AN: This is an alternate take on Nationals and the reason behind Quinn's transformation at the beginning of senior year. It starts out at Nationals and before school ended for the summer between their junior and senior year. I will get to the summer section in the next chapter. Enjoy!
Santana could feel Rachel slipping through her hands. She grunted – she honest to God grunted – and pulled a lunging Rachel backwards once more. Sam and Mike were sweating profusely. Their grip on the girl was at times no better than Santana's. She vaguely pondered if she looked as drained and uncomfortable as the boys. Her fingers fell away from Rachel completely. Quinn was in serious trouble now.
"How dare you, Quinn Fabray! You know how hard we've worked! And all for what? You to sabotage our chances because you're upset that Finn broke up with you!"
Rachel jerked forward. Santana quickly pivoted away from Rachel's dangling feet. The girl was using them as a weapon, intent on striking at Quinn in any way possible. But Quinn didn't seem to mind.
Santana was pretty sure she was going to get premature wrinkles over this whole ordeal. Her face creased into a frown for the umpteenth time since Quinn pulled her little on-stage shocker. Why the fuck was Quinn not fighting back? Or even saying anything?
Quinn's eyes never left the floor. Her feet shuffled against the carpet and her head was bent low. It was the most perfect "aw, shucks" gesture that Santana had ever seen. Quinn didn't look angry, only nervous and embarrassed.
One of Rachel's shoes flew through the air and landed with a soft thud mere inches from Quinn. Santana was surprised that Rachel hadn't lost her shoes earlier; such was the brunette's fury. Quinn swooped lower, picked up the shoe, and carefully – almost tenderly – placed it back on Rachel's foot. Mistake, Santana thought. And she was correct.
Rachel swung her foot upward and it connected with Quinn's face. Quinn's squeak of surprise and hurt would have been funny if not for the blood that immediately poured out of her nose. There was a flurry of movement around the room. Sam and Mike dragged Rachel toward the door. Finn followed behind them. Puck and Lauren steadied Quinn while Tina ran to the bathroom for tissues. Artie took out his phone to call Mr. Schue. And Brittany hid in a corner.
Santana instructed Quinn to tilt her head and pinch the bridge of her nose.
"Hurts too much," Quinn mumbled.
Tina came back and Santana grabbed the tissues from her. She gently squeezed Quinn's nose and winced when the blonde howled in protest.
"We have to stop the bleeding, Quinn. Don't be such a pussy."
Santana glanced around the room. Everyone still present looked both shocked and a little frightened.
"Everyone needz to exit stage left so that me and my girl can have a little chat." Santana shooed everyone out of the room with a flip of her hand. Brittany intuitively knew she was not part of the "everyone" that Santana wanted to leave. She sat down on the bed and hugged Quinn tightly while Santana doctored the wound.
Santana was fuming. All of this was over a simple kiss. She knew about Quinn's feelings for Rachel. It was no secret among The Unholy Trinity. While she had to admit that Quinn's timing was off, she knew it wasn't an act of sabotage on Quinn's part.
Quinn was surprisingly adept at reading Santana's mind. "I thought she might find it romantic. Me kissing her onstage."
Santana held in a sigh of frustration. It had been an irrational move on Quinn's part. She'd broken the choreography of Light Up the World. Glided over to Rachel – which was not the prearranged dance routine – as Finn turned his back on Rachel and walked toward the other Glee boys. The plan was that he'd face Rachel again and they'd clasp hands and finish the song together. But as soon as Finn stepped aside, Quinn moved in. She was the one to link her fingers with Rachel's. The kiss she planted on Rachel was nothing short of fierce and hungry.
"You could see that Rachel might not think your motives were pure. She doesn't know that you like her, like her."
"But last night, we both got in from sightseeing at the same time. We were lying in bed together talking when our fingers brushed together. And we were suddenly holding hands. Holding hands, Santana! It was as if it were by instinct. We didn't let go until dawn. I thought, maybe, she has feelings for me."
"Instead of asking her how she felt about you…you decided to kiss her onstage? In front of hundreds of people? You know, like the judges and our competition?"
"I should see if she's all right."
"Uh…I think you should give her time to calm down. And for your nose to stop gushing. You are not painting the most attractive picture of yourself right now."
Quinn dropped her shoulders in defeat and allowed her two best friends to put her back together again.
(Break)
But the next morning seemed to bring new life into Quinn Fabray. On the flight back from New York, Quinn sat sullenly beside Santana in their assigned seats for the first half of the trip. But, after Santana returned from the restroom, Brittany was sitting in what used to be Quinn's seat. Santana shot her girlfriend a quizzical look.
"Quinn promised to go motocross racing with me if I switched with her. Plus, this way we can be together and Quinn can be with Rachel."
As if Brittany had summoned some malevolent force by the sheer mention of Rachel's name, the brunette's tirade against Quinn suddenly roared back in its full-fledged glory. It started with Rachel's usual accusations of sabotage and Quinn's lowered head. Rachel's voice rose octave by octave until a flight attendant and Mr. Schue intervened.
And Rachel was bumped to first class for the rest of the flight. Santana believed this was already going to cause the diva to turn into MAXIMUM DIVA.
