FIC: The Avengers - Glee, Rachel/Quinn, Brittany/Santana (4/4)
TITLE: The Avengers - 4/4
AUTHOR: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
GENRE: Glee
PAIRING: Rachel/Quinn, Santana/Brittany, Glee Girls
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: ~ 21700
SUMMARY: Never trust a man to do a Cheerio's job.
NOTES: Based on this Glee_Fluff_meme prompt: The boys might have heard Will about not taking revenge against VA, but the girls didn't. Chapter Titles from 'Femme Fatale' by the Velvet Underground.
Thanks to gilligankane and lostbitca for the support and the beta.
CHAPTERS: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR
__
IV. Before You Start, You're Already Beat
He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight. He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces. He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks. He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.
-Sun Tzu , The Art of War
"One day," Mercedes said later that evening, as she was settled on Quinn's bed, staring up at the ceiling, "Brittany and Santana are going to take over the world, and I'm going to flee to Canada."
Quinn's smile was fleeting, given solely for the benefit of her best friend.
There were many things about how the night ended that were disturbing, including Brittany and Santana's prescribed method of vengeance: shaving the heads of each and every Vocal Adrenaline member.
The image of Jesse's unruly, carefully cut curls flitting to the floor seemed almost to happen in slow motion when she replayed it in her mind, and she knew there would be consequences.
Somehow, tonight, she couldn't bring herself to care.
She felt fragile and somehow numb at the same time, and though her fingers played with the pattern on the bedspread, her eyes were unseeing, focused instead on the phantom feeling of kissing Rachel Berry.
Her insides clenched suddenly, and Quinn twitched, shifting herself on the bedspread to cover the sudden shudder. "I feel sorry for Kurt," she said, offhand. "He's going to hurt tomorrow."
"Yeah, but it was nice, you know? That we all did it together. I've always liked Brittany, and Santana's… well… Santana, but somehow this is the first time when I really thought of them as one of us. Even if it did get awkward when they ditched us to go hook up in Jesse's bedroom."
Quinn's mouth quirked. "We should have locked them in there."
"Please. If it's one thing I've learned about tonight is that I'm never pissing Santana off again. Well, that and Jesse St. James cannot pull off bald."
She tried to smile, meeting Mercedes glance before drifting away.
"So…" Mercedes' tone grew impish. "You know I'm gonna ask."
A hot flush rushed through her, and Quinn felt it burning in her cheeks. Pushing her breath out in irritation, she groaned, shaking her head. "No," she pleaded. "Please don't."
"Quinn, come on!" The bed bounced with Mercedes' enthusiasm. "This is juicy stuff! I mean… you and Rachel?"
Palm lowering from her face, Quinn glared at her nosy friend. "There is no me and Rachel."
All she got was a skeptical brow raise back. "Quinn-"
"No!" she snapped, stumbling off the bed. "Look, I was just… really vulnerable, okay? And… " Her fingers twisted into her hair. "Rachel, she just… she said something that was…" The moment came rushing back, a perfect picture of Rachel Berry being suddenly gorgeous, the awed feeling that over took her, the soft touch of a tongue against hers that shot an uncomfortably strong wave of desire through her even now. "I lost my mind," she managed feebly, falling back on the bed and burying her heated face into her clammy hands.
Mercedes stayed quiet, obviously processing. "Was that why you were so amped on getting revenge? Cause you like Rachel?"
She grimaced. "I don't like Rachel," she gritted between grinding teeth.
"It's okay if you do."
"I don't!" she snapped.
"Are you sure?"
"YES!" she snapped, head flying up, eyes blazing with sudden fury. "God, Mercedes, I'm not even gay!"
"I didn't say you had to be."
"Well, I'm not!" she snapped, overheated and desperately overwhelmed. "God, can you even imagine? To go from president of the Chastity club, head cheerleader… future Homecoming Queen! To a homeless… pregnant… lesbian… nobody- It's too much!"
"Okay, one, you're not homeless." Mercedes seemed almost peeved about that. "You have a home here now. Two, can I ask you something?"
She sighed, blowing at a strand of hair that stuck in her mouth. "Is it about Rachel?"
"No."
She remained suspicious, but sighed, nodding weakly.
"What's so terrible about your life now?" Quinn frowned, glaring at Mercedes. "I mean aside from the teen mom, getting kicked out of your house, knocked up thing," Mercedes amended quickly. "You said yourself, you were a starving, horrible person a year ago. And I don't think you were even happy."
Quinn swallowed, wiping her palms against her leggings.
"And now… you've got friends you trust, a home… you're right. It's a lot of change. But who says it has to all be bad?" With a smile, Mercedes leaned forward, and pecked her on the temple, like a mother kissing her daughter good night. "Think it over. I'm going to bed."
Quinn didn't sleep at all.
--
Quinn Fabray was a bitch.
She knew that much about herself, at least. She used to revel in it.
It was something she and Santana had in common, and it was the reason they were here now, standing in front of the school, eyes on the parking lot.
Because, as Puck told her that morning, eyes dazed with admiration, Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez got shit done.
"Just so you know," Santana said suddenly, breaking their mutual silence. "Now that Brittany knows you like chicks-"
"I don't like chicks."
Her snap was crisp, meant to cut Santana off, but the other girl only looked at her briefly, and continued. "She might try to make out with you at some point."
It was the last thing she expected to hear.
At her shocked expression, Santana just arched a brow and shrugged. "I'd let it happen. I'm just saying," she stated, like this was a totally normal conversation to have. "She's a good kisser, and it's just Britt's curiosity. Once she's done it, she'll get over it and then she won't do it again."
"Unless she's with you," Quinn found herself replying, tone dry.
"With me it's different." To Santana Lopez, this was fact. Her certainty… her security… was astonishing.
"Right," she answered slowly, forcing her attention back to the lot of parked cars. "Right. Of course it is." Her chest rose and fell, emotions rising suddenly in confused turmoil. "Santana."
"No."
"No, what?"
"No," Santana snapped. "I'm not going to be your lesbian guru, okay? Figure this shit out on your own."
Embarrassment flooded her, and she smiled in discomfort. "I'm not asking for one."
"Good."
"I'm not like you, okay? I'm not bi."
"Right."
The way Santana said it, so dismissive and patronizing, suddenly infuriated her.
"Don’t do that. THAT," she growled, when Santana's mouth turned up in a smug smirk. "That look you give me, like you think I'm lying. To myself or whatever. I hate that."
"Right." Giving no heed to her warning, Santana crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, turning to face forward. "So Rachel just looks like a dude to you now? I mean, I know you used to say she was a tranny but-"
"Oh, come on-" she snapped, exasperated, but was cut off immediately when Santana reached out and grabbed her bicep.
"Look."
And there she was. Shelby Cocoran. Rachel's mom, Vocal Adrenaline coach. Outright bitch, with her purse in her hand and a fierce, indignant expression on her face.
It was infuriating, and even Shelby's hesitation, the way her steps faltered when she discovered the two of them side by side, blocking the entrance with mutual glares, was little comfort.
