Part II: Detonation


Quinn's big plan for getting custody of Beth takes a little while to get off the ground. For one thing, Puck looks at her like she's lost her mind. He has the nerve to tell her that Shelby is a good mom and they should be happy that she's willing to let them get to know their daughter.

"You're the one who wanted to keep her," Quinn screams at him, completely frustrated. "You begged and pleaded and swore what a good dad you'd be. You even insisted on naming her. And now, when I'm practically handing you the thing you claim to want most, you're saying no?"

Puck runs a hand over his Mohawk, shaking his head. "We signed papers, Quinn. And yeah, we could have changed our minds, like, a year ago or something, but it's too late now."

She slams her fist down on the hood of his truck. "It's not too late!" He checks absently for a dent in the metal, and she wishes she'd punched him instead. "She's ours, Puck. Shelby doesn't deserve to raise her."

"Look, you haven't even seen her in person yet. Shelby's really great with her, and Beth's such a happy baby. Yeah, I think she needs us in her life, but I don't know... I mean, Shelby is…"

"Shelby is a bitch," she interjects harshly. "She took advantage of us at our weakest moment. Showing up at the hospital like that? She manipulated us to get what she wanted!" Quinn knows it isn't entirely true, but the more she thinks about that day, the more wrong it feels that Shelby was even at the hospital at all. "And do you even know what she did to Rachel? Do you even care? I mean, you're always saying how much you supposedly care about Rachel, and Shelby is the person who's hurt her most. She rejected her own daughter," she stresses, desperate to make him understand, "then she replaced her with ours. We can't let her ever do something like that to Beth, Puck."

Quinn watches Puck's mouth thin into a frown and his eyes flash with anger, and she knows that she has him. Now it's just a matter time and carefully planned circumstances until Beth is back in her arms for good.

The second obstacle is Shelby Corcoran. Despite her image makeover, Shelby is still frustratingly hesitant to let her actually see Beth. Quinn knows the woman is checking up on her, making sure she's attending all her classes and glee club meetings and that she's steering clear of the skanks and the bad habits she picked up. Quinn hates every minute of being under Shelby's microscope, but she's gotten so good at faking it over the years that her smile never once slips. Shelby has no choice but to promise her a visit next weekend, and Quinn's stomach somersaults with anticipation.

In the meantime, she entertains herself by auditioning for the school musical. She doesn't figure she'll get anything other than Girl # 3 in the chorus, and it's good enough. Rachel is a lock for Maria, and Santana is perfect for Anita, and Quinn knows they'll both be amazing.

Except Mercedes and Rachel both get a callback, and Quinn finds herself sitting in the auditorium watching yet another diva-off. It was fun the first time, but now it's just getting repetitive. She has to wonder what the hell these people are even thinking, because as much as she respects Mercedes's talent, she's not right for Maria. Have any of the directors even seen West Side Story? Did they hear Rachel sing I Feel Pretty last year? Granted it was a mash-up, but it was amazing.

Mercedes does a good job with the song, as she always does.

But Rachel—

Rachel makes Quinn feel it. The song echoes too closely to her recent (or maybe not so recent) emotional state anyway, and she ends up holding back tears by the end of Rachel's performance. Thank God no one notices. She thinks that Rachel's ability to evoke that kind of response is the real difference between her and Mercedes—that indescribable quality that Rachel possesses that just wraps you up in her voice, drags you inside her soul, and won't let you go until the last note fades.

Quinn figures it's an easy victory, but Rachel isn't looking as confident as she normally does. It isn't until much later that Quinn hears about the drama over the role, and even though she witnessed Mercedes throw a diva-tantrum and a storm-out that far surpassed anything Rachel ever put them through, she still can't believe that Mercedes refused to share the part with Rachel. Personally, Quinn can't believe sharing was even an option to begin with, because in her mind, Rachel is clearly the superior choice. She remembers their short stint with Rocky Horror, and vocal talent being equal (which it really isn't), Rachel still trumped Mercedes in acting ability and taking direction.

Or maybe Quinn is biased towards Rachel for the very first time, simply because Rachel keeps reaching out to her when no one else does. Maybe Rachel deserves to have the favor returned and receive a little support from Quinn for a change.

So she hangs around the bulletin board as everyone lines up to check the posted cast list for West Side Story. She's genuinely happy for Mike. He's probably the most decent guy in the school, and he deserves a little recognition. She's happy for Santana too, even though their so-called friendship isn't much more than a series of calculated power plays and a few semi-kind words every so often. She wants to be happy for Rachel, but Rachel looks so unhappy that Quinn isn't certain how to approach her. She ends up staying silent and walking away with Puck in tow, but she casts a furtive glance over her shoulder to see Rachel still looking forlornly at the list—her boyfriend nowhere in sight.

An hour later, they play out a variation on the scene from the first week of school. Quinn is leaning against the building, fingers twitching with the memory of a cigarette that isn't there and chewing a stick of spearmint gum to help curb her fading addiction. This time, when Rachel walks past her, Quinn calls her name out first, and Rachel turns with only a hint of surprise.

"Still lurking around corners, I see," Rachel half-heartedly jokes.

Quinn notices the red-rimmed eyes and the kicked-puppy expression, and she frowns. "Don't let her ruin this for you, Rachel. You deserve that part."

Rachel's confusion is clear. Quinn's never been nice to her without having ulterior motives. Even things that seemed kind on the surface, like testing Finn's loyalty last year or going with her to the plastic surgeon, had potential benefits to Quinn. If Finn had failed that test, Quinn would have gotten him back right then and there, not that it would have mattered in the long run. Last year proved that Finn would always go back to Rachel in the end. And if Rachel had gone through with the nose-job—well, then Quinn would have felt so much better about her own surgery. She wouldn't have to feel so constantly envious of Rachel and her seemingly abundant confidence, because Rachel would have proven that she really wasn't any better or any stronger than Quinn.

There's always been something in it for her, but there isn't this time, and Rachel seems to know it. "She…Mercedes deserved it too," Rachel quietly insists. "Her audition was better."

"No, it wasn't," Quinn leaves no room for argument, "and don't even try to tell me that you think her voice would have suited any of Maria's songs. I may not know a lot about musical theater, but I have seen the movie version of West Side Story, and even I know that Artie and Brad would have had to rework the entire score to fit her vocal range."

Rachel chews on her lip for a second before she slowly nods."That is true. My voice is far better suited to the demands of the role."

