Title: Mad World
Chapter 1 : Aftermath
Fandom: Glee
Genre: Romance/Humour
Status: WIP
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Rating: T, PG-13. Mild violence, language and angst. Nothing the average teen can't handle.
Words: 6,093
Spoilers: Takes place after 'Throwdown', where Sue Sylvester has told Jacob Ben Israel to publish the story of Quinn's pregnancy. Quinn Fabray is still living with her parents, who are still oblivious and total assholes.
Summary: All it takes is for the one who once slushied others to be herself slushied. After that, all's fair in love and war. And in high school, there's a lot of war.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, the songs, or even the characters. I only own my plot. However, if you happen to come into the possession to the rights of Quinn Fabray, or Dianna Agron, I will gladly and gratefully buy them from you.
Note: The title is Mad World, originally sung by Tears for Fears, though I admit I only heard of it thanks to Adam Lambert. Every chapter title will be a song title. The events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate to the song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the song might or might not help you understand the story. This chapter is Aftermath-Adam Lambert.I promise that not every chapter is related to Glambert. It just happened to fit for this one. Explanations of why the song title is the title of the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter.
It all starts when that cranky bitch, Sue Sylvester tells Jacob Ben Israel, that annoying gossipmonger, to publish the story of Quinn Fabray's pregnancy. Which he does, with mild regret, but mostly with relish. It's the biggest story he's ever published, even compared to that huge article on the possible reasons for Sandy Ryerson's abrupt termination. For this story, he has proof, proof he proudly presents on his blog. He knows people read his blog, and even if they won't admit it in school, they check his blog every night for more gossip to spread. Perhaps after this he will rise, if merely a step, on the social ladder. He feels anticipation stirring inside him as he double checks and triple checks the article for errors. There are none; it's perfect. He presses the 'Publish' button. Within an hour, he has 46 comments. He smiles. Jacob Ben Israel has finally crossed the line to infamy.
Rachel Berry fervently refreshes Jacob's blog, aptly and simply titled- "Gossip Guy", every other minute. She knows she should be trying to finish her rather large amount of homework, but she's firmly glued to her computer screen, knowing but desperately hoping she won't see the story on the blog. Her rhythm is smooth. Click, breathe out at the headline she's reread 46 times, ("Is Kurt Hummel not quite straight?" It's pretty stupid. No one in their right minds would have called Kurt straight, but the article is demeaning and stupid and hurtful. Rachel wonders why people like Jacob, who live off the pain of others, even exist), counts to a hundred, and clicks again. And she freezes, because the title is now, "A bun in the celibate oven. Immaculate conception or just horny teens?" It is crude, but the article is worse. Rachel Berry, for the first time in her life, does not read every word, but skims, because she can't bear to read every scathing word.
"Celibacy Club president, head cheerleader, ranked third hottest girl in the school, devout Christian... Quinn Fabray... pregnant... boyfriend, Finn Hudson... knocked-up... Virgin Mary? Unlikely. Perfection personified- Not anymore... Two-faced... Practice what you preach..." And it went on and on in this manner. It was painful to read, and Rachel could feel the tears spilling out of her eyes. Nobody deserved an article this vicious and deliberately hurtful to be written about them. Even when the blogger had written about her, it had been mildly positive, mainly because he was trying to get into her pants. Even Kurt's article wasn't half as bad as this one was. With a shaking hand, Rachel clicked "Comments". There were already 8 comments, and the article had just been published. Some comments are rude, some are crude and sexual in nature, and some are just plain gleeful. They bask in the downfall of the mighty Quinn Fabray. Through her tears, Rachel wonders why she is not one of them.
Finn Hudson receives a lot of text message throughout the night. Most are from the football team, congratulating him on 'tapping that', but some messages are just a few bottom-feeders gloating at his downfall. He wasn't the pregnant one, but he was the one who got Quinn Fabray pregnant, and she unwittingly has dragged him down with her. He ignores every message, except Rachel's "Omg, Finn. I'm so so sorry about this. How are you handling this?" He texts back, "Ok, i guess. kinda bz, tho. cya tmr." He isn't in the mood for Rachel Berry's long speeches. He gets enough of them on a day to day basis.