"You're here to rat us out, right?" It was just the right bitchy tone. No sound of weakness. All confidence and just enough entitlement to make Shelby perfectly aware that she was beneath them both.
But Rachel's mom, who had her nose and her eyes, just glared right back. "You drugged my entire team and shaved their heads," she answered heatedly. "One week before Regionals, I have an entire squad of Elmer Fudds because of you. I could have you arrested."
"They should have gotten a hell of a lot worse," Santana spat. "It's just hair. It grows back."
A strong jaw went even firmer. Shelby stared up at them, saw twin expressions of stubborn anger, and maybe it seemed to intimidate her slightly, because she just sighed, voice softer than it was before.
"Listen," she said, "I get it. You're kids. Pranks happen. But a rivalry is one thing. Assault is another."
"It's called an eye for an eye," Quinn snapped. "Or did your precious pet not tell you that he and his buddies egged Rachel in the parking lot last week?"
Maybe she didn't know that. Shelby actually looked stunned. "What?"
"Did you know Rachel is a vegan?" Santana chuckled angrily. "They egged your vegan daughter. You've got a really classy choir, Ms. Cocoran."
The validation that filled her at the sight of Shelby's obvious uncertainty, the clouded conflict on her face, was thrilling.
Because this was Rachel's mother. This was Rachel's mother, who was supposed to protect her from this type of crap and instead she was here, on the steps, ready to defend Jesse St. James, who had broken Rachel with her permission, her damn guidance.
"I didn't know about that," Shelby said, softly, with regret.
It was too little, too late.
"Of course you didn't." Quinn's head shook at the pathetic uselessness of it all. "You know what I don't get about you? You're the one that sought her out. What did you think was going to happen?"
And there it was: Shelby's pride. In the way her spine stiffened, her eyes flashed.
"Listen kid," she said, voice dangerous, accent thick with emotion. "That is none of your business. "
Quinn didn't care. "Did you think you were gonna fill some ache in your heart? Some hollow?" Her arms crossed, over her womb, holding her baby securely. "Because I may be a kid, but even I know that to be a mom you have to love your kid more than anything in the world, including yourself." She could feel Santana's gaze on her, could see a startled expression through her peripheral vision. "And you're never gonna fill that hole, because you're not capable of that." She shook her head, disgusted. "So fine, get us expelled, whatever, but I'm not gonna be sorry for what we did. We should have shaved your head."
Her heart was beating so fast, righteous anger flowing through her, and it made her unafraid to look at this woman, this selfish woman who couldn’t comprehend what suddenly became so damn clear to Quinn, a pregnant high school nobody.
Shelby stared at her, but that anger seemed to have withered away, because her eyes grew shiny, and a smile trembled on her lips.
"Rachel is lucky," she said thickly. "To have such good friends."
The statement was ludicrous. "We're not friends," Quinn said, unable to help herself.
"Yeah," Santana agreed. "She just made out with her."
Quinn flushed, eyes rolling as she glared at the other girl. Santana shrugged, as if to say, 'What? You did.'
Shelby's throat cleared, as she toed the concrete, considering. "Look, I'll drop this," she said suddenly. "But on the condition that the prank war ends now, do you understand? I'll make it very clear to my students they are not to retaliate or they are off the squad. And I'll expect the same from you. It's over."
"Of course it's over," Santana said, laughing at the ridiculous of the statement. "We freaking won."
Shelby Cocoran just smiled, this empty smile that seemed suddenly so familiar, before she shook her head and headed back the way she came.
In the aftermath, Quinn felt herself suddenly grow dizzy, head pounding with a headache.
When she heard shuffles, turned and saw Rachel Berry staring at them both with what looked like freaking stars in her eyes, it didn't help.
"I…I heard you guys were going to be out here. I wanted to stand with you," Rachel rasped, before she cleared her throat and took a breath, fingers twisting together in front of her. "I just… " Her head rose, eyes locked straight onto hers. "I know we're not technically friends, but no one has ever done anything like that for me."
Light-headed, out of her element, Quinn couldn't speak.
"So… um… if it's okay, I'm going to hug you now. "
"Oh God, no-" Santana shook her head quickly, like she had been asked to touch acid. "No-" Rachel already had her, arms around her in a grip that was tight and desperate. Santana looked like she was being buried alive. "Okay. Okay. Okay, STOP! You're welcome!" She shoved Rachel away, face red with discomfort. "Never do that again!"
Rachel just smiled, like Santana was some fuzzy bear she wanted to pet. "Thank you."
She turned, and her smile for Quinn was different, somehow. Quinn was frozen, suddenly overtaken because Rachel was looking at her like she had last night, and the effect was the same.
It seeped inside her, trembled her insides, and overtook her with the notion that Rachel Berry was breathtakingly beautiful.
Another step forward, and then Rachel was inches away, nervous and grateful and god-damn sweet. "Thank you," Rachel whispered, "Quinn."
A small, lean body pressed flush against her, and Quinn smell berry-scented shampoo and musky perfume, felt fingers in her nape and the breath of Rachel against her neck.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and without hesitation, she returned the embrace, arms smoothing around Rachel's sweater, keeping her close.
"You're welcome," she said raggedly.
When Rachel pulled back, it felt like it was too soon.
Warm, liquid eyes searched hers, and then Rachel just smiled, before turning on her heel and heading back into the school.
The feeling she was left with brought with it a sensation of a drowning person, bobbing up and down in the waves, scrambling to touch dry land, find something steady to ground herself with.
All there was, was Santana.
"Did you really mean it?" she asked, helpless and lost. "When you said I would never have what you and Brittany had?"
Santana's head tilted. "Did you really mean it when you said you weren't gay for Berry? Cause that looked hella gay right there. "
Quinn closed her eyes and shook her head. "Shut up."
--
They had avenged Rachel Berry, and hit Vocal Adrenaline back harder than anyone had ever thought possible.
Mr. Schuester had found out almost immediately, the way everyone did, when the show choir message boards went viral with pictures Artie had posted of Vocal Adrenaline and their new hairdos, and he had been furious. The entire Glee Club had gotten a ten minute monologue about how disappointed he was in them, that it didn't change anything, that they still had to place at Regionals or Glee Club would be gone forever. That if they had pressed charges they would have been in serious trouble, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Quinn didn't give a damn.
It was Shelby, who had calmed him down with a phone call, told him flatly that for what they had done to her daughter, Vocal Adrenaline had gotten what they had deserved.
It spoke of a mother, and in that brief moment, Quinn actually respected her.
Quinn didn't know what aftermath there would be after she had kissed Rachel Berry.
Had she gone based on Rachel's past behavior with Finn and Jesse, she would have guessed she would have been inundated with texts, calls, hers and hers cat calendars, rainbow colored pins, and a maniacal smile.
There had been none of these things.
Quinn Fabray didn't even realize that she had been steadying herself, waiting for it, until the day after her confrontation with Shelby, when she was sitting in choir room with Mercedes, listening to Kurt retell their tale of conquest, and Rachel walked into the room.
The moment she did, Quinn sat up, fingers digging hard into the side of her plastic choir chair, eyes locking immediately with Rachel's.