Quinn spent the rest of the flight staring morosely out the window of the plane. Santana considered her somewhere between totally whipped and extremely annoying.
And it didn't stop there. Quinn insisted on helping Rachel remove her very heavy luggage from baggage claim. Rachel adamantly refused. Quinn reached for Rachel's bags anyway, which simply turned into a tug-of-war between the two girls that ended when Quinn fell heavily to the ground and twisted her ankle.
Santana stormed over. "Enough!"
"I agree," said Rachel, before heaving her bag from the floor and dashing out of the airport.
When Quinn was able to gingerly walk on her ankle a little steadier, Santana spoke out.
"You need to stay away from Rachel."
"I can't! I like her. We held hands!"
"You sound pathetic right now. Since when is handholding that big of a deal?"
"On some levels, Santana, it's as big a deal as having sex without considering it dating."
Santana would have punched Quinn at that point if not for two things. The first was that Quinn had suffered enough injuries in the past twelve hours. Plus, right when Santana started her rant, Brittany broke her silence.
"Quinn is simply a kitten's mitten."
Santana smiled lovingly at the girl. "I think you mean smitten kitten, Brittany."
Brittany just shrugged and even Quinn smiled. Slightly.
"Just give her some breathing room, Q. Okay?"
Quinn's answer was noncommittal. Santana thought that was probably a bad omen.
And she was correct.
The next day at school, Quinn brought Rachel flowers and two tickets to the ballet. Rachel simply threw the flowers in the trash, tore the tickets right in front of Quinn's face, and Santana watched as the confetti fell to the floor and scattered across the hallway.
Santana sauntered over toe Quinn and said, "I am not only going to repeat that you have to stay away from Rachel, I am going to make sure you pay the consequence each time you do. And I consider this your last warning. Give me one hundred dollars."
"Uh…no."
"Uh…yes. Every time you try to talk to Rachel, buy her gifts, or whatever other shit to try to pull, you have to pay your dues. So, give me a hundred dollars."
Quinn pulled two fifties out of her bag and reluctantly handed them over to Santana.
(Break)
That night, Santana deposited her new found wealth in a jar she'd labeled Troll Toll, in honor of Rachel.
She earned another hundred when Quinn brought Rachel a stack of vegan recipes the next day. It might not have been so bad had not Quinn stated that she'd stayed up nearly all night trying to find really, really good ones. Stalker much, Santana wondered.
Yet after stashing her second hundred in her Troll Toll jar, Santana realized that, perhaps, money wasn't the best solution. Quinn's family was wealthy. She could probably afford to pay off Santana for months.
Santana spent the next few hours pondering what mattered the most to Quinn besides Beth, Rachel, and good grades. And then it hit her! Her hair. Santana Lopez had never seen a girl more obsessed with her hair than Quinn. The amount of products she used was astonishing. Quinn loved her long hair, the light bounce of its curls, its lustrous quality.
One evening over dinner at Breadstix, Santana told Quinn she was going to cut her hair if she so much as went near Rachel again. It was painfully clear that the girl wanted nothing to do with Quinn, Santana patiently reminded her friend.
"I wouldn't let you cut my hair!"
"We won't have to worry about it, now will we? 'Cause you are going to stay away from Rachel. Right?"
Quinn looped her fingers around her curls and said nothing.
(Break)
Santana almost brought scissors with her to school the next day. She should have known she'd need them as soon as she noticed Quinn covertly make her way to Rachel's locker.
What came next was too bizarre for Santana to fathom.
Quinn stood close to Rachel, squared her shoulders, and intoned: "Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad. Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed."
"Is she speaking Avatar?" Brittany whispered. Santana hushed her so she could better make out Rachel's response.
"Quinn, how do you know about the Shema?"
Quinn looked proud of herself. "I've been brushing up on my Judaism. I want to learn more about your religion."
Rachel took two steady but quick steps back from Quinn. "That's not necessary, but thank you just the same."
And with that Rachel slammed her locker shut and made her way to class. Quinn appeared crestfallen, especially after seeing Santana and Brittany make their way over to her. She pulled five twenties from her bag and thrust them at Santana.
"Oh, no, no, no. Haircut, Fabray, you keep breaking the rules. Money won't cut it anymore. You knew what would happen if we caught you again: Hair-fucking-cut."
"This is a really drastic step."
"Since when was a haircut drastic? We're not giving you a Mohawk so you can look more like your Baby Daddy. Howz about you come on over to the Lopez mansion around six-ish?"
"How short, though? Are we just talking about a trim?"
Santana and Brittany exchanged glances. "More like cutting quite a bit off."
"I never agreed to any of this!"
"Uh…yeah, you kinda did the moment you started paying us money as a way to curtail your sickening desire to crawl inside Rachel's pants. Or, in her case, under her skirts."
"But I really want her to know I wasn't trying to get back at anyone at Nationals."
"It's too late for that. Agree to this haircut or I'll let Britt-Britt go all Edward Scissorhands on you."
Quinn's mouth lodged open in incredulity. "What if I promise not to talk to Rachel for – I don't know – a month or so?"
"Too late. When you start learning foreign languages to impress a girl who wants to pretend you don't even inhabit the same world, you've already gone too far."
Santana patted Quinn on the back and said, "Bring us over some Chinese take-out on your way to my house."