Quinn smirks, because that's more like it. The Rachel she knows doesn't question her talent. "Exactly. So stop with the annoying pity-party and start bothering your directors with helpful suggestions on how to best utilize your star potential."

Rachel is smiling now, her eyes sparkling with growing excitement, and Quinn gets a little breathless from the knowledge that she's finally managed to set Rachel on the right path without being a complete bitch to her. It's a nice change from last year.

"You're absolutely right, Quinn. Artie is a decent filmmaker, but he knows next to nothing about stage production, and Coach Beiste and Ms. Pillsbury are complete novices. They need my expertise if we're to have any hope of a successful endeavor." She hesitates for just a second, her smile turning a little uncertain as she looks at Quinn. "Th-thank you, Quinn." She gives a shy nod of gratitude. "I really am glad you came back to the club."

Quinn watches as Rachel turns and walks to her car with a bounce in her step. She imagines that Rachel's mind is spinning with the possibilities that she wasn't allowing herself to think about just ten minutes ago. Quinn's mind is spinning with possibilities too, because she feels good about herself for the first time in a long time. She's not just some selfish bitch who never thinks about anyone else. She can be a grown up.

xx

The moment Quinn sees Beth for the first time, all thoughts of her plan to regain custody fade into the background. She isn't plotting or scheming or even hating on Shelby. She isn't thinking of anything except her daughter and the absolute ache in her soul to hold that little body in her arms again. Two years worth of suppression and denial are completely obliterated in a single second.

Quinn's hands are shaking—hell, her entire body is—as Shelby carefully transfers the weight of her daughter into Quinn's eager embrace. Her heart is beating so fast, and it's hard to even breathe, but—oh, that baby smell assaults her senses, and she feels like she might actually pass out. Quinn has to sink down onto the couch behind her to keep her bearings, and Beth's little body curves into hers, and it feels so amazing. So right.

She's vaguely aware of Shelby smiling wistfully down at her and Puck grinning from ear to ear beside her as he watches them together, but she honestly can't be bothered with either of them right now. Her whole world is Beth. She brushes the tips of her trembling fingers over the soft, blonde curls of her daughter's head before tracing them gently over the incredibly smooth skin of her cheek and the little button nose that must have come from Puck or maybe from Judy. Serious hazel eyes stare up into her own, regarding her with a tiny, arched brow, and Quinn laughs joyfully because she sees herself in this face. And thank God, she doesn't see Lucy. She knows—of course, she knows—that Beth's hair will probably eventually darken to Quinn's natural dirty blonde shade or maybe Puck's darker locks, and maybe she'll need braces or glasses one day, but those eyes—

Quinn falls even more in love with her daughter.

Later, when she looks around Shelby's home, she sees all the photos of Beth and the children's books and cds and the baby blankets and stuffed toys and every other little sign that proves Beth is well-cared for and in want of nothing. She watches Shelby interact so lovingly with Beth, feeding her and changing her and singing her a lullaby with a voice that rivals Rachel's for emotional impact, but it doesn't move Quinn. Her mind is made up. She's getting her daughter back.

xx

The next week is spent earning Shelby's trust. A few hours spent after school isn't nearly enough, but Quinn stays focused on her goal. Her daughter is beautiful and amazing and so smart, and she's getting more comfortable being held by Quinn with every visit, and Quinn is getting more comfortable thinking of herself as a mom.

Quinn hasn't told her own mother (or by extension, her father) about any of this yet. She's waiting for the right time, when she's far enough into Beth's life to make her first real move at getting custody. She's not completely certain how Judy will react, but she's prepared for the worst—even if she can't stop hoping for the best. Judy didn't kick her out during her skank phase (because guilt is a wonderful bargaining chip), so it's not completely outside the realm of possibility that she'll support Quinn and Beth, at least until graduation.

Getting through her classes is excruciating when all she wants is for the day to be over so she can get to Beth. Rehearsals are starting for West Side Story, and Quinn would skip them in a heartbeat for more time with her daughter, except that Shelby's tied up with her little rival glee club which now has Mercedes as a member. When Santana jumps ship too, taking Brittany and riling up Rachel, who is feeling personally attacked by her so-called friends and her mother, Quinn finds yet another reason to want to hurt Shelby Corcoran.

"What are you doing?³" Puck asks, horrified. They're alone with their daughter for the very first time, babysitting for Shelby, who has some meeting or something with that Motta guy who hired her. Puck is currently bouncing the baby in his arms and looking at Quinn like she's insane. She hates that look.

"Framing Shelby as an unfit mother,³" she tells him calmly, picking up the hot sauce she's labeled with Beth's name and mixing it into the formula. Puck's face hardens, and he hugs Beth protectively to his chest. Jesus, it's not like she's actually planning to give the damn bottle to Beth. She's just going to…to spike the baby food and de-baby-proof the apartment a little and…and take a few pictures on her phone and…call protective services or…or…shit…

Puck has carefully set Beth down in her playpen and he's stalking back over to Quinn, ripping the bottle out of her hands and slamming it into the trash can along with the contaminated formula. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"We agreed…"

"No! I didn't agree to this, Quinn. You said we should try and get custody of Beth, but you didn't say you were going to pull this crazy shit."

Beth starts to cry from her playpen, thanks to their raised voices, and Puck glances back at her with regret. Quinn tries to lower her voice, but she's no less adamant. "How did you think we were going to get her back, Puck? We can't afford to hire a lawyer. This is the easiest way."

"Like giving her up when I wanted to keep her was the easy way?" he accuses harshly, and Quinn feels it like a physical blow. "No fucking thank you," he growls, turning back to Beth, who's unhappy wails are growing in volume.

Quinn grabs his arm and jerks him back. "You are not bailing on me, Puckerman. We are doing this! Don't grow a fucking conscience on me now."

"This isn't right, Quinn."

"I don't care," she screams, and Beth echoes her. Quinn's head is pounding and she can barely hear herself think. "God, just shut up!" she yells at the baby, eliciting another shrill scream from her frightened daughter. Quinn's entire body goes rigid in realization, and her blood runs cold. Puck pries her hand off his arm in disgust.

"Nice, Quinn," he kneels down next to Beth and gathers her up in his arms, murmuring low, soothing words of comfort.

Quinn can only stare at them, ears buzzing and breath coming in shallow pants. Her hands are shaking, and she's sweating, and her legs feel unsteady beneath her. The room is shrinking around her, and she has to get out or she's going to be sick.

So she runs.