Rachel Berry just smiled, a smile that looked nothing like the last two Quinn had received, and took her seat beside Finn.
Quinn didn't know what she had been expecting to happen. Somehow she had imagined a scene, large and dramatic, because Quinn had emphatically claimed that they had not made out, and more than anything, Rachel hated a liar.
Maybe a demand, a stomp of Rachel's feet, some tantrum because it had been Quinn that had kissed her, after all.
Instead, Rachel did nothing at all, and her lack of action was privately devastating. Quinn exhaled raggedly, turned back in her chair, and put a plastic smile on her face.
Once, in the week that followed, in the midst of the news that Sue Sylvester was one of the Regionals judges and the realization that Glee Club was screwed, she had caught Rachel staring at her, with dark, deep eyes, a pursed mouth, and an expression on her face that was so hard to read, but one that Quinn wanted to decipher so badly.
When their eyes connected, when Rachel realized she had been caught, she didn't look away. She just sat, letting herself be seen, with her legs crossed in her seat beside Finn, before she slowly, quietly, looked away.
It left Quinn with a hole in her heart, that hollow place that always ached and flared in the presence of Brittany and Santana. It throbbed for Rachel Berry.
It was disconcerting and frightening and heartbreaking all at once, because Quinn understood very quickly that the person she had wanted to be was the person Rachel Berry had seen that night on a cement curb.
The problem was, Quinn wasn't sure that who she had become, who she was, or she could ever be could ever live up to that potential.
Or that she could overcome the fear to even begin to try.
--
Mr. Shuester had gone for cliché and given them a Journey melody to perform for Regionals.
The day of the competition, in their Green Room, Quinn privately thought that they looked ridiculous, this rag-tag group of misfits that had no chance.
Even Santana, in her gold dress and poofed up hair, was visibly nervous, her usually carefully schooled smirk of disdain gone, in favor of a tight, hopeful expression.
In that moment, watching as Santana quietly and without prompting straightened Artie's tie, adjusting the knot and tossing an idle comment to Puck, it occurred to Quinn that even Santana needed Glee. It was obvious in the way she smiled, in the way she sang, loud and powerful and full of joy.
Heart in her throat, she stepped into the hallway, where she knew Rachel would be, eyes shut and hands shaking at her sides, mentally preparing for her opening solo with Finn.
When Quinn shut the door, the audible click got her attention. Brown eyes opened and focused on her, and when they did, Quinn's smile was soft and friendly.
"How are you?" Rachel shrugged, her nerves visible on her face. "You're going to be amazing. As usual."
Rachel's shoulders came down. A soft smile of thanks flitted over her lips, before it faded. Quinn stayed still, eyes on Rachel as the other girl exhaled softly and glanced at the floor, then back at her.
"You know," Quinn began, calm and careful. "If we lose-"
"We're not going to lose," she said immediately, voice sharp with determination.
Quinn found herself smiling, a sudden surge of affection for Rachel's thick-headed certainty infecting her more than she wanted to admit.
"But if we do," she said, head dipping. "Then Glee Club is over." The muscles of Rachel's throat worked, swallowing. "I'll have my baby…"
"And you'll get your life back?" Rachel took a step forward, arms crossing as she toed the floor, nibbling on her bottom lip. "Will you go back to the Cheerios?"
Quinn didn't move, but she considered the thought. The world she had come from. She shrugged. "It feels like home."
But she knew the consequences. She knew what it might mean. A return to her old self. What was comfortable. What was instinct.
It had all been thrown away because of a pregnancy and her penance was nearly passed. Her baby was low and heavy, and Quinn had months of Lamaze classes, ready and waiting for her final test.
She'd have earned it.
But now, it felt like she still had a price to pay, because if she did, if she went back to that, there was no room for Rachel. Not without Glee Club.
She could see it, in Rachel's watery eyes, the way her lower lip trembled. "I'm sorry it took us so long to become friends, Quinn."
Quinn felt her heart thud, her hands gripping the knob behind her. "I'm still not sure we are."
Rachel took another step forward. "Regardless," she said, eyes locked on Quinn's features. "If this really is the end, and it won't be because we're going to win…"
Quinn's smile was unconscious, but she was helpless in her sudden adoration.
"But if it is, can I ask you for something?"
Quinn found herself laughing unsteadily. "Rachel, there's a nationally ranked show choir in a green room with thousand dollar wigs on because I shaved their heads for you." She arched a skeptical brow. "You're running low on favors."
It didn't seem to matter. Suddenly Rachel was inches away, and Quinn was trapped between the smaller girl and the door, and there was that look on Rachel's face.
Rachel's kiss was unexpected, but Quinn's shock was nothing compared to her sudden need. Her eyes shut and her mouth opened, hands jerking from behind her back to pull Rachel in against her.
She kissed her until she was dizzy, and then, and only then, did she pull away, breath panting and chest heaving, fingers digging hard in Rachel's nape.
Rachel's smile for her was bittersweet, and when she tip-toed up, pressed another light kiss against Quinn's needy mouth, Quinn felt broken because of it.
It felt like goodbye.
"Break a leg," Rachel said, fingers against her jaw and eyes shiny and magnetic.
Inside of Quinn, emotion bubbled up, and it formed a statement that sounded suspiciously like a declaration of love.
The very idea tore her to pieces, and so she clamped it down, and let Rachel go. "You too," she rasped.
--
Her baby, apparently tired of her mother's Glee Club related drama and sparked by the adrenaline of New Direction's Regional's performance, announced its intention of arrival the second Quinn's own mother materialized out of nowhere, and asked her to come home.
In a room with Mercedes, her mother, Puck, and masked doctors who meant nothing to her, she fought for her baby. Endured the agony. Felt torn in two.
And then there was that tiny person, that little life that she had given up everything for, placed in her arms.
Quinn's baby, who had poked her and given her back aches and mood swings and tilted her world in its axis, stared at her with cloudy blue eyes, and little wrinkled fingers.
And Quinn loved her. She loved her more than she had ever loved anything.
She began to sob.
--
"We didn't even place."
There was no attitude in Puck's tone. He leaned against the doorway, hands in his back pockets.
Feeling weak, exhausted, it took a moment for Quinn to absorb that.
They didn't place.
Glee Club was over.
In the wake of what she had experienced, it felt almost anti-climatic.
Her smile to Puck was grim. "Thanks," she told him, sincere despite the nature of the news. "For telling me."
Exhaling loudly, Puck shuffled into her room, disappointment etched on his face as clearly as his tears had been when she had finally delivered.
"Yeah, well…" He scrubbed at his shorn head. "Jesse's wig fell off in the middle of the performance. During the middle of Bohemian Rhapsody. Rachel says it was epic."
The mental image, the gleeful way Puck said, was enough to send her into a fit of tired giggles, weak shakes that brought with it pain. It was worth it.
"That's… pretty awesome."
Puck grinned at her. "You know, you're a rock star." He had never looked so sincere. "What you did was amazing."
With his dimples, shy-boy smile, he was suddenly the man she had wanted him to be. The one who had kissed her and made her forget about the world.