Instead of logging onto his computer, or playing mindless video games, or even calling Quinn Fabray, Finn goes to his mother and wordlessly helps her with the dishes. His mother is surprised, but not unpleasantly so. She hands him a clean, wet dish, and he dries them and puts them carefully in their place. He doesn't let his hand shake and he doesn't break any of them.
Kurt Hummel calls Mercedes Jones, Tina Cohen-Chang and Artie Abrams as soon as he sees the article. As glad as he is that he is no longer on the main page, he isn't happy about the article. None of them are. Mercedes rants about how much of a douche bag Jacob Ben Israel is, while Artie softly agrees in the background. Tina stutters about the future. They talk for a while, but they don't know what's going to happen. All they know is that they do need Quinn Fabray in the club, and they don't actually mind that she is. They've actually come to not hate her. In fact, they even feel mild outrage at the article. Tomorrow, they will corner Jacob and stare at him while he tries to hold onto his dignity, but will eventually fall to the floor whimpering and apologizing and begging, but they will not touch him. They will kill him with their eyes. Gossiping has its limits, and Jacob has crossed those lines. He will not be forgiven.
Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang, Matt Lutherford, Santana Lopez and Brittany all appear to be offline on MSN, but they are in reality chatting to each other. Perhaps it is more plotting than chatting. They are calculating how many slushies Quinn will get thrown on her on the morrow. They are wondering how many slushies the five of them can hold in their hands without spilling any on themselves before they can find Jacob Ben Israel and make him regret even thinking about fucking up their friend. Because Quinn Fabray, as much of a deluxe bitch she is, is still their friend. And friends don't let losers like Jacob fuck up their friend's life and get away with it. They decide that 10 simultaneous slushies is really not bad enough. 10 simultaneous slushies for a week is a much better alternative.
Sue Sylvester types in the web address she blackmailed off the Jacob kid, and smiles in satisfaction at the vicious article. Her head cheerleader will be ruined by tomorrow, because gossip in a small town like this spreads faster than the black plague. She smiles again, because comparing this story to the black plague is not very much inaccurate. It will spread, and it will spread fast, and it will bring Quinn Fabray to her knees. No one messes up her Cheerio's and gets away with it. Sue is aware that she will have to kick the pregnant teen out. She can't have a round ball being tossed around- it will hurt their chances at competitions. She'll just have to find a new head cheerleader. Santana Lopez and Brittany were out. They were too close to Quinn Fabray. They were liabilities. She would figure it out tomorrow. For now, she had to gloat.
While so many other people were doing so many things, Quinn Fabray, the subject of their thoughts, is merely lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling. She has no desire to read the article. She knows Jacob's style. She will be ridiculed so badly that what she has done to Rachel Berry will only be considered child's play. She knows this, but some part of her fruitlessly hopes that if she doesn't read the article, then it's not there. She knows that she is deluding herself. It's already published, because she has been receiving text message after text message. She knows they will be blocked and anonymous, gloating and cruel, because at some point in her high school life, she was the one sending those messages.
She knows she will never send messages of that sort ever again, because now she knows what it's like. She knows she will never laugh at another person being slushied again, because by this time tomorrow, she will have know what it's like to be covered in freezing cold corn syrup. She knows she will never call Rachel Berry by anything other than her name again, because she knows if she reads the messages on her phone, they will be much, much worse. Quinn Fabray knows that her reign of terror is over, and now she is on the bottom of the social ladder.
But she doesn't care. It doesn't matter what they say. Tomorrow, she will walk into school with her head held high. She will face whatever they throw at her, whether it be insults or corn syrup, with dignity. She might be at the bottom of the social ladder, but she'd be damned if she allowed people to treat her that way. Did they really expect that she would just let them bully her into submission? She might go down, but she won't be pushed down. She will step down, just as gracefully and as quickly as she stepped up. She wonders for a moment why she is not sobbing hysterically into her pillow, like she did into Finn's chest earlier in the afternoon, but now she just feels numb. She feels some shock too, but she is all out of tears.
