Hello everyone, I had a dream about this crossover and that's how the idea came in, the story took form thanks to my super Beta Quinntanaeverafter. She really aports a lot to the story.
So this is a "Glee" & "Orange is the new black" crossover, I really hope you enjoy this, and if anyone reads my other fic, I apologize, it's on hiatus because i really have a huge block on that story, but it won't happen on this one.
I really love review, so please comment what you think. Thank you all :D
QUINN'S POV
I've made too many mistakes in my life to even begin counting. The biggest ones involve a futureless asshole named Puck, who I managed to let drag me down in his misery. Ever since high school I knew he was a loser I should avoid, but he always seemed to catch me at my most vulnerable moments.
The first time I fell into one of his schemes I got pregnant. In fact, I was foolish enough to lose my virginity to him. I had no feelings for him, and he had none for me. I may have been drunk but I still could tell it was a really bad idea. And really bad sex.
The second time I got mixed up with Puck was right after a good friend of ours died. He was a longtime friend named Finn. While mourning him, I watched my ex get back together with the, "love of her life." She wasn't my ex girlfriend, but she was an ex something to me. Someone important, or so I had thought. I felt so alone and vulnerable.
Four years have passed since Finn died. I've been seeing Puck all this time, mainly because of some business I should have been smart enough to avoid. Once I was caught up in it, I couldn't find a way out; it wasn't that simple.
So there I was at the post office waiting in line to pick up a package full of Viagra and I don't know what other drugs that my boyfriend had sent. I was lost in thought tormenting myself about all the bad decisions that had brought me to that moment. Where would I have been if I hadn't dropped out of Yale? If my ex… someone hadn't run back to her ex girlfriend? If I had learned my lesson and had never spoken with Puck ever again? That boy always brings me trouble. But the truth is I love trouble; I get a rush from the adrenaline and the money trouble brings.
Puck was friends with a pharmacist who gave him the drugs. My job was to pick up the mail and take it to a public place. It was usually a Starbucks; I liked to get my frappe on while I waited for the person who had bought it. I never received any money at the drop; I'm not that stupid. I knew illegal things brought trouble; I knew I could go to prison for being involved. So I always had a backup. I couldn't imagine myself in prison, but I knew it was a distinct possibility.
I never went out to make a transaction, or, "went to Starbucks," as I called it, without my little spy kit. People used to tease me for wearing head bands, so I thought it would be funny to hide my surveillance equipment there. I recorded the buyer's faces and voices, just in case I needed them someday. I kept a high powered defense attorney on retainer. I also had cash stashed away in some of my friends' homes in case I needed it. Anything could happen in this business; someone could be carrying a gun, someone could try to hurt me, I could get arrested. That money was a safety net. Other than being dangerous, which I've already admitted I like, the work was easy and the money I received from the launderers helped me buy my Jimmy Choo's.
"I knew you were trouble," was my ringtone for Puck; you can imagine why. His call tore me from my thoughts and I answered.
"What's up, Puck?" I asked, popping the, "p."
"I'm fine baby. Miss you too," He said sarcastically and I rolled my eyes.
"You know I don't get romantic on Starbucks runs."
"Did you pick up your mail yet?" He sounded nervous.
"I'm at the post office. There was a long line when I got here but there are only 2 people in front of me now."
"Cool, so you're meeting with the guy at the Starbucks on the corner by 5th, right? The one you use when you're over that way?"
"Yes; I'll be there as soon as I can okay? Love you," I said distractedly, frustrated he would call me now. We never talked while I was doing a job; we worked it out beforehand.
There was a short silence on Puck's end and then he said, "Love you too, Quinny." He sounded strange. I didn't know what was going on with him but I sensed something was off.
I hung up wondering why I'd told Puck I love him. Of course I've told him so before just to get him to stop making a big deal out of nothing. I kind of cared about him, mostly because we share a daughter. I pretty much gave up on love when I signed away my rights as her mom. But still. He's her dad; whatever. So I tell him I love him every once in a while but never during business; I thought it brought bad luck.
Thanks to that stupid, "love you," I was very nervous; literally shaking, so when it was my turn to pick up the package everyone looked like they were staring at me. My body started having a panic attack. I tried to control it by taking deep breaths. I couldn't stop biting my nails as I waited for the postal worker to go find the box for me; I looked like a newbie standing there sweating. When I finally got it, a feeling of relief washed over me and I started to breathe normally again as I made my way to Starbucks.
