Chapter 1: Black
The memory of the dead forms of her parents had mercifully blurred with time, only garish and exaggerated in her nightmares.
Most of the memories of that first day had, in fact. Those rare times when, for whatever reason Quinn Fabray found herself thinking about that first day she remembered most was the vivid brilliant white ceiling of her bedroom as she stared up at it from her bed...
Quinn lay there and listlessly looked at the ceiling as she tried to muster enough will to get out of bed and do something. Read a book. Sketch. Hang out with her Skanks. Anything to get out of the house -she could hear things breaking downstairs.
Her parents were fighting.
Again.
Likely about Russell's little-tattooed friend. Quinn had tried her best to stop caring about Russell when he kicked her out over a year ago now. She certainly did not care about his tattooed freak of a girlfriend or whatever the woman was -at least the woman helped make it easier to not care about Russell so her existence wasn't totally pointless. It was harder to not care about her mom. Quinn tried so hard to not care about what her mother must be feeling...about mistakes, love, and problems that could not be solved with too much alcohol.
Judy Fabray had invited Russell back into the house, so her mom can deal with him on her own. Quinn wouldn't be comforting her mother or trying to put the pieces back together of her family. The Fabray family had broken, and nothing Quinn could do would change that. The best Quinn could do was build her own family, and be better than her parents ever were. Of course, Quinn was still a screw-up and had given away her chance at any of that.
Beth.
Her daughter.
Her perfect baby, the first piece to her puzzle, was here, right here in Lima, and Shelby Corcoran wouldn't let Quinn see her until Quinn went back to blonde hair, sundresses, and headbands.
Shelby insisted that Quinn as she was; a pink haired skank, who didn't give a damn, wasn't who Quinn really was. And she wasn't someone that right now Shelby wanted around Beth.
As if Shelby knew Quinn. As if anyone did.
Quinn wasn't that girl. Hadn't ever actually been that girl, not really. She had molded herself into a perfect clone of her sister, of her mother, meant for the same path they had already carved. Quinn Fabray was caving her own path now.
Shelby couldn't just come into town, making demands, giving Quinn a long list of requirements just so Quinn could be allowed a few precious minutes with the child she had given birth to.
Right now it was all Quinn could do to get out of bed, even though according to the clock on her nightstand that, bleary-eyed, and squinting because her contacts weren't in, said it was nearly three pm. That late, and she was still in bed.
Day three of her senior year and she was already skipping school. A small smirk played on her lips; she was pretty sure when she bothered to find her phone, she'd have a message or five from her fellow Skanks about that. She highly doubted any of them had skipped more than a class yet. Always the leader, no matter if she was a cheerleader or a skank.
She had spent the summer getting away from who she had been trying to be. She had a henna tramp stamp, pink hair, and had even dated a forty-year-old skateboarder. A skateboarder she'd only broken up with a few days before, thankful to use the start of school as her excuse.
Joining the Skanks, a group of bad girls who weren't anything like the Cheerios or New Directions had been a good way to help her get away from most of herself. She'd wanted time to think, wanted space to move a little in the box she was trapped in and it turned out it had been the best thing she could have done. The fact that it pissed off Russell was just an added bonus.
The Skanks were honest, if not outright blunt. They knew who they were, and more importantly, who they weren't. None of them were destined for Broadway, or being the first female President of the United States of America, or even much more than Lima's dinky community college with a slight chance of transferring to a third rate state college years from now. If at all.
They didn't give a crap what anyone else thought.
Quinn was still, even if she was careful not to show it, a little surprised they had so readily accepted her.
But maybe that was the thing about high school, with a little effort you could move almost seamlessly from a higher social group to a lower one if you were willing to deal with the consequences. Dye your hair pink, quitting the national trophy winning cheerleading squad, and ditching your best friends showed a certain commitment to not caring what anyone else thought. Maybe they had liked that.
On the other hand, maybe it amused them to see a former head cheerleader in their midst.
Whatever it was, it didn't matter now.
The Skanks were the type of girls that, once you earned their friendship, once you proved you could handle hanging out with them, proved that you could keep their secrets -well, they were loyal in their own way. They might make out with your boyfriend, but only to prove to you that he was a cheating ass and you deserved better. It would take a lot for them to give up on her. She liked that security.
She also liked that being a skank meant you could do whatever the hell you wanted. If you got caught, you dealt with the consequences without whining, because you probably got what you deserved anyway.
Quinn stared at the blurry pint of half melted Ben & Jerry's cookie dough ice-cream on her dresser she had woken up and grabbed out of the freezer this morning. Usually, a pint of ice-cream was a rare treat she always ate quickly, fearful that someone would come in and find her huddled over the carton, spoon gripped tightly, shoveling the creamy confection into her mouth; then later, she'd frantically add miles to her morning run to make up for it, even as she could feel the calories going to her thighs and stomach. But today she hadn't even been bothered to finish the pint, just curled up and went back to sleep after a few bites.
Quinn Fabray just didn't care about being the best, any more, about being good enough, about stepping out of her sister's perfect shadow. That wasn't who she was anymore. She still cared about the weight; she would never let herself get fat again. Never. And she could muster up caring about her friends, most days. She even usually replied to Brittany and Santana's texts, even though she had told them they'd grown apart. She hadn't meant it, not really.
Santana was still reeling from being kicked out of glee club, and while she wasn't admitting it, she was moping. Moping and a little pissed at Quinn and a lot pissed at Mercedes because Mercedes had joined Shelby's still un-named glee group, all while being a major bitch about the New Directions if Santana's texts were any indication.
Brittany was…Brittany. Last time Quinn had spoken to her, Brittany had been talking about trying to lure a leprechaun to her house. Brittany was the one person Quinn though she'd know her whole life, almost from the moment they first met when Brittany had told Quinn her favorite clouds were bunny shaped ones.
Quinn wiggled around, pulling her flannel pajama bottoms up, and her tank top down. She lay for a moment, her limbs askew, now glaring at the ceiling as her father's bellow of anger came up from the first floor of the house. Shifting, she sniffed her armpit and recoiled away, the heavy smell of her body odor seemed to linger in her nose.
With a heavy sigh, she rolled sluggishly out of her bed, adjusting her clothes again. Stretching, she blinked, quickly deciding against putting her contacts in, and made her way downstairs to get her phone and iPod out of next year's dark pink Volkswagen Bug her father had gifted her when he had returned home in all his glory.
Her parents were in the dining room, and Quinn couldn't bring herself to look at them with the knowledge that they had been fighting, again. The fruit basket upside down on the floor, banana's fallen around it, made it evident that their fight had started in the kitchen.
A burning anger at her mother went through her, and not for the first time, she wondered what had made Judy Fabray take back her father. Loneliness? Love? The alcohol that never left Judy's grasping hand?