"Thanks," she said. "You kinda suck." He snorted, and she smiled. "But I have a feeling you're going to be a really great guy one day, Puck."
He looked at her like he believed her, and Quinn realized that she did believe it.
--
There was no energy to be bitter at her mother.
Quinn wondered idly if it would come, when she was off the drugs and more than a few hours past the birth of her first baby that wouldn't ever really be hers.
At the moment, there was nothing but a needy gratefulness, until there was a light knock at her hospital door and Rachel, still dressed in her Regionals outfit, poked her head in, with a bouquet of flowers.
Exhausted, weak, Quinn still felt her heart give a tiny jolt, like it was perking up in anticipation. "Hi," she said, and tried to sit up.
"Quinn, honey!" Her mother pushed her back down.
"Is this a bad time?"
"No," Quinn said, desperately firm. Her eyes motioned meaningfully to her mother. "Mom, can you give us some space?"
For once, her mother took the hint. "I'll go get some coffee."
Rachel waited, offering her a polite smile as she passed.
There was a moment, just after they were alone, when the awkwardness seemed to envelope the room, settle on them both like a thick fog.
Quinn felt odd, outside of herself, and somehow anxious, desperate.
"So we lost," she blurted.
Rachel's smile tightened, her quiet devastation flashing over her face before it faded for a beautiful, simple smile. "Yeah. But did you hear about Jesse's wig?"
Quinn grinned. "Yeah."
"It was kind of priceless."
"I bet."
The cellophane in Rachel's flowers crinkled in her hand. "Did you know one of them saw Santana and ran crying in the other direction?"
Quinn exhaled raggedly. "I'm sorry about Glee Club, Rachel. "
Rachel's smile faltered. She looked almost lost, standing there with her flowers and her sad, earnest expression. "Me too," she said, so sincerely it made Quinn suddenly ache.
The surge of emotion was too much, and the tears spilled over before she would quite help it.
Wiping furiously at them, she laughed in embarrassment. "Sorry. I must look like such a freak right now."
When Rachel didn't respond, Quinn glanced up, and was struck breathless when Rachel's eyes shined at her.
"Actually, I think you look like a superhero."
--
"For the record, I respect what you did." Knocked out of her drowsy dosing, Quinn's eyes opened to see Santana, settled in a visitor's chair, flipping through a magazine. Her dark eyes leveled on her. "I don’t know if I could have."
It was the most honest Santana had ever been.
Quinn decided she owed her the same. "I was jealous, you know." Her voice was weak, raspy. Her smile was small, but there. "You were right, I didn't know if I could ever have what you have."
Santana eyed her, the magazine up between her hands. "I think you're on your way," she said flippantly. "Just… uh… buyer beware, you know? Think before you purchase." Her smile became almost strained. "Once you're in, you're in. Flaws and all."
Because Santana was in love with someone who claimed to speak to her cat. Quinn laughed softly. "Someone told me once that the right person won't just love you in spite of your flaws, but because of them."
Santana's magazine stilled, then lowered. "That's actually kinda true." Rising from the chair, Santana dropped her magazine on Quinn's bed. "So, I can try to get you into cheerleading camp, if you want it." She must have seen it, the hesitation, the way her fingers tightened on the sheets, because Santana said almost immediately, "Think about it. See you in school, Quinn. "
"Bye, Santana," she whispered.
--
Her baby, Beth, was adopted by Shelby Cocoran.
Quinn's initial reaction, the very second Shelby appeared to her and Puck outside the window where their baby was sleeping, had been a big, fat hell no.
Two hours later, after speaking softly to Shelby, hearing about a world of mistakes and listening to Shelby explain every reason why she was trying to rectify them, Quinn had reconsidered.
She saw Rachel in her mother's eyes, and a determination that reminded her so much of the diva, it unnerved her.
In the end, Quinn said yes.
It was a leap of faith, but more than anything, Quinn wanted to believe that people could change.
A week later, as she sat in an auditorium with eleven other students, and sang 'To Sir, With Love' to Mr. Schue, and watched Santana's heartbroken tears stream down her face , Quinn understood how very possible it was.
--
Quinn wasn't pregnant anymore, and in some ways, it was unnerving.
She was still slowly healing, but her body was coming back, and now, when she jogged through the hallways of McKinley, it wasn't with a large belly that singled her out.
She wasn't a Cheerio, and this time, there was no one at her side, fighting to keep up with her.
This time, it was Quinn that was doing the chasing.
She weaved through the jocks, the Cheerios, the normal kids and the geeks, not giving any of them a passing glance, eyes locked instead on the brunette that was moving just ahead of her.
"Rachel!" she said, frustration getting the better of her.
Finally, Rachel seemed to hear her, because the other girl finally stopped. Dark eyes widened with surprise and a little trepidation when she realized it was Quinn who was coming after her, but Rachel stayed.
Out of breath, slightly sweaty, and with her heart in her throat, Quinn decided that was a very good sign.
Rachel's eyes were puffy and red, her sadness painted on her face like a portrait, because they had just sung their last Glee number, and it had been for Mr. Schuester.
Staring down at her, Quinn discovered herself speechless.
"Quinn," Rachel prompted. "What is it?"
Suddenly trembling, Quinn's mouth twisted into a nervous, odd smile. "I…"
"Quinn…"
"Glee Club is over."
Rachel's mouth pursed. Her head tilted, and she nodded somberly.
Quinn inhaled deeply through her nose, and tried again. "I'm not the same person I was last year." Shrugging helplessly, she was jostled by a passing student. Quinn shoved back, and then glanced back down to Rachel. "I don't want to be that person again. Because I think that person really was who Santana said I was. And that kind of person… " Head swimming, Quinn shut her eyes in frustration, trying to find the words to explain herself. "She won't ever have anyone love her. She won't ever love anyone the way she should."
Rachel sucked in her breath, but the confusion lingered in her deep dark eyes. "Quinn-"
"I want to be a superhero," Quinn snapped, and then flushed, forcing herself to power through. "I want to be the person I feel like when you look at me." And then she saw it: wetness that seeped into Rachel's expressive eyes, pure emotion that filled Quinn with that sudden rush. That desperate high that had branded her from the first moment she had received it. "Look, I don't know if I could ever love anyone the way I loved my baby, but you… You make me feel like I can. Like I can't help it. Like it's almost easy. And I can't give you away too. I don't want to." Sucking in her breath, trying desperately to ignore the fact that she was pouring her heart out like a freak in a high school hallway, Quinn willed for courage. "So… Rachel…"
The question never came. Instead, she received an armful of Rachel, heated kisses pressed to her mouth, shutting her up with a lingering embrace.
Around them, Quinn dimly heard someone crash into the lockers; a wolf whistle; the screech of a boy; a smattering of applause.
None of it seemed to matter. The only thing that did was the sputtering joy that lit up inside of her, the feel of Rachel's tongue sliding against hers, the insistent voice in her head that told her excitedly that this, THIS, felt like home.
A long moment later, Rachel pulled back, hugging her tightly and whispering, "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"
Exasperated, exhilarated, and feeling oddly as if she had won some sort of war, Quinn could only roll her eyes. "Shut up, Rachel."