The air is cool and damp, and it should be helping, but it isn't, and damn it—she can't see where she's going through her tears. Her feet are clumsy on the ground and she trips and skids onto the pavement, scraping her knees and her hands. The pain doesn't even register because she's retching up bile and struggling to catch her breath between her body's violent spasms.

xx

She tells herself it was stress.

Exhaustion.

A reaction to Puck.

An aberration.

Deep down, she knows better. Quinn remembers prom and slapping Rachel in the heat of the moment. She remembers losing it at Nationals and raging at Santana and Brittany. She's never learned to deal with her emotions, and she doesn't trust herself with them now. She wants her daughter back so badly, but she never wants to hurt Beth.

Quinn hasn't planned this out well. She never plans anything well. Getting Beth away from Shelby is only a small piece of the puzzle. She has to petition for custody and prove that she's a fit mother—that she can support her daughter—and she can't. She's barely eighteen, still in high school with no job and no income, on her mother's insurance and still dependent on Judy for her own food and clothes and—

She needs to talk to her mom. She needs help.

She's just about convinced herself to tell her mom everything and beg for advice on what she should do, but Judy isn't there when she gets home, probably out seeing Russell again. Quinn robotically makes her way up the stairs and strips off her soiled dress before stepping into the shower. She cleans her cuts and rinses away the grime, but she doesn't feel clean.

When she's done and dry, her phone is beeping a text message from Puck. We need 2 talk.

She doesn't answer. Two hours later, he shows up on her doorstep anyway.

"I don't want to talk to you," she tells him hoarsely, clutching at the doorframe and praying he'll just go away. She hates the fact that her voice is already clouded with tears.

"Too bad," he powers his way past her, and Quinn closes the door and leans against it, doing her best to stare him down.

"Did you rat me out to Shelby? Throw me under the bus to make yourself look like a hero?" And God help her, but a small, masochistic part of her hopes that he did.

"No. I told her you had to leave 'cause you were feeling sick. Lady problems," he supplies with shrug.

She puffs out a humorless laugh. "Thanks."

"Look, I want to be Beth's dad more than anything, and I know you want to be her mom, but Shelby's been good to her. She's taken care of Beth and loved her for a year and a half when we couldn't, and it isn't fair for us to screw her over this way."

"Like she screwed Rachel over?"

Puck throws up his hands. "She's trying to make things right with Rachel...and with us, Quinn."

"Fine," she barks, crossing her arms under her breasts and channeling all her hurt into familiar anger. "You're obviously stuck on your little Shelby love-fest, so you want out? You're out. Do whatever you want. Just like you always have."

He shakes his head, and disappointment colors his face. "You're still going after her, aren't you?"

"That's the plan."

Puck spins around in a jerky movement and paces around in front of the stairway. He heaves out a sigh and faces her, opening his mouth once, twice, before finally rushing out, "I kissed her."

Quinn doesn't think she's processing his words correctly. "What?"

"I kissed Shelby," he confesses, averting his eyes and rubbing his hand over his Mohawk in agitation. He starts to ramble out an explanation without pausing for breath. "We were talking about Beth, and everything she's doing, and how hard it is, and things got intense for a minute, and I kissed her."

Quinn feels her stomach turn with revulsion, just thinking about the implications.

Puck. Kissed. Rachel's. Mother.

Puck kissed their daughter's adoptive mom. It's so disgustingly incestuous that Quinn honestly thinks she might vomit. Again. "Oh, my God," she breathes.

"She didn't kiss me back. Well, she did for like ten seconds, but then she shot me down," he tells her, like that makes it somehow better.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks in a flat voice. "You know I can use this against her...improper conduct with a student. I can get her fired. She'll be unemployed and probably lose her teaching certificate, Her reputation will be destroyed and she'll look like a cheap floozy, unfit to raise a child," she finishes quietly, realizing that this is exactly what she wants, and Puck is handing it to her on a silver platter. "We can get custody with this."

"I know." But he doesn't exactly look happy about it, or particularly proud of himself.

"You don't want me to do it though." Another realization settles over her. "You care about Shelby."

"Yeah, I do, but I'd be lying if I said there isn't a part of me that wants you to do whatever it takes to get Beth back." He shakes his head in (self)disgust. "I'm not totally on board with setting Shelby up, but I'm kind of stuck here, Quinn. If I tell her what we were up to, she's gonna freak out and never let us near Beth again. And if I don't tell her, then I have no way to really stop you from doing whatever you're planning to do. I guess I'd rather you go after Shelby for being a single mom who likes macking with younger guys than frame her as hurting Beth when she hasn't ever done that. I mean, at least this wouldn't be a total lie, right?"

"Yeah, it would be," she admits. Puck obviously has some weird crush on Shelby, but if he's telling the truth about her stopping him, then spinning it to their own purpose is still playing dirty. "But that's all I seem to know how to do."

Puck stares at her for long minute, like he's searching for something particular, and she feels unnerved, so she drops her gaze. His eyes soften. "Look, I know we both want to be Beth's parents, but maybe…"

He doesn't finish the thought, but Quinn knows what he means to say from the careful tone of his voice. "Just say it."

He steps closer, leaning a hand against the door beside her head and speaking so gently, like he's afraid she'll fall apart. "Maybe giving her to Shelby really was the right thing, Quinn. I mean, she's happy…"

"Stop. Just stop," she begs.

"Quinn…"

"No. I can't…I can't talk about this anymore. Not now." And he backs off, stepping out of her personal space. Quinn spins around and twists the doorknob, jerking it open and staring out into the night. "Can you just go? Please?"

She's grateful when Puck silently slides past her, and she watches him disappear down the walkway before she finally closes the door and rests her forehead against the cool wood. She wishes she could shut out her own confusion as easily.

xx

Quinn wakes up the next morning feeling horrible. What little sleep she managed was constantly interrupted with nightmares of crying babies, broken bottles, and policemen dragging her away while Shelby taunted her with never seeing Beth again. No matter what decision she makes, she knows losing access to her daughter completely is not something she can accept.

She hates knowing that Puck was right. Putting hot sauce in the baby formula was stupid. Framing Shelby is a gamble that Quinn can't afford to lose. But Puck, bless his cougar-loving heart, has dropped a much better strategy right into her lap. She just has to decide if she's going to use it.