She also feels a steely resolve. She takes several deep breaths and picks up her phone. One by one, she reads and deletes the messages. When she is done, she checks her emails. One by one, she reads and deletes them. She pretends not to notice that none of her friends have sent her anything supportive except for, of all the people in the world, Rachel Berry. She pretends to not have received the message and deletes it anyway. You can be the most popular girl in school, but at the same time not have a single friend. She strives to hold back her tears. She does her homework. She says goodnight to her parents, who smile and pretend that their daughter doesn't look different. They pretend to not see the tense shoulders, the fake smile and the held-back tears. They pretend everything is perfect. They smile back and wish her sweet dreams. Her mother sets down her drink to hug her. Her breath smells like vodka. Quinn tries not to burst into hysterical laughter. The only dreams she would get were going to be nightmares. But all she does is smile and walk back to her room. She packs her books and her cheerleading uniform, because tomorrow she will quit before she can be kicked off the team. She can retain more of her dignity that way. She changes into her pyjamas and turns off the light. She curls up under her blanket and tries to go to sleep.
She stares up at her ceiling and she doesn't fall asleep. She watches the shadows on her ceiling, the soft silvery light coming in through her curtains and feels more alone than she ever has before.
Somehow, it is morning and Quinn has overslept. She goes through her morning routine numbly and hurriedly. She skips breakfast and just remembers to take her keys and bag with her. She gives her hung over mother a wave- conversation is hard this early in the morning and drives fast to school. Miraculously, she is not late. In fact, she drove so fast she is early. She sits in her silver Nissan Versa and taps the steering wheel nervously. She watches people walk by, pretending not to see her, but at the same time throwing her not-so-subtle looks. She wonders whether she could just sit in the car until the bell rings, then berates herself for being so weak. She will not let a bunch of high school students make her hide. She might have fallen from grace, but Hell would have frozen over before Quinn Fabray decided to go into hiding.
So she gets out of her car.
And walks up to the front doors alone.
And stops in front of her locker, still alone.
Students watch her carefully as she walks past them and they walk past her. Whispers follow her, and some nervous laughter, because she walks past them dressed in heels, jeans and a black shirt, and not her usual skimpy cheerleader uniform. Her hair is down. It was actually rather liberating to Quinn. It was a lot easier to breathe in her own clothes and her head doesn't feel like it's about to explode. Unfortunately, without her cheerleading uniform, she has to squeeze past smelly guys and gossiping girls, because she is no longer special, and they no longer part for her. She is anonymous, but not.
She gets to her locker and puts her bag inside. She hears heavy footsteps coming up to her and braces herself. She takes a quick breath, and with her heartbeat slightly elevated above normal, turns around. But it is only Finn Hudson, who looks at her defensive posture weirdly. "Are... Are you okay?" He sounds uncomfortable, and his eyes don't meet hers. He has his confused/concerned face perfected. Quinn sighs inwardly. How does one admit that not only is her boyfriend not the father of her baby, but also not the one she's in love with? How does one admit so many things without completely annihilating another person? How does one break another person's heart?
She doesn't know, but she doesn't feel like lying to him yet again. No, she is not okay; she is mildly depressed, pregnant and hormonal, and she is pissed that even though she might not love Finn anymore, he is still her boyfriend, and though she feels guilty that she's lying to him and basically taking him for a ride, he is still her friend, and the least he could have done was send her a message last night. She takes a breath, but before she can speak, she sees red. Literally.
Dave Karofsky is standing in front of Finn and her. He stares down at her over his nose, and even though Finn is taller than he is by several inches, Karofsky somehow stares down at him as well. His square jaw is firmly set in a wide smirk, and his arms are crossed over his chest. Finn is simply stunned. Karofsky is on the football team, and the unwritten rule is to never bite the hand that feeds you. Finn is not covered in corn syrup, but Quinn is his girlfriend, and the rule applies to her as well. Dave Karofsky has crossed the line.
Quinn Fabray however, feels the Slushie drip down her face, sting her eyes, cover her lips. It continues its icy cold path down her shirt, soaking her shirt completely. It tastes like cherry. She hates cherry. She can hear snickers coming from around her, and whispers. People aren't moving. They are waiting. They are waiting for the reaction of the mighty Quinn Fabray. Will she run away, crying, or will her boyfriend defend her? The hallway is mostly silent, or maybe it wasn't. She couldn't tell. The blood rushing through her ears and her veins is too loud.
She lets out an animalistic, ferocious snarl and takes a quick step up to the football player, who's smirk has slipped. She grabs him by the lapels of his letterman jacket and slams him against the locker next to hers. He is a head taller and maybe 70 pounds heavier than her, but the adrenaline in her veins, combined with her vicious cheerleader training, pays off. His head slams against the cold metal and bounces back. He blinks rapidly, his mouth curling downwards. "Watch it, preggers. I don't have nothing against hitting a girl if she hits me first." The way he says girl makes Quinn's stomach curl up.