FIN
AUTHOR: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
GENRE: Glee
PAIRING: Rachel/Quinn, Santana/Brittany, Glee Girls
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: ~ 21700
SUMMARY: Never trust a man to do a Cheerio's job.
NOTES: Based on this Glee_Fluff_meme prompt: The boys might have heard Will about not taking revenge against VA, but the girls didn't. Chapter Titles from 'Femme Fatale' by the Velvet Underground.
Thanks to gilligankane and lostbitca for the support and the beta.
CHAPTERS: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR
__
IV. Before You Start, You're Already Beat
He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight. He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces. He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks. He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.
-Sun Tzu , The Art of War
"One day," Mercedes said later that evening, as she was settled on Quinn's bed, staring up at the ceiling, "Brittany and Santana are going to take over the world, and I'm going to flee to Canada."
Quinn's smile was fleeting, given solely for the benefit of her best friend.
There were many things about how the night ended that were disturbing, including Brittany and Santana's prescribed method of vengeance: shaving the heads of each and every Vocal Adrenaline member.
The image of Jesse's unruly, carefully cut curls flitting to the floor seemed almost to happen in slow motion when she replayed it in her mind, and she knew there would be consequences.
Somehow, tonight, she couldn't bring herself to care.
She felt fragile and somehow numb at the same time, and though her fingers played with the pattern on the bedspread, her eyes were unseeing, focused instead on the phantom feeling of kissing Rachel Berry.
Her insides clenched suddenly, and Quinn twitched, shifting herself on the bedspread to cover the sudden shudder. "I feel sorry for Kurt," she said, offhand. "He's going to hurt tomorrow."
"Yeah, but it was nice, you know? That we all did it together. I've always liked Brittany, and Santana's… well… Santana, but somehow this is the first time when I really thought of them as one of us. Even if it did get awkward when they ditched us to go hook up in Jesse's bedroom."
Quinn's mouth quirked. "We should have locked them in there."
"Please. If it's one thing I've learned about tonight is that I'm never pissing Santana off again. Well, that and Jesse St. James cannot pull off bald."
She tried to smile, meeting Mercedes glance before drifting away.
"So…" Mercedes' tone grew impish. "You know I'm gonna ask."
A hot flush rushed through her, and Quinn felt it burning in her cheeks. Pushing her breath out in irritation, she groaned, shaking her head. "No," she pleaded. "Please don't."
"Quinn, come on!" The bed bounced with Mercedes' enthusiasm. "This is juicy stuff! I mean… you and Rachel?"
Palm lowering from her face, Quinn glared at her nosy friend. "There is no me and Rachel."
All she got was a skeptical brow raise back. "Quinn-"
"No!" she snapped, stumbling off the bed. "Look, I was just… really vulnerable, okay? And… " Her fingers twisted into her hair. "Rachel, she just… she said something that was…" The moment came rushing back, a perfect picture of Rachel Berry being suddenly gorgeous, the awed feeling that over took her, the soft touch of a tongue against hers that shot an uncomfortably strong wave of desire through her even now. "I lost my mind," she managed feebly, falling back on the bed and burying her heated face into her clammy hands.
Mercedes stayed quiet, obviously processing. "Was that why you were so amped on getting revenge? Cause you like Rachel?"
She grimaced. "I don't like Rachel," she gritted between grinding teeth.
"It's okay if you do."
"I don't!" she snapped.
"Are you sure?"
"YES!" she snapped, head flying up, eyes blazing with sudden fury. "God, Mercedes, I'm not even gay!"
"I didn't say you had to be."
"Well, I'm not!" she snapped, overheated and desperately overwhelmed. "God, can you even imagine? To go from president of the Chastity club, head cheerleader… future Homecoming Queen! To a homeless… pregnant… lesbian… nobody- It's too much!"
"Okay, one, you're not homeless." Mercedes seemed almost peeved about that. "You have a home here now. Two, can I ask you something?"
She sighed, blowing at a strand of hair that stuck in her mouth. "Is it about Rachel?"
"No."
She remained suspicious, but sighed, nodding weakly.
"What's so terrible about your life now?" Quinn frowned, glaring at Mercedes. "I mean aside from the teen mom, getting kicked out of your house, knocked up thing," Mercedes amended quickly. "You said yourself, you were a starving, horrible person a year ago. And I don't think you were even happy."
Quinn swallowed, wiping her palms against her leggings.
"And now… you've got friends you trust, a home… you're right. It's a lot of change. But who says it has to all be bad?" With a smile, Mercedes leaned forward, and pecked her on the temple, like a mother kissing her daughter good night. "Think it over. I'm going to bed."
Quinn didn't sleep at all.
--
Quinn Fabray was a bitch.
She knew that much about herself, at least. She used to revel in it.
It was something she and Santana had in common, and it was the reason they were here now, standing in front of the school, eyes on the parking lot.
Because, as Puck told her that morning, eyes dazed with admiration, Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez got shit done.
"Just so you know," Santana said suddenly, breaking their mutual silence. "Now that Brittany knows you like chicks-"
"I don't like chicks."
Her snap was crisp, meant to cut Santana off, but the other girl only looked at her briefly, and continued. "She might try to make out with you at some point."
It was the last thing she expected to hear.
At her shocked expression, Santana just arched a brow and shrugged. "I'd let it happen. I'm just saying," she stated, like this was a totally normal conversation to have. "She's a good kisser, and it's just Britt's curiosity. Once she's done it, she'll get over it and then she won't do it again."
"Unless she's with you," Quinn found herself replying, tone dry.
"With me it's different." To Santana Lopez, this was fact. Her certainty… her security… was astonishing.
"Right," she answered slowly, forcing her attention back to the lot of parked cars. "Right. Of course it is." Her chest rose and fell, emotions rising suddenly in confused turmoil. "Santana."
"No."
"No, what?"
"No," Santana snapped. "I'm not going to be your lesbian guru, okay? Figure this shit out on your own."
Embarrassment flooded her, and she smiled in discomfort. "I'm not asking for one."
"Good."
"I'm not like you, okay? I'm not bi."
"Right."
The way Santana said it, so dismissive and patronizing, suddenly infuriated her.
"Don’t do that. THAT," she growled, when Santana's mouth turned up in a smug smirk. "That look you give me, like you think I'm lying. To myself or whatever. I hate that."
"Right." Giving no heed to her warning, Santana crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, turning to face forward. "So Rachel just looks like a dude to you now? I mean, I know you used to say she was a tranny but-"
"Oh, come on-" she snapped, exasperated, but was cut off immediately when Santana reached out and grabbed her bicep.
"Look."
And there she was. Shelby Cocoran. Rachel's mom, Vocal Adrenaline coach. Outright bitch, with her purse in her hand and a fierce, indignant expression on her face.
It was infuriating, and even Shelby's hesitation, the way her steps faltered when she discovered the two of them side by side, blocking the entrance with mutual glares, was little comfort.
"You're here to rat us out, right?" It was just the right bitchy tone. No sound of weakness. All confidence and just enough entitlement to make Shelby perfectly aware that she was beneath them both.