Quinn knows she was way out of line last night. Losing her temper in front of Beth was so, so wrong. She'd panicked, that's all. She's not going to be a crazy shrew once she has Beth to take care of. She's not. But she knows she wasn't wrong about needing help. She has to tell her mom what's going on—no, not the lying and scheming part—but that she's been visiting Beth, that she made a mistake giving her up, and that she feels like Shelby took advantage of the fact that she was all alone and homeless—even if Judy had asked her to come home just hours before.

She sees her mother in the morning, but she only has an hour before her first class starts, and she's already running late and can't afford to skip after all the classes she ditched at the start of the year. The conversation they have to have won't be easy or quick, so she doesn't mention Beth, but she does tell Judy that she needs to talk to her after school. Her mother nods, and Quinn does her best to ignore the guarded wariness in those blue-gray eyes.

She sleepwalks through most of her day. Every time she passes Puck in the hallway, she averts her eyes. She's not ready to deal with his crisis of conscience, and she's valiantly ignoring her own.

Quinn is tired and stressed, and she's craving a damn cigarette that she can't smoke, so she bypasses the cafeteria when lunch rolls around and wanders out to the bleachers. She goes up top instead of down under, because if she sees the skanks right now she just might say fuck it all and light up again, and she's paranoid enough to imagine that Shelby has spies watching her. So it freaks her out more than a little when Rachel Berry appears at the bottom of the bleachers with concerned eyes and starts to climb the stairs.

"Quinn, are you okay?" she asks after sliding onto the bench beside Quinn.

She sighs. "I'm fine. What are you doing here?"

Rachel licks her lips nervously, and the action draws Quinn's attention. "I…I saw you walking towards the bleachers, and I was concerned you may be falling back on destructive habits."

The prickle of disappointment is unexpected. "So much for accepting me no matter what, huh?"

"Actually, I was referring to the smoking. Not only is it detrimental to your health, Quinn, but it will damage your voice beyond repair, and while I admit that Santana's raspy tones are not entirely unpleasant, I rather prefer your…"

"Tremulous alto?" Quinn finishes with a teasing smirk, and Rachel smiles back shyly. "Even though I'm occasionally sharp?"

"You've actually improved on that so much in the last two years. Just imagine what you could have accomplished had you allowed me to give you lessons."

Quinn laughs. "Probably first degree murder." Her tone, for once, isn't hostile, so Rachel chuckles in response before she turns her gaze to the empty football field. They sit quietly for a couple of minutes, and Quinn's a little surprised how comfortable it all is. Well, until Rachel decides to talk again.

"How did it go last night?"

"Last night?" Quinn echoes stupidly.

Rachel blushes a ducks her head. "With Beth. Noah mentioned yesterday that you were babysitting for the first time."

"It was," a complete failure that left Quinn feeling like a horrible monster, "good."

Rachel frowns at the obvious disconnect between Quinn's words and her mood, but she doesn't question it. "I'm so glad that you and Noah are getting this chance to make a connection with Beth. She needs you both in her life so she'll always know where she comes from and that she's loved." There's such conviction in her voice, and Quinn understands that Rachel is speaking from her own experience with Shelby. It pushes Quinn further into the camp of pursuing custody. "She's such a beautiful baby," Rachel says with a grin.

Quinn immediately melts at the compliment to her daughter. "You've seen her?"

"Shelby showed me a picture," Rachel shrugs. "We haven't quite progressed to personal visits outside of school yet."

"Oh." Quinn is unaccountably peeved at the admission. She and Puck have been welcomed into Shelby's home—without supervision now—and Rachel is still being kept out. It doesn't seem fair.

"We're…taking things slowly," Rachel defends.

"How can you forgive her so easily?" Quinn asks, harsher than she intends. "I mean, she basically walked in and out of your life like it meant nothing." Quinn just doesn't understand. She's sick at the very idea that Beth might end up hating her someday when she finds out that her mother abandoned her, and Quinn at least has the excuse of having been only sixteen at the time. Shelby was old enough to have a choice—both times.

Rachel's wide, brown eyes shimmer with hurt. "That isn't true," she whispers, and Quinn can tell that they're just words, and that Rachel doesn't really believe in them.

"Isn't it?" she pushes. Quinn knows that she should just shut her mouth and back off, but she never has been able to do that when it comes to Rachel. "It killed me to give up my daughter, Rachel, and now that I have a second chance, I will never walk away from her again. Did Shelby even try to contact you at all in the last year?"

Rachel's fingers tighten around the edge of the bench until the knuckles show white beneath her tan. "She's still my mom, Quinn."

Quinn snaps, quite literally. "No, she isn't! She's just the woman who gave birth to you," and she's nearly as shocked by her own words as Rachel, whose pain quickly morphs into righteous indignation.

"I can't believe you would say that." She waved an accusatory finger in Quinn's face. "You, of all people, have to know how…how hypocritical you're being right now."

The tiny, still rational part of Quinn's mind knows it's true, but that part isn't in control and hasn't been for awhile now. "I'm nothing like Shelby Corcoran," she growls. "I made a mistake giving up Beth, but I'm going to get her back."

Rachel's posture stiffens and her eyes get impossibly wider. "What do you mean, you're going to get her back?"

Quinn tilts her chin up and meets Rachel's confused gaze head on. "Exactly what you think I mean, Rachel. I'm going to petition for custody of my daughter."

The other girl's brows draw together, and she shakes her head slightly. "I-is that even possible? I mean, y-you signed papers."

"I don't care. I'm her mom. She belongs with me."

Rachel stares at her for a full minute, and Quinn's entire body begins to coil with tension. She's watching the play of emotions on Rachel's face, every expression advertising her thoughts like a billboard. First, disbelief that Quinn is actually serious and then the stunned realization that she is which fades into concern for what that means and then bleeds into sympathy—and God, if Quinn sees pity next she may just slap her again. To her credit, Rachel eventually manages to school her features. "I'm assuming that Shelby isn't aware of your intentions."

"She will be soon enough." Quinn doesn't look at Rachel when she says it, but she can feel the girl's eyes burning into the side of her face. "God, I can actually feel you judging me."

"I'm not. I…I'm just…"

"What?"

Rachel angles her body on the bench until their knees brush together, and Quinn inches her leg away from the contact. "I don't pretend to know what you're feeling, Quinn. If you really believe that this is the right decision, f-for Beth," she stutters timidly, "then you should do whatever you feel you have to do."

Quinn arches an eyebrow and regards Rachel evenly. "Wow, who knew you had it in you to be all politically correct?" she comments dryly, all the while watching Rachel's face color and her eyes dart down in uncertainty. She used to get off on making Rachel squirm this way, but lately, it just makes her hate herself even more. "Now tell me what you really think," she demands.

