Fic: What Rachel Knows Chapter 7
A/N: Alright, so this short little interlude ended up massive and rewritten multiple times and I’m still not sure how happy I am with it. But I couldn’t get it any better, and I did hit a nice groove near the end. I just ended up showing almost the whole story so far from Quinn’s POV.
But, like the story as a whole, it is introspective, so, technically, it starts around Prom and is mostly a gigantic flashback.
And, since a lot of people are really unhappy with Quinn so far, I want you to know that this is not a justification of her actions and that most of the opinions she shows during this chapter are not shared by me.
Chapter 7 - Greener Grasses (The Quinn Interlude)
Quinn just didn’t get it sometimes.
She had lost. She hadn’t lost to Santana or Lauren or any of those other girls, she had lost to a prank. In a way, it was a relief. She could tell herself that she would have won, have been Prom Queen, if all the students at McKinley were immature idiots. But it was Santana’s running mate that won King, while her running mate was thrown out. She would never really know if she was going to win.
It didn’t even really matter because popular consensus was that the school would rather laugh at Kurt Hummel than cheer for her.
Even with Rachel there, forgiving her and saying all the right things, everything was clear.
It was another year of failure.
After all, how low must she have fallen for Rachel Berry to comfort her.
It was just like last year.
Quinn had started out her sophomore year with just about everything going for her. Yes, there were the obvious things. She was the pretty, popular head cheerleader who was dating the cute quarterback. She was living the high school dream.
But she had started the year knowing that she was going places. Yeah, she was pretty. She had spent most of her life being told this and, aside from a few insecurities popping up from time to time, she was pretty assured in her looks. But she also had some of the top grades of her year. Aside from her grades, she was the captain of a National ranking cheerleading squad, president of both the Christ Crusaders and Chastity Club, put forth community service hours with Key Club, and, though it only happened later, participated in a Glee Club.
She was the epitome of being well-rounded. She even kept an art portfolio, though it was very private.
She had thought she was going to make it out of this small town and really make something of herself.
Honestly, for a long time, she had thought that she and Rachel would probably be the only two to make it out of the stupid town.
Then she screwed it all up.
One mistake, one stupid, drunken mistake, was all it took for her golden life to completely fall apart.
Her popularity and prestige was the first thing to go. Well, technically, Coach Sylvester dropped her from the Cheerios and told the entire school about her pregnancy simultaneously, but they loss of popularity was the first thing she really noticed. Soon, not only was she yanked from one of the few things this small school could offer her to really help her college resume, but the entire school was laughing at her, pointing and snickering.
Even Glee Club, the geeks and losers who made a big show about acceptance and peace, wasted no time in joking about her situation when they thought she couldn’t hear, although Quinn is pretty sure Santana helped that along.
The only people who didn’t make quips and jokes about her behind her back, who tried to help her, was her somewhat inept boyfriend and the girl she had tortured for years.
Along with the Cheerios, her one mistake also cost Quinn her place in Christ Crusaders and the Celibacy Club. And soon she had bills coming in that she had no money to pay for.
Her family was fairly well off, enough for her dad to buy her a brand new car for her sixteenth birthday, and she got a decent allowance each week, though it was nothing compared to Santana’s. But the allowance was certainly not enough to cover the bills, even with saving up.
Her first thought had been to get a job, but, at her age, she needed a work permit that included a physical with her doctor and parental permission, neither of which was a good idea. The family doctor would end up blabbing and, well, there was no way her dad would let her get a job. For one thing, he would think she was much too busy with her extracurricular activities, but, more importantly, she shouldn’t need a job. He might be okay with a summer job, if only to build character, but not anything during the school year. The neighbors would wonder why he couldn’t provide and that just wouldn’t do.
So she pushed Finn, whose mother would probably love the idea of him learning the value of a dollar, into getting one. She didn’t want to rely on him, never wanted that, but could see no other option.
And even then, it was only when Rachel intervened that he even managed to get a job, from what she discovered much later.
And, when she lost her family, she was forced to rely on him even more. With each new challenge thrown at her, it just seemed more and more impossible to tell the truth. Her infidelity, which would have initially lost her a boyfriend, would now lose her the boyfriend, the chosen father, her place to live, and the only bit of reputation she had left.
And, when Rachel chose winning Finn over helping her, she did lose it all.
But, somehow, she managed to get everything back, aside from her dad, and pull herself back together.
You know, until she screwed it all up again. For just about the same reasons as last time. Once again, she was ending the school year without the Cheerios, without a boyfriend, and having been shown that she wasn’t as popular as she thought she was.
It was like she just couldn’t stop herself from making bad decision after bad decision, mistake after mistake. She can’t say for certain if quitting the Cheerios was a mistake or not, goodness knows it didn’t feel like one, but losing Sam definitely was.
She doesn’t even know why she did it.
Fact was, the first time around, her relationship with Finn wasn’t that great. He was the popular quarterback and she was the head cheerleader. He was goofy and likeable. He was loyal. At the time, she thought they just made sense together.
Everyone around her was hooking up and dating, even Rachel had shown evidence of a crush, though she quickly destroyed that little dream, and she knew it was time for her to have a boyfriend. It was weird that she didn’t already have one , and Quinn definitely wasn’t weird.
But she never really felt for him. She liked him. Honestly, she thinks there were times when she loved him. But she never felt that intense need everyone else always talks about. Never thought about him as the best part of her day.
It wasn’t his fault. He was a great guy, really, even if he could be thoughtless and dim, but he was never her world.
The thing was, she had been growing bored in their relationship early on. They had started dating at the very end of their freshman year, just before summer let out, and the summer was great. Finn would sleep in until 2 pm, and Quinn was busy training up for the Cheerios that they didn’t really see each other that much and, without school, there was no drama or other people really. It was basically just public appearances mixed with the occasional date.
He was her first boyfriend, though, and she thought it would have been…different. She knew that she wouldn’t have sex with him or anything, she was a good Christian girl, but she thought she would maybe want to a little.
But it was so easy to push him away when he got a little too into it.
A little too easy. Abnormally easy if you listened to Santana or Brittany.
She was afraid there was something wrong with her, really. So, at Puck’s end of summer party, she drank a little too much and, as everyone else left, allowed him to bring her up to his room.
Somehow, Puck managed to get the girls at school swooning and, if the rumors were true, even some of the older women whose pools he cleaned.
She hadn’t planned to kiss him or anything, but he was saying things she longed to hear and she just needed to know if it was Finn. If Finn lacked that something needed to excite her and get her heart pumping.
It wasn’t Finn.
Before she knew it, they were kissing and touching, and she still didn’t feel anything. Between the alcohol clogging up her brain and the panic that was slowly numbing her good sense, she soon found herself giving Puck more and more liberties, hoping each new sensation would start to feel good.
But it didn’t.
She woke up the next morning with a hangover and his naked body on top of her, suffocating her. Or maybe, what was really suffocating her, was the rush of memories and implications of the night before.
She was out the door before he ever woke up.
Puck wasn’t a moron, though. He never mentioned it again until the pregnancy.
So, yeah, she knew exactly why she slept with Puck. And she knew why she lied about it.
After her mistake, she knew it wasn’t Finn. Knew it was her. But he didn’t push for more and needed a boyfriend. She thought, if she stayed with him, eventually it would all work itself out. And once Rachel started going after him, she could only hold on tighter and tighter, until she was crushing him. Until he didn’t want to be with her anymore. Until the only reason he was with her was the baby he thought was his.
But kissing Finn…that was still a mystery. The fact was, she was happier with Sam. She still didn’t get that tingle of nerves and anticipation with each kiss that others talked about, but he was such a great guy. He listened when she talked and comforted her when she needed it and made stupid jokes that still managed to get her to laugh.
He may have been on the football team and a bit image obsessed, but he was also a big dork. And he really didn’t care who knew it. He was unashamed of himself, every bit of himself, and it was refreshing.
But Finn had broke up with her, rightfully, because of her deceit and infidelity. The whole pregnancy was a blur of anger and mistakes and despair that she really tries her best to not think about. But sometimes she can’t help it. Can’t help but huddle up in her blankets in the middle of the night and think of Beth.
Finn wanted her again. After everything, all the lies, it was more than a second chance. It was forgiveness. It was like going back in time to before she screwed everything up. So she kissed him. She didn’t really feel much from the kiss, despite what she may have said, but it was familiar. Finn was a bridge she had thought she had long since burned and the idea that he was willing to not just take her back, but chase after her…
It had happened so quickly, and, before she knew it, she was once again lying to her boyfriend about infidelity. And, once again, that boyfriend found out and dumped her, even though she was sorry and just wanted to move on.
But Sam was such a great guy. They were friends again, even as she dated Finn, the only one who wanted her.