She shoves him again and before he can react, lifts a knee and presses it hard against the front of his crotch. He lets out a yelp and a whimper when she doesn't take her knee away, but presses it down with more force. She won't permanently damage him, but she won't let him get away with this. When his eyes roll back in his head and his hands come up to grab her, she lets him go. He slides to the floor, groaning in pain. His hands go to his groin. He shouts at her from the floor. "You're just a pregnant ex-cheerleader! You're nothing anymore, Fabray! Your time is over. It's a new order over here!" Even down on the floor, he still thinks he is winner.
Quinn leans over him, one foot hovering over his hand-covered groin, one sharp heel next to his face. She knew the heels would come in handy. She speaks in a flat, but commanding tone. "Listen, fuckface: I don't know your name, and I really don't care. Your name does not matter, because in 20 years, you will still be here in Lima, Ohio with your 2.5 kids and stupid Stepford wife. You'll have a stupid job and when you retire with your lousy pension, you'll cheat on your wife, who will leave you, taking the kids with her, and then you will die, fat and alone."
The jock's eyes widen through his pain with shock and anger, but before he can swear at her, she continues talking in a scathing tone. "That's only if you're lucky. If you're not, this Slushie will make me sick and I'll have a miscarriage. I will come after you so hard you'll end up staring at your wife and kids through the bars in a window and talking to them through a telephone." She cocks her head and kicks his hands away from his crotch, pressing the sharp end of her heel there. "Don't even move."
He doesn't.
She continues, louder now, because the hall is deathly silent, and she's pretty sure someone is filming this. "Does this get you off, douche bag? Do you feel better about yourself now? Do you feel happy that the only time you feel good about yourself is when you make other people feel like shit? Bullying others- Is that how you want to go through the rest of your high school life? Do you feel like the bigger person now?" Her voice is cold and piercing. Dave Karofsky looks away, unable to take the flashing of her eyes. They are an icy and fierce colour. For a moment, Quinn wonders where her words are coming from. She wonders if she is talking to Dave Karofsky, or whether the words are meant for herself. After all, just a day ago, she was the one laughing at the people who got slushied. "Well? Answer me!" Her voice is high and louder now. Soon, the teachers will come out because they will be wondering why the usually noisy hallway is unnaturally silent.
Dave Karofsky doesn't answer her. He turns his head away, shame colouring his cheeks. Quinn bares her teeth and leans down close to his ear. "The next time you think about doing anything with a Slushie other than drinking it, think about what happened today." She stands up straight; tall and defiant; she walks off down the hall, not giving Dave or Finn another look. The students previously crowding around them back away quickly and nervously, as though afraid she will take it out on them next. They allow her to stalk past them with no comment, though several unseen people clap for her. The people she has already passed begin to whisper, and the football players she passes give her a look of grudging respect before rushing to aid, and laugh, at their teammate.
She hears Finn calling out to her from behind her, but she keeps walking before turning into the next bathroom and he stops. She opens the door and says flatly, "Leave me alone, Finn. Go to class now or you'll be late." Finn's mouth opens in surprise, and he is prepared to argue that he wants to help her, but Quinn cuts him off with shocking news. "I'm breaking up with you."
"What?!" Is all he can exclaim.
"Look, you still want your popularity. You still want to be somewhere up there on the goddamned social ladder. So go. You didn't help me earlier, and I don't need your help. I've proven that I'm strong enough alone. I can live without you, and you'll definitely be better off without me." She speaks gently but firmly, and without malice. It's for the best. Eventually she would have had to do this, and it's probably best to do it right now, while she is still high off the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
But Finn isn't going to back off that easily. He scowls and crosses his arms tightly. Angrily, he says, "You can't just brush me off like that, Quinn. I was going to defend you, and you can't just dump me because of a small thing like that! And that baby's mine! You can't just tell me to leave you alone. I have a right to that child."
It is time. It was best to end the charade right now and let Finn be absolved of all responsibility. "No, it's not. The baby's not yours." Quinn looks Finn right in the eyes as she says this, and he knows she isn't lying. He feels weak, and then he feels shock. "But.. But that stuff about the hot tub..?" Quinn sighs tiredly. How much of an idiot could Finn Hudson really be? "How much dumber could you possibly get, Finn Hudson?" And it's mean of her, but she can't help herself. "I know you're just a jock, but..We didn't even have sex, Finn! And we were both still dressed, for god's sakes. Plus, I was still a virgin at the time. How did you even get to high school?" She is exasperated. Why did she even go out with him?