"It isn't my place."

"I'm asking you, Rachel." She's not certain why she wants to know what Rachel is thinking. Maybe she hopes Rachel will take her side over Shelby's, even offer to help her get Beth. Or maybe—maybe Rachel's opinion actually means something to her. "You've never pulled any punches with me," she says, and Rachel seems to understand that it's Quinn's way of granting her permission to speak her mind.

"I think you're hurting. I think you have been since you let Shelby adopt Beth," and Quinn almost snaps at her, because no fucking shit she's hurting, but she asked for this, "and now you have this amazing opportunity to have her back in your life, a-and you feel like…like it will finally make everything alright again and you won't feel like this huge piece of you is missing anymore." And suddenly, Rachel's words feel more like a confession than an observation. Her eyes are far away and glistening, and Quinn wipes at her own, because damn it, Rachel isn't wrong—at all. "And maybe you're right. Maybe you and Noah being able to raise Beth is what's best for her…for all of you."

Quinn swallows down the lump in her throat. "But?"

Rachel's shoulders rise and fall with the breath she takes, and she looks out to the field again before she starts to speak. "From a purely emotional, admittedly selfish, perspective, I really do understand the desire to…to have that mother-daughter connection," she confesses softly, "but as much as I wanted to know my mother...to know who she is and what's she's like and if I…I'm anything like her, I can't even imagine how I would have felt if she'd come back and tried to take me away from my dads." Rachel turns to meet Quinn's eyes, and her voice is sure and unwavering when she says, "They're my parents, Quinn, and I love them. Yes, I can't help wishing that Shelby had at least wanted to…to try…to get to know me a-and be a part of my life," and God, this hurts, because all of that certainty is gone in the blink of an eye and Rachel's voice is suddenly so small and broken, and Jesus, it's as close as Quinn has ever seen Rachel to admitting that Shelby hurt her, and she never wants Beth to have to feel this way. Rachel drags in a stuttering breath and looks away. "But to completely disrupt the only family I've ever known? I don't think I'd be okay with that."

"But it's different," Quinn insists, because she doesn't ever want Beth to feel that way either. "Beth is still a baby. She won't even remember Shelby a year from now."

Rachel looks at her again, and her eyes soften at the sight of the tears that Quinn can feel slipping over her cheeks. "Maybe," Rachel concedes, laying a soft hand over Quinn's where it rests on the bench between them, "but, Quinn? Shelby isn't going to just give Beth back to you. She's been her mom for over a year now, loving her and providing for her. She's a successful woman with an excellent reputation and, I'm certain, a more than adequate income. Legally, Beth is her daughter. You and Noah are both still in high school, and aside from Noah's questionable tenure as a glorified pool boy, neither of you are financially capable of supporting a child at the moment."

Rachel's tone is gentle, but every word squeezes Quinn's heart tighter until she thinks it will stop beating altogether. "Look, I can't tell you what to do, but if you're serious about this, then you need to be prepared. You need to think about the future and how you and Noah are going to provide for Beth, and even then, Shelby will fight you," Rachel warns gently. "There's a reason Vocal Adrenaline was undefeated when they were under her direction. She knows how to win. A court battle could drag out for…for years, Quinn. And Beth will be stuck in the middle of it."

Quinn knows that Rachel is right. Nothing she's said is anything that Quinn hasn't already thought—it's exactly why she decided that playing dirty was her only option. If she can prove that Shelby is unfit, then…then…God… "So what? It's just hopeless? I…I should just give up on my daughter for the second time. Like she's nothing." Quinn's too broken to even be ashamed that she's openly crying in front of Rachel—again!—or clutching at her hand like it's some kind of lifeline.

"No. No, of course you don't give up on her," Rachel shifts a little closer on the bench, touching her arm lightly with her free hand and trying to offer whatever comfort she can, but their past interactions haven't exactly made it effortless. "You're her mother Quinn. You always will be. You're always going to be a part of her life, whether you have full custody or…or you visit her every chance you get." Quinn sobs harder, and her tears fall onto the fabric of her dress. Rachel whispers, "Oh, Quinn," and shifts around again until an arm is wrapped awkwardly around her shoulder, urging her to lean in, and Quinn drops her head onto Rachel's shoulder, and suddenly it doesn't feel awkward at all.

Quinn lets herself be held by Rachel and weeps until it feels like there's nothing left. When she finally regains her composure, she straightens and puts a little distance between them. Spilling her guts all over Rachel Berry actually made her feel…better. "Thank you," she whispers, "for…for being honest. For not just telling me I'm crazy for even thinking about getting my daughter back."

"You're not crazy," Rachel promises. "You just love her. She's lucky to have you, you know? No matter what you decide."

Quinn believes her. In the distance, they both hear the warning bell ring, and Rachel glances back at the school. "We should go," she says.

Quinn wipes her eyes and shakes her head in self-depreciation. "You go ahead. I don't think I'm quite up to dealing with other people just yet."

Rachel smiles encouragingly and nods, and Quinn watches her carefully make her way down the bleachers and back towards the building. She stays where she is, staring unseeingly into the distance and thinking about her future.

xx

Judy expects the worst. Quinn sees the suspicion in her mother's eyes and the nervous twist of her fingers. A glass of red wine is filled to the rim and sitting at the ready on the coffee table. She knows her mother is bracing to hear that she's pregnant again or on drugs or dating some forty-year old criminal or who knows what else? So when Quinn tells her that Shelby Corcoran is back in Lima with Beth, Judy deflates in relief. It doesn't last long.

"You…you've been seeing Beth?"

"Yeah." Quinn sits stiffly next to her mother, watching her twitch with discomfort.

"For how long?"

"A few weeks."

"Why am I just finding out about this now?" Judy demands, voice wavering between hurt and anger. Of course, it evokes a similar reaction from Quinn.

"Maybe because you've never bothered to even mention my baby since I gave birth to her."

Judy Fabray had skillfully ignored her daughter's obvious pregnancy for months and then let Russell kick Quinn out and never once reached out to her, not even to find out if she'd found a place to liv or was sleeping on some park bench. Since bringing Quinn home from the hospital, the baby subject has never once been broached until now—except for the day Quinn had come home from New York and had her emotional meltdown, and even then, she hadn't mentioned Beth. She'd just blamed Judy for abandoning her when she was pregnant.

"I was waiting for you to bring her up. You never did," Judy defends.