Until he didn’t. Even after he chased after her and got her to cheat on Sam, making her lose Sam, he still broke up with her again.
And she hadn’t done anything wrong this time, except that she wasn’t Rachel.
It was so backwards. People like Finn do not break up with people like her for people like Rachel.
Things would be so much easier if she really didn’t feel, like Finn said, but she did. All the time.
It was so hard sometimes, dealing with all the feelings she had actually. Especially since most of her feelings were not things she should be feeling.
She was a Fabray. She was a Fabray and that meant there were certain things she was supposed to be and certain things she could never be.
When she was younger, before she moved to Lima and her sister was still at home, her dad made it clear that there was a mold she was supposed to follow.
Little girls wore the pretty dresses and put cute ribbons in their long hair. They played inside with dolls and Barbie dolls. They were quiet and obedient and listened to their fathers. Only dirty tomboys ran around outside in jeans and t-shirts with short hair, jumping in the mud and disobeying their parents.
At least that’s what she was told.
Her interests were decided for her. Her clothes picked out, her haircut predetermined. All she had to do was follow the rules and be a good daughter. Listen to the right music and wear the right clothes. Get good grades and join the right activities. Go to Church every Sunday and all the religious days, go to confession and reconciliation, listen and live according to the words of The Father, according to her father.
Show everyone what a perfect daughter her dad raised.
Don’t get it wrong, though. When she was younger, Quinn adored her dad. He was everything to her, and the fear of disappointing him was more powerful than any punishment he would have been able to think of. She loved him so much and just wanted to please him.
She knew that he had wanted a son, was disappointed that he had got another daughter instead, and done everything in her power to be the perfect daughter. But it was hard. Her sister had already been the perfect daughter without even trying, and Quinn had to try. A lot. She was always making mistakes, getting messy and being loud and wanting the wrong things.
It would have been easier if she had been that son he wanted.
But eventually, she learned how to hide all the wrong parts of her, work around them to be the acceptable daughter.
But never perfect. Not really.
But pretty close.
She would never be the dainty housewife her sister already was, quiet and demure, but she still wanted to make her dad proud.
She needed to be active, so she joined cheerleading and dance, activities that were rigorous but still socially acceptable. She was curious and full of opinions, so she listened and learned, but kept most of her opinions to herself. She did not let people walk all over her or become a slut, but still managed to become the most popular person around.
But she hid so much of herself. It was okay, though, because she figured that was what most people did. Hid the wrong parts and manufacture the rest.
That was why, and she would never admit this to anyone, the first time she saw Rachel Berry, she found her so interesting. Because, unlike everyone around her, she did not hide and fake her way to being socially acceptable.
In truth, Rachel Berry was everything her father found unacceptable.
Over the years, Quinn will think of and call Rachel a number of unflattering, and sometimes cruel, names, but, from the first moment Quinn saw her, she was Rachel. In Quinn’s head, she will always be Rachel.
Rachel was a Jewish girl raised by two gay dads, a lawyer and a doctor if Quinn remembered correctly. More than that though, Rachel was loud and opinionated, full of ideas that differed greatly from what the Fabrays believed. Rachel wore little make-up, though she had gotten better recently, and lacked any sort of fashion sense. The girl had big frivolous plans for her future, plans that relied only on Rachel and her dreams.
If her father ever met Rachel Berry, he would hate everything she was.
Quinn maybe thought she might be a little amazing. At first.
Quinn had big plan for McKinley. She was finally the person she wanted to be, the person her father wanted her to be, and everything was set to be perfect.
And then she noticed Rachel. It was the first day of school, though she thinks Rachel didn’t notice her until much later, and Quinn was caught at first sight.
It wasn’t her fault though, Rachel looked like she had dressed in the dark. In a goodwill. It was ridiculous. It was only later that she heard the whispers in the gossip as people slowly learned about Rachel’s less than conventional family.
The two of them, though, shared a number of classes that year, so it was only natural that they’d notice each other. They ended up in Math, Gym, Art, and History together and they shared a lunch, which was more classes than she shared with Santana or Brittany, the first friends she made at McKinley.
And she just seemed incapable of not watching the other girl. It still wasn’t her fault. Between the clothes and the attitude, Rachel was practically screaming for attention.
At first, she watched in confusion or for a cheap laugh, but, as she found herself paying more and more attention to the other girl, this slowly shifted.
She liked the things Rachel would say, brimming with confidence that Quinn wasn’t allowed to possess. She learned Rachel’s dreams quickly, the other girl didn’t shut up about them, and soon she was in awe of the other girl.
She really was everything Quinn could never be.
And Quinn couldn’t help but admire the drive and ambition; the quirks that she didn’t even try to hide or act ashamed of. Quinn couldn’t help but admire Rachel.
Sometimes she thought about actually talking to her, but could never build up the nerve.
Even if the other people at the school couldn’t see it, Rachel was smart and brave and one of a kind. Rachel was going places and, at the time, Quinn didn’t think she was. Quinn figured that if she talked to Rachel for even five minutes, Rachel would discover that Quinn was just another pretty face, boring and shallow and not going anywhere.
So she kept her distance, watching the girl rant and rave with amusement from across the room. But, eventually, Rachel noticed her back.
Quinn had found that Rachel was especially fun to watch in gym class. Rachel put her all into everything she did, another reason Quinn admired her, and, in gym class, this created quite the sight. It was one thing to watch Rachel diligently listen in class or concentrate hard on a test, but it was another thing entirely to watch her prance around in gym clothes, running and jumping around like she had one too many coffees that morning.
And one day, in gym class, she must have been a little obvious in her completely platonic interest, because Rachel notice. Quinn watched the other girl play tennis against Santana, and lose, mouth open a little at the energy and movements on display. When Rachel turned and waved, Quinn couldn’t help but wave back.
And she continued watching. But now, instead of just a random spectator, Rachel would glance back and give her a smile or a wave. Soon it was like a secret communication between the two, an agreement to never speak, but constantly interact.
It was almost like a friendship.
But then Rachel spoke to her.
It was everything she knew it would be. In short, a disaster. It would be one thing if she had time to prepare (or run and hide), but Rachel blindsided her. It was something she would one day become accustomed to.
She had been talking with Santana, she couldn’t remember what about, when Rachel came over and unleashed a large amount of words very, very quickly.
Quinn froze. Her mind sluggishly tried to catch what the other girl was saying, but managed to let everything slip by except that Rachel called Quinn’s stares adoring and thought about them in a film together. Or something.
She felt the blood rush to her face and tried to say something, anything. Something that would help her appear less like a stalker would be great, especially if it was a little elegant.
But her voice caught in her throat and the only noise that escaped was some mix between a dog barking and a frog croaking.
Santana looked at her as if she was a moron (and she totally was a moron), but Rachel just about had a heart attack. Apparently, the idea of someone being unable to talk was so foreign to the other girl, that she thought Quinn was dying or something. It would have been amusing if not for the fact that Rachel got really close to her.
Like, touching her close.
It was…weird. They were suddenly touching and breathing the same air and everything just felt really warm and close. Quinn jerked away, not even noticing that she bumped into Brittany.
Quinn doesn’t really understand completely what happened next. All she knows is that one moment Rachel is right there, everywhere, and her heart is pounding so loud, it seems like all she can hear, and then there is space and air and breathing.
Quinn’s staring at the floor - not at Rachel, not at Rachel - clenching her fist tightly as she tries to settle her racing heart. She knows Santana is talking, harshly, and knows she should step in. But she doesn’t.
She just stares at the floor, wishing it would swallow her up.
Rachel stomps off eventually. Later, Santana decides to test what probably appears to be an opening to become the main HBIC and confronts her.
“Seriously, Fabray, what is your defect?” Santana asks as they hang out in her living room. Sometimes, they go to Brittany’s house, but the other girl has four younger siblings always running around, so it tends to be a last resort. Santana and Brittany quickly learned that Quinn’s house isn’t an option. Santana’s parents, though, are out of the house more often than not, leaving Santana alone.
Quinn chooses to, once again, take the coward’s option and feign ignorance.
“Okay, one: I have no idea what you’re talking,” she starts, putting her best face forward, “and two: watch your tone. Nobody appreciates it.”
“I do,” Brittany interjects from where she’s playing with the stash of stuffed animals she keeps at Santana’s house, “Her tone’s really hot.” Quinn and Santana both wear matching expressions for a moment as they figure that one out, but quickly brush it off, though Santana looks decidedly flattered.
“Don’ts even try lying to me, chicka, I knows what’s up,” Santana scoffs. Quinn rolls her eyes at the girl, annoyed with the gangster Latina lingo Santana has been trying out lately. “Don’ts roll your eyes at me.”