The exchange always happened when I'd add cinnamon to my coffee. I would set down Puck's Viagra package, or as I liked to call it, "the prick brick." Someone with a copy of Dostoyevsky would ask me if I was Emily Stark. I'd look at the person, say they must have me confused with someone else, and leave the package behind. My spy equipment automatically recorded their picture and their voice. It was that easy.
Except this time was different. As soon as the buyer picked up the package I felt a hand on my shoulder. This wasn't normal. I didn't know whose hand it was but I felt like my world just fell apart. I couldn't breathe, and then I heard my name.
"Lucy Quinn Fabray?" I heard a male voice ask. I knew this was it, At first I thought it's possible this man's an old friend of mine who just noticed me but when I saw three officers walking straight towards me, every hope just disappeared. I felt tears burning my eyes and I was too scared to look at how many officers were behind me.
"This is Officer Stevens," he said, flashing a badge. "Get on the ground and put your hands behind your head, Miss Fabray." The same voice again. I knew it would be better to cooperate so I didn't resist.
"You're under arrest for the possession and trafficking of drugs. You have the right to remain silent and to refuse to answer questions. Anything you do say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney, and have one present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without an attorney present, you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney."
I felt the cold metal of the handcuffs close around my wrists and I burst into tears. I knew this was the risk I'd been taking all along, but I couldn't imagine myself in prison.
I didn't know what to do. I had my attorney, I really trusted him so I definitely was going to call him as soon as I could. I had my backup money just in case this happened, but at that moment it was difficult to see I had anything in my favor. I had evidence of people who'd bought the drugs, who'd sent them to me, and who'd stolen them. But I just couldn't stop thinking that I was going to prison.
The officers got me inside the patrol car and one of them was trying to make friendly conversation with me. I'm not stupid; they'd already told me they would use anything I said against me. There's no way I would say a word without my attorney next to me.
"Girls like you make me hate my job. I feel like I'm a monster," the officer said as he drove. Did he really want to have a conversation right now?
"Do you know you committed a felony? Why would you do that? You don't look like a junkie…. Oh let me guess. Boyfriend got you in trouble, am I right?" He was right and I fucking hated that he was right. I made my own choices but if it wasn't for Puck I wouldn't have been here. I can't think of why anyone who supposedly loved me would involve me in his crimes. I must look so pathetic to these people.
"So, you don't talk? I'm one of the nice ones. You're lucky you didn't have Solis arrest you; he's a real douchebag." I looked out the window, completely ignoring him and taking a few final looks at the city I love because I won't be able to see it again for a while.
"Look, I know girls like you are just used. You're not dangerous. You're not criminals. Well you are but you're not a bad girl. You didn't do it on purpose; you don't want to hurt anybody, right?" This Stevens guy must think I'm a real idiot.
"Someone ratted on you, you know? We got an anonymous call saying you would be picking up stolen drugs. You can't trust the people you thought you could trust."
"I want my phone call," I said to shut him up, and because I really was anxious to make that call.
"As soon as we get you processed, you'll get your call."
When I finally spoke with my attorney, Hoffman, I told him what was going on. I gave him Rachel's address… let's say she's a friend of mine. I told him to pick up the evidence I have from her. He knew about it, and what to do with it.
After about 45 minutes I saw him walking in. I knew he got here as soon as he could; he's one of those guys who's always tripping over themselves to please me. I met him when I was at Yale; he's alumni and a top lawyer in the city.
"Quinn, Quinn, Quinn, what a shame you are here. Puckerman should´ve never gotten you mixed up in this. Good thing I have friends on the court who may reduce your time. Some of them owe me a few favors." He started reading some documents, and grabbed my hand. "I'll do my best to get you out of this mess, beautiful." I nodded and hugged him before he started reading again. I knew I was going to prison so I needed a hug before I went in.
I knew Hoffman would do his best; he was actually one of the best lawyers specializing in penal law. I was in good hands. He went and consulted with someone. After about an hour he came back and met with me in private.
"I couldn't get bail, and they were going to give you 3 years." I started crying again. I almost screamed in panic but he calmed me down. "If you plead no contest and give them this evidence, they´ll give you 14 months. You've got photos, audio and video; that helps a lot."
I nodded and he looked at me with a serious expression.
"You understand you can't cover for Puck, right? You'll do whatever you need to do and tell the truth. You never received any money at the exchanges and that works in your favor."
"Puck will be the first one I name; believe me," I replied.