"Because it hurt too much!" Quinn yells, tears once again streaking over her cheeks. She thinks that she's probably cried more in the last month than she ever has in her life. "I…I've been so…twisted up inside. I needed you," she sobs, clutching at the hem of her dress until it's crumbled into a wrinkled mess in her fists. "I needed you to help me and you just…swept it all under the rug. Just like you always do."

"That's not fair, Quinnie. I was prepared to bring you both home from that hospital, but you decided to place her up for adoption. I thought you just wanted to move on with your life."

"She is my life! She's…my baby, and I…I love her," Quinn chokes out for the first time. Is it really the first time? She's felt it for so long, but she hasn't spoken the words out loud. She hasn't been able to. "I love her so much, and she's so perfect, and I…I should have never let her go."

Quinn looks at her mother, who is in tears now too, and she feels so lost. It hurts so much, loving someone this way. Like you'll die for them. Like their life, their happiness, is more important than your own. "I don't…I don't know what to do," she admits brokenly. "I don't know how to fix it. How do I fix it?" She's clutching at her mother's hand now, "P-please, Mom, tell me how to fix it."

Judy pulls her into her arms and hold her close. "Oh, Quinnie, honey," she whispers tearfully. "We'll…we'll figure it out. It will be okay."

It's not really an answer, but Quinn wants to believe her anyway. She lets her mother comfort her and calm her, and eventually they talk about Beth. Quinn shows her pictures and tells her everything about her daughter, and Judy wavers between looking heartbroken and completely smitten. She tells Quinn again that everything will be okay, but her mother has never been very strong, and she was never the one who made things happen. That was always Russell.

Quinn should have expected it really. Twenty-four hours later, her father is the one sitting on the couch when she comes home from school. She's done a damn fine job of avoiding him for months, despite the continuous visits and constant messages to her inbox that plead for another chance. She knows that she can't avoid him anymore.

"Your mother tells me that you want to try to regain custody of our granddaughter," he states calmly.

Quinn tries not to read too much into the fact that he's calling Beth his granddaughter instead of something cruel and dirty like your bastard child. "Yeah, I do," she confirms, crossing her arms and staring him down. She remains standing in hopes of keeping some advantage. "So, go ahead and prove how much you haven't changed by telling me what a disgrace I am and that I need to forget about getting my baby back so I don't tarnish the Fabray name anymore than I already have."

Russell sighs, and shakes his head sadly. "I made mistakes with you, Quinn. Terrible mistakes. You and your sister were my greatest accomplishments. I started making plans for you both from the time you were babies. I imagined my two beautiful daughters, excelling in school and athletics, growing up and going to college at my alma mater, becoming successful in respectable careers, marrying good, Christian men, and starting families."

Quinn hates hearing this, because it's everything that she failed at so miserably. She wasn't even his beautiful daughter until she was thirteen, and she had to make herself over completely to be that, but even when she wasn't pretty, she was expected to have the grades and go to the school Russell wanted and become a perfect, Stepford wife like her mother.

"I thought that if I…guided you along that path, kept you from making any wrong turns, that I was doing my job, being a good parent. I was wrong. Being a good parent means putting your child's wants and needs above your own, teaching them solid values, and then letting them grow and follow their own path. I didn't do that for you, Quinn." And Quinn loses her breath, because these are not words that the father she grew up with should be saying. They are so anti-Russell that Quinn thinks he must be lying through his teeth.

"You were always so happy to read your books or take piano lessons. You were more interested in opening up a new package of colored pencils and drawing than joining any sports. I should have encouraged you instead of trying to change you, and now I'm left struggling to make amends. It would be so easy for me to try to do that by telling you that I'll hire the best lawyer in Ohio and support your attempt to win custody of…Beth," and his voice gentles over her name. "But I can't do that. Not unless I'm certain that you're really ready to be that little girl's mother. Are you, Quinn?" he asks, eyes leveled on hers unblinkingly. "Are you willing to sacrifice your own future, any chance at attending a good college, and devote yourself to raising a child...to putting her wants and needs and happiness above your own?"

And that's the million dollar question, isn't it? The very thing that Quinn has been going round and round with in her own mind. The short answer is yes. She's ready to do all of that for Beth. To be her mother. But those are Quinn's sacrifices, and lately—thanks to Rachel, and Puck, and damn it, even Shelby—she's been thinking more about what Beth will have to sacrifice if she succeeds in taking her away from Shelby. What's best for Beth? That's the real question and the one that Quinn doesn't have a real answer to yet.

"If I say yes? You're really going to help me?" she tests her father out. She can't just turn her back on a chance at having a good lawyer, even if it means playing nice with Russell.

"On one condition."

"Of course," Quinn scoffs. "There's always a catch with you. Let me guess, I have to smile and pretend everything is forgiven so you can move back in and we can play happy family again."

Russell's jaw tightens. "I won't deny that I want my family back, Quinn, but I know it will take time and effort to earn your forgiveness...and your mother's. That's why I want us all to attend family counseling."

"Therapy? That's your condition?" Quinn screeches. She didn't want it when Judy half-assedly offered it months ago, and she sure as hell doesn't want it now. She isn't crazy, damn it!

"If you truly want to make Beth a part of this family, then we all need to work on being a family again."

And, oh, that's low, even for Russell. Using her daughter against her that way. "We were never a family."

"Then we need to become one. It can only help your case, Quinn."

"You're unbelievable," Quinn throws her hands in the air and paces away from her father. She hates that he's actually right. Her fucked-up, dysfunctional family isn't going to win her any points in court. She just really doesn't want to let her father get his way. "I can't believe that you're using my daughter as leverage to weasel your way back into this house."

"I'm doing what needs to be done," he tells her evenly.

Quinn storms over to her mother, who has been sitting silently in the arm chair, clutching a half-empty glass of wine. "Are you seriously going to let him do this? Are you that desperate to be loved?" Judy flinches, but Quinn won't feel guilty. She won't.

"Quinnie, he's your father, and he's trying. We both are. Talking to your father's minister about our…our past difficulties could help us all start to heal. Please, just…think about it."

Quinn doesn't answer. She bounds up the stairs and into her bedroom, careful to slam the door with as much force as she can muster. She doesn't want to think about family counseling, but she can't think of anything else.

