Speakers and Buds, a glee fanfic

Quinn likes her ear-buds better than her car speakers. In the mall, her car, or even on her laptop, the speakers scream out for you to judge the listener; whether commending their tastes, or ridiculing them. Quinn likes to think herself as a private person. She doesn't mean to be so private, but it can't be helped; hiding behind Lucy or the Cheerio outfit, people would stare and make her business theirs. Speakers do that. Out of your reach, they take what you like and announce it to the world. And they do it so loud that you can't help but listen in to whatever they have to say, be it scraping, jarring or barely tolerable.

Her parents disapproved of her putting things in her ears. "God only knows how they'll destroy your ears and make you deaf. Listen to His words, Lucy. That's all you need to hear".

When she encounters Rachel Berry in the eighth grade, Lucy immediately associates her with speakers. Small, compact, and never afraid to project out her voice, her thoughts, or that alarmingly invasive personality. Lucy remembers bringing her book up just below her eyes as she watches Rachel Berry face the swings and sing into an empty plastic cup. Lucy thinks that the brunette sounds like something she hears filtering through her dad's car speakers, expressing themselves, with or without an audience. It's like they know that someone will eventually pick up on them and give them the attention they deserve.

Or find ways and means to tune them out.

She vaguely remembers the brunette, sitting in the first row and vying for the teacher's attention, constantly making up for her size with her voice. And wonders how she hadn't notice Rachel Berry until she belted her lungs out in the playground.

Lucy ponders on how Rachel Berry could sing so care-freely, untainted by the jeers of her peers too young to realize that they are jealous of such obvious talents.

Back in the classroom, Lucy questions if Rachel Berry the Speaker was such a bad thing after all.

The first time Quinn distinctly remembers feeling inexplicably drawn to something other than her books was when she accidentally stumbles upon the glee clubbers singing. She remembers the sharp jolt of warmth bubbling within, sending her heart pounding faster than they should have been. Yet she also remembers looking past her shoulders for anyone, just in case they associated the cheerio with the loser club, the nagging guilt speeding her past the door and further into Sue's tracks.

It's too loud and too open. Their sounds reverberated across the hallways louder than the speakers hidden in every corner of each classroom.

This could ruin her reputation, especially since she's the newly appointed head cheerleader. Placing her hands on her hips, she walks purposefully away from them.

She tries them once, visiting the malls with her fellow cheerios. Oh, she's definitely tried earpieces before, but they were always too big and never seemed to fit her ears within causing her pain. These things though, she squints at the description on the box "80% noise cancellation" and puts the apparatus in both ears (not before attempting to clean in on her uniform of course, who knows what germs were there before her). Looking around with wide eyes, Quinn remembers the loudest silence she ever encountered with before the first song blasts through the ear-buds. She doesn't remember which song it is now, but the attention that it seemed to give, only to her, thrilled her.

Not before one of the cheerleaders tugs at her hand to look at dresses, muttering something along the lines that only losers plug themselves out of the world because they have nobody to talk to.

Quinn feels the fear trickling back into her veins as she recalls Lucy, and that leaves her stumbling, tripping over her own shoes. Relief floods back to Quinn as she realizes that her secret's safe.

Tennis shoes.

She's the athletic cheerio, Quinn Fabray.

So she decides she doesn't want those ear-buds.

(like the books she read, they create a world and support it for her, and only her.)

When Quinn finally wakes up, she remembers flashes of messages buzzing from her phone, pine trees, the radio guy chatting incessantly through her car stereo and then a horn blaring. She moans and tries to move around, only to whimper when that causes a thousand needles jabbing right into her bones.

She hears her heart beep erratically on the machine and dread fills her. She doesn't open her eyes because she doesn't want to be where she thinks she is.

It doesn't matter because suddenly, she hears a flurry of sounds and sniffling and her mom repeating her name and a hand clutching her knuckles.

Before slipping back into the blackness, Quinn hears static and wonders if someone would turn the damn thing off already. She doesn't want to hear anything because everything sounds like bad news replaying over and over again.

She's being propped up a few days later, with both her left hand and leg strapped in casts. Quinn fumbles through her book and even Wonderland can't bring her joy as she struggles to flip the page, leaning the book's spine against the bed table and tearing the edge of a page in the process. She growls and hurls the book as far as she can, getting even more frustrated as the book lays limply next to her on the ground. Which she can't bend down to retrieve without alarming the world. She wants to do something on her own and now she can't even read because it's too fucking hard to flip a page by herself.

Everyone who has tried to help has been snapped at. She feels guilty, but remembers with envy that they probably can flip anything they want.

Across the room, Fran's files her nails in a chair while her mother's busies herself by arranging the flowers at the foot of her bed. Judy thinks that they brighten up the place. Quinn doesn't want to kid herself.