Hoffman told me he was already working on my visitors list so I can have visits and calls right away. After that the officers came in and started their questioning.
They asked me about who got me into the business. They asked me the names of the people I knew. Then I showed them the evidence I'd collected. They went to do some paperwork and came back.
"Ms. Fabray, you will be taken to Litchfield Federal Prison today. You won't go to trial or jail because you already made your statement." I was a little relieved; Hoffman told me that jail could be harder than prison; they'd keep me in there with a bunch of criminals, one tiny toilet, and no privacy.
PUCK'S POV (Before Quinn got arrested)
I don't know how I got caught. It was almost four years of easy money. Then I fucking got arrested somehow. I can't stay in prison. I may look like a bad ass but there are real bad asses in there. I remember when I went to juvie, the dudes in there were scary and big I can't imagine how much worse will the ones in fed will be. There are killers, kidnapers, and rapists.
I remember that stupid comment Santana once made about me raping Quinn when I got her pregnant. I think she had crush on Quinn or something. I never raped her. We were drinking, and yeah my plan was to have sex with her but I never forced her. She only tried to stop me once but all girls are like that, right? They swear they don't want to but they're actually dying for it. All girls love the Puckasaurus. They seduce guys and then say they don't want sex. But I don't play like that. And that is not rape; you can't cook me and not eat me.
There are some real rapists. I don't want to be anyone's prison bitch. That's why I can't stay in prison. I'm not tall or big. I'm average and it would be easy for a big guy to force me. If it ever happens I will fight back but the thought is scary. I won't even use soap in the showers; I heard rumors about guys who bend over to pick it up, there's no going back once you drop it.
"Puckerman, your attorney is here" I heard an officer talking. I didn't have an attorney of my own. That was stupid. I was going to, but they are freaking expensive. I should've have one, anyway. This guy looked like he just got his title. Oh fuck; I'm going to stay in here forever.
I talk to the dude and he told me that If I plead guilty they were only giving me 5 years, well how much more do you want, fucker? Yeah; I know that being in the Air Force makes this worse but 5 years is too much. I can't have 5 years. I´m good looking; all the gay dudes will be all over me. I'll say it again I can't be someone's bitch.
"Look idiot, we're not here to negotiate with a criminal. But you may get a reduced sentence if you cooperate with us and tell us who else is involved in this business," an officer told me as he set his cup of coffee on the table and sat in front of me. His partner was standing by the door, taking notes.
"Quinn Fabray." I didn't think twice; I have to save my ass. Besides she is a pretty girl, she can suck some cocks to make her stay in prison nice. She is smart, she'll figure something out.
"Who is Quinn Fabray?"
"My girlfriend. She picks up the stuff, then she sells it, she practically does all the business."
"When is she going to pick up the next package?"
"Today, around 2 p.m."
"We're going to do a setup, call her and make sure she is going."
I felt a little bad about ratting on Quinn, but it's easier for a girl to be in prison. They don't get rapped. I mean what can a girl do to another girl? She'll understand. I also told him the name of the pharmacist who gives me the drugs.
I called to Quinn to see how the job was going. The feds were already there, waiting to arrest her. She was about to pick up the package and we had to hang up, I felt shitty now, because she told me she loves me and she never does that when she's on a run for me.
After about 30 minutes waiting for the officers they came in and put me in hand cuffs again.
"Congratulations idiot, you'll be here the next 4 and half years" They started to push me towards the jail and I tried to resist.
"What the fuck! You told me I would get less time!"
"How much time did you want? Half a year is good. One tip, asshole: never rat on your girlfriend. You piece of shit." They threw me into a cell and I knew I'd fucked it up. I got nothing left to trade for more time off. I wasted it for six fucking months, and now I was in jail and Quinn too. Who will help me?
QUINN'S POV
After the officers did some paperwork, they took me to a small office and there's where the shame begin. I had to strip in front of a female officer. At least it was a woman. Then she started looking under my boobs, under my armpits, legs and everything. The most embarrassing part was when I had to squat and cough to make any contraband come out. It was beyond awful and I can't imaging being humiliated worse than that.
When I finished the lady took all my belongings and she put them in some kind of locker. After that the officers gave me an orange suit that really didn't look half bad with my coloring, and a pair of shoes.
At that moment I realized I was officially a prisoner. I'm a prisoner. And I'll be a prisoner for the next 14 months. I wanted to cry, but I knew I couldn't do that in front of all the other inmates; I had to cry eventually but not now. My plan was to do my time without messing with anybody.