Do her parents even realize what they're asking? Do they really want her to sit in a room with some stranger and tell him what a fucked-up childhood she had? How fat, unpopular little Lucy just wanted her mommy to tell her she was beautiful and her daddy to tell her that he was proud of her, no matter what she looked like, and how instead, they both tried to change her. How instead of being taught about love and acceptance, she was taught about image and status. How she took those lessons into high school and targeted the person who most reminded her of her old self—the person who didn't need status and image to feel like she was worth something. How she cheated and lied and schemed. How she hurt people. How her parents tossed her aside like she was nothing. How Quinn did the same thing to her own daughter.

How she's terrified of doing to Beth what was done to her but even more terrified of letting her go for good because she'll be letting go of the only good thing in her life.

Yeah, family counseling is going to be so much fun.

xx

Quinn spends the weekend avoiding her parents. The only time she even comes out of her bedroom is on Saturday for her pre-arranged visit with Beth. She holds her daughter in her arms and fights back her tears because she doesn't want Shelby to ask any questions. Puck isn't with her today, and Shelby is doing her best to give them a little space, so Quinn feeds Beth and changes her and sings to her and tries to imagine doing this everyday on her own. She finds it easier than she did at sixteen, but it still terrifies her when she tries to think about putting food on the table and buying new clothes every few months and finding a pediatrician and paying medical bills. She tries to imagine what she'll say to Beth the first time she comes home from school crying because some mean kid calls her names or laughs because she's wearing second-hand clothes from the Goodwill because her mom is some blue-collar nobody who can't afford to buy her daughter nice things.

She watches Shelby press a kiss to Beth's forehead with envy.

xx

Quinn finds information on Ohio adoption law stuffed into her locker on Monday morning. She would have known who it was from even without the gold star sticker at the top, and she knows that this is probably Rachel's attempt to help her in the only way she can. Or maybe not, because it's not exactly full of good news. Statistically, birth parents almost never succeed in overturning an adoption.

She already knows that the adoption consent that she signed is basically final. She had to wait seventy-two hours before she was even allowed to sign it, and the social worker asked her in every imaginable way if she understood what she was doing. Quinn did, and she signed, and so did Puck. She also knows that the adoption wasn't final for six months, and if she was going to exercise her right to withdraw consent, she had to do it before those six months were up. Even then, she would have had to have been able to provide clear and convincing evidence that it would be in her daughter's best interests to be with her birth parents. She knows she couldn't have proven it then—or even now really. Shelby isn't a bad mother. Even if Puck's increasingly squicky crush on Shelby ever comes to fruition, he's over eighteen and technically he's not really her student and exposing an affair would hurt Puck as much as Shelby when it comes to getting custody of Beth.

Quinn does see that Rachel has highlighted the few encouraging facts that she found. Apparently, Quinn and Puck are still barely within the year-long time period from the final decree to be able to file a petition to contest the adoption. There are conditions of course. There always are. They'd have to prove the adoption was based on gross error or fraud or that Quinn wasn't in her right mind when she signed the consent. Rachel has scribbled postpartum depression in the corner with a question mark, and Quinn is understandably pissed, but strangely a little touched that Rachel is even thinking of strategies for her. She's also highlighted the possibility that both the birth and adoptive parents could agree to reverse the adoption, but Quinn knows that's unlikely.

She's thinking more and more about Beth and what it really means to be a good mother.

That's the real measure of motherhood. How much of yourself will you give up for them?

Maybe giving her to Shelby really was the right thing, Quinn. I mean, she's happy…

You're her mother Quinn. You always will be. You're always going to be a part of her life, whether you have full custody, or…or you visit her every chance you get.

Being a good parent means putting your child's wants and needs above your own.

Quinn thinks maybe she's finally ready to do that.

xx

She tells her mother that's she's willing to try counseling, because even if she doesn't try to get custody of Beth, she's finally ready to admit that she needs to work through her issues. Beth deserves a mother who's happy and healthy, and Quinn isn't right now.

Judy cries in relief. Russell calls to thank her, and Quinn actually lets him. She goes to school and pays more attention in her classes and puts in her best effort again, because even though she pretty much blew her shot at valedictorian, she can still graduate with high honors and in the top two percent. It's something to work for that she knows she can actually accomplish.

Opening night for West Side Story is looming, and Quinn is impressed by how well they're all doing. She was right about Rachel being the perfect Maria and Santana being a kick-ass Anita, and when she hears them perform their duet for the first time, she wonders why it's taken them three years to sing together. Okay, so she knows it's because Santana pretty much hates Rachel, but their voices sure seem to be carrying on a love affair.

Quinn has been understandably distracted through most of the rehearsals, but she does notice the increase in personal insults from Santana and Rachel reacting in her typical hurt fashion. Quinn debates stepping in, but really, what would that accomplish? Santana is never going to change. Her grudge against Rachel Berry predates Quinn's arrival at McKinley, and she's never really known the reason—well, other than Rachel's grating, self-absorbed personality and horrible fashion sense. Santana isn't exactly a ray of sunshine either. None of them are.

The first performance of the show is flawless and the audience actually gives them a standing ovation. Quinn is surprised at how well they're received. They all rush off stage, laughing and dancing, deservedly proud and genuinely happy. Finn bounds up to Rachel with a big bouquet of roses that she squeals over, and he bends down to kiss her. It's as awkward as ever, but there's something indescribably more intimate about it, and Quinn feels a little tickle of nausea in her belly. But that's ridiculous, because she's not jealous and she doesn't want Finn back.

Santana makes a retching sound next to her and shouts out for everyone to hear, "I hope you wrapped it up the other night, Finnefficient, 'cause I don't want to see any of your giant, ugly troll babies pop out at Nationals."

Quinn almost laughs, because Rachel was the president of the Celibacy Club last year, but the look on Rachel's face and the proud, little smirk on Finn's stops her cold. It's blatantly obvious to anyone who's looking that they actually did have sex, and Quinn thinks she might really be sick. She's outside before she realizes that she even moved, and she slams her back into the brick wall of the building and closes her eyes, shuddering at the image in her head of Finn and Rachel together.

She doesn't understand why she's reacting this way. She knows that she's over Finn, and honestly, she never really wanted him physically anyway. She'd sort-of loved him, as much as she suspects she's able to, but she knows it wasn't enough to base a lifetime on. Sam and Puck were both better kissers, and she can admit now that part of the draw to Finn was the increase in popularity and the improved chances for winning prom queen. And maybe, keeping him away from Rachel might have added to the thrill a little.

So why does she care that he's sleeping with Rachel?

