavy step. Her hand rubbed her neck, trying to search for where the problem was, why she couldn’t sing a simple song she’d known forever. After a few minutes of pacing, she tuckered herself out and plopped down on a vacant chair.
Head in her hands, she began to think furiously as emotions she had kept hidden in the depths of her mind flooded every inch of her. Suddenly she felt heavy as if gravity is pressing harder on her for some reason.
It had been a year since Regionals, a year since the club lost to Vocal Adrenaline, a year since she and Puck had given up their child for adoption. Her heart thudded heavier at the thought of her daughter. A small sob wracked through her body as her hands gravitated towards her barren stomach. The memory of the night rushed back…
A small being lay in the arms of its mother. Her hazel eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the harsh light of the operating room, and focused hazily on the girl holding her. Her eyes were tired but upon seeing her child a small flame ignited in them, one that hadn’t been lit in months. The infant’s lips curled neatly into a smile as she sensed that this woman had created her; she received a bright laugh from her mother. A warmth filled up the young girl and it scared her initially. She shouldn’t be feeling this way for in a short time this baby would be in another woman’s arms being brought to a home which would become her daughter’s childhood world.
But as she gazed at her daughter, she pushed aside her doubts and worries and allowed the heat to overtake her as she cradled the child gently, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“Hey, baby girl,” she breathed as the nurses hurried around the room.
“Ms. Fabray, we need to take your daughter now,” one of them said harshly.
Quinn’s eyes widened and returned to the gurgling, squirming child in her arms. Tears spilled over her eyes. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold her again for a long time. With one final kiss, she handed the child over to the nurses and was sedated quickly for the pregnancy had been a rough one. Slowly the hospital faded into black as she heard the distant cry of her daughter being ripped away from her.
She woke up empty and in a cleaner room with lightly yellowed walls and a sleeping teenaged boy slumped over in an arm chair by her side. The room came into focus as well as the pain from the labor. Her hips ached and her hands immediately clutched them as she groaned softly. The sound woke up the boy who rushed to her side.
“Hey,” he whispered, his hand gripping onto the bed for support.
His normally playful brown eyes were dimmed and tired but all Quinn could focus on was the gaping hole she suddenly felt and the need for her to slap the son of a bitch in the face; but she was still much too weak for that so she settled for silence.
Puck awkwardly shifted his weight, waiting for her to say something; but her lips remained sealed.
“Listen, I-,” he began, understanding this was the best time to explain himself and apologize and say all of the things he had neglected to say for months while avoiding her like the plague.
Before he got the chance to speak, he was interrupted by a raspy voice.
“Please,” she croaked, “get out.”
She watched as Puck’s eyes widened with hurt before he nodded, trying to keep his composure, and left the room quietly. Once the door shut behind him, Quinn turned into her pillow and without warning released a guttural scream into the material. That was the last time she would speak for three hundred and sixty-seven days.
While Quinn traveled back to Regionals, a petite brunette entered the room but froze the instant she saw the blonde. There before her was Quinn Fabray curled into a ball next to the piano sobbing silently her frail body shaking. The shattered guitar did not go unnoticed.
“Q-Quinn?” she stuttered softly, unsure of what to do.
The body ceased all movement. Quinn slowly turned around and met the shocked gaze of Rachel Berry. Instantly she shot up off of the floor and turned around, trying to conceal the tears Rachel had already seen. After all, she had been taught to never cry in front of anyone. She walked over to the chair and grabbed her binder silently.
Rachel was still trying to get used to this new Quinn, the silent, shy, depressed and mute blonde with eyes drowning in sadness. She remembered for the first month, everyone, save for Rachel, had tried to get Quinn to speak. The school counselor, Principal Figgins, professional psychologists and grief councilors all took a stab at it but none of them could get through to the teenage mother. Each member of the club tried to get her to talk but failed time and time again. For some reason, Rachel didn’t even attempt to help Quinn. It wasn’t because she didn’t care about the Quinn. Actually, she considered her concern for the blonde to be one of her tragic flaws mainly because Quinn didn’t deserve her care due to the fact that Quinn spent the better half of their sophomore year torturing her and making her believe she was a freak. She didn’t help because she knew that forcing Quinn to talk would only make her quieter; and that was exactly what had happened.