“Seriously. Then don’t act like you’re some poor ghetto girl, Miss Country Club Gold Member,” Quinn snaps back, grateful she has some kind of power possession and that they’re moving away from Rachel. Santana looks indignant, popping off the couch.
“Oh no you did not!” she shrieks, “I have mad street cred.”
“Please,” Quinn retorts, “The only “cred” you have is your doctor daddy’s credit card.”
The two of them are no longer lounging around the room, instead standing face to face. Looking over Santana, whose anger is obvious, she kind of feels that familiar tingle. It’s the same one she feels when she watches Rachel sometimes, though different and not as intense. Pleasant but foreign, like a light buzzing of electricity jumping over her skin. When Rachel was around, it was enough to give her goose bumps.
Now, she just smirked.
“Santana?” Brittany asked, getting the other girl’s attention immediately and pulling her eyes away from Quinn, “Why are you letting Quinn distract you? I thought you were talking about Rachel?”
Santana blinked, jerking her head back to Quinn, just in time to see her face fall in dismay. Santana couldn’t contain a bark of laughter.
“Damn,” she laughed, ignoring the light flinch from Quinn, “Good catch Britt. So fess up Quinnie. What is the deal with you and Berry. I mean, obviously, anyone with eyes can see you eyeing her up across the room, which - ew, but what’s with the freeze up. You choke on your own drool. And, once again, ew!”
For the second time that day, Quinn felt her face burn and her heart race. She took a step back, physically distancing herself from the words as a wave of panic and dismay raced through her. That wasn’t what this was. It wasn’t! She wasn’t like that. Santana was wrong. And crazy! And the second Quinn could get her tongue to start working again, she’d let her know just how wrong and crazy she was!
“Gack!” was all she could manage.
“Is Quinn choking on drool again?” Brittany asked, peering closely at the other girl. Then she gasps, standing up and looking around. “Did Charity follow me here? And steal Quinn’s tongue? She’s just a baby! She doesn’t know better!”
Santana chuckle, turning to give Brittany a hug, and it’s enough to let Quinn gain some composure.
“That’s not it,” she shouts, grabbing back the attention she mostly doesn’t want. But she has to make them understand. “I don’t…I’m not like that. I just…” Her hands clench and she looks to the floor as her brows furrow in frustration. She just can’t seem to articulate what she’s trying to say. Her breathing is harsh as she tries to collect her thoughts.
“I’m not like that. I’m not. I just like - I mean, I don’t like, but she’s different.” Quinn looks back up, feeling pathetic and defensive, and is not pleased at what she sees. Santana is looking at her with brows raised, a picture of nonchalant disbelief with a dash of bitchiness, while Brittany’s head is cocked in confusion. Quinn changes her approach.
“She’s different. And weird. Her clothes are crazy and she’s always making weird faces and saying strange things and…” Quinn looks down, “and freaking everybody out. I find it amusing. Pretty soon she’ll be all the way at the bottom, and I won’t be the only one watching and …laughing.”
It’s a lie. Well, a twisting of the truth. Because she does think Rachel’s wardrobe is bizarre and speaks weird ideas in a weird manner. She does find Rachel amusing. But none of it is bad in her eyes, even if she does have a sinking feeling that her guess on Rachel’s future is probably true.
Maybe it is her somewhat obvious hesitance or the fact that she didn’t really explain the gym incidence, but the sneer on Santana’s face shows that she obviously doesn’t believe Quinn. And Quinn obviously can’t get her to see that there is nothing weird about…this.
But Santana lets it go, turning away from Quinn with the sneer still in place. Quinn leaves soon after, still troubled.
And her troubled feeling continue as she returns to school to find Rachel no longer even making eye contact. But that doesn’t stop Quinn from thinking about her. She can sometimes push Rachel out of her mind, focusing on training for the cheerleaders or paying attention to the teachers, but sometimes, usually when Rachel is close by, she just can’t help herself.
She finds herself constantly choosing seats near the other girl. And listening when she would answer the teacher. And glaring when people snickered at the other girl.
It’s even worse in Art, though, which was basically just time to sit around near Rachel and think. Well, that and trying to ignore annoying tools trying to flirt with her.
She likes art, a lot more than she ever thought she would. She likes creating something from basically nothing, bending and pushing the world to her will. She also likes watching Rachel try create things in art. It’s hilarious because it is one thing the other girl is apparently not good at.
But Quinn was, at least according to their teacher. Like when they began working on clay.
Adorable was the only word that came to mind when she saw Rachel getting frustrated in her attempt to make a snake…or something. The girl was pouting and sighing and glaring at the clay with squinted eyes. It was like watching a tiny puppy try and fail to climb up a sofa.
Watching Rachel, Quinn couldn’t was rounding out the clay, pinching and pushing until she had matched the mixture of exasperation and frustration Rachel was wearing. It wasn’t even really her. There was only the hint of hair at the top and the nose was all wrong, and it wasn’t even a fully formed face. Really. It was just a face. But if it didn’t look like it was going to break into a pout any moment now, Quinn would eat her nonexistent hat. Then the stupid teacher ruined it. Brought attention to it.
When it was just her and the piece, it was fine. But when Mr. Robin Williams Wannabe came over, she felt that familiar flash of panic and guilt, like she was doing something wrong. So she blustered and fumbled with the clay as he droned on, swallowing nervously as she saw Rachel glancing over curiously. Which was…interesting.
She made sure to smash the clay up before it joined the pile.
Before Quinn knew it, almost all her works in Art class centered around Rachel. It would be easier if the teacher gave more direction and told them what to draw, but he was always so free spirited about everything, telling them to draw whatever was on their minds. And Rachel was always on her mind.
Soon she found herself getting her own drawing supplies. It’s not that she liked drawing the best, but it was certainly the most convenient and portable medium. Least messy too. Her dad was basically okay with her taking up a hobby, as long as it didn’t interfere with the important things, but he certainly wouldn’t have been as okay with it if he knew it was pictures of Rachel filling up her journals and sketchpads.
It wasn’t weird, though. Rachel was just…on her mind a lot and had interesting features. Classical beauties were easy to draw, but Rachel was lovely in a unique way that took skill to accurately put to paper. None of her drawings matched the original.
But even as she continued watching and drawing the other girl, she noticed the other girl was now paying her no attention.
And she found herself craving even the small moments of eye contact and little waves. So she fought for them. Which was a little out of character.
At the time, she didn’t really fight for much. She just did her best, what she was supposed to do, and occasionally quarreled with Santana. But people of authority, she didn’t outward go against them. And public opinion, she didn’t try to prove it wrong. But for Rachel Berry’s attention, she was at least willing to try.
She knew she had made an idiot of herself when Rachel tried speaking to her. She figured Rachel thought she was just a stupid, shallow blonde, like she had feared, so she set out to prove she was more than that.
So she spoke up in class and proved she had a brain. She showed her artistic side more often in art class, trying to use Rachel’s apparent curiosity against her. She even made it a point to flaunt her popularity a little bit, putting that creepy Jewfro kid in his place. But nothing worked.
Eventually, getting a little desperate, she tried to show off in gym class in hopes of bringing things full circle.
She knew that even participating should get attention, since she usually sat out in protest of the teacher’s incompetence and honoring her dad’s wishes not to be involved in mannish sports.
Plus, sitting out gave her more of an opportunity to watch Rachel. Gym Rachel was always the best. In Math or History, it was a mixture of curiosity and amusement that had her peering over at Rachel. In Gym, she seriously couldn’t help herself.
It had gotten worse lately, especially once she started craving the other girl’s attention. Watching Rachel, knowing what it was like to be so close and near the other girl, had her bogy light up and jolt to attention.
Rachel, unlike Quinn and most of their gym class, actually tried. She ended up sweaty and dirty, expression intense and focused as her barely clothed body became tense and poised for action.
She would watch as the other girl jumped and bended, and her stomach would just clench uncomfortably. Her mouth would go dry and she would get goose bumps as she imagined the other girl looking at her with that intense expression. Slowly stalking over to her, sweaty, dirty, and breathing hard, with muscled tensed up.
It was agonizing. And she couldn’t ever look away.
Now she wanted Rachel to be the one unable to look away.
So she did more than just participate, she kicked Santana’s butt.
Unfortunately, she also put Santana in a foul mood, which, of course, she took out on Rachel.
In the locker room.
Quinn had a weird relationship with the locker room.
She tended to not ever look at anyone else in the locker room. She didn’t like the fact that everyone could see her. Good girls are supposed to be modest and pure and not strip in front of their classmates. But she’s not going to be the loser that changes in the bathroom either.
She just stares straight at her locker and changes as quickly as possible, despite the mixture of curiosity and nerves that tries to incite her into using her peripheries to…scope out the competition.
Her attention, though, is pulled away from staring at her locker when Santana brings the full bitch out at Rachel…whose not wearing a shirt.
