Prologue
Judy Fabray of 239 Dudley Road spent the majority of her day standing in the kitchen, making pies for the bake sale at her church. They had been trying to raise money for members of the community who had lost their home and, with nowhere to go, ended up on the front steps of the parish. It was not a cause she would have found herself supporting under her ex-husband's watchful eye just two years earlier, but she had gone back to many of her old hobbies as of late; hence the pie-making. Plus, homelessness had become a cause she found heartbreaking and very personal.
So, on she baked.
The smell made her loneliness in the house less invasive, even if all she had to do was walk up the steps to remind herself she wasn't really alone.
But that would not be appreciated.
She wasn't exactly sure what the proper amount of grieving should be when a life hadn't been lost, but clearly Quinn, her youngest daughter, hadn't had enough yet. Since the teenager had returned from her trip to visit her sister in Dayton, they hadn't spoken, continuing their tradition since she had moved back in. If Judy was grateful for anything in the world—and she wasn't for so many things in her life this far—it was that Quinn had found at least one friend to support her unwittingly in the face of her father's cruelty. And even if she doubted she would ever see the Jones' again after she picked her daughter up at the beginning of summer one year earlier, Judy knew she would be forever indebted to them after her own failings as a parent.
It didn't make her feel better that Quinn only spoke to her out of necessity anymore.
'I need money for gas.'
'Of course, sweetie.'
Then there would be a cringe and the blonde—eternally (or so she thought at the time) in her cheerleading outfit—would stiffly stick out her hand to accept whatever cash she had to offer. This continued for most of the school year as clubs needed membership fees and as homecoming and prom dresses hadn't become any cheaper.
Once this summer started, however, she stopped handing over every penny. The first time she smelt the smoke in Quinn's clothes as she washed them—something she did no longer as her daughter refused any and all niceties—she had half a mind to burn them. Instead, she marched out of the house, into the driveway and ransacked Quinn's car for as long as it took to find the half-empty pack of cigarettes. The package was torn and she could almost make out the crinkle where someone had attempted to crush it. She wished it had been a fluke, and had for a half-second wished Russell would have still been around to deal with the much-needed confrontation. But, her independence, and the independence of her daughter revolved around the determination that she could be a good parent.
She could barely blame Quinn for finding that determination laughable.
"Who said I'm smoking them? Just because they're in my car doesn't mean anything."
"Quinn, I'm not going to even ask where you got them. I just want to know why you would be so careless—"
Her daughter sneered. "Careless? Me? What would have given you that idea?"
The door slammed shut in her face and as far as she was concerned so did the access to her money.
It wasn't two weeks before she was handed a work permit for the local Sheets & Things and she signed off without a second glance.
Pies could be distracting, whether she had been mixing the filling or trimming the dough to fit the tins, but it would never be enough to stop her ears focusing in on the ceiling above her where she knew Quinn had been holed up for the last two months. If it hadn't been for the periodical toilet flush or creaking bed-frame, Judy would have worried, but this was Quinn; needless to say a survivor. A little bent, but definitely not broken.
A door in the house opened and Judy was on high alert. Quinn didn't come out during the day and she couldn't remember if she'd locked the door after coming home from the grocery store. Securing a knife from the drawer to her left, she backed up behind the fridge. The doorway was on the opposite side and she would at least have had a second to see who was attacking her before she had to retaliate. Before she had the opportunity, a voice she had only heard in melody rang through her house, startling Judy enough to drop the knife.
"Quinn?" the girl's voice called into the house. When nothing happened—Judy was glued to the tile floor—it continued. "You didn't answer my text message informing you I was here, I'm guessing?" Obviously this girl had never been in the Fabray house and was not aware that Quinn's bedroom was on the second floor, out of range for the volume of her voice no matter how assured or bold it tried. Even more obviously, she had very little knowledge of Quinn, whose door was shut ten-out-of-ten times in the recent months and had an even less inclination towards visitors that she had prior. "I don't know where you are..." Judy felt the voice's defeat and trepidation in her core; it was an entirely depressing and interesting moment for her.
All at once, the feeling left her as a short, brown-haired teenager passed through the kitchen with her eyes so far past the fridge that she could not have possibly seen her perched with a knife along the edge of the counter. Unfortunately, before Judy had the opportunity to discard the weapon and make a formal apology for her rudeness, the girl turned to her and let out an ear-piercing screech.
"No, shh. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" Judy tried to move towards her but quickly realized the knife wasn't instilling in her guest any confidence. "Calm down!"
The brunette covered her chest with both hands and hunched over, panting. It was very clear that she hadn't expected anyone other than Quinn to be there and Judy almost felt disappointed that her presence in her own house was surprising. Unless, it was, that this was one of the hooligans who her daughter met up with when she sneaked out at night to smoke cigarettes and do God knows what else. Then, she felt particularly angry that this complete stranger would barge into her home unannounced.