An officer walked me to a hallway where I met other two new inmates. One was crying her eyes out and the other one looked really sketch. I didn't do anything; I didn't want to upset anybody. Another lady with a khaki uniform joined us and introduced herself as Morello. She was very small and sweet. She gave us this little tour around the prison.
"Well you go here," she told me as she handed me a tooth brush and a bar of soap. With all the crazy things that were happening, I'd forgotten about these things. Thank God she gave me those so I can clean myself.
She wished me good luck and gave me some tissues. "The first night is the toughest." I thanked her and then I stepped inside. I wasn't aware of what time it was but I was really tired and really wanted to sleep.
The place Morello took me was some kind of a room with 6 beds. She told me it was where they took the new ladies, the sick ones, and the problematic ones. They looked nice and welcomed me and the other new girl well. The beds that were down were for the old or sick women. I realized that one of the most dangerous things would to get sick in here; these poor people deserved better attention.
I had to sleep in one of the beds at the top just like the other new girl. The other bed was occupied by a young woman. She didn't look sick so I guess she was one of the problematic girls, but she actually was fun. My bed was facing hers so I couldn't avoid talking to her. The other new girl laid on her bed without talking to anybody.
"Hey blondie, what's your name?"
"Uhm, hey, Quinn, my name is Quinn."
"We go on last names here."
"Oh, so Fabray."
"Nice to meet you, I'm Nichols, what're you here for?"
"Are you really asking me that?" I looked at her trying to not sound rude but I just didn't want to share my "I'm a stupid girlfriend" story.
"Well you can tell me later, just don't kill us, okay?"
I chuckled. "I don't kill, or rape or anything like that."
"Cool, cool, so who's you're counselor?"
"Mr. Healy; do you know him?" I asked curiously wanting to know how things work in here.
"Are you lesbian, Fabray?"
Her question caught me off guard. I shook my head. I didn't really like to label myself, but since Santana, "My ex someone," I realized I wasn't straight. I'd never had a relationship with a woman, but I knew I was attracted to them and I'd been on a few dates.
"Why are you asking me that?"
"You totally are!" she laughed. "Mr. Healy doesn't like lesbians. A blonde girl like you used to be his favorite but she had a girlfriend in here and he sent her to the SHU and he stopped liking her. He just stopped being nice to her once he found out."
One woman told up to shut up and I realized all the lights were off. At least it had been nice to talk to someone. I couldn't help but cry silently for most of the night. I used the tissues Morello gave me. The next day Nichols woke me up and my eyes hurt. She said I didn't look too bad, and showed me where to get breakfast.
I didn't know where I was supposed to sit. The food seemed really unpleasant but I couldn't complain; I got what I got. Nichols raised her hand and told me to sit with her and a bunch of other white ladies. I noticed Morello, a blonde woman, a very attractive brunette with glasses, and two older ladies; one religious and the other who I'd swear must have been a hippie.
"Hey Chapman, look at this blondie. She reminds me of you; she's a mini Chapman," Nichols said. The blonde girl laughed I assumed she was Chapman.
"Don't ever talk bad about the food, I mean it," Chapman said and the others just laughed. It was some kind of inside joke, I planned to follow her advice no matter what the food was like; it was tolerable though.
"Take this, mini Chapman," the tall woman with the glasses gave me her yogurt. I took it and smiled at her. Chapman gave her a look. I guess they were a couple.
"Thank you, but please don't call me that."
"How should I call you then?" She asked, and I bet she was flirting. I liked her voice; it was deep and sexy. I smirked when I saw Chapman giving her a small punch on the arm.
"She's Fabray. Keep your pussy away from her," Nichols said and I smiled as a thank you.
"Do you need anything Fabray? Soap? Tooth paste? If you need anything let us know, we take care of our own," the hippie woman said and I didn't understand what she meant until I saw the other tables. African Americans people with African Ameriacans, Latinas with Latinas, old ladies with old ladies etc. This was a race thing.
After breakfast we were walking out when I noticed this perfect brunette, in the kitchen. She reminded me of my ex. I thought it was impossible for it to be her but I kept looking even though it wouldn't be nice to actually see her; we weren't on good terms.
I kept looking as I felt people pushing me with their shoulders and then I heard in the kitchen, "Hey Lopez!" It was her. She turned around and it was fucking her. I nearly ran out of there thinking just three words:
Fuck. My. Life.
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