Rachel’s not wearing a shirt.
Quinn swallows thickly and pulls her eyes away, taking a deep breath. She listens to bitch and sneer and does her best to ignore it. Rachel didn’t look at her at all, the entire time she was on the field. She obviously doesn’t want Quinn’s attention.
But she can’t help the rush of feelings to step in. She ignores it, grabbing her bag and walking away from the confrontation where she’s not in anyone’s sight.
From her little hiding place, she watches the incident, the way Santana has Rachel’s full attention. Her gaze doesn’t shift away from Santana once. And when it’s over, Rachel watches as Santana walks away.
It’s infuriating.
Quinn waits around after everyone leaves as Rachel finishes changing and getting ready, but the other girl doesn’t notice. She can’t really believe it, but she’s angry at the other girl. Rachel can just ignore Quinn so easily when Quinn has never been mean to her. Considering their comparative social statuses, Quinn has been downright fantastic to Rachel. Yet it’s Santana who is apparently worthy enough for the attention, who treats Rachel like crap. And Rachel practically asks for it.
Her attention is pulled back to the girl as Rachel begins singing lyrics to some sing Quinn has never heard of.
She sounds fantastic. Quinn watches the girl finish up and leave the room and Quinn lets out a shaky breath. What an exhausting gym class. She follows the other girl out, mind a flurry of activity.
She wasn’t really proud of what happened next, not really, but she wasn’t all that ashamed of it. Rachel was being absurd. And stupid. Quinn put so much energy into trying to get the other girl’s attention and the fact that she refused to so much as look at her, much less smile, was making her unbelievably pissed off.
Everyone paid attention to her. She wasn’t brilliant, but she was smart. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was pretty. She had freaking flare, okay! She might not become much, but she knew that she had high school. Nobody truly cared; she didn’t have a best friend like Santana had Brittany, but people liked her well enough. She was on top in this school, and it was about time for Rachel to realize that.
To realize that she had power and potential and was worthwhile. To see that she was better than Santana.
She walked through the hallway like always, smirking as people moved around her, until she saw Rachel. Normally, Quinn made it a point to avoid Rachel in the hallways, keeping her distance even as she watched, but not today. People walked around her, not the other way around.
With a determined gleam in her eye, Quinn kept her pace in direction, waiting for Rachel to move around her. And, of course, Rachel had to be different again and the two ended up brushing against each other.
Before she could help herself, Quinn had uttered an apology and waited for Rachel to respond. Yeah, she really hadn’t thought this through. They were going to talk again, and the last time Quinn spoke to Rachel…she couldn’t speak. Great. Already, she could feel her heart pounding and her nerves flailing and-
What?
There was no conversation. There was no interaction of any sort. There wasn’t even any eye contact. Rachel just mumbled an apology and scurried off without even bothering to look at her.
She had apologized. She was Quinn Fabray and she had apologized to Rachel Berry. Nobody bothered apologizing to Rachel and Quinn, who didn’t apologize to anyone, had, and the other girl just didn’t care.
What the hell.
Her heart kept pounding and her nerves continued to flail, but the anger flooded her and gave her control.
Without really thinking about it, she quickly marched after the other girl, smirk still in place. And then she caught up to her. With a light shove, Rachel was against the lockers.
It wasn’t enough to hurt her or anything, she wasn’t like that, but it would be enough get Rachel’s attention. The attention she had, up to that moment, failed to get, no matter what she did.
“Watch it, Treasure Trail,” she said, the same sneer her father used when talking about his co-workers fixed on her face. She had googled the terminology after Santana used it and found it dirty and disgusting. It wasn’t something she would say normally, but she couldn’t say Rachel.
For a moment, just a moment, she froze at the sight of the confused chocolate eyes, but then the anger showed itself. She had gotten the attention and showed Rachel just how on top she was, so she turned and made her way to the next class.
She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about this. There was a sense of accomplishment. She’d succeeded. She’d won. She showed Rachel how hard it was to ignore her. But at the same time, she wasn’t used to this. She shouldn’t have to work so hard to get the mildest scrap of acknowledgement, especially from someone so much lower on the totem. It made her feel like she was losing control of the situation, angry and unsure.
She hated feeling like that.
So she resolved to do whatever it took to get what she wanted.
Which is why she spent all of study hall, and most of History, thinking up creative nicknames for Rachel. Treasure Trail was fine, but gross and dirty. Quinn hadn’t even known what it was at first. But worst of all, it was Santana’s. If she was going to make an impact, then she needed her to differentiate herself.
So, yeah, she spent to class periods thinking up names and lines to get Rachel’s attention. No big deal.
Quinn finally settled on RuPaul. She figured it was perfect. She didn’t know much about him…her? Quinn really didn’t understand these things. All she knew was that RuPaul was a drag queen and a performer. It would be the perfect way to poke at Rachel, pull at her attention, but without being too mean. After all, RuPaul was a performer and Rachel wanted to be a performer. She even thought of some witty lines to go with it.
And it worked!
Quinn really didn’t expect it to, honestly, but it did. Rachel started being nice to her again and making eye contact and holding doors open and it was pretty great.
And, of course, Santana has to ruin everything.
The thing is, Santana seems like she really couldn’t care less about Rachel. Santana never seeks out or talks about the other girl. Sometimes, when Rachel would walk by or talk, Santana would make a snarky comment about her, but Santana does that for everyone. The only time Santana seems to have an abnormal problem with Rachel, it’s because of Quinn.
It was gym class again. Quinn is really starting to hate gym class. Everything was going great, though. Quinn had Rachel on her team and even won points with the other girl by showing off her skills and pulling her back in the game. She even came up with a legitimate reason to have Rachel stand in front of her so she could…observe the other girl.
But Santana’s being pissy again, and Quinn knows something’s up the second Santana sends Brittany back to talk to Rachel.
She marches into the locker room and immediately heads over to Rachel’s locker, using what they learned in the mornings Future-Cheerio training to skillfully get through the lock hanging on the door.
But it’s not until Santana is pulling out her clothes that she can bring herself to act.
“What are you doing,” Quinn hisses at the other girl, “You’re going to get in trouble.”
“Please,” the other girl responds with a derisive eye roll, “As if any of the losers in here are going to tell on me.”
Quinn looks around the room at the averting eyes and the few faces full of malicious smirks and knows this is true.
“I don’t care,” she snaps at Santana, “Stop it anyways.”
Santana ignores her, walking over to the toilets still carrying Rachel’s clothes. Quinn trails after her, unsure of what to do.
She doesn’t want to let Santana do this, but what other option does she have. Is she really going to get into a huge fight with her “best friend” for some girl she barely knows?
“Santana,” she hisses again as Santana moves to enter a stall. Quinn can’t help herself. She reaches out and grabs at the other girls arm, gripping and pulling her away from the stall. “Leave her alone.”
Santana reacts immediately. Dropping the clothes on the floor, she does a quick turn and shoves at Quinn, pushing her slightly against the wall.
“Listen here, Fabray, let’s get one thing straight. You are not the boss of me. You are not the leader in this little show. Maybe it’s easier to let people think that, and, hell, maybe people do like you better. But you cannot tell me what to do or not to do. Just because you have some gay little crush on Midget McLoudmouth, doesn’t mean you can get between me and my revenge,” Santana snarls at her, voice low and angry.
Quinn stops as the words wash over her. This is why she can’t stand Santana. Everything is a power struggle and every word is criticism. A mean, awful, untrue criticism.
They’re alone by the toilets. Nobody was brave enough to follow the show, but Quinn knows that if she or Santana raised their voices, the sound would carry. So her retort is as quiet as Santana’s attack.
“Shut. Up. That’s disgusting. I’m not like that. Take it back!” she snarls, using her inch height advantage to look down at the other girl.
“Really, so you trying to stop me for some random stranger. Just being a good Samaritan. Please,” Santana sneers, not intimidated in the least, “And don’t give me that ‘we’re friends’ bullshit, because, as far as I can tell, you spend all your time staring at her from across the room, but do you ever actually talk. Either own up to it or get out of my way.”
So she does. She moves back to the main locker room, a harsh glare keeping the other students at bay, just in time to see Brittany slink into the room. Santana ambles back in soon enough, a self-satisfied look in place.
And then Rachel enters, looking more than a little confused.
Her attention is quickly averted to her locker, another confrontation happens, where Rachel just can’t seem to keep her mouth shut and lay low.
It’s horrible, though, what Santana is doing, but Santana keeps one eye on her the entire time. Quinn can’t help but wonder who else is watching her, who else is thinking the same thing Santana is thinking? Did anyone try and listen in on their conversation?
She laughs with the crowd, even though it feels physically painful to get the noise out.