Finn is stuttering now, but he manages to utter a complete sentence. "So... So the father.. Isn't me?" Quinn shakes her head. This was going to break him. "The father is Puck." She says softly, staring at his chest. All the flame has gone out of her. Finn is still for a moment, then his fist slams into the wall next to her face. She doesn't flinch. "Bitch." This is whispered in the most broken voice Quinn has ever heard in her life. "How could you do this to me?" Finn looks at her as though she has stabbed him in his heart. The hurt, the betrayal in his eyes... Quinn looks away.
He is entitled to hit her, probably wants to, but he doesn't, because he is a man. He does the only thing he can- he walks away. Quinn lets the bathroom door swing shut as the bell rings. She resolves to skip class. It's Spanish, and she can blame her morning sickness. Mr Schuester would just look at her with his compassionate eyes at glee later and smile and nod and said he understood. Then he would hand her the assignment she missed. He would not mark her down as absent.
Quinn stares at herself in the mirror, wondering again when she had decided to attack a six-foot-tall football player. Her hands are shaking now, as her body calms down from her high. Tears pool in her eyes and she blinks them back hard, but it doesn't work. They fall anyway. She quickly wipes them off and tries to control her sobs when the door opens. She groans when the last person she would have wanted to see at that moment walks in. Rachel Berry. Of course. It is only cruel fate that would send her the most annoying person on earth right this moment. She turns and tries to walk past the girl, but Rachel blocks the door. "I understand if you would like to use another bathroom, but is it really necessary?" Her voice is pleading. Quinn sighs.
"Leave me alone, Berry." They are both vaguely aware that it's the first time Quinn has called Rachel by anything other than an insult. "I'm covered in Slushie and I have a headache coming on. I'm not at all in the mood for any of your insanely long speeches and/or lectures, so could you just please leave me alone? I really don't need your sympathy. There's nothing you can do for me.(*)" Quinn puts a hand on her cold forehead, because she really does feel a headache coming on.
Rachel, on the other hand, seems to not have heard a single word Quinn said. "I just wanted to say that I very much appreciate and enjoy what you did and said to Dave Karofsky earlier. It was very impressive and brave of you to stand up to him. I would also like to thank you, because it's something I've wanted to do for a very long time. And I think I speak on behalf of all the other glee club members when I say that, because maybe we won't get slushied as much after this. You have done what all Slushie victims wish they could do, and-"
Quinn holds up a hand, slightly dazed. "First of all, you talk too much, too fast. And secondly, I didn't do it for you. Now if you don't mind, I have to wash my hair and my face." And then she walks back to the sinks and sticks her head under a tap. It occurs to her that not only is the space between the tap and the bowl wide enough for two heads, it is also comfortably tall so that she doesn't have to lean over too much. She wonders why she has never noticed that the bathrooms seem almost designed for people who have been slushied.
As she washes the red out of her hair, she wonders why she hasn't heard the short singer leave. She sighs and admits to the sink. "Perhaps it takes a fall like mine before something like this can happen. I mean, I've always been on the other end of the Slushie, but today, I finally feel what it's like to be slushied, and honestly, it's a really bad feeling. But because of that, I know what it's like to throw a Slushie at other people also, and I know what we fear. It's people who stand up to us. And I know that I didn't get beaten up by that jerk just because he was mostly in shock. They're all cowards, you see." She feels embarrassed, but turns to look at Rachel anyway. She's not there. Quinn sighs but is rather relieved that the girl did not hear her speech. It was more for herself, at any rate.
The door opens again, and this time, Rachel Berry is holding a bulky grey thing that looks vaguely like a hoodie and a mid-sized towel in her hands. She offers the towel to Quinn with a timid smile. "I always come prepared with extra clothes. I suppose since this is your first Slushie, you wouldn't have thought of it, though frankly, I am surprised you didn't expect this," then she blushed, "Sorry, that was kind of rude."