Days, weeks, months went by without Quinn uttering a single word. Though she didn’t sing anymore, the club decided it would be best to let her stay in the club. She needed Glee. Slowly, she began to lose more and more weight as her face became harder and harder. Everyone tried to act happy around her at first but after a few weeks, everyone just ignored her, except Rachel. For the entire year, Rachel kept a close eye on the blonde, noting the changes in her eyes, lips, body language whenever they were around each other. As the year passed, Rachel learned more about Quinn from watching her than from actually speaking to her. She knew that Quinn would take a long time to heal though everyone else seemed to have given up trying to help her. She also knew that in this moment, Quinn would try to run out and act like the incident had never happened.
“Before you go, Quinn, may I ask you something?”
Quinn’s body stopped moving midway through picking up her binder. Their eyes met once again and Quinn nodded cautiously.
“Were you just trying to sing?”
The eyes widened and Rachel knew instantly she was right. Carefully, Rachel went to the piano, her skirt draping over the bench in waves of polyester.
“When I lost my voice last year, I was terrified of singing again. I sat in my house for hours before I finally got the guts to do it. Want to know a secret?”
Quinn nodded again.
“I sounded awful. My voice was scratchy and just awful. I sobbed for hours, truly believing my life was over. But then, I decided to try again. And again. And again. And then before I knew it my voice had returned like a faithful puppy dog.”
Her fingers traced over middle c gently before she looked back at Quinn. Swiftly, she leapt off of the bench and took Quinn tenderly by the hand and placed her onto the bench.
“Now,” she said softly, “breathe in and push your stomach out. Feel the air rush into your diaphragm.”
Quinn’s body was rigid, her head shaking and rejecting the order.
“It’s just breathing, Quinn. You can do it,” Rachel reassured her.
Miraculously, Rachel heard Quinn inhale and release the breath.
“Good,” she praised, “Again.”
Quinn did as she was told but her body remained stiff. Rachel knew today was not the day that Quinn would sing for her; she’d be insane to expect that. It was in this moment that the young ingénue decided to help Quinn for the first time since she had become mute. In whatever way she could, Rachel would save her from herself, from the silence. For the remainder of the period the two stayed in the classroom, breathing in and out, in and out. Rachel chattered softly, giving Quinn advice when needed. Today they would only focus on breathing.
Quinn focused on herself, how the air she took from the surrounding flooded her stomach and then quickly exited through her mouth. At first she felt stupid as she pushed her stomach out far as she inhaled deeply; but after a few breaths, her shoulders sagged and the wrinkles in her forehead straightened out. Slowly she felt her body begin to collectively relax with each breath. Without her even noticing, her eyes closed and for a while the entire world ceased existing.
As the blonde unwound, Rachel watched curiously, noting how the right side of her lip would curl each time she inhaled and how her lips loosened into a perfect line. It was miraculous. For the first time in over a year, Quinn looked serene. Most of the day her expression was one of completely seriousness and depression; but now, even if this moment was no doubt fleeting, her face was placid. Rachel smiled proudly, though she didn’t understand why she was suddenly proud of Quinn Fabray for breathing. It was hardly an act that warranted pride.
Suddenly, a harsh warning bell cut through the air causing Quinn’s eyes to fly open and her face to immediately harden. Rachel was standing in front of the piano staring at the blonde curious to what she would do. Her eyes avoided the curious brown ones watching her as she got off of the bench and walked over to the now smashed guitar. As she picked up her binder, Quinn sensed that Rachel wasn’t just going to let her leave. She’d probably ask her some stupid question to make her speak or make her feel like an idiot, a mentally challenged idiot who didn’t know how to speak English. But as she turned around she saw that Rachel simply leaned against the piano, her tight blouse hugging her chest tightly, and smiled softly, almost as if she understood. Quinn felt her cheeks burn with an obvious blush. Why wasn’t she saying anything?
Before she humiliated herself further, Quinn decided it would be best to give her a simple nod and walk out. As she was walking towards the door, something happened, a flaw in the plan; her mouth opened. Rachel’s face froze, waiting for the blonde to speak. Quinn stood still, her lips quivering as she struggled to decide if today would be the day when she spoke. She looked at Rachel, her open expression, and decided it was not. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t ready. If she spoke it would make everything real. It would make her giving away her child real. She wasn’t ready to face that.