The glee kids have already visited a couple of times, collectively and in pairs. But as Quinn looks to her right, she sees Rachel and Finn walking towards her room. She's grateful for the window that separates her from them, because she doesn't want to hear what the outside world has to say, she already feels like an exhibit in the fish tank of the ward.

She doesn't admit it, but she's glad that there's some distance between the couple.

It's the first time that they're here and Quinn vaguely knows why they haven't visited earlier.

When they enter, Finn scratches the back of his neck as he makes small talk with Judy and Fran, while Rachel walks almost warily to her bedside. Quinn's convinced that Rachel thinks she might snap at her, judging by the brunette's quivering frame, gnawing her bottom lip and looking at her with watery eyes. Quinn remembers thinking how hollowed Rachel's eyes looked and whether she's been sleeping.

(Quinn's slightly thankful that she's propped up and maintaining eye contact with Rachel, rather than having her look down at her. She thinks it's probably how people will look at her when she dies.)

Rachel's the first to break eye contact as she ducks her head to mumble an almost incoherent string of apologies through her tears. The room falls silent and everyone else waits for Quinn's reaction. Quinn listens to the sniffling and it vaguely reminds her of the static radio sounds.

She reaches to grab Rachel's wrists, but the brunette flinches back almost involuntarily as Finn takes a step forward. Quinn huffs and rolls her eyes, stretching herself, reaching for Rachel's arm again. The singer, finally acknowledging that she wouldn't be physically harmed in the immediate instance, surges forward almost into Quinn's personal space before catching herself.

Quinn squeezes her wrist gently and waits for Rachel to meet her gaze again. It takes a moment but as Rachel takes a deep breath and looks up at Quinn, she trembles slightly at the former cheerleader, looking smaller and more broken than Quinn has ever seen.

"It's not your fault, Rachel, and I don't blame you." Quinn says low enough, hoping to not startle the already terrified girl. Tugging Rachel's wrist again, Quinn tries to pull her closer into the bed and wrap her good arm around the brunette. She hears and feels Rachel's broken sob and the tension in the room dissipates immediately. Almost.

Rachel tentatively wraps her arms around Quinn's neck and bandaged shoulder gently, whimpering a little more and she tries to stifle her sobs.

When Quinn releases her hold, she pulls back and grins slightly at Rachel, who returns it with a short, watery giggle.

Quinn thinks that's the best thing she's heard since the accident.

When Rachel returns the second time, she comes alone and they manage to talk for a bit. She looks less guilt ridden and her eyes brighten slightly as she catches Quinn through the glass. It takes a while for Quinn to realize that Rachel's ring finger is bare and the same small, happy feeling bubbling Quinn gets quelled it almost immediately.

Rachel traces Quinn's line of vision and blushes, "You were right, we were probably getting too far ahead of ourselves. We're taking it slow for now."

Before she leaves, Rachel passes Quinn a set of ear-buds and a pink iPod with the Alice in Wonderland's audiobook. Quinn raises her eyebrow questioningly and Rachel rushes to explain that she had seen the state of Quinn's copy thrown haphazardly on the floor the last time and thought that listening to it would be easier. Quinn interrupts Rachel mid-rant by squeezing her hand in gratitude.

Rachel exhales and smiles weakly back to Quinn. Quinn relishes the way Rachel's eyes crinkle at the sides again.

In the middle of the night, Quinn stops gazing at the moon and retrieves the iPod from under her pillow, using her good hand to plug the ear-buds in her ears with some difficulty. The complete silence that envelopes her terrify and excite Quinn a little and she smiles. Taking a deep breath, she presses play and locks her gaze on one of the stars outside, turning her back on the faint glow leering from the nurses' office.

As the first word filters into her ears, Quinn lets out a faint hum and closes her eyes, letting Carroll's story navigate her dreams.

In the last few weeks of her stay at the hospital, the glee clubbers visit again, this time singing occasionally around Quinn or updating her with school. She joins them on days that her lungs permits, but smiles quietly most times as they lose themselves in whatever song they deem appropriate for the day.

Rachel never joins in, Quinn realizes, but always stay a little longer after everyone leaves, either talking about AP classes, or talking about her latest argument with Mr. Schuester. She misses Rachel's voice and lets her know that one day.

"You should join in when they sing," she speaks up, watching as Rachel's eyes trail the back of the last leaving visitor.

There's a gasp and Rachel hesitates. "It just doesn't seem right."

Quinn furrows her brows and looks at Rachel for a further explanation.

"I feel like the others would want the opportunity more. A-And I see how happy they look, how happy you look when they sing." Rachel ducks her head and busies herself with the hem of her sweater.