Quinn feels a smirk tugging at her lips. "You talk too much," but she is reaching for the towel. "Thanks." She wipes her face dry and then furiously rubs her hair. She curses her long hair. She sighs down at her sticky shirt. Almost unaware that she is speaking, she says, "I did plan to bring clothes, but I woke up late and I just... forgot." And then she wonders why she just explained herself to Rachel Berry.
Rachel holds out the grey thing. It is indeed a hoodie, which honestly surprises Quinn. She didn't expect Rachel Berry to own anything other than argyle, which is probably pretty stupid. No one can wear argyle every single day... Can they? Quinn does not reach out to take the hoodie. Admittedly, going around smelling of cherry and feeling sticky all over does not hold much appeal for her, but neither does wearing Rachel Berry's 'Wicked' hoodie that says 'THE WICKED WITCH WAS FRAMED.' Somehow, the quote cuts too close to home. She can't help but think of herself as the wicked witch.
Rachel Berry has kept her mouth shut for far too long, and the words spill out of her. "I don't have Man-Hand, Rupaul or Treasure Trail germs, Quinn. And you don't want to go around in that soaked shirt all day long, either. It's detrimental to your, and your baby's, health. Also, you have been soaked in a Slushie, and I know it's cold. You will need something warm to wear, and if you think you can change into your Cheerio's uniform temporarily, it's not a good idea. You'll freeze and get pneumonia or hypothermia and then I'll feel guilty because I let you do that. I swear I didn't put itching powder or anything on the-"
Quinn's headache was coming back, so she took the hoodie from Rachel to get her to shut up. "God, Berry, you-"
"Talk too much, yes, you've said," but Rachel was smiling, then her smile faltered. She blushed slightly and said, "I don't mean to be intrusive or too forward, but keeping your, uh, undershirt on isn't a good idea. Cherry stains really quickly, and while I really don't mind letting you wear it, I do rather like my hoodie without cherry stains." Quinn stares at Rachel as though she has three heads. "You want me to walk around..." Her voice trails off.
Rachel nods nervously, her head moving too fast. Quinn idly wondered if she was still pumped up on Vitamin D. "Stop moving your head. It looks like it's going to fall off." She is surprised when Berry listens to her and her head abruptly stops moving. It's like watching a bobble-head doll. "The hoodie is thick enough, so, um, you won't feel too... uncomfortable." Rachel blushes again and Quinn rolls her eyes. She unbuttons her shirt and folds it neatly on the sink. She sees Rachel turn around and cover her eyes in the mirror. She can't help but smirk this time. "Honestly, Berry, have you never been a locker room?" She hears a muffled mumble of nonsense through the other girl's fingers, but can't understand them. She shakes her head and takes off her 'undershirt'. That girl really was quite insane. Who still referred to a bra as an 'undershirt' in this day and age?
As much fun as it was making the shorter girl uncomfortable, the cold air in the bathroom was beginning to get to Quinn. She quickly cleaned off whatever Slushie still remained on her and pulled on the hoodie, thanking god that at least the Slushie hadn't dripped into her underwear. That would've been awkward. She rolls her eyes at Rachel, who still has her eyes covered. Quinn clears her throat loudly, startling the girl. Now herself feeling mildly uncomfortable, Quinn says, "I'll clean these and give them back to you."
Rachel nods, just once, then says, "I can give you a bag for them, because I'm sure they will soak into your bag otherwise." It is the shortest thing the girl has said throughout the entire fiasco, and Quinn is grateful for it. They walk out of the bathroom together awkwardly, Rachel holding the door for Quinn, who has her hands full. "Thanks," she mutters.
They walk swiftly past the classrooms, trying not to attract Mr. Schuester's attention, but it is without cause, because Mr. Schuester is busy trying to untangle Finn and Puck who are fighting on the ground and couldn't care less about the two girls who are skipping his class. Rachel turns around at the sound of Finn's yelling and peeks into the class. "... best friend.. MY girlfriend...Cheater!.. Asshole!" The entire class bears witness as Noah Puckerman takes the hits, accepts them and seems almost glad for them. For the first time in his life, Noah 'Puck' Puckerman does not fight back. They are in shock, but before it can go too far, Mr. Schuester has pulled them apart and is now angrily lecturing them. He is so angry at them that he doesn't even take them outside, away from the stares of the class.