A look of panic flashed across her face and Rachel knew today wasn’t the day. She simply smiled brighter, trying to reassure Quinn that it was alright that she didn’t want to speak. Before leaving, Rachel grabbed the blonde’s arm, gave it a gentle squeeze, and another smile. All Quinn could do was watch as she left, her skirt swishing rhythmically with her gait, until she finally released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.
What the hell just happened?
Author: emmelia24
Rating: Right now, I’m going to say PG-13 for some angstyness but no smut
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or the show Glee, but boy would it be different if I did. Still, all of this is my imagination :)
Spoiler: This is AU-ish. I guess to be safe everything but really, if you don’t know that Quinn had a child and gave it up at Regionals…where have you been?
Summary: It has been one year since Quinn gave up her child. It has also been one year since she has uttered a word. She has lost her literally lost her voice and it will take time and a determined brunette for her to find it once again.
A/N: Hello there! Okay so this is my latest story. I plan for it to be about four chapters, nothing major. I took a little break from writing but here I am once again! I truly hope you all enjoy this. Comments and reviews are always welcome, even if they are telling me the story is a failure. As always I must thank my incredible kickass beta cdn_torii for helping me get through my writer’s block and for editing like a boss. Thanks for reading!
With an argyle binder clutched tightly to her chest and heart beating a million miles per minute, Quinn Fabray walked cautiously down the deserted hallways of McKinley High.
Class was in session and as she passed classroom after classroom she observed sleepy bored students staring at their teachers absentmindedly. Her flats padded lightly against the linoleum floors as she turned the corner into the choir room, praying no one would be in there. The door swung open and to her surprise the room was empty. To her right were two guitars standing upright next to an unplugged amp. The grand piano resided center stage, looming before the familiar red chairs she and her peers sat in each and every day.
Quinn shut the door behind her quietly and walked over to one of the acoustic guitars, her slender hands quickly handling the wooden instrument as a rush of familiarity and safety overcame her. As she ran her palms over the soft base and slick strings, she pulled the strap over her shoulders and took a seat at the piano bench. It had been a long time since she had done this, sat alone with a familiar guitar slung around her shoulder.
Her fingers grabbed the first chord and began to strum idly, the idle strumming morphing soon into a much more purposeful movement as she began the song that had been haunting her since Regionals. It was like she had never stopped playing. The chords switched effortlessly and a small smile graced her normally pursed lips. It felt exhilarating. Ignoring the small bit of pain that shot through her raw fingers, Quinn continued on more and more viciously.
Though there was no soul in the room, Quinn felt self conscious almost as if she was performing in front of a crowd of thousands. The music flowed out of the instrument naturally but she couldn’t will herself to sing. She’d open her mouth once or twice but no sounds would come out. This shouldn’t have been such a surprise but for some reason she had fantasized walking into the room, smoothly picking up the guitar and crooning out a heart wrenching ballad alla Rachel Berry; she was thoroughly disappointed.
Finally, after what felt like years of endless chords, she decided to just do it, let out some sort of noise. She inhaled deeply and exhaled, hoping it would sort of resemble a note; again, she was thoroughly disappointed. Like a bird cawing or a moose dying, Quinn released a sound that immediately caused her fingers to stop their graceful movements. The room was suddenly deathly silent. Her eyes welled up with tears, the sound of her horrid voice still echoing throughout the corners of her mind. It was worse than she had expected. She felt her throat burning from its lack of use and from the tears that were fighting for freedom. Quinn desperately fought back, pushing them furiously down her throat. What the hell was wrong with her?
She threw the guitar viciously out into the room and watched it crash to the ground with a loud bang. Without thinking she began to pace, burning holes into the ground with each heavy step. Her hand rubbed her neck, trying to search for where the problem was, why she couldn’t sing a simple song she’d known forever. After a few minutes of pacing, she tuckered herself out and plopped down on a vacant chair.
Head in her hands, she began to think furiously as emotions she had kept hidden in the depths of her mind flooded every inch of her. Suddenly she felt heavy as if gravity is pressing harder on her for some reason.