Santana's words replay themselves, and Quinn shudders again, silently hoping that Rachel is smarter about birth control than she was, because it might just break her heart to see Rachel stuck in Lima with a brood of little Hudsons, giving singing lessons to unappreciative, local kids instead of living out her Broadway dreams.

Quinn's parents (yes, both of them) eventually find her in the parking lot. Russell is the first one to ask if she's okay, and he sounds so genuinely concerned that Quinn wants to cry. Where was he two years ago? She bites her tongue and just claims she's overheated. Judy tells her how wonderful she was and Quinn chuckles and shakes her head because she didn't have any lines and all she did was dance and sing in the chorus. She wants to be happy that they're at least trying, like they promised, but it still feels like too little and too late.

xx

The next time Quinn sees Rachel, she can't help but ask, "So…you and Finn, huh?" Rachel ducks her head and blushes, nodding silently. "Did you…? Were you…you know…careful about it?" And it's Quinn's turn to blush, because really? It's none of her business, but she's the one who had a baby. She's the fucking poster girl for teenage motherhood, and if that doesn't entitle her to a little concerned prying, then what was the point?

Rachel's face tints scarlet, but she nods again. "Y-yes, Quinn. Doubly so," and Quinn feels a little better.

"I'm sorry Santana announced it in public that way."

Rachel shrugs. "I suppose I should have expected it. She's been taunting me with their…previous experience…since we started working on the musical, and I…well, I shouldn't have reacted, but, " she trails off.

"Please tell me that isn't the reason you finally slept with him."

"No. We'd been heading in that direction for awhile. It just…it seemed like it was time to take that step, you know?"

"No," Quinn answers honestly. Her one and only experience with Puck was nothing more than a drunken hook-up when her self-esteem had been at its lowest, not some organic progression of a deep and meaningful relationship. If she hadn't gotten pregnant, she would have forgotten about it completely and re-devoted herself to Celibacy Club. She actually had done just that until the damn pregnancy test came up positive. Her relationship with Finn had been mostly passion-free, partly thanks to his quick trigger and partly because—well, it's Finn.

Sam—well, maybe if she hadn't cheated on him, eventually she might have felt more. Or—maybe not so much.

"O-oh, well," Rachel stutters, clearly embarrassed again, and if Quinn didn't know better, she'd say that Rachel looks a little disappointed?

"Just make sure he treats you right this time," Quinn tells her, turning back to her notebook and absently scribbling little doodles of knives and guns in the margins.

xx

The first Fabray family counseling session is kind of a joke. They don't spill their deep dark secrets or even air out their grievances. It's more of a meet and greet, and Reverend Ellis gives them information about himself and his credentials—a doctorate in ministry and psychology. He highlights some of the things he and Russell have already worked through and lets Judy and Quinn know what they can expect in their sessions.

Russell had convinced Judy to attend his church a few weeks ago, and in turn, she's finally persuaded Quinn to come along for the first time on Sunday. Quinn is secretly glad that she did. She hadn't realized how much she's been missing her faith.

She used to attend services with her parents every Sunday and the atmosphere was always somber and serious. Their old minister had a fondness for preaching about sins and sinners and the world going to fire and brimstone. When she'd gotten pregnant, Quinn had no longer been welcome there. She'd attended church with Mercedes while she'd lived with her and for a few months after she'd moved home, but Quinn hadn't really felt like she belonged there either. She'd tried going back to her mother's church, but her skin would crawl under the judgmental glares, and every sermon felt like a personal attack. Eventually, she stopped going, but she'd held on to her faith in private—until last summer.

Reverend Ellis seems like a decent sort of man. He's in his early sixties, clean-shaven with a head full of snow-white hair. He's genuinely kind and he seems to have a sense of humor. His sermon on Sunday was about God's love and forgiveness, and Quinn had left church feeling good for the first time in a long time. She thinks she's going to like Russell's church, even if she's still not too sure about Russell.

xx

They complete their run of West Side Story, and everyone's attention turns almost exclusively to Sectionals. New Directions has added a foreign exchange student named Rory, but they still don't have enough members to compete. Neither does Shelby's little club. Mercedes is still in full-on diva mode and refuses to come back. She also refuses to acknowledge just how much Rachel rocked as Maria. Even Santana manages to offer what qualifies as a compliment on that front.

Finn tries to get Santana back in the club through Brittany, and in typical Finn fashion, he manages to fuck it up royally. A pissed-off Santana is never a good thing, and before anyone knows what's happening, Puck defects as well, no doubt to try and get closer to Shelby. Artie follows soon after, wooed away by Brittany's sweet talk. Rachel is livid and a little pissed at Finn for his clumsy meddling that's only made everything worse.

Quinn is waiting for Santana to come after her next, and she isn't disappointed.

"Oh, come on, Q. We all know you're only back in glee so you can keep seeing your kid. If you join our team, you get to suck up to Shelby even more. It's not like you really give a crap about those losers. You could finally get back at mini-mouth and Finndigestion."

Quinn rolls her eyes at the lame insults and slams her books into her locker. "I'm not interested, Santana."

"Why the hell not?" she asks with her hands on her hips. "What's in it for you if you stay?"

"What's in it for me if I don't?" she counters. "Either way, we won't be eligible to compete without twelve members. Face it, you're never getting Rachel or Finn away from Schuester. So unless you convince every other member of New Directions to switch teams, we'll all be screwed."

Santana shrugs nonchalantly. "Then I guess no one goes to Sectionals."

"What is wrong with you?" Quinn demands sharply. "You were pissed that we didn't win Nationals last year. Now you suddenly don't even care if you even make it there or not?"

"I'm back on cheerios, Quinn," Santana emphasizes with a finger jabbed into her uniform emblem. "I am going to the only Nationals that matters, and then I'm getting my fine ass a cheerleading scholarship to UCLA. Glee club is just a nice little footnote on my extracurriculars."

Quinn shakes her head. "You are such a bitch."

Santana grins proudly and nods. "Yep. And I'm so much better at it than you ever hoped to be."

Quinn watches her saunter off, cheerios' skirt swishing teasingly. That could have been her. For the first time, she's genuinely glad that that particular version of Quinn Fabray is dead and buried.

The Sectionals issue isn't going away, so of course, Schuester has the brilliant idea that they should compete with Shelby's club in a winner-take-all mash-up competition. Logistically, they're actually pretty even. Shelby has the powerhouse vocals of Mercedes and Santana, the superior dancing of Brittany, two strong male leads in Puck and Artie, and—well, