The first Glee rehearsal of junior year, Finn and Quinn were the first to arrive in the choir room. Quinn hadn't expected it- she'd thought Rachel would have been here half an hour early preparing her speech about getting ready for sectionals- so she sat down to at the piano, absentmindedly playing chords, when he walked in. She was surprised to see that Rachel wasn't following two steps behind Finn at all times, and when she saw him standing alone in the doorway, she immediately regretted looking over her shoulder. If she'd been too wrapped up in the keyboard, he might not have said anything, but now, there was no turning back.
"Hey."
She said it softly, shifting awkwardly on the bench so that she could face him. He shuffled a few steps forward, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he glanced at the ceiling and then back at her before saying hi back. She took a quick look at the clock- five minutes before rehearsal- and willed it to move faster, unsure of what she was supposed to say. There were too many things that needed to be said: I'm sorry I broke your heart. I'm sorry I lied to you. I really did love you, you know that, right? None of those things made their way out of her mouth, because he'd already started talking.
"How was your summer?"
"Fine, I guess. I mostly worked and hung out with Brittany and Santana." She didn't know why she was bothering to lie to him. He'd always been able to see right through her.
"Oh, that's nice."
But he wasn't questioning it, and they shared a look of agreement to let it go. In reality, her summer had involved working a few hours a week at the pool (that part had been true), while Santana and Brittany did their best to try to include her. She felt like a third wheel now, so she found reasons to stop meeting up with them- saving them the trouble of feeling uncomfortable with her around. She spent time at Mercedes' house, and in those moments, she had been happy. Kurt was there a lot of the time, and he knew exactly how to cheer her up, whether it be with a trip to the mall to try on clothes none of them could afford or putting on a sappy movie as an excuse to let herself cry.
Most nights, though, she was home, sitting in her room thinking about how fast things had spiraled out of control, how many things she regretted, and how someone could leave your life so fast. She felt empty, now. Through the months of moving from Finn's to Puck's to Mercedes', through the walks down the hallway that were filled with peoples' stares, through the look of disappointment on her father's face as he kicked her out that kept coming back to her when she closed her eyes, Beth had been there. Quinn had made up her mind months before regionals that she had to give her up, had to give her a better life than she could offer, but when she had looked into her baby's eyes for the first time, she never wanted to let go. Beth had been someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't leave her, someone who she couldn't disappoint. But she'd given that all up, and she wondered if years from now when Beth found out, if she'd feel as abandoned as Quinn did now.
It was a huge change from the summer before- the summer she'd spent in nonstop Cheerios practice, then evenings sprawled on Finn's living room couch, both of them exhausted but refusing to give up time together. She hadn't felt broken, then. Last summer, she didn't have her mom coming in to check on her only to find her in another bout of hysterics- now the norm, since Beth- and pulling her head to her chest, whispering, "It's going to be okay, Quinnie, I promise. You know it'll get better." But it wasn't better, and she turned red just thinking about how pathetic the past three months had been, a complete wreck in front of her mother like she hadn't been since probably elementary school.
Finn was sitting in front of her on a chair now. "You okay in there?" he asked, giving her that cocked-head, confused puppy look.
"Yep, fine." She flashed a smile, pulling herself together quickly as she'd been practicing her whole life. "Tell me about your summer."
He didn't look convinced, but told her about playing some football at the rec center and learning to work on cars with Burt. It was as he was telling her about exploding oil all over himself, making her laugh for the first time in a while, that the rest of the club filtered in, led by Rachel, who was carrying stacks of copied sheet music that went above her head. Finn stood up to take them from her, everything in the room suddenly seeming fast-paced, so she moved to sit with Kurt and Mercedes at the side of the room, with Santana and Brittany in front of them.
"You and Finnocence were having a civil conversation?" Santana asked, whipping around to face them. "I think we've entered the apocalypse."
Quinn opened and closed her mouth, thinking of the right way to answer.
"That's that thing where you can't see the moon!" Brittany exclaimed, looking proud of herself.
"That's an eclipse, Brittany." Santana turned back around, distracted, and Quinn let out a relieved breath.
"Really, though, Quinn, how did that go? What did you say?" Mercedes leaned over to her.
"We just talked about our summers, that's all."
"But it's the first time you've talked to him since before Regionals, it had to have been weird, right?" Kurt was now leaning in, too, and she felt suffocated all of a sudden.
"Right. It was weird talking to him again, yeah, but it was fine."
It was funny how easily the lies came to her now. She looked across the room, where Rachel was talking animatedly at him as she pointed to song titles, and he was staring out into space without her even noticing. Quinn caught his eye and he looked startled for a minute before his lips curved just a little into a sympathetic smile, and he nodded. After all this time, they still had a code that ran four years back, and she took a deep breath, leaning back in her chair.