But Rachel's mom, who had her nose and her eyes, just glared right back. "You drugged my entire team and shaved their heads," she answered heatedly. "One week before Regionals, I have an entire squad of Elmer Fudds because of you. I could have you arrested."
"They should have gotten a hell of a lot worse," Santana spat. "It's just hair. It grows back."
A strong jaw went even firmer. Shelby stared up at them, saw twin expressions of stubborn anger, and maybe it seemed to intimidate her slightly, because she just sighed, voice softer than it was before.
"Listen," she said, "I get it. You're kids. Pranks happen. But a rivalry is one thing. Assault is another."
"It's called an eye for an eye," Quinn snapped. "Or did your precious pet not tell you that he and his buddies egged Rachel in the parking lot last week?"
Maybe she didn't know that. Shelby actually looked stunned. "What?"
"Did you know Rachel is a vegan?" Santana chuckled angrily. "They egged your vegan daughter. You've got a really classy choir, Ms. Cocoran."
The validation that filled her at the sight of Shelby's obvious uncertainty, the clouded conflict on her face, was thrilling.
Because this was Rachel's mother. This was Rachel's mother, who was supposed to protect her from this type of crap and instead she was here, on the steps, ready to defend Jesse St. James, who had broken Rachel with her permission, her damn guidance.
"I didn't know about that," Shelby said, softly, with regret.
It was too little, too late.
"Of course you didn't." Quinn's head shook at the pathetic uselessness of it all. "You know what I don't get about you? You're the one that sought her out. What did you think was going to happen?"
And there it was: Shelby's pride. In the way her spine stiffened, her eyes flashed.
"Listen kid," she said, voice dangerous, accent thick with emotion. "That is none of your business. "
Quinn didn't care. "Did you think you were gonna fill some ache in your heart? Some hollow?" Her arms crossed, over her womb, holding her baby securely. "Because I may be a kid, but even I know that to be a mom you have to love your kid more than anything in the world, including yourself." She could feel Santana's gaze on her, could see a startled expression through her peripheral vision. "And you're never gonna fill that hole, because you're not capable of that." She shook her head, disgusted. "So fine, get us expelled, whatever, but I'm not gonna be sorry for what we did. We should have shaved your head."
Her heart was beating so fast, righteous anger flowing through her, and it made her unafraid to look at this woman, this selfish woman who couldn’t comprehend what suddenly became so damn clear to Quinn, a pregnant high school nobody.
Shelby stared at her, but that anger seemed to have withered away, because her eyes grew shiny, and a smile trembled on her lips.
"Rachel is lucky," she said thickly. "To have such good friends."
The statement was ludicrous. "We're not friends," Quinn said, unable to help herself.
"Yeah," Santana agreed. "She just made out with her."
Quinn flushed, eyes rolling as she glared at the other girl. Santana shrugged, as if to say, 'What? You did.'
Shelby's throat cleared, as she toed the concrete, considering. "Look, I'll drop this," she said suddenly. "But on the condition that the prank war ends now, do you understand? I'll make it very clear to my students they are not to retaliate or they are off the squad. And I'll expect the same from you. It's over."
"Of course it's over," Santana said, laughing at the ridiculous of the statement. "We freaking won."
Shelby Cocoran just smiled, this empty smile that seemed suddenly so familiar, before she shook her head and headed back the way she came.
In the aftermath, Quinn felt herself suddenly grow dizzy, head pounding with a headache.
When she heard shuffles, turned and saw Rachel Berry staring at them both with what looked like freaking stars in her eyes, it didn't help.
"I…I heard you guys were going to be out here. I wanted to stand with you," Rachel rasped, before she cleared her throat and took a breath, fingers twisting together in front of her. "I just… " Her head rose, eyes locked straight onto hers. "I know we're not technically friends, but no one has ever done anything like that for me."
Light-headed, out of her element, Quinn couldn't speak.
"So… um… if it's okay, I'm going to hug you now. "
"Oh God, no-" Santana shook her head quickly, like she had been asked to touch acid. "No-" Rachel already had her, arms around her in a grip that was tight and desperate. Santana looked like she was being buried alive. "Okay. Okay. Okay, STOP! You're welcome!" She shoved Rachel away, face red with discomfort. "Never do that again!"
Rachel just smiled, like Santana was some fuzzy bear she wanted to pet. "Thank you."
She turned, and her smile for Quinn was different, somehow. Quinn was frozen, suddenly overtaken because Rachel was looking at her like she had last night, and the effect was the same.
It seeped inside her, trembled her insides, and overtook her with the notion that Rachel Berry was breathtakingly beautiful.
Another step forward, and then Rachel was inches away, nervous and grateful and god-damn sweet. "Thank you," Rachel whispered, "Quinn."
A small, lean body pressed flush against her, and Quinn smell berry-scented shampoo and musky perfume, felt fingers in her nape and the breath of Rachel against her neck.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and without hesitation, she returned the embrace, arms smoothing around Rachel's sweater, keeping her close.
"You're welcome," she said raggedly.
When Rachel pulled back, it felt like it was too soon.
Warm, liquid eyes searched hers, and then Rachel just smiled, before turning on her heel and heading back into the school.
The feeling she was left with brought with it a sensation of a drowning person, bobbing up and down in the waves, scrambling to touch dry land, find something steady to ground herself with.
All there was, was Santana.
"Did you really mean it?" she asked, helpless and lost. "When you said I would never have what you and Brittany had?"
Santana's head tilted. "Did you really mean it when you said you weren't gay for Berry? Cause that looked hella gay right there. "
Quinn closed her eyes and shook her head. "Shut up."
--
They had avenged Rachel Berry, and hit Vocal Adrenaline back harder than anyone had ever thought possible.
Mr. Schuester had found out almost immediately, the way everyone did, when the show choir message boards went viral with pictures Artie had posted of Vocal Adrenaline and their new hairdos, and he had been furious. The entire Glee Club had gotten a ten minute monologue about how disappointed he was in them, that it didn't change anything, that they still had to place at Regionals or Glee Club would be gone forever. That if they had pressed charges they would have been in serious trouble, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Quinn didn't give a damn.
It was Shelby, who had calmed him down with a phone call, told him flatly that for what they had done to her daughter, Vocal Adrenaline had gotten what they had deserved.
It spoke of a mother, and in that brief moment, Quinn actually respected her.
Quinn didn't know what aftermath there would be after she had kissed Rachel Berry.
Had she gone based on Rachel's past behavior with Finn and Jesse, she would have guessed she would have been inundated with texts, calls, hers and hers cat calendars, rainbow colored pins, and a maniacal smile.
There had been none of these things.
Quinn Fabray didn't even realize that she had been steadying herself, waiting for it, until the day after her confrontation with Shelby, when she was sitting in choir room with Mercedes, listening to Kurt retell their tale of conquest, and Rachel walked into the room.
The moment she did, Quinn sat up, fingers digging hard into the side of her plastic choir chair, eyes locking immediately with Rachel's.
Rachel Berry just smiled, a smile that looked nothing like the last two Quinn had received, and took her seat beside Finn.
