Green eyes watched as the snow fell to the ground. It was rather picturesque like a scene out of a novel. The snow was still powdery, and had not yet hardened as it tended to do. Quinn remembered the days when she would beg her parents to allow her to play outside in it. She spent hours in the snow, marveling at how magical it was. For it truly was a unique substance.

Now, she watched from the basement window of her baby's father's house, as the snow fell softly to the ground. A few months previous this would be the last place Quinn would imagine herself for the holidays. 2009 marked the first year she wouldn't be celebrating Christmas in her fifteen years of life.

Her baby's father happened to be Jewish, and his family did not associate at all with the Christian holiday. They were more of traditional Jews. They ate Kosher, practiced their holidays, and went to Temple every Saturday.

The only thing she was allowed to do was go to church, not that she was up to it. People in the congregation stared at her stomach. Their eyes often lingered a little too long. Her father pretended she did not exist, while her mother sent her sympathetic glances throughout morning services. Less people usually attended, which was why she sometimes forced herself to go early.

Everything went from sort of bad to complete purgatory when Rachel ousted her secret to Finn. She was thankful to the girl for telling the truth when she was unable, it still sucked to be living with the Puckermans. Puck was still a manwhore, and his mother hated her. She called her a shiksa. It was only after she asked Rachel, the only other Jew she somewhat associated with what it meant, that she felt truly offended.

His mother made it clear that she despised the idea of her carrying Puck's child. His sister Dahlia annoyed her to no end, always asking questions about the baby. She was fascinated by Quinn's protruding stomach. She hoped the baby would like her, and she was excited to be an aunt. She didn't care for Quinn much either way.

The home was unwelcoming and the people were awful. She wished she could go home. What home? She scoffed. Her father made it perfectly clear she wasn't welcome back, and her mother stood by silently and said nothing. At fifteen, she had no one. Puck was only doing it out of some sick fantasy in his head of them becoming a family.

She scowled at the very idea of ever accepting his hand in marriage. He disgusted her in the worst way possible. After discovering she was pregnant, she had a lot of time to think. The more she thought, the angrier she became. Puck waited until she was drunk on wine coolers and took advantage of her vulnerability. He knew she wanted to wait until marriage, yet he still took her virginity. He waited for an opportunity to take something from Finn. She was no better than a consolation prize to him.

Technically, she had consented, and to most, it was morning after regrets. But she remembered how she wanted to stop him during the act. She didn't want to make the mistake of him believing that she would leave her boyfriend for him.

She remembered the bitter sting of tears as they trailed down her cheeks, and how when he left afterwards, she curled up in a ball and cried. Not only was she drunk, she lost her virginity to somebody she didn't even care about.

Quinn desperately pretended as if the whole thing never happened until her period never came. Buying a pregnancy test was humiliating on so many levels, but it was the little plus sign that caused her entire world to come crashing down. Once news of her pregnancy spread throughout the school, kids turned on her instantly.

The former cheerleader wanted the baby to be born so she could get rid of her mistake. She cared for the baby in a way, but she wanted her life back. She wanted to be head cheerleader again. She wanted her parents to love her again.

Puck managed to keep his reputation, and in a way the pregnancy boosted it. All of the jocks slapped him on the back for getting into the Ice Queen's pleated skirt.

Yes, the snow reminded Quinn Fabray of everything she had lost.