*** But you are not alone in this And you are the mother But you are not alone in this And I will tell the night
Cold is the water
It freezes your already cold mind
Already cold, cold mind
And death is at your doorstep
And it will steal your innocence
But it will not steal your substance
And you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand
The mother of your baby child
The one to whom you gave life
And you have your choices
And these are what make man great
His ladder to the stars
And you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand
Whisper, "Lose your sight"
But I can't move the mountains for you
It wasn't the first time. It was true that she hadn't seen him all summer, and the four days of school they had left after regionals had been spent completely avoiding each other. But the last time she saw him wasn't when she was wheeled away in the hospital hallway, leaving him behind with the rest of the club.
That night, her mother had run home to change and get some things to stay overnight, and Puck had reluctantly gone home- she had insisted, once they placed Beth in Shelby's arms, that he go, that staying would only torture him more. He'd asked her a million times if she wanted him to stay, but she shook her head, because spending the night with him at her bedside would only remind her over and over again of that moment in the nursery. Did you love me? Yes. Especially now. She'd felt a rush of guilt going through her then. Although she'd wanted to make sure he at least cared about her, that it wasn't a total mistake, it had made her feel worse. He had left her alone in the nursery for a minute soon after that, and she'd peered through the glass and said, "I love you, Beth, and you know that. But this is what I have to do, because even though he might have loved me, I didn't love him back, and you deserve more than that."
Quinn had insisted that her mother take her time at home. Her mom was generally good about listening to things like that, especially since Quinn had asked to be alone. But now, as she lay in the uncomfortable bed with a scratchy blanket around her legs, she realized that being by herself during the past nine months had never really meant alone- she'd always had Beth with her. Now, it was the first time all day that she really felt lost.
It was when she was contemplating calling her mom and telling her to hurry back that he walked in. He was still wearing his regionals outfit, the tie crooked and his hair disheveled, and he was breathing as though he'd just run up two flights of stairs.
"Hi."
She sat up, trying to smile. "Hey."
"We…" he walked a few steps closer, "We lost. At regionals."
"I know." She'd known the whole time. She knew that if they had won, someone would have told her by now, someone would have made a screaming phone call to Puck to let her know.
"So I guess it's the end for us." He looked at the ground, then back up, his eyes widening, "The club, I mean. I guess…we're done."
"Yeah." A lump was forming in her throat, and she shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, her legs hanging off the edge.
"But it's not like we won't see each other, right? Just because…just because it's not official anymore doesn't mean we can't still be there for each other, you know?" He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye for the first time in months, "We're a family. And families don't just go away even if they aren't…officially together. Right?"
She waited awhile before nodding, but never looked away. "Right."
"So," he said, shuffling from one foot to the other, "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine." she answered, for what felt like the millionth time that day, but this time, she just couldn't get it to sound convincing. Not to him, not after all this time. And it was when he gave her that sad smile and just shook his head that she started to cry for the first time all night.
She knew that eventually, she would be upset, but she hadn't expected it to hit her this hard, this fast, to make her feel like someone was draining everything out of her body. And when she just couldn't hold herself together anymore, he was taking big strides towards her, his chest taking the impact of her head as it fell forward. She didn't feel in control of her own actions anymore, and she was clutching his dress shirt in fists, sobs wracking her entire body as his arms wrapped around her. One of his hands cradled the back of her head, holding her tighter against him, and the only conscious thought she had was that he was the only thing keeping her from breaking into pieces.
"It's going to be okay, Quinn. I promise it'll be okay."
It reminded her of that day in the hallway, when Sue had outed her secret, and he had whispered to her in a way that made her feel like they were the only people in the world, even with the sea of students bustling around them.
"I'm alone," she managed, "I lost you and then I lost her, and now I don't even have Glee club. I'm all alone."
He pulled away a little, and she realized that he was shifting her over and climbing up onto the hospital bed, curving to accommodate for the fact that he was too tall for it. His dress shoes hung off the edge of the mattress, and he pulled her to him, intertwining his fingers with hers.
"You are not alone. I'm here, okay?"
He rubbed circles on her back and let her cry into his shirt, not saying a word for what felt like years. After a while, she mumbled, "I already miss her, Finn." into his chest, and then he was crying, too, whispering, "I know. I know." over and over again into her hair.
When she woke up the next morning, he was gone. And she didn't see him that summer, or talk to him for that last week of school. But before they'd found out that Glee club was granted another year, right after their performance of "To Sir, With Love", she found a note slipped into her almost empty locker.
I meant what I said. We're still a family. Remember that, okay?
She still didn't know whether he meant the club or the two of them. And a part of her was hoping for the latter, because even though they had a long way to go to get back to normal, he had been there that night. He had shown up, for the girl that broke his heart and the baby that had captured it, and he hadn't passed judgments or made accusations. He hadn't been upset with her. And part of her wasn't surprised, because it had always been them, and they would always keep finding their way back, even when the course led them pretty far apart.
She was still broken. The road in front of her was long, and it wasn't clear. But as she walked out, she knew that even if he wasn't standing right beside her yet, she would never be walking it alone.