Her bare feet felt cold on the cement of the garage bringing her to the present. Her bug was next to her mother's Ford Escape Hybrid, also a 2012 and a gift from Russell. Quinn felt annoyed at herself for the shot of satisfaction that went through her when she noticed that her mom had remembered to both shut the doors and turn off the headlights. Usually, her mom was so tipsy she didn't do both.
Opening her driver side door, she leaned in and grabbed her iPod and phone from the front seat. Shaking her head at her own stupidity for forgetting them yesterday, and her own laziness for not getting out of bed and getting it until now, she wrapped the headphones cord around the iPod, then she clutched both in her hand. Sparing a look inside the rest of her car, and not finding anything else she wanted to bring with her, she stepped outside the car and closed the door.
Her stomach growled. She was used to that, all current and former Cheerios were, but figured she may as well eat a snack before her shower.
Stepping into the kitchen and closing the door behind her, she put the water on the counter and opened the fridge. Yawning, she closed it and reluctantly turned toward the dining room.
"Mom, do we have any-" The words stopped in her throat. "Mom?" She whispered finally, forcing the word out as she stared at her parents, at the sight in front of her. She had expected them to be pretending, as they usually did, that they hadn't just had a fight. Pretending that everything was perfect and wonderful, that they were one big happy family.
Her mother looked puffy and bloated, red -like a bad sunburn, covered her body. One sleeve of the loose wool cardigan her mother wore was torn off, showing Quinn a rancid-looking bite mark that was almost delicate on her mother's arm, if not for the dark red, almost blackish thick liquid seeping from it. Broad lines of black pus leaked a trail to the dining room floor, mingling with the dark red, almost blackish thick liquid that seeped from parts of the wound.
A dark red liquid oozed from her mother's eyes, a mockery of tears as her mom clutched one of her father's legs, gnawing on it like a dog with a bone. Bright red blood obscenely covered the older woman's chin and lower face, dripping down the front of the wool cardigan. Against her will, her mother's voice inside her head snottily pointed out that it would need to a long soak in cold water to get the stain out.
Even subjected to zombie video games and movies from Puck, Finn, and Sam when she was dating them, the occasional horror movie marathon with Santana & Britt, and Coach's mandatory End of the World training -Quinn was frozen. She stood there, in shock, staring.
"Mom, stop!" She finally interrupted the sound of her mother's feast with a frantic bawl. Dazed, she thought about band-aids and 911, as she stepped forward towards her parents, to help by doing what -she wasn't sure. She had to do something, despite the coldness seeping through her body, or the fact it felt like her limps had weights attached to them.
Her mom, surprisingly, did stop. Her mom stared at Quinn for a moment, before dropping her husband's leg. With a growl, Judy stood up unsteadily, before half lunging at Quinn, the blood on her face flinging droplets around.
Quinn stood there, "Mom?" she asked. Realization at the sight came to Quinn, and zombie movie and games finally caught up with her. This was not her mother anymore. With a sob, Quinn turned and ran as fast as she could up the stairs and into her father's office.
Closing the door behind her, she turned the lock, well aware that what remained of her mother was fast behind her. She hurriedly tossed her phone and iPod on her dad's solid oak desk, then shoved the desk against the door, grunting with the effort. Just in case, she grabbed a golf club from the bag resting in the corner.
Her relationship with God was even worse than her relationship with her parents, but as she entered the code to her dad's safe she still prayed she wouldn't have to club to death that thing wearing her mother's face.
The code was wrong. Quinn cursed, and she realized he must have changed it. As the growls, moans, and thuds against the door continued, she tried every combination she could think of. Her parents wedding anniversary, everyone's birthdays, her sister's wedding date, the date of his biggest business deal, the date her mom let him move back in. Finally, as she heard the wood in the door crack, as her mother relentlessly threw her body against it, in frustration she entered "123456".
With a click, the safe door popped open. Holding her breath, she carefully grabbed the sixteen shot Glock 22 her dad kept, along with the opened box of bullets that sat in front of the another unopened box of ammo. The gun was loaded, and after releasing the safety she pointed it at the door.
Her mother's walking corpse burst into the room. She stumbled in, then walked right into Russell's desk. The holdup gave Quinn, with tears in her eyes, time to fire the gun three times. One shot hit her mother in the head, almost directly between her eyes, and the others hit the door jam and wall.
Sagging against the wall, she slid down until she was sitting on the floor. Quinn sat there, staring at her mother's corpse, tears streaming down her eyes, ears ringing.
Was this her punishment? She had premarital sex with her boyfriend's best friend, gotten pregnant, and then given the baby away when she had known in her heart she should have kept her. That her daughter had been her responsibility. Then she had cheated on a boyfriend, again. Then during the summer she had dated a forty-year-old skateboarder and had more premarital sex. Then she had made out with another girl. And enjoyed it.
She was an awful friend, girlfriend, person, and mother. This had to be God's way of punishing her, and others like her, wasn't it?
She started sobbing, tears streaming down her face, uncaring about the noise she was making. Crying like she hadn't cried since she was ten and found out her favorite pair of grandparents had died in a car crash. Or the time she was six and her puppy had...run away.
Her angrily growling stomach brought her out of her sobbing. She needed to eat something, and then…she took several deep breaths, trying to think. But no thoughts would come to her, just the fact that her mother was dead. Her mother was dead and gone and it hadn't been the booze her mother had loved more than all of them. It hadn't been the booze, it had been Quinn and a rancid bite mark.
She choked out another sob, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall, trying to take deep breaths to get a hold of herself.
She needed to remember Coach Sue's compulsory End of World Training. The woman had insisted that every head of the Cheerios had gone through it; Quinn had distinctly remembered thinking Coach Sylvester was full of crap but hadn't argued much when the woman had demanded three weeks of Quinn's summer for the training. She had forced Quinn to run more than Quinn usually did, to practice shooting, to practice with a bow and arrow, to learn all sorts of things Quinn was sure she'd never, ever have to use.
Most of it was forgotten by now, but just focusing on Coach Sue's frowning face helped calm her down a little.
Their friendship hadn't even been a month old, yet Santana had still mocked Quinn endlessly about all the fun summer times Quinn was missing out on. Quinn had gotten her back afterwards, during the last few days of Cheer camp. Santana had respected her for the payback, and that's when their friendship had started again -this time for real, instead of Santana (along with Brittany) latching on to her because she was the clear choice for Captain. Frannie had told her that she didn't need friends, just minions...Santana and Brittany hadn't been the first to approach her, but they'd been the most interesting.
Quinn's lip curled up in a snarl, and she barked out a short, bitter laugh. Who would have thought that Coach Sue had been right?
Her phone rang.
She furrowed her brows, confused for a moment at the utterly normal sound of a phone ringing, before realizing that she had a call that she should answer.
Carefully, she stood up, trying not to look at her mother's body as she went to the desk, and picked up her phone.
Silently, she hit answer and vaguely she recognized the voice of the forty-year-old skateboarder she had only broken up with a week ago.