She feels so guilty about it; she lets the other girl wear her cardigan the rest of the day.
It takes a while for her to get a thank you…and she really wishes she never got it.
Part 2
But, like the story as a whole, it is introspective, so, technically, it starts around Prom and is mostly a gigantic flashback.
And, since a lot of people are really unhappy with Quinn so far, I want you to know that this is not a justification of her actions and that most of the opinions she shows during this chapter are not shared by me.
Chapter 7 - Greener Grasses (The Quinn Interlude)
Quinn just didn’t get it sometimes.
She had lost. She hadn’t lost to Santana or Lauren or any of those other girls, she had lost to a prank. In a way, it was a relief. She could tell herself that she would have won, have been Prom Queen, if all the students at McKinley were immature idiots. But it was Santana’s running mate that won King, while her running mate was thrown out. She would never really know if she was going to win.
It didn’t even really matter because popular consensus was that the school would rather laugh at Kurt Hummel than cheer for her.
Even with Rachel there, forgiving her and saying all the right things, everything was clear.
It was another year of failure.
After all, how low must she have fallen for Rachel Berry to comfort her.
It was just like last year.
Quinn had started out her sophomore year with just about everything going for her. Yes, there were the obvious things. She was the pretty, popular head cheerleader who was dating the cute quarterback. She was living the high school dream.
But she had started the year knowing that she was going places. Yeah, she was pretty. She had spent most of her life being told this and, aside from a few insecurities popping up from time to time, she was pretty assured in her looks. But she also had some of the top grades of her year. Aside from her grades, she was the captain of a National ranking cheerleading squad, president of both the Christ Crusaders and Chastity Club, put forth community service hours with Key Club, and, though it only happened later, participated in a Glee Club.
She was the epitome of being well-rounded. She even kept an art portfolio, though it was very private.
She had thought she was going to make it out of this small town and really make something of herself.
Honestly, for a long time, she had thought that she and Rachel would probably be the only two to make it out of the stupid town.
Then she screwed it all up.
One mistake, one stupid, drunken mistake, was all it took for her golden life to completely fall apart.
Her popularity and prestige was the first thing to go. Well, technically, Coach Sylvester dropped her from the Cheerios and told the entire school about her pregnancy simultaneously, but they loss of popularity was the first thing she really noticed. Soon, not only was she yanked from one of the few things this small school could offer her to really help her college resume, but the entire school was laughing at her, pointing and snickering.
Even Glee Club, the geeks and losers who made a big show about acceptance and peace, wasted no time in joking about her situation when they thought she couldn’t hear, although Quinn is pretty sure Santana helped that along.
The only people who didn’t make quips and jokes about her behind her back, who tried to help her, was her somewhat inept boyfriend and the girl she had tortured for years.
Along with the Cheerios, her one mistake also cost Quinn her place in Christ Crusaders and the Celibacy Club. And soon she had bills coming in that she had no money to pay for.
Her family was fairly well off, enough for her dad to buy her a brand new car for her sixteenth birthday, and she got a decent allowance each week, though it was nothing compared to Santana’s. But the allowance was certainly not enough to cover the bills, even with saving up.
Her first thought had been to get a job, but, at her age, she needed a work permit that included a physical with her doctor and parental permission, neither of which was a good idea. The family doctor would end up blabbing and, well, there was no way her dad would let her get a job. For one thing, he would think she was much too busy with her extracurricular activities, but, more importantly, she shouldn’t need a job. He might be okay with a summer job, if only to build character, but not anything during the school year. The neighbors would wonder why he couldn’t provide and that just wouldn’t do.
So she pushed Finn, whose mother would probably love the idea of him learning the value of a dollar, into getting one. She didn’t want to rely on him, never wanted that, but could see no other option.
And even then, it was only when Rachel intervened that he even managed to get a job, from what she discovered much later.
And, when she lost her family, she was forced to rely on him even more. With each new challenge thrown at her, it just seemed more and more impossible to tell the truth. Her infidelity, which would have initially lost her a boyfriend, would now lose her the boyfriend, the chosen father, her place to live, and the only bit of reputation she had left.
And, when Rachel chose winning Finn over helping her, she did lose it all.
But, somehow, she managed to get everything back, aside from her dad, and pull herself back together.
You know, until she screwed it all up again. For just about the same reasons as last time. Once again, she was ending the school year without the Cheerios, without a boyfriend, and having been shown that she wasn’t as popular as she thought she was.
It was like she just couldn’t stop herself from making bad decision after bad decision, mistake after mistake. She can’t say for certain if quitting the Cheerios was a mistake or not, goodness knows it didn’t feel like one, but losing Sam definitely was.
She doesn’t even know why she did it.
Fact was, the first time around, her relationship with Finn wasn’t that great. He was the popular quarterback and she was the head cheerleader. He was goofy and likeable. He was loyal. At the time, she thought they just made sense together.
Everyone around her was hooking up and dating, even Rachel had shown evidence of a crush, though she quickly destroyed that little dream, and she knew it was time for her to have a boyfriend. It was weird that she didn’t already have one , and Quinn definitely wasn’t weird.
But she never really felt for him. She liked him. Honestly, she thinks there were times when she loved him. But she never felt that intense need everyone else always talks about. Never thought about him as the best part of her day.
It wasn’t his fault. He was a great guy, really, even if he could be thoughtless and dim, but he was never her world.
The thing was, she had been growing bored in their relationship early on. They had started dating at the very end of their freshman year, just before summer let out, and the summer was great. Finn would sleep in until 2 pm, and Quinn was busy training up for the Cheerios that they didn’t really see each other that much and, without school, there was no drama or other people really. It was basically just public appearances mixed with the occasional date.
He was her first boyfriend, though, and she thought it would have been…different. She knew that she wouldn’t have sex with him or anything, she was a good Christian girl, but she thought she would maybe want to a little.
But it was so easy to push him away when he got a little too into it.
A little too easy. Abnormally easy if you listened to Santana or Brittany.
She was afraid there was something wrong with her, really. So, at Puck’s end of summer party, she drank a little too much and, as everyone else left, allowed him to bring her up to his room.
Somehow, Puck managed to get the girls at school swooning and, if the rumors were true, even some of the older women whose pools he cleaned.
She hadn’t planned to kiss him or anything, but he was saying things she longed to hear and she just needed to know if it was Finn. If Finn lacked that something needed to excite her and get her heart pumping.
It wasn’t Finn.
Before she knew it, they were kissing and touching, and she still didn’t feel anything. Between the alcohol clogging up her brain and the panic that was slowly numbing her good sense, she soon found herself giving Puck more and more liberties, hoping each new sensation would start to feel good.
But it didn’t.
She woke up the next morning with a hangover and his naked body on top of her, suffocating her. Or maybe, what was really suffocating her, was the rush of memories and implications of the night before.
She was out the door before he ever woke up.
Puck wasn’t a moron, though. He never mentioned it again until the pregnancy.
So, yeah, she knew exactly why she slept with Puck. And she knew why she lied about it.
After her mistake, she knew it wasn’t Finn. Knew it was her. But he didn’t push for more and needed a boyfriend. She thought, if she stayed with him, eventually it would all work itself out. And once Rachel started going after him, she could only hold on tighter and tighter, until she was crushing him. Until he didn’t want to be with her anymore. Until the only reason he was with her was the baby he thought was his.
But kissing Finn…that was still a mystery. The fact was, she was happier with Sam. She still didn’t get that tingle of nerves and anticipation with each kiss that others talked about, but he was such a great guy. He listened when she talked and comforted her when she needed it and made stupid jokes that still managed to get her to laugh.
He may have been on the football team and a bit image obsessed, but he was also a big dork. And he really didn’t care who knew it. He was unashamed of himself, every bit of himself, and it was refreshing.
But Finn had broke up with her, rightfully, because of her deceit and infidelity. The whole pregnancy was a blur of anger and mistakes and despair that she really tries her best to not think about. But sometimes she can’t help it. Can’t help but huddle up in her blankets in the middle of the night and think of Beth.
Finn wanted her again. After everything, all the lies, it was more than a second chance. It was forgiveness. It was like going back in time to before she screwed everything up. So she kissed him. She didn’t really feel much from the kiss, despite what she may have said, but it was familiar. Finn was a bridge she had thought she had long since burned and the idea that he was willing to not just take her back, but chase after her…
It had happened so quickly, and, before she knew it, she was once again lying to her boyfriend about infidelity. And, once again, that boyfriend found out and dumped her, even though she was sorry and just wanted to move on.
But Sam was such a great guy. They were friends again, even as she dated Finn, the only one who wanted her.
Until he didn’t. Even after he chased after her and got her to cheat on Sam, making her lose Sam, he still broke up with her again.
And she hadn’t done anything wrong this time, except that she wasn’t Rachel.
