She feels like she's been trekking up a mountain for so long now. Last year is a blur, but the exhaustion and emotional toll is still resting heavily upon her shoulders. The remnants of everything are still echoing with her – and she can't shake it.
The stretch marks engrave the story into her deeply, and she can't shake them. They remind her of what she's lost, what she has sacrificed and how irrevocable her decision was. Her heart yearns for her baby, her flesh and blood; the little one she carried and cared for for nine whole months. She closes her eyes and can still see those little eyes; she falls asleep and dreams of a world in which Beth is hers.
Beyond this, beyond all of her contradictions to do with regret, and yet conviction, she can't forget it when she returns to school because no one will let her. It frustrates her more than anything else, because why can't the treat her like they used to? The respect and admiration from everyone's eyes has vanished, to be replaced with a mirage of emotions that she doesn't like one bit.
Puck had been useless over the summer. While he had been loyal to her, he wasn't himself; he walked on eggshells, tried to talk about Beth and their feelings over it a lot, and generally clashed with what she wanted to do. He wasn't the Puck she knew, and that scared her. When she returns to school, he's still looking at her with that brooding look in his eyes. Quinn doesn't care for it.
She expects Glee club to be different. She expects to be treated like she always has there, but even Santana fails to succeed. She's even bitchier to Quinn, and thinks she can push her around because Quinn is supposedly 'weaker'. She shouldn't be perceived as weaker, but they all think she's fragile. They all look at her with pity or caution in their eyes. She hates it.
The rest of the school are either the same, or have a grossly different reaction. They sneer, they judge and they make jibes. She's always had the moral high ground, looking down at people from her pedestal, but now she's the one being judged. Quinn wants to scream over the injustice, to desperately explain her situation and how it wasn't as straightforward as it seemed: the fifteen-year old pregnant girl.
Whether it's with a critical eye or not, everyone judges her.
She's been judged her whole life. Her parents had a bar that had to be met, especially when her sister surpassed that bar. They expected a life of her that was filled with success, glamour and sophistication. Quinn often feels like they don't love her for her, but what she can be to them and how she can help them further their social standing. She's another reason to brag –or, at least, she was. Her father walking out was a prime example.
She supposes that she deserves it. The judgement. She puts up a façade and a bravado that is waiting to be inspected and prodded, a confidence that needs to be shaken in others opinions. Her boyfriends, though they believed otherwise, were no better. Finn always took the opinion of her being too harsh, too unrelenting and unforgiving. Didn't he know she had to be that way? He didn't understand her pressures or her position. He still doesn't understand, and he doesn't understand her situation with Beth and Puck.
Quinn deserves to be judged for that one. She was so wrong in lying to Finn, so breathtakingly wrong. She was lost though, she was scared and she needed someone dependable. He still looks at her differently because of it.
All of these things created a kind of secret fantasy for Quinn. Ever since she was a girl, she pictured this strong man who would take care of her and love her for all of her faults – because she has many of them. She's not as perfect as she strives to impress upon people. Quinn's aware that her feminism is clashing with the principle of a man rescuing her, because hell, she has never needed a man to rescue her. But it's what the ten-year-old Quinn wanted, and it's what the sixteen year old Quinn wants. Someone to understand without question, to listen without judgement and to believe without hesitance.
She thought she had it in Finn. She thought she could instil it in Puck. Quinn has to stop believing she can make someone something they're not. She has this in mind when she returns to school, finally coming to the conclusion that the man she wants does not exist. No one's going to sweep in and save her from herself; from her rocky past and stormier future.
Then she meets him. Quinn's enraptured from the second he enters the room at Glee club, even though she tries with all her might not to be. She reverts to being a cold bitch because she figures it'll be easier to play him off. He introduces himself with a ridiculously nerdy line that wins him a snarky comment from Santana, but she can't help but smile.
They're paired together for the duet and she's dreading it. Her attraction to the boy is dangerous, and he's only going to break her heart like so many have. His bleached blond hair emphasises his enthralling and joyous blue eyes, capturing perfectly all the innocence and youth in him. She's wary of him throughout the practice – he seems just as dangerous as the rest. The boyish charm is something she has seen before and yet… he's somehow starkly different.
She knows he's going to try and kiss her before he does. She refuses him because no matter how genuine and trustworthy he appears upon their first meeting, Quinn has reason to doubt people. She's angry because she first thinks he's just trying to get into her pants, like every other boy.
While this is probably true, she is soon convinced that the sexual side is not what he's all about. Their duet is electric, making her resolve crack just a little.
She's stunned speechless when he brings up last year at dinner. He stumbles through his words, as he seems to do frequently, and thinks he's offended her in some way. Quinn isn't offended in the slightest; she's touched and relieved. Damned if she shows it, but Quinn has come to one conclusion; he doesn't judge her. It's like the first gasp of air after being submerged in water.
Sam's making her believe he's harmless, and she's slowly coming around to the idea. When he does an impression of the hottie McConaughey – a rather bad one, at that – Quinn comes to the startling realisation that there is nothing to figure out with Sam.
He is exactly what she sees; no more, no less. He is that dorky boy with the bleached hair and sweet disposition. Her heart beats a little faster when she thinks about what's she about to say, but she's completely cool.
"A gentleman always pays on the first date." The smile on his face is infectious, and for one second, Quinn lets herself believe that this boy is what she has been waiting for. He transferred to her school for a reason, and they were meant to meet.
Her logical side tells her this is ridiculous. He's another boy. If he isn't, as soon as he discovers the largely incorrigible – and unapologetically so – side to Quinn, he'll dart. If he isn't, he deserves more than this incorrigible Quinn.
She likes to think that's why she panics a few months later. Sam is everything she's ever wanted; he lets her know he's there and caring by his small caresses and touches; he makes her smile with his bad jokes and funny timing; he tries to make her proud by defending her friends honour and he speaks to her with beautiful words that she's never had someone call her before. He saves her. He truly, honest to god, saves her.
People think their relationship is superficial; that they're only together for popularity reasons – but it's not true. Quinn isn't the type of girl to accept any promise ring. Truth be told, she's never been sure of a boy more than Sam. She confidently knows that he's all the things he acts like, or claims to be. He's a good person to the core.
She's not. Quinn still tells herself that's the reason she returns to Finn. Self-sabotage is something she's well-versed in. So she lets him go. She lets him explore other sides to life, other people and experiences but she doesn't let him do it alone. Quinn helps him when she can; she keeps his secrets and whispers words of comfort when he's crestfallen in that motel room.
A year later, when he and Mercedes are kissing at prom and Quinn is still in a wheelchair mostly, she can't help but want to cry. Isn't this what she wanted for him? A woman who is worthy? She doesn't say anything.
Isn't loving someone putting their happiness before your own?
So there we go, folks! Somewhat depressing, perhaps? Angsty? I personally loved writing that. I absolutely adore Sam/Quinn, and what I've written here is why I love them from Quinn's perspective. Please review, I am dying to hear thoughts on this! Obviously canon :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or "When You Were Young" by the Killers.
Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it!
CN.