"Quinn, I'm not forty. I mean, I know everyone looks ancient to teenagers but damn," he said, and she realized she must have said that out loud. "I'm just calling to see if you're okay…like I know you broke up with me, but I really care about you, I think we had a connection. If you don't want to evacuate with your parents, you'll be eighteen in a few months, you can come with me-"
She ended the call silently. At the moment, she couldn't even remember his name, or what had drawn her to him. What she could summon up about him a vague memory of herself inhaling his masculine scent as she laid on her back in the rear of his mom's SUV, staring out the window at the stars as she pretended to enjoy herself. As she tried desperately to convince herself that this was right, that she was enjoying coupling with this man, that she wouldn't feel guilty for having sex out of wedlock, that she was happy and content, that she wouldn't be lying through her teeth when she told him afterwards she wanted to do it again as soon as he was ready.
He didn't matter.
What they had, whatever it had been, didn't matter either.
She stared at her phone for a moment, before shoving it and her iPod in the pocket of her pajama bottoms. She picked up the gun from where it had slipped from her hands, the cold weight of it bringing the deep need everyone had inside of them to ensure their own safety -the lizard brain left over from our ancestors to the forefront of her thoughts. She needed to get her things, and leave.
Then she'd…she'd do what, exactly?
If the world was ending, she didn't want to spend it with Coach Sylvester and whatever Cheerios the woman had collected. That was assuming her former cheerleading coach accepted her into the underground bunker she was no doubt hiding at, let alone if Quinn could remember the location she had only half-heartedly memorized.
She….she would figure it out after she showered and got dressed and packed a bag.
She put the opened box of bullets in her other pajama pocket, then stepped into the hallway and down the stairs lightly, holding the gun shakily in both hands.
The crashing noise of something falling downstairs reminded Quinn she had two parents. She'd tried so hard to stop loving her father, once he'd made it clear he didn't love her, not enough to stand by her when things got tough. Not enough to stop seeing his tattooed freak, even when they were supposed to be putting the past behind them, when they were supposed to be a family again.
He was still her father, her dad; still the man that would read her bedtime stories, still the man that would let her stay up late watching old black and white westerns, still the man that would always put a Band-Aid on her after her sister had shoved her down, still the man that had taken her hunting, the man that had turned a blind eye to the extra cupcake she'd take, the man who taught her to shoot a gun, and the man who had let her get cosmetic surgery done at thirteen because she wanted to be like her big sister.
He hadn't done any of that in a long long while, she knew. He had disappointed her when she needed him most, had betrayed her.
But the little girl was inside of her…the little Lucy Quinn who thought her parents were heroes, that they could keep the monsters away. Lil' Lucy Quinn was still a part of her, and she wanted to go downstairs and find her dad was somehow okay.
Licking her lips, she took a deep breath as tears pushed their way down her cheeks. She crept through the hall, dreading what she would find with each step she forced herself forward.
Taking another deep breath, she stepped into the kitchen and stared at the dining room.
Her father looked bloated, his sickly red rashy looking skin contrasted with the blackish liquid running from his eyes.
He growled when he saw her and tried to stand up. His ruined leg stopped him from doing more than stumbling up weakly, then falling forward.
She watched him do this over and over, unable to bring herself to do more than stare at what her father had been reduced to. Her mother had saved her, some small part of Quinn realized dimly. If it had been her father's arm, instead of leg...
Unable to take it anymore, she aimed, then looked away as she fired the rest of the bullets in the gun at her father. When the gun clicked empty, she looked at him. All she saw was the pile of unrecognizable mush that was her father's head.
She shouldn't have looked, she realized, as she leaned over, the gun plummeting from her hands as she started to puke.
She threw up, hunched over on her hands and knees until there was nothing but bile coming up. The tears were streaming freely down her face when she finally stopped, and, drained, she stood up.
She wanted to go back upstairs to her room, to crawl into bed and sleep until she woke up from this nightmare.
Robotically, she picked up the gun, turned from what remained of her father, and went upstairs.
When she was in her room, she tossed the gun on her bed and stripped her clothes off. Leaving them in an untidy pile, she made her way into her ensuite bathroom, when she immediately went to the shower and cranked the water on, then stepped in.
She winced as the icy water hit her back. She felt a little bit calmer, a little more in control.
Resisting her urge to turn the warm water on, she quickly scrubbed and washed up.
Alert now, she stepped out of the shower and stood dripping wet in front of the counter to brush her teeth. Once she was done, she left the bathroom. In her bedroom, she quickly dried off enough to pull on a pair of jeans, t-shirt, a long sleeve over shirt, sports bra, and a pair of knee length motorcycle boots over thick socks. She finished by putting on a leather jacket, then sat on her bed just staring at the blind-covered window, before moving her gaze around her bedroom.
Finally, she dug her phone and iPod from her pajama bottoms. She tossed her iPod on her bed, then opened up her phone, and ignoring her voice mail and texts, scrolled through her contact list till she found Mack's name.
It rang and rang until finally, Mack answered.
"What?" Quinn's throat felt dry. Before she could bring herself to say anything, Mack added, "Q, if this is a tearful call to me saying you're dying I'm going to kick your ass."
Quinn whispered, "No. My parents are dead."
A moment of silence, then, "Shit. Sorry. I know that…well…look, I'm sorry Q. "
Not wanting to think about it, Quinn licked her lips, then said, "What'd I miss at school?"
"Nothing much. Figgins announced we'd be let out a few hours early, and for everyone to go straight home, there was an emergency. Figured it must have been some shit going down because Ronnie didn't show up to school, then texted me saying her family was going to her uncle's place this morning. Probably texted you too."
"I haven't even looked at my messages yet."
Mack snorted, "Figured that since I sent you a shitload of texts. Ron said she'd try to talk her family into letting us join them, if shits really hitting the fan, but not to hold our breaths."
"And Sheila?"
"Yeah, texted me after I dropped her off. I had Mother's car today, thank fuck. All foster parents in the area were ordered to take their kids and go to Wright-Patterson."
"So it's not just Lima?"
"No. It's worldwide. No one knows what the fuck. They're saying either stay in your house, go to an evacuation center, or if shit's really screwed up, nearest military base."
"What are you going to do Mack?"
"I'm….they want to go to Wright-Patterson. I don't know if I can handle being stuck with them in the car, then at a refugee camp or whatever for who knows how long while there's fucking zombies walking around," Mack paused, then spat out, "Q, I was so close to getting away from them forever except for a monthly phone call and a day trip for Christmas, then this fucking happens."
"Just…whatever you do, stay safe Mack, okay?"
"If I ditch them…I'll be fine. Got a crowbar, nice and silent."
"Silent?"
"Yeah. They're attracted to sound Q. Movies got that right, at least."
Quinn frowned, remembering the gun, "I had to fire my dad's Glock, Mack."
Mack wasn't one for showing many emotions, so Quinn was touched to hear the worry in her voice. "Pack your crap, and get out of there. I don't know how bad your neighborhood is, but do it quick. Alright?" Quinn heard someone speaking to Mack, prompting Mack to add, "Shit, I've got to go. Check your messages. Keep your phone on you, alright? Once I decide what I'm doing, I'll text you. If I leave them...we can meet up, okay?"