It was so backwards. People like Finn do not break up with people like her for people like Rachel.
Things would be so much easier if she really didn’t feel, like Finn said, but she did. All the time.
It was so hard sometimes, dealing with all the feelings she had actually. Especially since most of her feelings were not things she should be feeling.
She was a Fabray. She was a Fabray and that meant there were certain things she was supposed to be and certain things she could never be.
When she was younger, before she moved to Lima and her sister was still at home, her dad made it clear that there was a mold she was supposed to follow.
Little girls wore the pretty dresses and put cute ribbons in their long hair. They played inside with dolls and Barbie dolls. They were quiet and obedient and listened to their fathers. Only dirty tomboys ran around outside in jeans and t-shirts with short hair, jumping in the mud and disobeying their parents.
At least that’s what she was told.
Her interests were decided for her. Her clothes picked out, her haircut predetermined. All she had to do was follow the rules and be a good daughter. Listen to the right music and wear the right clothes. Get good grades and join the right activities. Go to Church every Sunday and all the religious days, go to confession and reconciliation, listen and live according to the words of The Father, according to her father.
Show everyone what a perfect daughter her dad raised.
Don’t get it wrong, though. When she was younger, Quinn adored her dad. He was everything to her, and the fear of disappointing him was more powerful than any punishment he would have been able to think of. She loved him so much and just wanted to please him.
She knew that he had wanted a son, was disappointed that he had got another daughter instead, and done everything in her power to be the perfect daughter. But it was hard. Her sister had already been the perfect daughter without even trying, and Quinn had to try. A lot. She was always making mistakes, getting messy and being loud and wanting the wrong things.
It would have been easier if she had been that son he wanted.
But eventually, she learned how to hide all the wrong parts of her, work around them to be the acceptable daughter.
But never perfect. Not really.
But pretty close.
She would never be the dainty housewife her sister already was, quiet and demure, but she still wanted to make her dad proud.
She needed to be active, so she joined cheerleading and dance, activities that were rigorous but still socially acceptable. She was curious and full of opinions, so she listened and learned, but kept most of her opinions to herself. She did not let people walk all over her or become a slut, but still managed to become the most popular person around.
But she hid so much of herself. It was okay, though, because she figured that was what most people did. Hid the wrong parts and manufacture the rest.
That was why, and she would never admit this to anyone, the first time she saw Rachel Berry, she found her so interesting. Because, unlike everyone around her, she did not hide and fake her way to being socially acceptable.
In truth, Rachel Berry was everything her father found unacceptable.
Over the years, Quinn will think of and call Rachel a number of unflattering, and sometimes cruel, names, but, from the first moment Quinn saw her, she was Rachel. In Quinn’s head, she will always be Rachel.
Rachel was a Jewish girl raised by two gay dads, a lawyer and a doctor if Quinn remembered correctly. More than that though, Rachel was loud and opinionated, full of ideas that differed greatly from what the Fabrays believed. Rachel wore little make-up, though she had gotten better recently, and lacked any sort of fashion sense. The girl had big frivolous plans for her future, plans that relied only on Rachel and her dreams.
If her father ever met Rachel Berry, he would hate everything she was.
Quinn maybe thought she might be a little amazing. At first.
Quinn had big plan for McKinley. She was finally the person she wanted to be, the person her father wanted her to be, and everything was set to be perfect.
And then she noticed Rachel. It was the first day of school, though she thinks Rachel didn’t notice her until much later, and Quinn was caught at first sight.
It wasn’t her fault though, Rachel looked like she had dressed in the dark. In a goodwill. It was ridiculous. It was only later that she heard the whispers in the gossip as people slowly learned about Rachel’s less than conventional family.
The two of them, though, shared a number of classes that year, so it was only natural that they’d notice each other. They ended up in Math, Gym, Art, and History together and they shared a lunch, which was more classes than she shared with Santana or Brittany, the first friends she made at McKinley.
And she just seemed incapable of not watching the other girl. It still wasn’t her fault. Between the clothes and the attitude, Rachel was practically screaming for attention.
At first, she watched in confusion or for a cheap laugh, but, as she found herself paying more and more attention to the other girl, this slowly shifted.
She liked the things Rachel would say, brimming with confidence that Quinn wasn’t allowed to possess. She learned Rachel’s dreams quickly, the other girl didn’t shut up about them, and soon she was in awe of the other girl.
She really was everything Quinn could never be.
And Quinn couldn’t help but admire the drive and ambition; the quirks that she didn’t even try to hide or act ashamed of. Quinn couldn’t help but admire Rachel.
Sometimes she thought about actually talking to her, but could never build up the nerve.
Even if the other people at the school couldn’t see it, Rachel was smart and brave and one of a kind. Rachel was going places and, at the time, Quinn didn’t think she was. Quinn figured that if she talked to Rachel for even five minutes, Rachel would discover that Quinn was just another pretty face, boring and shallow and not going anywhere.
So she kept her distance, watching the girl rant and rave with amusement from across the room. But, eventually, Rachel noticed her back.
Quinn had found that Rachel was especially fun to watch in gym class. Rachel put her all into everything she did, another reason Quinn admired her, and, in gym class, this created quite the sight. It was one thing to watch Rachel diligently listen in class or concentrate hard on a test, but it was another thing entirely to watch her prance around in gym clothes, running and jumping around like she had one too many coffees that morning.
And one day, in gym class, she must have been a little obvious in her completely platonic interest, because Rachel notice. Quinn watched the other girl play tennis against Santana, and lose, mouth open a little at the energy and movements on display. When Rachel turned and waved, Quinn couldn’t help but wave back.
And she continued watching. But now, instead of just a random spectator, Rachel would glance back and give her a smile or a wave. Soon it was like a secret communication between the two, an agreement to never speak, but constantly interact.
It was almost like a friendship.
But then Rachel spoke to her.
It was everything she knew it would be. In short, a disaster. It would be one thing if she had time to prepare (or run and hide), but Rachel blindsided her. It was something she would one day become accustomed to.
She had been talking with Santana, she couldn’t remember what about, when Rachel came over and unleashed a large amount of words very, very quickly.
Quinn froze. Her mind sluggishly tried to catch what the other girl was saying, but managed to let everything slip by except that Rachel called Quinn’s stares adoring and thought about them in a film together. Or something.
She felt the blood rush to her face and tried to say something, anything. Something that would help her appear less like a stalker would be great, especially if it was a little elegant.
But her voice caught in her throat and the only noise that escaped was some mix between a dog barking and a frog croaking.
Santana looked at her as if she was a moron (and she totally was a moron), but Rachel just about had a heart attack. Apparently, the idea of someone being unable to talk was so foreign to the other girl, that she thought Quinn was dying or something. It would have been amusing if not for the fact that Rachel got really close to her.
Like, touching her close.
It was…weird. They were suddenly touching and breathing the same air and everything just felt really warm and close. Quinn jerked away, not even noticing that she bumped into Brittany.
Quinn doesn’t really understand completely what happened next. All she knows is that one moment Rachel is right there, everywhere, and her heart is pounding so loud, it seems like all she can hear, and then there is space and air and breathing.
Quinn’s staring at the floor - not at Rachel, not at Rachel - clenching her fist tightly as she tries to settle her racing heart. She knows Santana is talking, harshly, and knows she should step in. But she doesn’t.
She just stares at the floor, wishing it would swallow her up.
Rachel stomps off eventually. Later, Santana decides to test what probably appears to be an opening to become the main HBIC and confronts her.
“Seriously, Fabray, what is your defect?” Santana asks as they hang out in her living room. Sometimes, they go to Brittany’s house, but the other girl has four younger siblings always running around, so it tends to be a last resort. Santana and Brittany quickly learned that Quinn’s house isn’t an option. Santana’s parents, though, are out of the house more often than not, leaving Santana alone.
Quinn chooses to, once again, take the coward’s option and feign ignorance.
“Okay, one: I have no idea what you’re talking,” she starts, putting her best face forward, “and two: watch your tone. Nobody appreciates it.”
“I do,” Brittany interjects from where she’s playing with the stash of stuffed animals she keeps at Santana’s house, “Her tone’s really hot.” Quinn and Santana both wear matching expressions for a moment as they figure that one out, but quickly brush it off, though Santana looks decidedly flattered.
“Don’ts even try lying to me, chicka, I knows what’s up,” Santana scoffs. Quinn rolls her eyes at the girl, annoyed with the gangster Latina lingo Santana has been trying out lately. “Don’ts roll your eyes at me.”
“Seriously. Then don’t act like you’re some poor ghetto girl, Miss Country Club Gold Member,” Quinn snaps back, grateful she has some kind of power possession and that they’re moving away from Rachel. Santana looks indignant, popping off the couch.