It had been a year since Regionals, a year since the club lost to Vocal Adrenaline, a year since she and Puck had given up their child for adoption. Her heart thudded heavier at the thought of her daughter. A small sob wracked through her body as her hands gravitated towards her barren stomach. The memory of the night rushed back…
A small being lay in the arms of its mother. Her hazel eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the harsh light of the operating room, and focused hazily on the girl holding her. Her eyes were tired but upon seeing her child a small flame ignited in them, one that hadn’t been lit in months. The infant’s lips curled neatly into a smile as she sensed that this woman had created her; she received a bright laugh from her mother. A warmth filled up the young girl and it scared her initially. She shouldn’t be feeling this way for in a short time this baby would be in another woman’s arms being brought to a home which would become her daughter’s childhood world.
But as she gazed at her daughter, she pushed aside her doubts and worries and allowed the heat to overtake her as she cradled the child gently, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“Hey, baby girl,” she breathed as the nurses hurried around the room.
“Ms. Fabray, we need to take your daughter now,” one of them said harshly.
Quinn’s eyes widened and returned to the gurgling, squirming child in her arms. Tears spilled over her eyes. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold her again for a long time. With one final kiss, she handed the child over to the nurses and was sedated quickly for the pregnancy had been a rough one. Slowly the hospital faded into black as she heard the distant cry of her daughter being ripped away from her.
She woke up empty and in a cleaner room with lightly yellowed walls and a sleeping teenaged boy slumped over in an arm chair by her side. The room came into focus as well as the pain from the labor. Her hips ached and her hands immediately clutched them as she groaned softly. The sound woke up the boy who rushed to her side.
“Hey,” he whispered, his hand gripping onto the bed for support.
His normally playful brown eyes were dimmed and tired but all Quinn could focus on was the gaping hole she suddenly felt and the need for her to slap the son of a bitch in the face; but she was still much too weak for that so she settled for silence.
Puck awkwardly shifted his weight, waiting for her to say something; but her lips remained sealed.
“Listen, I-,” he began, understanding this was the best time to explain himself and apologize and say all of the things he had neglected to say for months while avoiding her like the plague.
Before he got the chance to speak, he was interrupted by a raspy voice.
“Please,” she croaked, “get out.”
She watched as Puck’s eyes widened with hurt before he nodded, trying to keep his composure, and left the room quietly. Once the door shut behind him, Quinn turned into her pillow and without warning released a guttural scream into the material. That was the last time she would speak for three hundred and sixty-seven days.
While Quinn traveled back to Regionals, a petite brunette entered the room but froze the instant she saw the blonde. There before her was Quinn Fabray curled into a ball next to the piano sobbing silently her frail body shaking. The shattered guitar did not go unnoticed.
“Q-Quinn?” she stuttered softly, unsure of what to do.
The body ceased all movement. Quinn slowly turned around and met the shocked gaze of Rachel Berry. Instantly she shot up off of the floor and turned around, trying to conceal the tears Rachel had already seen. After all, she had been taught to never cry in front of anyone. She walked over to the chair and grabbed her binder silently.
Rachel was still trying to get used to this new Quinn, the silent, shy, depressed and mute blonde with eyes drowning in sadness. She remembered for the first month, everyone, save for Rachel, had tried to get Quinn to speak. The school counselor, Principal Figgins, professional psychologists and grief councilors all took a stab at it but none of them could get through to the teenage mother. Each member of the club tried to get her to talk but failed time and time again. For some reason, Rachel didn’t even attempt to help Quinn. It wasn’t because she didn’t care about the Quinn. Actually, she considered her concern for the blonde to be one of her tragic flaws mainly because Quinn didn’t deserve her care due to the fact that Quinn spent the better half of their sophomore year torturing her and making her believe she was a freak. She didn’t help because she knew that forcing Quinn to talk would only make her quieter; and that was exactly what had happened.
Days, weeks, months went by without Quinn uttering a single word. Though she didn’t sing anymore, the club decided it would be best to let her stay in the club. She needed Glee. Slowly, she began to lose more and more weight as her face became harder and harder. Everyone tried to act happy around her at first but after a few weeks, everyone just ignored her, except Rachel. For the entire year, Rachel kept a close eye on the blonde, noting the changes in her eyes, lips, body language whenever they were around each other. As the year passed, Rachel learned more about Quinn from watching her than from actually speaking to her. She knew that Quinn would take a long time to heal though everyone else seemed to have given up trying to help her. She also knew that in this moment, Quinn would try to run out and act like the incident had never happened.