"I think I'd like it better when you sing-"

"It's me who has gotten us all into this huge mess in the first place. It was my wedding. Had I not open my mouth- or, or used my phone to text you incessantly- or let my brain process the situation before rattling-"

"Rachel, you need to stop blaming yourself for the state that I'm in." Quinn interrupts, grasping Rachel's hand tightly in attempt to get her message across. "None of this is your fault, I've said this before. It was my choice to text and drive. It could have been any one texting and I probably would have done the same thing. You couldn't have forced a text into my face, you know."

Rachel sniffles a little and acquiesces, squeezing her hand in response and nods shakily. Quinn loosens the hold and says, "Plus, the Rachel Berry I know would never pass up on a chance to sing." She pauses. "You probably don't remember this, Rachel, but the first time I recognized you was back in the eighth grade and you were singing at the empty swings. Empty, Rach. But you never passed up an opportunity to sing."

Shock registers in Rachel's eyes and she stares at Quinn for a few moments. Quinn's starting to feel a little uncomfortable under her gaze but wills herself to not break the connection. It's not defiance. Quinn just wants Rachel to get what she's saying.

The rest of the time is filled with silence and Rachel leaves shortly after, whispering a "Thank you", leaving a confused Quinn in her wake.

The next day, Santana lets it slip that Rachel had broken up with Finn earlier that day.

Therapy is a bitch and in turn, Quinn becomes a royal bitch to anyone around her. She tries not to take it out on them as best as she can, but her aggravation at her own lack of progress is difficult to suppress. It helps that Rachel visits her house after each session, bringing her mac along and syncing songs into Quinn's iPod ("No, it's yours, Quinn. Consider it a gift! Or if you want it in another color or have it in another model..."), ranging from Broadway, electro-pop to the latest top forties.

Rachel starts to sing again, although not as often as she used to. Nevertheless, Quinn takes that as a sign of progress.

In Rachel's excitement in giving Quinn as many songs as possible, Rachel practically syncs her entire library to Quinn in the attempts to bind their newly fostered friendship. Quinn finds out one day in therapy, listening to her iPod on shuffle when a familiar voice wafts through her ear buds and she bolts upright. Checking her screen, Quinn bites back a smirk as she discovers a whole playlist of Rachel Berry's voice, hidden under the heading "Miscellaneous".

Quinn is thankful that she has her ear-buds, so that Rachel's voice plays for only her to hear. It's not that Quinn doesn't like to share Rachel and her voice, but when Rachel isn't performing, it almost seems like Rachel was singing to her.

She doesn't want to dwell too much into what that means, but she doesn't deny anything.

That day, Quinn stands up on her own for the first time, again.

Senior year rolls by and Quinn is on her feet just in time for Nationals and graduation. She knows she's not completely healed, and it must have been some sort of divine intervention watching over her, keeping her alive and sending her to Yale, instead of decomposing in solitude somewhere in the ground.

Before she leaves, Quinn says goodbye to Rachel, not before handing her a Metro North pass.

"To make sure we keep in constant contact. And I need more tunes in that Miscellaneous playlist, Berry." she lets on with a smirk.

Rachel flushes and splutters indignantly. Quinn thinks it's possibly the most beautiful that she's ever seen Rachel.

Quinn gasped the first time she listened to the muted rhythms knocking through the stripped down version of Shine Right Through, looking up from her book in the train to see if anyone heard the magic that she heard. Pulling a bud out of her ear, she glances around to none of the passengers looking at her. Nothing happened, the train shows her quietly, get back to your book and restart the song.

Needless to say, she spends the next half an hour toying with the equalizer on her iPod.

She likes the strong bass beats, but she likes the acoustic settings the best when she plays Rachel's rendition of Don't Rain On My Parade.

When she visits New York, she finds streets full of people, nudging and shoving past her like they own the pavement and she's missed the memo. But she walks in a happy daze, ears plugged in with the latest playlist that she synced specially for this trip, rubbing shoulders with the angry passersby. It doesn't matter though; she's this much closer to Rachel and Santana. Mostly Rachel, because who is she kidding?

In the spring of her junior year, Rachel visits her in Yale and they both end up lying on her bed, sharing the ear-buds between them. Rachel rests her head on Quinn's shoulder and mutters, "If it weren't for you, I'm not sure how my life would have turned out. I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for you."

Quinn sucks on her teeth and replies, "Well, you made me listen. I merely wanted to return the favor. Make you get to your dreams."

As lips slide together for the first time that day, Quinn figures that that's where they've been headed all this while and she's more than okay with that.

They cuddle into the night and Quinn loses herself in Rachel's even breathing, musing between the balance of speakers and ear-buds. That they're more compatible than they are different.

Where the speaker chimes you in on things you didn't know, the ear-buds will bring you closer to them.