Or rather, mildly announced.
After watching the girl compose herself, Judy gathered that this one could not be one of those dark-clothed, unkempt ladies that clucked outside the front of the house at night to gain Quinn's attention. Her plain blue capri-pants and orange v-neck cardigan had too much festivity for those girls who looked as down in the doldrums as her own daughter that she assumed, with much confidence, that this girl had to know Quinn from the Glee Club. It was the only extracurricular of her daughter's she knew had these average-looking teens, as opposed to the Cheerio's or the Yearbook Club, where looks definitely encouraged popularity and status in their positions.
Nonetheless it was still surprising to see whoever this was show up in her kitchen.
"I'm—"
"Quinn's mom!" She seemed to be bursting with effort as she crossed the room and took Judy's hand in her own, shaking it. "I'm very pleased to meet you. Although, I've seen you before at Regional's. One year go, I believe now. I'm a little disappointed we had to meet under such aggressive circumstances."
"Well, you are in my house...miss?"
She beamed. "Rachel Berry, Mrs. Fabray. Co-captain of McKinley High Glee Club and teammate of your daughter." There was a little hesitation as she added the last part about Quinn that told Judy even Rachel, a practical stranger to her, knew that her daughter's position in any form of society at the moment was debatable.
"How nice to meet you, Rachel. Please, call me Judy."
If Rachel's smile couldn't have gotten bigger at that moment, it certainly tried.
"I have to ask, though. Did Quinn invite you over?"
"Oh!" She appeared to have completely forgotten that she was not standing in her own house, wherever that might be, unabashedly staring at her friend's mother. "You see, not exactly."
That definitely sparked interest as every word out of Rachel's mouth continued to enthrall her.
"I have been desperately trying to initiate a summer glee club meeting, seeing as we again lost to our greatest rivals in competition, in order to remain as closely bonded as we have become over the past year. Surely, several months apart could do nothing good for our team dynamic, so I have been calling and calling and calling each member until I could find a date that all agreed—forcibly or not in some of their cases, including, but not limited to, Santana. Who I might mention tries to stonewall me at every opportunity—" there was a little flourish of her hand as she veered back onto her original thought (Judy was in awe) "—fortunately we have all found a date, except the one person who continues to ignore every call, so much so that I would not be surprised if her phone had been disconnected all summer."
When it appeared it was her time to speak, Judy almost blushed in embarrassment that her daughter had been so rude to this cute, but mildly inordinate girl who simply wanted a little bit of communication about a club that clearly meant a lot to her. Quinn hadn't been raised to be so thoughtless, and even if she had become rude—Judy wasn't afraid to admit that about her—it didn't excuse her inability to return a single phone call. It angered her almost.
Pie-making discarded, Judy finally sat down the knife that she had been holding through the entire conversation, and brushed her hands against her apron. It got most of the flour off and she flanked Rachel, leading her towards the stairs.
Ignoring the instinct that told her this would not end well, Judy gathered her wits and gracefully went up the stairs. She could feel Rachel hot on her heels and hoped that by the will of God, Quinn would try to not be so rude in the presence of her friend. She knew it was a long shot.
They arrived in front of the plain white door, and even though it was her house, Judy knocked three times in the center of the wood. The feeling reverberated around the hallway and she hoped inside the room it did the same in case the girl was sleeping, as she often seemed to be this late in the afternoon. Luckily, there was a rustling around, and what sounded like a window shutting heavily against its frame, until pounding footsteps approached the other side of the door.
Judy smelled the acrid stench before she saw it as Quinn appeared on the other side of the door. She heard a gasp come from behind her as she saw the long, wispy strands of blonde hair scattered across the girl's shoulders where they had haphazardly fallen after being chopped off. Chopped because that was the only way to describe the varying lengths of Quinn's hair after she had decidedly taken scissors to it what could only have been minutes before.
The smell however, had to be from what Quinn had in her plastic-gloved right hand.
Before, Judy could even think of a reprimand that would support the dread she felt seeing Quinn's hair, her daughter's face changed. It moved from an aloof coolness, to the all-too-familiar smirk that had retained almost as much of its animosity as it had before Quinn came home with Finn to tell them that she was pregnant. That smirk, which frightened Rachel if the inches she had moved closer to the end of the hallway were anything to go on, transported Judy back in time. To a time when her husband had shouted insults at her from over his dinner plate about the daughter she had raised. But even if it moved her back in time, Quinn had obviously moved forward.
Metaphorically as well as physically.
"Berry," Quinn buzzed. She held the hand that housed the bottle out playfully and added, "Wanna do the honors?"
The pink dye spurted out of the tip as Quinn quirked her eyebrow.
A/N: So I'm diving back into FF after finishing up my last story. I'm very nervous/excited about it. Let me know if anyone would want to see more of this. Also, what do you think, Quinn's POV or Rachel's? I haven't decided yet. Thanks :)