Heaving herself up, she slowly ascended the stairs. It was the last day of school before break, and the pregnant teen was glad. She would be able to sleep, and she wouldn't see the pity and mirth in people's eyes as she walked by them in the halls. Also, she wouldn't receive any slushy baths for two weeks.

~~~~~JaSW~~~~~JaSW~~~~~JaSW~~~~~JaSW~~~~~

Glee club was the highlight of her day. Everywhere else she was invisible, not that it was much better with the Gleeks. They heaped praise upon Rachel and Finn for saving the day the other week during sectionals.

While it was technically Rachel's fault to some degree, most of it was Sue's. It made Quinn seethe with anger to watch everyone compliment Finn after he nearly ruined sectionals for them. As for Rachel, she wasn't as upset with her as she outwardly pretended. She was only doing the right thing, if only for the wrong reasons. And everyone could see she felt genuinely guilty about telling Finn.

Quinn watched as she doodled in her notebook. The initials ASF were scribbled over and over again. Quinn was curious about who the mysterious ASF was. As far as she knew, the Jewish girl was still fawning all over Finn.

"Rachel," she murmured with a soft tone. The girl froze and Quinn cursed herself. "Why aren't you joining in the singing with everyone?"

The tiny girl swiveled in her chair to face Quinn. Her eyes were wide and fearful. "You're talking to me?" She pointed to herself.

The blonde frowned. "I don't know anyone else named Rachel." She thought this might be the longest conversation she ever had with the girl.

"Right," she nodded thoughtfully. "I'm Jewish, and while one of my dad's is Christian, I don't celebrate Christmas." As if realizing her notebook was open, she quickly snapped it shut as her cheeks reddened.

"What were you doing?" Quinn thought her nervous behavior was just the teensiest bit strange.

Her eyes darted to the door and then back to Quinn as she considered possibly making a break for it. At least that's what it seemed like to Quinn. "Uh nothing, nothing at all."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yeah," she muttered sarcastically. "Seems like a whole lot of nothing if you snap your notebook shut. Who did the initials belong to?" She couldn't hide her apparent curiosity. She wasn't sure why the brunette fascinated her so much, but she craved any opportunity that caused close proximity between the two of them.

Rachel's eyes fell to her lap. "It was nothing. Just me messing around is all. I have to go. My dad should be here now. Have a great break Quinn. Again, I'm sorry about telling Finn."

Quinn waved off her apology. She was mostly over it. "It's alright Rachel."

However, it didn't feel that way as the brunette walked away from her. It felt strangely like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. She was never quite sure where her and Rachel stood in the grand scheme of things. There was always a push and pull, and it was confusing not only for her but Rachel too.

Her eyes roamed over the rest of the members of their rag tag club. They were being silly as they sung Christmas carols and exchanged gifts. No one noticed her, or the fact that Rachel had apparently left. It saddened her to think that no one detected that the most liveliest person was gone. She received a taste of what the other girl went through for probably most of her life, and she knew she wouldn't react in such a classy manner.

Sighing, she pushed herself up and decided to leave as well. There wasn't much for her to do, and all of the joy of the other members was making her depressed. All she longed for was her family.

Instead of heading immediately back to Puck's house, she made a detour to the Lima Bean. She wanted a hot chocolate, and Puck's mom bought the really cheap kind that tasted more like water than chocolate. "Hot chocolate for Quinn." The barista called. She smiled kindly and took the warm beverage. As the warm liquid touched her tongue, she moaned in delight. Her pregnancy cravings made her want things she hadn't had since she became a cheerleader.

It was still snowing out. The bitter sting of the cold caused a chill to run up her back, but she didn't mind too much. "Merry Christmas," a corner Santa greeted to people walking down the street. He winked at her when he caught her staring.

She ducked her head and was about to go to her car when she decided to give him some money. He was collecting for the Salvation Army. She placed a five dollar bill in his tin pan. "Thank you and Merry Christmas. Hope all your wishes come true this year." He winked at her again, and she brushed it off.

Back to the Puckerman's she went.

~~~~~JaSW~~~~~JaSW~~~~~JaSW~~~~~JaSW~~~~~

Quinn sighed as the morning light hit her eyes. It was a bit surprising though as the basement at the Puckerman's rarely ever received light. Then again, she couldn't remember falling asleep either, or how she got back to Puck's house. It was a giant blur in her memory.

The blonde couldn't remember having gaps in her memory before. As she rolled over, she couldn't help but notice that the bed was much softer than the one in the basement. The springs didn't creak at all, it was almost like there weren't any. She frowned because that couldn't be right.

Her pillow was feather soft. It wasn't lumpy and didn't have the damp smell she had grown accustomed to. Where was she? Her thoughts were going all over the place, and she had yet to open her eyes for fear of what would happen. Maybe someone has kidnapped me. The thought terrified her, but it was the only thing that made some semblance of sense to the blonde. It wasn't unheard of that someone kidnapped a pregnant woman and stole their baby. She clutched her stomach and frowned when she felt nothing but flatness. Where is my baby?

Quinn could hear footsteps in the hallways, but they were light and soft. There was no thumping. A similar pair followed behind.

The door then creaked open, and Quinn pulled the comforter closer as she curled into a ball. Two sets of feet travelled closer to her and she heard whispering.

"You wake her up." One whisper finally spoke.

"No, she's always grouchy." The other murmured in the softest tone.

"But mama said too." Quinn could tell by their voices that they were girls and young ones at that.

"Then you do it Athena. I don't want her to get mad at me. Don't you remember last time?" She sounded terrified at the prospect.

The other girl erupted in tiny giggles. "Mama said she was only being silly, Avery." She enunciated the other girl's name.

There was a huff. "Then why don't you want to wake her up Athena Charlotte?"

The way they were arguing reminded Quinn of siblings. Her and Frannie used to quarrel like that when they were young, but that was before she left and never came back.

"Because!" The other girl whined loudly. "I don't wanna Avery Sophia, besides mama told you to do it."

"Correction, she told us. So go," she felt a figure knock into the bed as if the girl was shoved.

"I'm going to tell mommy." She felt the bed shift as the girl climbed on. "Mommy," she roughly shook Quinn. "Mommy!" She squealed loudly. Quinn refused to respond in the slightest. "Avery, I think she's dead. MAMA!" She screeched at the top of her lungs causing the blonde to wince at the sound. Geez that kid has some lungs.

Quinn then heard the racing of footsteps on the stairs. The young girls' mother entered the room "Athena, what is it?" Quinn's eyes snapped open at the voice. It couldn't be.

"I think mommy is dead. She didn't move at all when I bounced on top of her or when I called her name." Quinn could picture this kid sticking out her bottom lip.

She heard the shuffling of feet and then a blonde head appeared in her line of sight. "Dufus, her eyes are open. Sometimes you are such a baby."

Quinn's eyes widened at the sight of the other girl. She had wild blond curls, but it was her eyes that were the most striking. They were the exact same shade of hazel as her own.

"Avery, don't call your sister names. It isn't nice. We've warned you about that before." If Quinn wasn't sure before, she was sure now. The voice that was oh so familiar belonged to one Rachel Berry.