"Yeah. You stay safe too Mack." Quinn, said, then hung up almost in tune with Mack hanging up.
World wide. Zombies, worldwide. Dumbly, she stared at her phone, even knowing that she should have packed up and be on her way out by now. She didn't know what was outside her house, and she was scared to look out the window.
Her phone's vibration brought her out of her stupor. Hesitantly, she checked it.
It was a text from Puck. "Q, r u ok? Get supplies m RS32. Follow Plan. Stay safe. Pass along"
Last year the male members of the Glee club, after Puck and Finn spent a month watching nothing but end of the world movies came up with an emergency plan. They had even called a meeting of the glee club, sans Mr. Schue.
The boys had spent the entire time arguing about the possibility of a super volcano after Puck had jotted down a list which was basically "get supplies, meet at rest stop out of town, go to Jones's cabin, be awesome, repopulate world". Rachel had taken it upon herself add notes, and more organization relating to, as far as Quinn could remember, something about a phone tree, and ensuring their families joined them.
The battered paper was likely still up in the choir room. Coach Sue had laughed hard after reading it.
Quinn bit her lip, conflicted. On one hand, she wasn't a part of Glee club anymore. On the other, where else could she go?
Pulse pounding, she sent a half-hearted message to every New Direction member whose number she still hadn't deleted from her phone.
Then she sent a message to Mack, letting her know. Anyone who had a problem with that would just have to deal with it. Frowning, she sent one to Sheila and Ronnie too, just in case.
She saw she had a few voice mails and some texts, but those could wait.
Mechanically, she went to her closet, where she pulled out her Cheerio duffel bag from where it was stuffed in the back, and quickly she packed it with clothes, tying a pair of running shoes to the bag by the laces.
Setting it down beside her closed bedroom door, and found her favorite backpack from back when she was still Lucy. She shook the dust out of the battered large multi-compartment pink backpack, and then put her toiletries, contacts, and solution in.
She quickly returned to her dad's office, where the safe was still opened, and grabbed the remaining boxes of unopened bullets and she grabbed her birth certificate and a manila envelope to put it in. There was a shoulder holster, and she pulled it out, frowning at it. It took a couple of tries, but she managed to resize it so that it'd fit her, and after she put her jack back on it was barely noticeable.
Going back to her room, she carefully picked out a family photograph of her parents, sister and her from around freshman year, a picture of her sister's family from last Christmas, a photograph from New York last year of her, Britney, and Santana, a group shot of the New Directions from Sophomore year, as well as a group shot of the Cheerios from last year, with Coach Sylvester standing next to them looking stern but proud.
She shoved them into the manila envelope with her birth certificate, then reached over and opened her nightstand drawer, where in the very back was a photograph of her, looking awful from just giving birth, holding a minutes old Beth.
She took a moment to reload the gun, then put it in the holster, frowning at the unfamiliar feeling.
She stood up and walked to her dresser, where she grabbed her favorite cross necklace and put it on under her t-shirt. She hesitated, before grabbing and tossing her prescription glasses and sunglasses into her backpack. Her contacts would only last so long.
Quinn quietly went downstairs, her steps echoing through the empty house. Her mom's purse was sitting on the kitchen counter, and without looking at the dining room she dug around it until she found her mom's car keys.
She forced herself to choke down a hastily made sandwich and half a bottle of cranberry juice. After she finished, she stared at the cupboards. Mechanically, she hastily shoved canned goods, a few things from the pantry and a few unopened bottles of booze from the alcohol cabinet into reusable grocery bags. It took her three trips to lug them into the garage and shove them into the back of the SUV.
She didn't look anywhere near the dining room at all.
On her final trip from the kitchen to the garage, she noticed the Fabray family's rarely used camping supplies, stored right there. They had been expensive and high quality when they were new.
Once upon a time, when she was still known as Lucy her dad and she had been closer, and he had taken her hunting, taught her to shoot a gun, and they had gone camping as a family.
"Alright Lucy Q, take a deep breath," her father whispered into her ear.
She clutched the hunting rifle tightly, her chubby fingers gripping the cold metal so hard the tips were white.
On her other side, Frannie stood, her chair forgotten as she gazed at the buck Lucy aimed at with an anticipatory look on her face. The hunting blind they were huddled in felt suddenly too hot to Lucy Quinn, her sister's slim presence making the young girl feel overwhelmed and inadequate.
Frannie never went with them on their hunting trips away from the camp site, and while their father had been reluctant for Frannie to join them; Lucy Quinn had been thrilled her older sister came with them even if her presence right now was feeling her with the suffocating feeling that Lucy Quinn Fabray was lacking in everything that mattered, everything that Francine Rose Fabray had.
She had happily assumed that Frannie would be firing the gun today; partly because Lucy Quinn got to do it all the time when her family went on twice monthly camping trips during hunting season, but mostly the younger girl just assumed her older sister would fire every shot perfectly, and take down the biggest, best buck making their father proud and assuring that they had plenty of venison in the freezer.
But a smiling Frannie had just cooed that it Lucy's job to kill it, she'd help skin and cook it. They were a team.
Their father had a look on his face that an almost twelve-year-old Lucy couldn't decipher.
Frowning, she exhaled slowly, then fired. The rifle jolted, and as she felt the seed of the bruise she was going to have bloom to life, the buck fell seemingly in slow motion to Lucy Quinn. She gazed at it, awe struck. That was the first time, after all the trips they've made, that she'd ever managed to kill one. Frannie was good luck, and she gave a thrilled grin to her sister, before gazing at the body of the buck. Lucy felt a little bad for him.
"Way to go Quinnie!" Frannie cheered exaggeratedly, almost mockingly, her body coiled with energy that seemed to make her skin bounce, "Didn't Quinnie do a good job? It went down without any suffering, which is the goal when hunting, isn't it? We'll be eating venison until next year, pops!" She finished with a flourish, popping her p's.
Their father looked at Frannie emotionless, then his face morphed in to a smile as he looked down at down at Lucy Quinn, "You did great honey."
"I think Quinnie should help butcher it too! It's a hunter's job, besides making sure the creature doesn't suffer, isn't it dad?" Frannie smirked at their father, then held out a hand to Lucy Quinn. "Come on Quinnie, we'll get it up in the tree and you can show me how well dad's taught you to bleed and gut it. Won't that be fun!" She chirped.
Lucy wrinkled her nose, " I don't think I'll be good at it Frannie. I think that's Dad's job anyway?"
"Maybe. If you can't, then I will. It's not hard, really. Did you know that there was a countess that bathed in blood?" Frannie said conversationally as they climbed down the hunting blinds rope ladder. Lucy clutched each rung tentatively, following where her older sister placed her hands and feet exactly.