“Oh no you did not!” she shrieks, “I have mad street cred.”
“Please,” Quinn retorts, “The only “cred” you have is your doctor daddy’s credit card.”
The two of them are no longer lounging around the room, instead standing face to face. Looking over Santana, whose anger is obvious, she kind of feels that familiar tingle. It’s the same one she feels when she watches Rachel sometimes, though different and not as intense. Pleasant but foreign, like a light buzzing of electricity jumping over her skin. When Rachel was around, it was enough to give her goose bumps.
Now, she just smirked.
“Santana?” Brittany asked, getting the other girl’s attention immediately and pulling her eyes away from Quinn, “Why are you letting Quinn distract you? I thought you were talking about Rachel?”
Santana blinked, jerking her head back to Quinn, just in time to see her face fall in dismay. Santana couldn’t contain a bark of laughter.
“Damn,” she laughed, ignoring the light flinch from Quinn, “Good catch Britt. So fess up Quinnie. What is the deal with you and Berry. I mean, obviously, anyone with eyes can see you eyeing her up across the room, which - ew, but what’s with the freeze up. You choke on your own drool. And, once again, ew!”
For the second time that day, Quinn felt her face burn and her heart race. She took a step back, physically distancing herself from the words as a wave of panic and dismay raced through her. That wasn’t what this was. It wasn’t! She wasn’t like that. Santana was wrong. And crazy! And the second Quinn could get her tongue to start working again, she’d let her know just how wrong and crazy she was!
“Gack!” was all she could manage.
“Is Quinn choking on drool again?” Brittany asked, peering closely at the other girl. Then she gasps, standing up and looking around. “Did Charity follow me here? And steal Quinn’s tongue? She’s just a baby! She doesn’t know better!”
Santana chuckle, turning to give Brittany a hug, and it’s enough to let Quinn gain some composure.
“That’s not it,” she shouts, grabbing back the attention she mostly doesn’t want. But she has to make them understand. “I don’t…I’m not like that. I just…” Her hands clench and she looks to the floor as her brows furrow in frustration. She just can’t seem to articulate what she’s trying to say. Her breathing is harsh as she tries to collect her thoughts.
“I’m not like that. I’m not. I just like - I mean, I don’t like, but she’s different.” Quinn looks back up, feeling pathetic and defensive, and is not pleased at what she sees. Santana is looking at her with brows raised, a picture of nonchalant disbelief with a dash of bitchiness, while Brittany’s head is cocked in confusion. Quinn changes her approach.
“She’s different. And weird. Her clothes are crazy and she’s always making weird faces and saying strange things and…” Quinn looks down, “and freaking everybody out. I find it amusing. Pretty soon she’ll be all the way at the bottom, and I won’t be the only one watching and …laughing.”
It’s a lie. Well, a twisting of the truth. Because she does think Rachel’s wardrobe is bizarre and speaks weird ideas in a weird manner. She does find Rachel amusing. But none of it is bad in her eyes, even if she does have a sinking feeling that her guess on Rachel’s future is probably true.
Maybe it is her somewhat obvious hesitance or the fact that she didn’t really explain the gym incidence, but the sneer on Santana’s face shows that she obviously doesn’t believe Quinn. And Quinn obviously can’t get her to see that there is nothing weird about…this.
But Santana lets it go, turning away from Quinn with the sneer still in place. Quinn leaves soon after, still troubled.
And her troubled feeling continue as she returns to school to find Rachel no longer even making eye contact. But that doesn’t stop Quinn from thinking about her. She can sometimes push Rachel out of her mind, focusing on training for the cheerleaders or paying attention to the teachers, but sometimes, usually when Rachel is close by, she just can’t help herself.
She finds herself constantly choosing seats near the other girl. And listening when she would answer the teacher. And glaring when people snickered at the other girl.
It’s even worse in Art, though, which was basically just time to sit around near Rachel and think. Well, that and trying to ignore annoying tools trying to flirt with her.
She likes art, a lot more than she ever thought she would. She likes creating something from basically nothing, bending and pushing the world to her will. She also likes watching Rachel try create things in art. It’s hilarious because it is one thing the other girl is apparently not good at.
But Quinn was, at least according to their teacher. Like when they began working on clay.
Adorable was the only word that came to mind when she saw Rachel getting frustrated in her attempt to make a snake…or something. The girl was pouting and sighing and glaring at the clay with squinted eyes. It was like watching a tiny puppy try and fail to climb up a sofa.
Watching Rachel, Quinn couldn’t was rounding out the clay, pinching and pushing until she had matched the mixture of exasperation and frustration Rachel was wearing. It wasn’t even really her. There was only the hint of hair at the top and the nose was all wrong, and it wasn’t even a fully formed face. Really. It was just a face. But if it didn’t look like it was going to break into a pout any moment now, Quinn would eat her nonexistent hat. Then the stupid teacher ruined it. Brought attention to it.
When it was just her and the piece, it was fine. But when Mr. Robin Williams Wannabe came over, she felt that familiar flash of panic and guilt, like she was doing something wrong. So she blustered and fumbled with the clay as he droned on, swallowing nervously as she saw Rachel glancing over curiously. Which was…interesting.
She made sure to smash the clay up before it joined the pile.
Before Quinn knew it, almost all her works in Art class centered around Rachel. It would be easier if the teacher gave more direction and told them what to draw, but he was always so free spirited about everything, telling them to draw whatever was on their minds. And Rachel was always on her mind.
Soon she found herself getting her own drawing supplies. It’s not that she liked drawing the best, but it was certainly the most convenient and portable medium. Least messy too. Her dad was basically okay with her taking up a hobby, as long as it didn’t interfere with the important things, but he certainly wouldn’t have been as okay with it if he knew it was pictures of Rachel filling up her journals and sketchpads.
It wasn’t weird, though. Rachel was just…on her mind a lot and had interesting features. Classical beauties were easy to draw, but Rachel was lovely in a unique way that took skill to accurately put to paper. None of her drawings matched the original.
But even as she continued watching and drawing the other girl, she noticed the other girl was now paying her no attention.
And she found herself craving even the small moments of eye contact and little waves. So she fought for them. Which was a little out of character.
At the time, she didn’t really fight for much. She just did her best, what she was supposed to do, and occasionally quarreled with Santana. But people of authority, she didn’t outward go against them. And public opinion, she didn’t try to prove it wrong. But for Rachel Berry’s attention, she was at least willing to try.
She knew she had made an idiot of herself when Rachel tried speaking to her. She figured Rachel thought she was just a stupid, shallow blonde, like she had feared, so she set out to prove she was more than that.
So she spoke up in class and proved she had a brain. She showed her artistic side more often in art class, trying to use Rachel’s apparent curiosity against her. She even made it a point to flaunt her popularity a little bit, putting that creepy Jewfro kid in his place. But nothing worked.
Eventually, getting a little desperate, she tried to show off in gym class in hopes of bringing things full circle.
She knew that even participating should get attention, since she usually sat out in protest of the teacher’s incompetence and honoring her dad’s wishes not to be involved in mannish sports.
Plus, sitting out gave her more of an opportunity to watch Rachel. Gym Rachel was always the best. In Math or History, it was a mixture of curiosity and amusement that had her peering over at Rachel. In Gym, she seriously couldn’t help herself.
It had gotten worse lately, especially once she started craving the other girl’s attention. Watching Rachel, knowing what it was like to be so close and near the other girl, had her bogy light up and jolt to attention.
Rachel, unlike Quinn and most of their gym class, actually tried. She ended up sweaty and dirty, expression intense and focused as her barely clothed body became tense and poised for action.
She would watch as the other girl jumped and bended, and her stomach would just clench uncomfortably. Her mouth would go dry and she would get goose bumps as she imagined the other girl looking at her with that intense expression. Slowly stalking over to her, sweaty, dirty, and breathing hard, with muscled tensed up.
It was agonizing. And she couldn’t ever look away.
Now she wanted Rachel to be the one unable to look away.
So she did more than just participate, she kicked Santana’s butt.
Unfortunately, she also put Santana in a foul mood, which, of course, she took out on Rachel.
In the locker room.
Quinn had a weird relationship with the locker room.
She tended to not ever look at anyone else in the locker room. She didn’t like the fact that everyone could see her. Good girls are supposed to be modest and pure and not strip in front of their classmates. But she’s not going to be the loser that changes in the bathroom either.
She just stares straight at her locker and changes as quickly as possible, despite the mixture of curiosity and nerves that tries to incite her into using her peripheries to…scope out the competition.
Her attention, though, is pulled away from staring at her locker when Santana brings the full bitch out at Rachel…whose not wearing a shirt.
Rachel’s not wearing a shirt.