Quinn didn't know what she had been expecting to happen. Somehow she had imagined a scene, large and dramatic, because Quinn had emphatically claimed that they had not made out, and more than anything, Rachel hated a liar.
Maybe a demand, a stomp of Rachel's feet, some tantrum because it had been Quinn that had kissed her, after all.
Instead, Rachel did nothing at all, and her lack of action was privately devastating. Quinn exhaled raggedly, turned back in her chair, and put a plastic smile on her face.
Once, in the week that followed, in the midst of the news that Sue Sylvester was one of the Regionals judges and the realization that Glee Club was screwed, she had caught Rachel staring at her, with dark, deep eyes, a pursed mouth, and an expression on her face that was so hard to read, but one that Quinn wanted to decipher so badly.
When their eyes connected, when Rachel realized she had been caught, she didn't look away. She just sat, letting herself be seen, with her legs crossed in her seat beside Finn, before she slowly, quietly, looked away.
It left Quinn with a hole in her heart, that hollow place that always ached and flared in the presence of Brittany and Santana. It throbbed for Rachel Berry.
It was disconcerting and frightening and heartbreaking all at once, because Quinn understood very quickly that the person she had wanted to be was the person Rachel Berry had seen that night on a cement curb.
The problem was, Quinn wasn't sure that who she had become, who she was, or she could ever be could ever live up to that potential.
Or that she could overcome the fear to even begin to try.
--
Mr. Shuester had gone for cliché and given them a Journey melody to perform for Regionals.
The day of the competition, in their Green Room, Quinn privately thought that they looked ridiculous, this rag-tag group of misfits that had no chance.
Even Santana, in her gold dress and poofed up hair, was visibly nervous, her usually carefully schooled smirk of disdain gone, in favor of a tight, hopeful expression.
In that moment, watching as Santana quietly and without prompting straightened Artie's tie, adjusting the knot and tossing an idle comment to Puck, it occurred to Quinn that even Santana needed Glee. It was obvious in the way she smiled, in the way she sang, loud and powerful and full of joy.
Heart in her throat, she stepped into the hallway, where she knew Rachel would be, eyes shut and hands shaking at her sides, mentally preparing for her opening solo with Finn.
When Quinn shut the door, the audible click got her attention. Brown eyes opened and focused on her, and when they did, Quinn's smile was soft and friendly.
"How are you?" Rachel shrugged, her nerves visible on her face. "You're going to be amazing. As usual."
Rachel's shoulders came down. A soft smile of thanks flitted over her lips, before it faded. Quinn stayed still, eyes on Rachel as the other girl exhaled softly and glanced at the floor, then back at her.
"You know," Quinn began, calm and careful. "If we lose-"
"We're not going to lose," she said immediately, voice sharp with determination.
Quinn found herself smiling, a sudden surge of affection for Rachel's thick-headed certainty infecting her more than she wanted to admit.
"But if we do," she said, head dipping. "Then Glee Club is over." The muscles of Rachel's throat worked, swallowing. "I'll have my baby…"
"And you'll get your life back?" Rachel took a step forward, arms crossing as she toed the floor, nibbling on her bottom lip. "Will you go back to the Cheerios?"
Quinn didn't move, but she considered the thought. The world she had come from. She shrugged. "It feels like home."
But she knew the consequences. She knew what it might mean. A return to her old self. What was comfortable. What was instinct.
It had all been thrown away because of a pregnancy and her penance was nearly passed. Her baby was low and heavy, and Quinn had months of Lamaze classes, ready and waiting for her final test.
She'd have earned it.
But now, it felt like she still had a price to pay, because if she did, if she went back to that, there was no room for Rachel. Not without Glee Club.
She could see it, in Rachel's watery eyes, the way her lower lip trembled. "I'm sorry it took us so long to become friends, Quinn."
Quinn felt her heart thud, her hands gripping the knob behind her. "I'm still not sure we are."
Rachel took another step forward. "Regardless," she said, eyes locked on Quinn's features. "If this really is the end, and it won't be because we're going to win…"
Quinn's smile was unconscious, but she was helpless in her sudden adoration.
"But if it is, can I ask you for something?"
Quinn found herself laughing unsteadily. "Rachel, there's a nationally ranked show choir in a green room with thousand dollar wigs on because I shaved their heads for you." She arched a skeptical brow. "You're running low on favors."
It didn't seem to matter. Suddenly Rachel was inches away, and Quinn was trapped between the smaller girl and the door, and there was that look on Rachel's face.
Rachel's kiss was unexpected, but Quinn's shock was nothing compared to her sudden need. Her eyes shut and her mouth opened, hands jerking from behind her back to pull Rachel in against her.
She kissed her until she was dizzy, and then, and only then, did she pull away, breath panting and chest heaving, fingers digging hard in Rachel's nape.
Rachel's smile for her was bittersweet, and when she tip-toed up, pressed another light kiss against Quinn's needy mouth, Quinn felt broken because of it.
It felt like goodbye.
"Break a leg," Rachel said, fingers against her jaw and eyes shiny and magnetic.
Inside of Quinn, emotion bubbled up, and it formed a statement that sounded suspiciously like a declaration of love.
The very idea tore her to pieces, and so she clamped it down, and let Rachel go. "You too," she rasped.
--
Her baby, apparently tired of her mother's Glee Club related drama and sparked by the adrenaline of New Direction's Regional's performance, announced its intention of arrival the second Quinn's own mother materialized out of nowhere, and asked her to come home.
In a room with Mercedes, her mother, Puck, and masked doctors who meant nothing to her, she fought for her baby. Endured the agony. Felt torn in two.
And then there was that tiny person, that little life that she had given up everything for, placed in her arms.
Quinn's baby, who had poked her and given her back aches and mood swings and tilted her world in its axis, stared at her with cloudy blue eyes, and little wrinkled fingers.
And Quinn loved her. She loved her more than she had ever loved anything.
She began to sob.
--
"We didn't even place."
There was no attitude in Puck's tone. He leaned against the doorway, hands in his back pockets.
Feeling weak, exhausted, it took a moment for Quinn to absorb that.
They didn't place.
Glee Club was over.
In the wake of what she had experienced, it felt almost anti-climatic.
Her smile to Puck was grim. "Thanks," she told him, sincere despite the nature of the news. "For telling me."
Exhaling loudly, Puck shuffled into her room, disappointment etched on his face as clearly as his tears had been when she had finally delivered.
"Yeah, well…" He scrubbed at his shorn head. "Jesse's wig fell off in the middle of the performance. During the middle of Bohemian Rhapsody. Rachel says it was epic."
The mental image, the gleeful way Puck said, was enough to send her into a fit of tired giggles, weak shakes that brought with it pain. It was worth it.
"That's… pretty awesome."
Puck grinned at her. "You know, you're a rock star." He had never looked so sincere. "What you did was amazing."
With his dimples, shy-boy smile, he was suddenly the man she had wanted him to be. The one who had kissed her and made her forget about the world.
"Thanks," she said. "You kinda suck." He snorted, and she smiled. "But I have a feeling you're going to be a really great guy one day, Puck."