When the three of them were down and surrounding the fallen deer, Frannie had grinned and shook her head in disappointment. "You didn't kill it Lucy Quinn," she whispered, looking at Quinn sadly. Frannie reached down to the large hunting knife strapped to her thigh, and pushed it against the deer's throat. The animal seemed to stare at Quinn as her sister slid the knife along his throat.
Lucy Quinn Fabray watched her sister stare at the waterfall of blood, a niggling sensation of a memory trying to force it's way to the forefront of her thoughts. Next to them, their father stood stone faced and silent. She felt ashamed of herself; she hadn't killed it, it was suffering. No wonder her dad was silent. Good thing Frannie had been here, to clean up after her mess.
That had been the last time they'd gone camping or hunting. Sometimes Quinn had wondered if that would have been the case if she had just killed the deer cleanly.
Now it was going to be survival. Wishing her dad still had the hunting rifles, Quinn set about rifling through the camping stuff.
The machete and its tactical sheath she strapped onto her thigh immediately.
Once she had everything shoved into the back of the SUV, or up front waiting to be put in her backpack, she ran upstairs and grabbed her duffel bag, and backpack.
She tossed them into the backseat, then flopped down into the driver seat. Quinn put on her seat belt, and started the car, her fingers not reacting as fast as she expected them to. Not even able to feel annoyed at herself, she hit the button to open the garage door. Immediately, growling zombies stumbled into the garage and surrounded her car, smacking it and pressing their faces against the windows, leaving streaked and smudged trails of black goo and blood.
She wanted to throw up again. Even with the windows rolled up, she could smell the sickly smell of death and gore and rotting. She jammed her foot on the gas pedal. The SUV bounced and there was a terrible squishing sound as she ran over the ones that were behind the car.
It was utter mayhem outside.
She sat there in the SUV, in the middle of the street they had lived on, next to the house her parents had died in, and just stared. Zombies noticed her, headed towards her, but she ignored them as she looked. Dimly, she realized she had forgotten to actually put her contacts in, so everything had a hazy, blurry unreal quality to it.
A crowd of those things were rushing towards her house to join the one's scrambling out of the garage after the SUV. More were ambling along the front yards like they were on their way to a Sunday picnic.
As she saw Mrs. And Dr. Johnson, recognizable even with their bloated rashy bodies, her neighbors three houses down feasting on what was likely another neighbor, Quinn wondered just how in the hell she had managed to last this long, in total ignorance of the situation, just in her bed sleeping, utterly unscathed.
She swallowed thickly, thinking of her parent's bodies, her father's face in unrecognizable mush, and realized she wasn't unscathed. Not at all.
Mrs. Hall, their neighbor across the road screamed at Quinn from an upper story window, leaning out the window and waving her arms around. Quinn felt like she was a million miles away from her body as she looked at the woman desperately trying to get Quinn's attention.. Quinn's eyes trailed down from Mrs. Hall to the zombies gathered around the front door.
They were all small, and it took Quinn a moment to realize that they were Mary Hall, Mrs. Hall's eight year old daughter, and what was probably her friends. It was hard to tell, at first, because at this distance, and without Quinn's contacts, they looked alike, a vague impression of slightly puffy, child sized heavily sun burned blurs with colorful clothing, and blurry trails of black tears down their faces. If she didn't know better, it'd be easy to tell herself they were all wearing black makeup and had stayed out in the sun too long.
Quinn used to babysit Mary. Before Mrs. Hall decided Quinn wasn't a good influence because of Beth.
Beth.
A thought came to her, unbidden and sudden.
What if Shelby had been bit? What if there was a zombie in Shelby's condo, right now, and it was busy eating Shelby while Beth cried in her high chair? What if it ate Beth after it was done with Shelby…or, worse, what if it just left, leaving Beth to a slow death of dehydration and starvation?
Quinn blinked back tears. She just knew that she was Beth's mother, and it was up to her to save Beth. Shelby couldn't, she didn't have what it takes to be a mother, she had given her own baby up for goodness sakes, and wanted nothing to do with Rachel when she found her, even though Rachel Barry was amazing.
Nothing.
Shelby wouldn't have the drive to protect Beth, like Quinn would, because Quinn was Beth's real mother, something Shelby would never be, no matter what.
Making up her mind, she shoved the SUV into drive, and floored it.
She screeched across the curb, rolling right through Mrs. Hall's prized rose bushes, and the pristine green lawn. She parked under the window that Mrs. Hall was hanging out of. Quinn unbuckled her seat belt, and scooted across the seat. She opened the door, and poked her head out up to Mrs. Hall. The woman had an almost comical look of outrage on her face as she stared at the flattened rose bushes.
"Mrs. Hall! Jump on the roof!" Quinn looked at the group of small children zombies heading towards the vehicle, little Mary leading the way and added, "Now!" The SUV was tall, it wouldn't be that far.
Mrs. Hall took what felt like an eternity to decide, before a thumping noise of the woman landing from the four foot jump heavily hit the roof of the SUV. Quinn jumped at the sound, but was already scooting back into the driver's seat as Mrs. Hall's panty hose clad feet, followed by the rest of the woman's portly body jumped into the space between the SUV and the house.
Mary and her friends, by now were at the front of the SUV. Blood dripped from their faces, mingling with the black goo coming from their eyes.
Quinn was reaching for the gun when the door slammed closed.
"We need to go to the hospital!" Mrs. Hall shrieked, holding her purse and high heels in one hand, the other she clutched desperately at Quinn with.
Quinn instinctively shoved Mrs. Halls hand away, then snapped, "Were you bit?"
Mrs. Hall looked at Quinn like Quinn was an idiot. It was a look Quinn had seen often from the woman; Mrs. Hall was one of those people who pitied everyone else for not being as smart as she viewed herself.
"Noooo," Mrs. Hall said, "Mary is ill. I am well. We need to get her to a hospital. I left messages for her friend's parents, they should be here soon. I should have never let them come over after school was let out early. Right now we need to concentrate on Mary. My baby is delicate." She finished primly, then reached down and started pulling her red soled high heels on.
"She's dead," Quinn said bluntly, putting the car in reverse, "And she wants to eat our brains. Or whatever." Quinn took a small amount of grim satisfaction in the sour look on Mrs. Hall's face when Quinn ran down the remaining rose bushes, nicking the cutesy mailbox for good measure.
She was barely on the road when Mrs. Hall started to say "Stop! Lucy Quinn Fabray, when I tell your parents-"
"They're also dead," Quinn whispered, as she stopped the car. Mary and her friends, and the zombies from around Quinn's were converging towards them at a steady pace that made Quinn grit her teeth.
"Well, I'm sorry about that," Mrs. Hall said softly, then added normally, "But that's no excuse to be…Well, my car's right there, I'll take Mary to the hospital myself."
Quinn wanted to get to Beth, to assure herself that her baby was okay. She wanted to be gone five minutes ago. But if Mrs. Hall got out of the car, nothing good would happen. As it was the…zombies were at the back bumper and slowly but surely heading for the front. Some of them were faster than others, even if none of them were really that fast. Quinn knew she could out run them easily; plump Mrs. Hall, in the tall skinny high heels she favored? No chance.