Quinn swallows thickly and pulls her eyes away, taking a deep breath. She listens to bitch and sneer and does her best to ignore it. Rachel didn’t look at her at all, the entire time she was on the field. She obviously doesn’t want Quinn’s attention.
But she can’t help the rush of feelings to step in. She ignores it, grabbing her bag and walking away from the confrontation where she’s not in anyone’s sight.
From her little hiding place, she watches the incident, the way Santana has Rachel’s full attention. Her gaze doesn’t shift away from Santana once. And when it’s over, Rachel watches as Santana walks away.
It’s infuriating.
Quinn waits around after everyone leaves as Rachel finishes changing and getting ready, but the other girl doesn’t notice. She can’t really believe it, but she’s angry at the other girl. Rachel can just ignore Quinn so easily when Quinn has never been mean to her. Considering their comparative social statuses, Quinn has been downright fantastic to Rachel. Yet it’s Santana who is apparently worthy enough for the attention, who treats Rachel like crap. And Rachel practically asks for it.
Her attention is pulled back to the girl as Rachel begins singing lyrics to some sing Quinn has never heard of.
She sounds fantastic. Quinn watches the girl finish up and leave the room and Quinn lets out a shaky breath. What an exhausting gym class. She follows the other girl out, mind a flurry of activity.
She wasn’t really proud of what happened next, not really, but she wasn’t all that ashamed of it. Rachel was being absurd. And stupid. Quinn put so much energy into trying to get the other girl’s attention and the fact that she refused to so much as look at her, much less smile, was making her unbelievably pissed off.
Everyone paid attention to her. She wasn’t brilliant, but she was smart. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was pretty. She had freaking flare, okay! She might not become much, but she knew that she had high school. Nobody truly cared; she didn’t have a best friend like Santana had Brittany, but people liked her well enough. She was on top in this school, and it was about time for Rachel to realize that.
To realize that she had power and potential and was worthwhile. To see that she was better than Santana.
She walked through the hallway like always, smirking as people moved around her, until she saw Rachel. Normally, Quinn made it a point to avoid Rachel in the hallways, keeping her distance even as she watched, but not today. People walked around her, not the other way around.
With a determined gleam in her eye, Quinn kept her pace in direction, waiting for Rachel to move around her. And, of course, Rachel had to be different again and the two ended up brushing against each other.
Before she could help herself, Quinn had uttered an apology and waited for Rachel to respond. Yeah, she really hadn’t thought this through. They were going to talk again, and the last time Quinn spoke to Rachel…she couldn’t speak. Great. Already, she could feel her heart pounding and her nerves flailing and-
What?
There was no conversation. There was no interaction of any sort. There wasn’t even any eye contact. Rachel just mumbled an apology and scurried off without even bothering to look at her.
She had apologized. She was Quinn Fabray and she had apologized to Rachel Berry. Nobody bothered apologizing to Rachel and Quinn, who didn’t apologize to anyone, had, and the other girl just didn’t care.
What the hell.
Her heart kept pounding and her nerves continued to flail, but the anger flooded her and gave her control.
Without really thinking about it, she quickly marched after the other girl, smirk still in place. And then she caught up to her. With a light shove, Rachel was against the lockers.
It wasn’t enough to hurt her or anything, she wasn’t like that, but it would be enough get Rachel’s attention. The attention she had, up to that moment, failed to get, no matter what she did.
“Watch it, Treasure Trail,” she said, the same sneer her father used when talking about his co-workers fixed on her face. She had googled the terminology after Santana used it and found it dirty and disgusting. It wasn’t something she would say normally, but she couldn’t say Rachel.
For a moment, just a moment, she froze at the sight of the confused chocolate eyes, but then the anger showed itself. She had gotten the attention and showed Rachel just how on top she was, so she turned and made her way to the next class.
She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about this. There was a sense of accomplishment. She’d succeeded. She’d won. She showed Rachel how hard it was to ignore her. But at the same time, she wasn’t used to this. She shouldn’t have to work so hard to get the mildest scrap of acknowledgement, especially from someone so much lower on the totem. It made her feel like she was losing control of the situation, angry and unsure.
She hated feeling like that.
So she resolved to do whatever it took to get what she wanted.
Which is why she spent all of study hall, and most of History, thinking up creative nicknames for Rachel. Treasure Trail was fine, but gross and dirty. Quinn hadn’t even known what it was at first. But worst of all, it was Santana’s. If she was going to make an impact, then she needed her to differentiate herself.
So, yeah, she spent to class periods thinking up names and lines to get Rachel’s attention. No big deal.
Quinn finally settled on RuPaul. She figured it was perfect. She didn’t know much about him…her? Quinn really didn’t understand these things. All she knew was that RuPaul was a drag queen and a performer. It would be the perfect way to poke at Rachel, pull at her attention, but without being too mean. After all, RuPaul was a performer and Rachel wanted to be a performer. She even thought of some witty lines to go with it.
And it worked!
Quinn really didn’t expect it to, honestly, but it did. Rachel started being nice to her again and making eye contact and holding doors open and it was pretty great.
And, of course, Santana has to ruin everything.
The thing is, Santana seems like she really couldn’t care less about Rachel. Santana never seeks out or talks about the other girl. Sometimes, when Rachel would walk by or talk, Santana would make a snarky comment about her, but Santana does that for everyone. The only time Santana seems to have an abnormal problem with Rachel, it’s because of Quinn.
It was gym class again. Quinn is really starting to hate gym class. Everything was going great, though. Quinn had Rachel on her team and even won points with the other girl by showing off her skills and pulling her back in the game. She even came up with a legitimate reason to have Rachel stand in front of her so she could…observe the other girl.
But Santana’s being pissy again, and Quinn knows something’s up the second Santana sends Brittany back to talk to Rachel.
She marches into the locker room and immediately heads over to Rachel’s locker, using what they learned in the mornings Future-Cheerio training to skillfully get through the lock hanging on the door.
But it’s not until Santana is pulling out her clothes that she can bring herself to act.
“What are you doing,” Quinn hisses at the other girl, “You’re going to get in trouble.”
“Please,” the other girl responds with a derisive eye roll, “As if any of the losers in here are going to tell on me.”
Quinn looks around the room at the averting eyes and the few faces full of malicious smirks and knows this is true.
“I don’t care,” she snaps at Santana, “Stop it anyways.”
Santana ignores her, walking over to the toilets still carrying Rachel’s clothes. Quinn trails after her, unsure of what to do.
She doesn’t want to let Santana do this, but what other option does she have. Is she really going to get into a huge fight with her “best friend” for some girl she barely knows?
“Santana,” she hisses again as Santana moves to enter a stall. Quinn can’t help herself. She reaches out and grabs at the other girls arm, gripping and pulling her away from the stall. “Leave her alone.”
Santana reacts immediately. Dropping the clothes on the floor, she does a quick turn and shoves at Quinn, pushing her slightly against the wall.
“Listen here, Fabray, let’s get one thing straight. You are not the boss of me. You are not the leader in this little show. Maybe it’s easier to let people think that, and, hell, maybe people do like you better. But you cannot tell me what to do or not to do. Just because you have some gay little crush on Midget McLoudmouth, doesn’t mean you can get between me and my revenge,” Santana snarls at her, voice low and angry.
Quinn stops as the words wash over her. This is why she can’t stand Santana. Everything is a power struggle and every word is criticism. A mean, awful, untrue criticism.
They’re alone by the toilets. Nobody was brave enough to follow the show, but Quinn knows that if she or Santana raised their voices, the sound would carry. So her retort is as quiet as Santana’s attack.
“Shut. Up. That’s disgusting. I’m not like that. Take it back!” she snarls, using her inch height advantage to look down at the other girl.
“Really, so you trying to stop me for some random stranger. Just being a good Samaritan. Please,” Santana sneers, not intimidated in the least, “And don’t give me that ‘we’re friends’ bullshit, because, as far as I can tell, you spend all your time staring at her from across the room, but do you ever actually talk. Either own up to it or get out of my way.”
So she does. She moves back to the main locker room, a harsh glare keeping the other students at bay, just in time to see Brittany slink into the room. Santana ambles back in soon enough, a self-satisfied look in place.
And then Rachel enters, looking more than a little confused.
Her attention is quickly averted to her locker, another confrontation happens, where Rachel just can’t seem to keep her mouth shut and lay low.
It’s horrible, though, what Santana is doing, but Santana keeps one eye on her the entire time. Quinn can’t help but wonder who else is watching her, who else is thinking the same thing Santana is thinking? Did anyone try and listen in on their conversation?
She laughs with the crowd, even though it feels physically painful to get the noise out.
She feels so guilty about it; she lets the other girl wear her cardigan the rest of the day.
It takes a while for her to get a thank you…and she really wishes she never got it.
Part 2