AN: Pretty much a story that may or may not be continued.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or anything you may recognize.
There's something about her that Quinn Fabray can't seem to put her finger on. There's something off- nothing noticeable- nothing abnormal- just something different.
It was the first day of high school when she had first seen the tiny, weirdly dressed girl. A simple bumping of elbows as each reached for a paper towel in the second floor bathroom at the same time. She had said 'Sorry,' then moved on with her day while Quinn stood still for a moment and watched her leave.
This encounter was simply the first of many where she would find herself alone in the bathroom with Rachel Berry. The second time was another chance encounter- while the next three were because of her doing.
Of course, the petite girl hadn't known that; which was why she had nearly befriended Quinn Fabray.
Her pursue had come to a sudden halt after she had learned from her few friends she had that the 'Cheerios' weren't the best people to become friends with. She endured slushy after slushy to the face and clothes, but never once did she stop to think who was behind it; which meant the shock she had felt when she learned Quinn was the one to order the first slushies to the face was a complete full-system shock. She had almost cried, almost confronted the girl, almost stopped coming to school.
She endured the name-calling because it only happened a few time; she ignored the fact that she had to wash nearly twice the amount of clothes each week; she learned to deal with it.
Before her four years of high school, she knew she'd get away from the slushies and status-clinging teens when she would graduate and move on. However, she didn't expect one chance encounter on her first day to have the impact of changing her life.
"I'd like to join the Trouble Tones."
"I'll," she catches the slight pause in the voice of her biological mother's, "have to think about it."
There's an awkward silence from inside the room until she hears Quinn's consent and the telltale sign of footsteps approaching her hiding spot from just outside the classroom. Busying herself with taking down one of her own class president fliers that is hanging just outside the classroom, she watches out of the corner of her eye as blonde hair walks out of the classroom.
"Hi, Quinn." She says hopefully, her hands tugging at the poster until she realizes she can't get it down.
"Hi." Her reply is distracted until she realizes its Rachel's. Walking over to the brunette, Quinn stops and watches Rachel's hands fumble with the two tacks on the top corners of the poster.
"Finn helped me put them up." She's explains, embarrassed now at the fact that even when she's stretching to reach the tacks, her fingertips fall short.
"Need help?" Quinn smirks, easily reaching up and pulling the poster free. It falls into Rachel's waiting hands.
"Thank you."
It's a weird friendship they have- it's almost non-existent. But, Rachel finds hope with this little encounter as she watches Quinn walk away without another word.
It's been a while since she heard 'Man-hands' from the slightly husky voice of the blonde.
"Please, Rachel. I'm all for accepting who you are," Kurt's eyes are glued to the college application he's filling out as the two of them sit in a secluded corner of the Lima Bean. "But, seriously? Of all people, Quinn?"
"I don't know why, Kurt. It isn't as if I haven't tried the obvious ways to get rid of what I'm feeling." She wants to just fling her arms up in the air and make a quick, yet elegant, storm-out; instead, she busies herself in fiddling with the plastic cover on the top of her drink. "I just- it's just, I have all these feelings, and I know there's something there."
"Yeah," he chuckles humorlessly, "The chance that she'll hurt you."
He finally looks up and sees the conflicted face and his gaze softens to one of understanding.
"Listen, Rachel," he sighs, leaning back in his chair and setting down his pen. "You know that I would be the one all for a fairytale ending in situations like this but, I just don't think you should open your heart up that much to her."
She knows he's right, but she also knows that what she's feeling isn't something that will go away.
"What do I do then, Kurt?" she's almost begging him as though he has all the answers to her life.
"Well," He takes a sip from his own drink in order to find the right words. "I think you should seriously take a step back for a bit- look at the bigger picture. I mean, can you look into the future and see her opening up to you when she hasn't opened up to anyone? Do you really think that just because you have these feelings for her that she'll magically turn to you?"
"Well, I haven't exactly looked into the future," she sighs. "Usually my sixth sense kicks in when I'm not expecting it."
Discreetly rolling his eyes, Kurt turns to look out the window and towards the half-empty parking lot.
"Blaine should be coming soon. Why don't you ask him for advice?"
Sighing again, Rachel leans forward and puts her chin into her hand.
'The road to love was never easy.' She muses as Blaine greets Kurt with a hug and Rachel with a smile.
"Today, all of you will be reading your pieces of poetry with a partner. No, Brett, that doesn't mean you can be your own partner." The teacher looks sternly at the obviously half-baked boy who had begun to move his chair to sit in front of the full-length mirror resting on a cabinet door before scooting back to the table.
"I'll be choosing partners; you'll share your poem, and then find ways to mix your poems together to make one that makes sense."
There seems to be a sudden intake of breath as the class watches the teacher pull out her gradebook and start naming off pairings.
"Nickelhoff with Jensen."
"Barklin, you're with Homeland."
"Fabray-" Quinn freezes at the sound of her name.
'Please don't say-'
"You'll be with Berry."
'Dang.'