"Mrs. Hall…Mary's dead, the hospital isn't going to be able to help her. I-" Quinn said sharply, before she was cut off as Mrs. Hall opened the car door, stood up, and closed it without a word to Quinn, just a foul look that let Quinn know that Mrs. Hall didn't think much of her.
Quinn could only watch as Mary rushed towards her mother, followed by her friends, (the children zombies were definitely faster than the rest in the neighborhood) and bit a chunk out of the woman's arm. Mrs. Hall started trying to fend off her daughter with her purse, tottering precariously on her too tall high heels, mouthing something to her daughter as the rest of the zombies surrounded her. Finally, moments later Mrs. Hall shouted desperately, "Quinn Fabray, help me!" as the zombies started reaching for her.
Quinn just looked at the woman blankly, squinting as she stared at the bite mark on the woman's arm. If the woman had only listened to Quinn.
It took Quinn a millisecond to decide; there was a chance that bites weren't fatal, this wasn't a zombie movie. But Mrs. Hall was in the middle of a dozen zombies; Quinn didn't think she could take the chance to rescue the woman, not without getting bit or scratched or just plain hurt herself.
Quinn took a deep breath, then looked away from her neighbor, putting her out of her mind. She shot a quick glance down to the dashboard, at the clock saying it was only 3:33, before looking at the road as she hit the gas again.
Mrs. Hall's screams lingered in her ears.
It was almost, according to her GPS in her phone, and assuming the directions to Shelby's Puck had hopefully texted her a few days ago were correct, a four mile trip. A ten minute drive, tops.
It took forty minutes.
As she headed south from her neighborhood, the streets seemed to clear up of zombies, going from the chaos outside her front door to just an unsettling quiet, with the occasional zombie stumbling forward after whoever had caught it's attention.
Not even the birds were chirping. Even the people Quinn saw were quiet, looking at Quinn with furtive looks, before dismissing her as not important to them.
There were cars everywhere. Quinn didn't even realize that there was so many cars in Lima.
At first, it was crashed vehicles. Then she found herself driving carefully around cars that people parked in the middle of the road, people uncaring about other's trying to drive down the road, solely concerned with crowding into Lima's stores and churches. Finally, it was just a gridlock of traffic from people on their way out of town clogging up the roads, making moving forward impossible. Quinn had to turn around and backtrack to get away from that twice.
It didn't matter. She only had eyes for the road. Every foot, every heartbeat, it was one step closer to Beth.
Beth.
She had to keep looking at her phone, at the text Puck had sent her days ago, to reassure herself while she kept repeating to herself that Beth was there. Beth was okay. Over and over again.
She had to be. Desperation to see her baby, to make sure her daughter was safe clawed at Quinn, it felt like she was being torn up in strips from the inside out.
When her GPS squeaked happily that she arrived at her destination, Quinn brought the car up onto the sidewalk, and parked directly in front of the front doors. The two seconds she had to take to unbuckle her seat belt, open the door, and shove her phone into a pocket was two seconds too long. She left the car door open as she rushed out, barely managing to take the car keys with her. In the door way to the lobby, she rushed through the lobby, which only had mailboxes in it, and up the stairs, not even giving the elevator a glance.
She jugged up three flights of stairs to the fourth floor. She was breathing heavier then she would have been if she was still a Cheerio; her morning jogs weren't a replacement for Coach Sylvester's workouts, and she'd skipped too many of them in the last month. She opened the door into the hallway in a charge, slamming it open.
She was going to see her daughter. Her baby. She was going to see her child, her perfect child and then...
She stopped short in the hall, as the door slammed its self shut, the sound echoing through the empty hall.
And what? Shelby would take Beth, and leave Quinn to her own devices.
Maybe…maybe Shelby would go with Quinn, to the Jones's cabin.
A little blossom of hope bloomed in Quinn's chest.
Yes….Shelby would go with Quinn, with the New Directions, Quinn could keep Beth safe. She could be with Beth all the time, she could watch Beth grow up. It'd almost be like Quinn hadn't made the biggest mistake in her life, in giving her baby up. It was a second chance…maybe that's what was going on, some sort of world cleanse. A chance to start anew.
Quinn, feeling both relived that Shelby's neighborhood was nearly empty of both people and those things, and now with a renewed sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, things would work out, stood in front of Shelby's door.
She took a deep breath, patted her hair down, and zipped up her coat, then knocked loudly on Shelby's door.
Shelby opened the door slowly, the chain on it. She looked relieved, and tired as she saw Quinn, her eyes lingering on Quinn's pink hair, "Oh Quinn, it's you, just a second." And closed and unlatched the door, quickly ushering Quinn in, she stuck her head out to look in the hallway, before pulling it back in, and relocking the door. "I thought you were Mrs. Smith, trying to get me to go to church with her and her family. I tried telling her that the news said to go to a military base or one of the evacuation centers, but she insisted a church -her church, would be better. " Shelby managed a smile for Quinn, but it wasn't reaching her eyes.
"I came to check on Beth...and you, of course. I keeping imagining a zombie in here eating you, while Beth cried in her highchair, and then it just left, leaving her to starve to death and- " Quinn choked up. She took a deep breath, and whispered, "I just had to make sure, I couldn't leave Lima without making sure."
Shelby's shoulders relaxed a little, losing only some of the taut line of stress. "We're okay; it's not so bad here. I'm sure it helps that half my neighbors have left already." Shelby smiled, "if you help me finish packing we can leave earlier, and hopefully avoid some traffic out of Lima. The News said to evacuate to the nearest military base, I thought about going to Wright Patterson, since it's the biggest, but the roads are probably going to be horrible, so the Coast Guard I.S. in Cleveland is probably a better choice since its closest, plus there's a chance that we'll be out on sea, that has to be safer…" Shelby trailed off, and went into her bedroom, clutching a tube of toothpaste she had clearly been in the middle of packing when Quinn had knocked.
Quinn followed her through the living room, where a car seat, stuffed diaper bag, and piles of other things sat. She stopped when she saw Beth sleeping in the middle of Shelby's bed. Quinn's heart slowed down as she exhaled at the sight of Beth. She hadn't even realized how fast it had been beating or that she was holding her breath. This was her baby, her daughter.
She was safe, she was right here. Tears pooled in Quinn's eyes, and she blinked them away as she wondered how much better her life would have been had she done what she wouldn't admit to herself that she had wanted to do, and not given her baby away.
Mutely Quinn was aware that Shelby was finishing packing her suitcase, and that Beth's things in the living room far outnumbered Shelby's single suitcase and traveling case Shelby was zipping up, but it felt like Shelby was miles away from Quinn and Beth.
She kept staring at Beth, hardly believing her eyes, until Shelby made a polite throat clearing noise in the doorway of her bedroom to catch Quinn's attention.