Rachel doesn't hear what he says, because she is in shock. She didn't hear complete sentences, but what she hears she easily pieces together. She concludes that Quinn must have cheated on Finn with Puck, and Finn would only be that angry if the baby were also Puck's. Puck wouldn't let Finn beat him up so badly if it wasn't so. She backs away from the door and down the hallway.
Quinn is leaning against her own locker, her forehead resting against the cold metal. Rachel cannot see the rest of her face, but judging by the shaking of her shoulders, the blonde is crying. Not just crying, but sobbing. She takes huge gasping breaths and appears to be hyperventilating. The brunette hurries over to her locker and pulls out a plastic bag and a box of tissues. She walks over to Quinn's locker, which is not that far away, and takes the sticky things away from her. Quinn doesn't resist, or turn around. Silently, Rachel presses the box of tissues into Quinn's hands.
By the time Rachel has placed the clothes and the towel in the plastic bag, Quinn has already halted her sobs. Her shoulders still tremble, and her chest still heaves slightly, her eyes are red, and her voice is hoarse and thick at the same time. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way,' she whispers to the locker. "I just... got kind of drunk with Puck and I was kind of depressed that night and it just... It got out of hand; I can't even remember it. I wasn't supposed to get pregnant. I'm the Celibacy Club President, for fuck's sake.' Rachel is taken aback at the curse, but she controls herself and doesn't say anything, because Quinn Fabray will probably never speak to her as nicely as she is speaking now ever again, and she should appreciate it.
"Finn... Finn is a nice guy. He doesn't deserve this." Quinn takes a deep breath. "I broke up with him. He's yours. Make him happy, Berry. I love.. loved him, but I've hurt him so badly. I've been so stupid," Quinn pauses for a second, not sure what to say now, then she goes, "And thanks, I guess, for the clothes.. And the towel." Her voice is oddly final. Quinn turns to look at Rachel, who's eyes are wide and sad. "Everyone makes stupid mistakes, Quinn. It's high school. It could have happened to anyone of us."
"Really, Berry? Who goes around cheating on their boyfriend with their boyfriend's best friend and then proceeds to get pregnant and then decides to pretend it's their boyfriend's baby anyway? Who goes around losing their virginity to someone they don't even particularly like? Tell me. Who? You?" Quinn lets out a sarcastic, slightly hysterical laugh. Quinn almost breaks down yet again, but with a shuddering breath, controls herself. "Go back to class, Berry. Go comfort Finn and bitch about me to him. And, if you don't mind, tell Mr. Schuester I felt terribly ill and went home."
Rachel cocks her head. "Are you really going home, Quinn? You really shouldn't be driving in this condition. Would you like me to drive you home?" Quinn sighs. Rachel was like the annoying puppy you didn't want to kick, but who wouldn't leave you alone. "Just... Just go, Rachel. Leave me alone." And then her eyes widen when she realized what she just said.
Rachel's eyes widen in surprise as well. "I.. Okay. Bye, Quinn. Take... take care of yourself. Don't... don't do anything stupid, okay?" She sounds bewildered. Quinn Fabray just called her Rachel. She stumbles back slightly and turns to walk off. Quinn grabs her bag and is rummaging for her car keys when she hears Rachel, no, Berry, calling her name. She turns to face the girl, mildly exasperated. "Yes, Berry?" She stresses last name, hoping that the girl will actually leave. It's not that she's not (grudgingly) grateful; it's just that it's Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. Jacob would have a field day.
"Will you be coming back for glee club? Sectionals is coming soon and... We kind of need you there for practice." Quinn rolls her eyes again and nods stiffly at the hopeful looking girl. Even if she weren't looking at the girl, Quinn knew she would've been blinded by the 100 kilowatt smile Rachel throws at her before turning around and walking away.
If you read the lyrics to Aftermath, you'll see that it's a song about how when something goes wrong, in the aftermath, you're not alone. This chapter is not particularly based off it, although it does related slightly to how Quinn Fabray's bad decision led to Jacob Ben Israel's post, and this chapter is mainly about what happens after he makes such a terrible post.
Also, (*)I don't need your sympathy. There's nothing you can do for me.(*) It's a line from Strong Enough- Cher.
I also want to add that not every chapter will be as angst-filled and depressing as this one is. The genre is, after all, Romance/Humor. Or as long. I just really needed to write this chapter down to tie up some loose ends, and to open a brand new can of worms. I'm mean that way.
Tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is important to each and every writer, and I promise to read and reply to all signed reviews.