He looked at her like he believed her, and Quinn realized that she did believe it.
--
There was no energy to be bitter at her mother.
Quinn wondered idly if it would come, when she was off the drugs and more than a few hours past the birth of her first baby that wouldn't ever really be hers.
At the moment, there was nothing but a needy gratefulness, until there was a light knock at her hospital door and Rachel, still dressed in her Regionals outfit, poked her head in, with a bouquet of flowers.
Exhausted, weak, Quinn still felt her heart give a tiny jolt, like it was perking up in anticipation. "Hi," she said, and tried to sit up.
"Quinn, honey!" Her mother pushed her back down.
"Is this a bad time?"
"No," Quinn said, desperately firm. Her eyes motioned meaningfully to her mother. "Mom, can you give us some space?"
For once, her mother took the hint. "I'll go get some coffee."
Rachel waited, offering her a polite smile as she passed.
There was a moment, just after they were alone, when the awkwardness seemed to envelope the room, settle on them both like a thick fog.
Quinn felt odd, outside of herself, and somehow anxious, desperate.
"So we lost," she blurted.
Rachel's smile tightened, her quiet devastation flashing over her face before it faded for a beautiful, simple smile. "Yeah. But did you hear about Jesse's wig?"
Quinn grinned. "Yeah."
"It was kind of priceless."
"I bet."
The cellophane in Rachel's flowers crinkled in her hand. "Did you know one of them saw Santana and ran crying in the other direction?"
Quinn exhaled raggedly. "I'm sorry about Glee Club, Rachel. "
Rachel's smile faltered. She looked almost lost, standing there with her flowers and her sad, earnest expression. "Me too," she said, so sincerely it made Quinn suddenly ache.
The surge of emotion was too much, and the tears spilled over before she would quite help it.
Wiping furiously at them, she laughed in embarrassment. "Sorry. I must look like such a freak right now."
When Rachel didn't respond, Quinn glanced up, and was struck breathless when Rachel's eyes shined at her.
"Actually, I think you look like a superhero."
--
"For the record, I respect what you did." Knocked out of her drowsy dosing, Quinn's eyes opened to see Santana, settled in a visitor's chair, flipping through a magazine. Her dark eyes leveled on her. "I don’t know if I could have."
It was the most honest Santana had ever been.
Quinn decided she owed her the same. "I was jealous, you know." Her voice was weak, raspy. Her smile was small, but there. "You were right, I didn't know if I could ever have what you have."
Santana eyed her, the magazine up between her hands. "I think you're on your way," she said flippantly. "Just… uh… buyer beware, you know? Think before you purchase." Her smile became almost strained. "Once you're in, you're in. Flaws and all."
Because Santana was in love with someone who claimed to speak to her cat. Quinn laughed softly. "Someone told me once that the right person won't just love you in spite of your flaws, but because of them."
Santana's magazine stilled, then lowered. "That's actually kinda true." Rising from the chair, Santana dropped her magazine on Quinn's bed. "So, I can try to get you into cheerleading camp, if you want it." She must have seen it, the hesitation, the way her fingers tightened on the sheets, because Santana said almost immediately, "Think about it. See you in school, Quinn. "
"Bye, Santana," she whispered.
--
Her baby, Beth, was adopted by Shelby Cocoran.
Quinn's initial reaction, the very second Shelby appeared to her and Puck outside the window where their baby was sleeping, had been a big, fat hell no.
Two hours later, after speaking softly to Shelby, hearing about a world of mistakes and listening to Shelby explain every reason why she was trying to rectify them, Quinn had reconsidered.
She saw Rachel in her mother's eyes, and a determination that reminded her so much of the diva, it unnerved her.
In the end, Quinn said yes.
It was a leap of faith, but more than anything, Quinn wanted to believe that people could change.
A week later, as she sat in an auditorium with eleven other students, and sang 'To Sir, With Love' to Mr. Schue, and watched Santana's heartbroken tears stream down her face , Quinn understood how very possible it was.
--
Quinn wasn't pregnant anymore, and in some ways, it was unnerving.
She was still slowly healing, but her body was coming back, and now, when she jogged through the hallways of McKinley, it wasn't with a large belly that singled her out.
She wasn't a Cheerio, and this time, there was no one at her side, fighting to keep up with her.
This time, it was Quinn that was doing the chasing.
She weaved through the jocks, the Cheerios, the normal kids and the geeks, not giving any of them a passing glance, eyes locked instead on the brunette that was moving just ahead of her.
"Rachel!" she said, frustration getting the better of her.
Finally, Rachel seemed to hear her, because the other girl finally stopped. Dark eyes widened with surprise and a little trepidation when she realized it was Quinn who was coming after her, but Rachel stayed.
Out of breath, slightly sweaty, and with her heart in her throat, Quinn decided that was a very good sign.
Rachel's eyes were puffy and red, her sadness painted on her face like a portrait, because they had just sung their last Glee number, and it had been for Mr. Schuester.
Staring down at her, Quinn discovered herself speechless.
"Quinn," Rachel prompted. "What is it?"
Suddenly trembling, Quinn's mouth twisted into a nervous, odd smile. "I…"
"Quinn…"
"Glee Club is over."
Rachel's mouth pursed. Her head tilted, and she nodded somberly.
Quinn inhaled deeply through her nose, and tried again. "I'm not the same person I was last year." Shrugging helplessly, she was jostled by a passing student. Quinn shoved back, and then glanced back down to Rachel. "I don't want to be that person again. Because I think that person really was who Santana said I was. And that kind of person… " Head swimming, Quinn shut her eyes in frustration, trying to find the words to explain herself. "She won't ever have anyone love her. She won't ever love anyone the way she should."
Rachel sucked in her breath, but the confusion lingered in her deep dark eyes. "Quinn-"
"I want to be a superhero," Quinn snapped, and then flushed, forcing herself to power through. "I want to be the person I feel like when you look at me." And then she saw it: wetness that seeped into Rachel's expressive eyes, pure emotion that filled Quinn with that sudden rush. That desperate high that had branded her from the first moment she had received it. "Look, I don't know if I could ever love anyone the way I loved my baby, but you… You make me feel like I can. Like I can't help it. Like it's almost easy. And I can't give you away too. I don't want to." Sucking in her breath, trying desperately to ignore the fact that she was pouring her heart out like a freak in a high school hallway, Quinn willed for courage. "So… Rachel…"
The question never came. Instead, she received an armful of Rachel, heated kisses pressed to her mouth, shutting her up with a lingering embrace.
Around them, Quinn dimly heard someone crash into the lockers; a wolf whistle; the screech of a boy; a smattering of applause.
None of it seemed to matter. The only thing that did was the sputtering joy that lit up inside of her, the feel of Rachel's tongue sliding against hers, the insistent voice in her head that told her excitedly that this, THIS, felt like home.
A long moment later, Rachel pulled back, hugging her tightly and whispering, "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"
Exasperated, exhilarated, and feeling oddly as if she had won some sort of war, Quinn could only roll her eyes. "Shut up, Rachel."
FIN