She wordlessly followed Shelby into the kitchen, where several empty boxes awaited.
"I figured I'll get the pantry boxed up, take it down to the SUV, take my luggage, take Beth's things, and then Beth, but perhaps you can help me Quinn? It'll be quicker if you do."
"You can't."
"Can't what, Quinn? I don't think having extra food beyond what the military will provide can hurt, and-"
"Can't take Beth to a military base."
Shelby stood still, and walked around Quinn to the kitchen table, where her messenger bag lay. "Quinn, Beth is my daughter, I am taking her, and you are not. You weren't equipped to be her mother before, you certainly can't do it now" Shelby finished, staring at Quinn.
"It's not about me, haven't you seen a zombie movie at all? The military bases, hospitals, and Wal-Marts are the first to go. Taking Beth there would be a death sentence, you should come with me to the Jones's cabin, it has a well, solar power, enough acreage for a huge garden, and me. Me…I can't be without her, Shelby, without knowing she's safe. Not with-"
"I think you should leave. She is my daughter, and I'm going to do what's best for her. I think the Government would know better than a teenager, Quinn, who has watched too many zombie movies. You need to leave. Now," Shelby finished, pointing towards the door then crossing her arms over her chest.
"Shelby, please," Quinn said, tears now freely falling from her eyes, "Please…please just come with us. Rachel will be there, I'm sure. And-"
"Quinn," Shelby stated, looking at Quinn with pity in her eyes, and her tone was gentler, but still held a hard edge, "Rachel is with her fathers, she doesn't need me. I'm not her mother. I'm Beth's mother, and we aren't going anywhere with you. I'm sorry Quinn, but that's the way things are. Now leave." The older woman tentatively reached an arm over to Quinn, and gently nudged her towards the front door.
Quinn numbly walked a few steps, Shelby close behind. Now, with her parents dead, Beth going away. Far away, where Quinn couldn't protect her, couldn't be with her, it felt like her whole world was lost. Nothing mattered. She may as well go find the nearest one of those things, and let it have a snack.
Quinn stopped, and played with the zipper on her coat. Shelby said more things, but the woman may as well as been forty feet underwater, Quinn didn't hear a word.
Beth was her baby, her child, her mistake, her responsibility, her perfection. Her family.
And right now, Quinn realized with a jolt, Quinn needed to protect Beth from Shelby.
In a quick motion, Quinn pulled the zipper down the rest of the way, and pulled out the gun.
Quinn pointed it at Shelby, and hissed, "No, you don't know what's best for her, you're not her real mother, and you'll never be her real mother, no matter how much you pretend. It's obvious that you're going to get her killed, and I can't let you do that." Quinn saw the older woman's eyes go wide with fear, all traces of worry and tiredness gone as Shelby started to say something; Shelby didn't get the first word out before Quinn pulled the trigger.
The gun shot seemed to echo through the room. Shelby's face exploded in blood and matter, then she dropped to the floor.
Quinn stared at Shelby's body, then with a whimper, she dropped the gun, and fell to her knees as she stared at Shelby's ruined face.
Hazily, a part of her realized she could hear Beth crying and knew she should get up and go take care of her, but she couldn't find strength to stand, couldn't do anything but look at Shelby.
At what she had done.
At what she had to do, to make sure her baby would be safe. With a mind of its own, her hand found her cross necklace. She clutched it, and stared at Shelby's body.
She sat there, tears mingling with blood droplets on her fact, and watched the blood pool around Shelby's body.
Eventually Beth's crying finally broke through to her.
Her baby needed her.
Blank, Quinn stood up, and wiped the tears away from eyes.
She did what she had to do to protect her daughter.
Tears still streaming down her face, despite her wiping them away and telling herself she did what she had to do, she yanked hard on the necklace, and let it fall onto the ground next to Shelby's body.
Mechanically, she went into Shelby's bedroom, where a scared looking Beth stopped sobbing at seeing her, then started hollering for her momma.
Biting her lip, Quinn wiped away her tears again, and crawled up onto the bed with Beth.
"Shhhh baby, Momma's here, " and pulled Beth into a hug.
Beth, at first, allowed Quinn to hug her, but after a few moments tried to struggle to get out of Quinn's arms, but Quinn just held her tighter. Eventually, the toddler tired, and let Quinn hold her without protest. Clutching the toddler to her tightly, Quinn hummed tunelessly, staring at a painting on the wall.
She had her baby, Beth was safe.
Quinn in the state she was in, likely would have sat there for hours holding Beth, the toddler giving an occasional confused whimper for her mother, if not for her phone blaring out "Bitch" Santana's ringtone, programmed by the girl herself last year at a sleepover. Santana had also took the opportunity to send a couple of texts to all the other Cheerios telling them they had to run extra laps. Quinn hadn't bothered to change the ring tone back to the normal one, despite the fact she hated having a real song as a ringtone.
Dumbly, Quinn let go of Beth, who promptly scooted away from Quinn, picking up and grasping her teddy bear, staring at Quinn with wide, confused eyes. Quinn pulled the phone out of her coat pocket, the time glaring at her in accusing numbers.
4:29 pm.
Had it only really been almost an hour and a half since Quinn had crawled out of bed?
She felt drained. If it wasn't for the toddler sitting next to her, Quinn would have been tempted to just crawl into Shelby's bed and sleep. This area was safe, she could put Beth in her room, and just take a short nap.
"I've been numb, I'm revived. Can't say I'm not alive" Meredith Brook's almost accusing voice brought Quinn out of her thoughts, reminding her she had a call should answer.
"Santana," she said quietly, looking at Beth.
"Quinn," Santana's voice came out frantic from the phone, tinny and low, "You…they're all dead. They're gone, they're dead, they're dead fuck they are all dead and trying to eat us. Tiffany's out there in my SUV Quinn, I left her there. Brittany's never going to forgive me I may as well die with my family."
Quinn felt a surge of panic go through her. She spoke enough Spanish to know what Santana said, and she was still processing it when Santana continued, "We're at Abuela's and they're all dead. Britt's and I, we're hiding in the hall bathroom. You know there's no window in here, Tiffany's in my SUV by herself. Please Quinn, please," Santana's voice held an almost hysterical edge to it, and Quinn had never heard Santana sound so scared. Quinn could hear Brittany sobbing.
"I…" Quinn looked at Beth. Beth. She couldn't just let her friends die, not if there was a chance "I'll be there soon Santana."
"Hurry Quinn," Santana whispered, before the call ended.
Quinn turned off the phone, and shoved it back into her pocket.
"Beth, " She whispered softly, still not quite believing her daughter was right here, "We're going to go bye bye okay?"
The toddler looked at Quinn with wide eyes.
She grabbed a throw blanket off the foot of the bed, and leaving Beth by herself she quickly went into the kitchen and covered Shelby's body. She didn't look at her, at the blood and gore on the wall, at the puddle of blood surrounded the dead woman. Quinn noticed the gun on the ground.