“Before you go, Quinn, may I ask you something?”
Quinn’s body stopped moving midway through picking up her binder. Their eyes met once again and Quinn nodded cautiously.
“Were you just trying to sing?”
The eyes widened and Rachel knew instantly she was right. Carefully, Rachel went to the piano, her skirt draping over the bench in waves of polyester.
“When I lost my voice last year, I was terrified of singing again. I sat in my house for hours before I finally got the guts to do it. Want to know a secret?”
Quinn nodded again.
“I sounded awful. My voice was scratchy and just awful. I sobbed for hours, truly believing my life was over. But then, I decided to try again. And again. And again. And then before I knew it my voice had returned like a faithful puppy dog.”
Her fingers traced over middle c gently before she looked back at Quinn. Swiftly, she leapt off of the bench and took Quinn tenderly by the hand and placed her onto the bench.
“Now,” she said softly, “breathe in and push your stomach out. Feel the air rush into your diaphragm.”
Quinn’s body was rigid, her head shaking and rejecting the order.
“It’s just breathing, Quinn. You can do it,” Rachel reassured her.
Miraculously, Rachel heard Quinn inhale and release the breath.
“Good,” she praised, “Again.”
Quinn did as she was told but her body remained stiff. Rachel knew today was not the day that Quinn would sing for her; she’d be insane to expect that. It was in this moment that the young ingénue decided to help Quinn for the first time since she had become mute. In whatever way she could, Rachel would save her from herself, from the silence. For the remainder of the period the two stayed in the classroom, breathing in and out, in and out. Rachel chattered softly, giving Quinn advice when needed. Today they would only focus on breathing.
Quinn focused on herself, how the air she took from the surrounding flooded her stomach and then quickly exited through her mouth. At first she felt stupid as she pushed her stomach out far as she inhaled deeply; but after a few breaths, her shoulders sagged and the wrinkles in her forehead straightened out. Slowly she felt her body begin to collectively relax with each breath. Without her even noticing, her eyes closed and for a while the entire world ceased existing.
As the blonde unwound, Rachel watched curiously, noting how the right side of her lip would curl each time she inhaled and how her lips loosened into a perfect line. It was miraculous. For the first time in over a year, Quinn looked serene. Most of the day her expression was one of completely seriousness and depression; but now, even if this moment was no doubt fleeting, her face was placid. Rachel smiled proudly, though she didn’t understand why she was suddenly proud of Quinn Fabray for breathing. It was hardly an act that warranted pride.
Suddenly, a harsh warning bell cut through the air causing Quinn’s eyes to fly open and her face to immediately harden. Rachel was standing in front of the piano staring at the blonde curious to what she would do. Her eyes avoided the curious brown ones watching her as she got off of the bench and walked over to the now smashed guitar. As she picked up her binder, Quinn sensed that Rachel wasn’t just going to let her leave. She’d probably ask her some stupid question to make her speak or make her feel like an idiot, a mentally challenged idiot who didn’t know how to speak English. But as she turned around she saw that Rachel simply leaned against the piano, her tight blouse hugging her chest tightly, and smiled softly, almost as if she understood. Quinn felt her cheeks burn with an obvious blush. Why wasn’t she saying anything?
Before she humiliated herself further, Quinn decided it would be best to give her a simple nod and walk out. As she was walking towards the door, something happened, a flaw in the plan; her mouth opened. Rachel’s face froze, waiting for the blonde to speak. Quinn stood still, her lips quivering as she struggled to decide if today would be the day when she spoke. She looked at Rachel, her open expression, and decided it was not. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t ready. If she spoke it would make everything real. It would make her giving away her child real. She wasn’t ready to face that.
A look of panic flashed across her face and Rachel knew today wasn’t the day. She simply smiled brighter, trying to reassure Quinn that it was alright that she didn’t want to speak. Before leaving, Rachel grabbed the blonde’s arm, gave it a gentle squeeze, and another smile. All Quinn could do was watch as she left, her skirt swishing rhythmically with her gait, until she finally released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.
What the hell just happened?