Quinn sighs at her luck before turning to look for Berry in the class of twenty-four. She spots her in the far corner near the window and sighs before grabbing her bag and book and maneuvering between the chairs.
"Hi, Quinn." Rachel smiles up at the blonde before scooting over so Quinn can pull a chair from a vacant computer that sits at the back of the room. "I'm hoping you actually did the assignment?"
"Not yet." Quinn grimaces, "I was hoping I would get someone who would do the whole thing for me."
Surprised, Rachel nods before turning to pull out her own notebook from her bag. She brushes off the non-existing dirt and lightly turns the pages before coming to a stop at a rather lengthy-looking poem.
"Well, I have composed my own poem days ago, and was hoping to not have to do this assignment by myself."
"It isn't that I don't do work, Berry. I just didn't feel like doing work this week."
It's an awkward silence after her biting tone, and Quinn feels that something again when she sees the hurt on the petite girl's face. Only this time, it's stronger than she had ever remembered it being before.
"Sorry." She mumbles, eyes looking down at the old, worn-out table.
"I'm sorry, too. I just assumed that you didn't do any homework at all because of how far you probably got behind during when you had taken to smoking under the bleachers for that month."
"I did get far behind, but I should be able to pass my classes with B's, at least."
"You'll get a fresh start next semester so you're chances for getting into college won't be ruined."
"Who said I'm going to college?"
The semi-pleasant conversation they had started had suddenly become another argument and Rachel wasn't quite sure what to say.
"Sorry," she's slightly scared now by the look on Quinn's face. "I think I should just stop assuming things until you tell me."
"You're right on that one, Berry."
Her biting tone twists something inside of Rachel and she realizes that her hopes of getting Quinn to open up to her are diminishing with every question she shouldn't ask.
"We can finish this outside of class, when you get your poem done?" her sentence turns into a question and she sighs in relief when Quinn nods.
"Do you want to meet outside of school? My dad's aren't usually home, and I can pick you up if you're worried about driving all the way to my house."
Quinn finds herself nodding before saying she'll come by Rachel's house tonight.
"Are you sure you'll be able to write a poem by to-?" Rachel stops herself when she notices Quinn's hand clenching in her lap. "Sorry. I'll be home."
Quinn knows she probably shouldn't be so quick to get mad. But she can't really help it no matter how hard she tries to control herself.
"I'll be there."
It's close to six when Rachel hears a knock on the front door. She tries to peek through the peephole before giving up and moving to the window that sits on the side of the door. She only catches a glimpse of blonde hair before she's wrenching open the door and smiling widely up to Quinn.
"I didn't think you'd come." She confesses, moving to let Quinn come inside.
"Well, I can't believe I'm here if that makes you feel any better." Quinn smiles this time, taking her shoes off before following Rachel into the kitchen.
"Are you hungry or thirsty?"
"Water?"
Quinn watches as Rachel fills up a glass of filtered water before handing it to her. She drinks it quickly before noticing Rachel's eyes on her.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" Quinn hurriedly begins to swipe at her face until she notices Rachel giggling.
"No, you don't. I'm just amused that you managed to drink that whole cup in less than twenty seconds."
Blushing, Quinn averts her eyes and notices the stack of unopened letters sitting on the clean table.
"So, where are your dads?"
There's a heavy silence as Rachel tries to think of something to say. She silently chastises herself for not having the proper excuse ready but then realizes she never really had to have an excuse until now. It's not like people were knocking down her door and trying to find out why her parents were never home.
"They went somewhere, I think in England. They'll be back this weekend."
"Oh." It's all Quinn can say; she doesn't want to force Rachel into telling her the truth when she's obviously lying, but she's also curious as to why her simple question isn't receiving the truth.
"We should probably get started on that poem. We can work downstairs in the living room."
Quinn follows quietly behind Rachel as they go into the living room.
"Your house is nice." Quinn says, slightly eager to fill the awkward silence with small talk.
"Thanks." Rachel says, pulling her bag out from under the coffee table and pulling out her notebook.
They work late, almost until nine o'clock, and until Quinn gets a call from her mother saying she should get home. It's nearly awkward when Rachel lets Quinn out of the house. She prayed that it wouldn't be the next time Quinn Fabray came over.
"If she ever comes back over." Rachel says to the empty house as she shuts the door behind her. She sighs before locking the door and beginning to turn the lights out on the floor level of the house. Climbing the steps, she averts her eyes away from the hanging pictures and proceeds to her room. It's slightly chilly and she realizes she should probably turn the thermostat up in the morning as she changes into more comfortable clothes before sliding into her bed. Her eyes turn to the small cellphone she had taken to leaving beside her bed on the bedside table. Tears begin to prick behind her eyes before she rolls over and falls into slightly fitful dreams of hearing her phone ring and having a conversation with her fathers.
When she wakes in the morning, she checks her phone and tries to desperately disregard the sadness that twists her heart in all directions when she hasn't received a missed phone call. Surely she wouldn't have to wait another month before getting a quick 'How are you? We'll be back next month,' would she?