She was surprised; she didn't remember dropping it. She swallowed, and looked down, telling herself she did what she had to do to protect Beth.
She picked it, and put it back into the shoulder holster, and zipped up her coat.
Back in Shelby's bedroom, hesitantly, Quinn picked up Beth, blankets teddy bear and all. Beth didn't fuss about it, which gave Quinn a little more confidence. Santana's call had lifted Quinn out of the fog she'd been surrounded in. She had a purpose. Beth was safe, but Santana, Brittany, and Brittany's sister Tiffany weren't.
Quinn would keep them all safe, somehow.
At the couch, Quinn put Beth into her car seat, slung the stuffed diaper bag over her shoulder, and grabbed the purple suitcase. Frowning, she shoved a serious looking baby backpack into a black trash bag containing a fold up travel play pen, blankets, sheets, diapers and soft toys along with several grocery totes full of toys and soft books. Hefting the trash bag onto the suitcase, she grunted as she dragged them together, testing it.
It would be work, but she'd manage. She had too. She couldn't afford to waste time making another trip.
She made sure Beth had her teddy bear, then picked up the car seat in her other hand. She lugged everything to the front door, and set the car seat down on the ground to cautiously open the door and peak in the hallway.
It was just as empty when Quinn had come up stairs.
She let out a deep breath, picked up the car seat again, and stepped outside.
She didn't bother to close Shelby's front door.
Every step Quinn took downstairs, Quinn expected someone to jump out at her, shout that she was a murderer and take her baby from her. Zombies weren't even a concern to her until she reached the lobby, and saw a couple shambling around outside.
Quinn was glad for the panicked rush she had been in earlier, that had lead to her parking in front of the building's doors. It took her a few minutes, alert and tense the entire time, and far longer then she would have liked to figure out how to buckle Beth's car seat in behind the driver's seat, but after she did it was simple to toss everything else into the back, and shove the diaper bag in the front passenger seat next to her backpack.
Unbidden, a memory of a few weeks after she'd given birth then given her child away, days after school had ended for the summer came to her as she drove towards Santana's Grandmother's house.
Without the weight of her baby -no, she sternly corrected herself, Shelby Corcoran's baby, (she hoped, and prayed, that if she told herself that enough it'd sink in, and the feeling like she needed to get her baby back would go away. It was over, done with, and things could go back to normal. She wasn't a teen mother, forever tied to Noah Puckerman. She had a bright future filled with 2.5 blonde children fathered by a perfect husband she'd meet in college,) Quinn felt empty. She didn't feel lighter, however. She felt huge.
So she pushed herself, despite the doctor telling her to take it easy these first few weeks after giving birth. She finished her ten mile run, panting, and practically collapsed on the sidewalk in front of her house. She sat there, her head down low near her knees, trying to take deep, even breaths in the cool early morning air. It was barely seven am, and the streets were quiet. Most importantly, there was no one outside yet who would watch her struggle to run, who would watch her blubber jiggle.
Control. She needed to have control. She was going to go back to school, and be back at the top. She'd have to claw her way up there, but she'd do it. She'd be head cheerleader again, and this year she'd be prom queen, too.
So if it took running ten miles in the morning, and ten at night, she'd do it, pushing herself hard, putting all her longing for her child into each painful step, she'd do it. This summer, she'd get back to the way she was before she'd given birth. She'd be even better than before, even.
She was gasping for air, every bit of her body aching when she realized two figures were walking up the sidewalk. She stilled, as she realized it was Santana and Brittany.
Even faced, she stared at them nonchalantly, not letting onto the pain she was in, as they strolled up to her house.
"Hi Quinn!" Brittany said, grinning at Quinn and sitting next to her on the sidewalk, "We went for a walk. How are you?"
"I'm just fine Britts," Quinn said perfectly, her tone even.
"Can you imagine how fat you would have gotten if it had been two lizard babies instead of one? " Santana smirked, and put her hands on her hips.
Quinn glared at the brunette, while next to her Brittany said, "Do you think Puck will show me his lizard face sometime?"
"There's only one thing Puckerman wants to show you Brittany," Santana rolled her eyes, then plopped down on Quinn's other side.
Quinn stiffened, then said, "Why are you here?"
Brittany leaned against her, "You had your baby and gave her away Quinn, and Santana thought you might be sad."
"You've been running like, twenty miles a day the last few days? Over kill much? Even Coach would say so," Santana added, looking at Quinn with her head cocked to the side, the threat in her tone clear.
"I'm fat, Santana. Remember, you literally mentioned it every day the last six months of my pregnancy," Quinn said, "Have you been spying on me?"
"You haven't answered our texts Quinn, and Lord Tubbington saw you and told me. He's concerned too," Brittany replied.
Santana snorted, "Please Q. You and I both know you looked like someone had stuffed a basketball under your dress, you gained like ten pounds, tops. I was just being a bitch."
"My stretch marks say otherwise." Quinn said dryly.
"I've got stretch marks on my boobs and hips. Santana's got some on her thighs and boobs. It's not a big deal," Brittany looked at Quinn serenely, "And Lord Tubbington has so many he's going to look like a tiger when he goes bald."
Quinn looked away, and swallowed tightly.
"It's okay to be sad Quinn," Brittany added.
"I'm fine."
Brittany slung an arm around her, and Quinn stiffened up.
"We're going to run with you, five miles every other morning. That's it. And we'll swim a shitload, tan, and eat too much pizza. It'll be okay Q," Santana said, daring Quinn to argue.
"I…want my baby," Quinn admitted softly, staring at the pavement.
"There's like, a law that says you can give a car back to the dealership, change your mind, within three days. I bet it's like thirty days or something for kids. You'll can her back Quinn." Santana said, "If not, I'll find Berry's birth pod, corner her in an alley, and go all Snix on her until she's offering the kid back to you on a silver platter."
"Santana and I will babysit!" Brittany chirped. Santana snorted, but didn't say anything, just looked at Quinn expectantly.
"No. I'm…She deserves to be with an actual adult, who's family isn't as messed up as mine…it's just for the best, okay? It's just hormones, it'll go away soon." Hopefully.
"Let's go in to your house, get some water. Brittany will make eggs, and you pack a bag -make sure you get all that junk you have to have to recover from birth. I can't wait to see your mesh panties. My parents are out of town for the next few days, we're going to eat ice cream and watch sappy movies, get it all out of you."
"I'll have to let mom know, " Quinn took a deep breath, "I don't know what'd I do without you two. You guys are great."
Santana smirked, "I know."
"Santana's SUV is just around the corner, so we won't have to walk to her house," Brittany added.
Quinn rolled her eyes, "Of course it is."
Quinn didn't know what she would find when she got to Alma Lopez's home, but the unknown wasn't going to stop her from finding Santana and Brittany. And Tiffany -Brittany would be devastated if anything happened to her little sister.
She had already lost her parents, she wasn't going to lose her friends, not if she could help it.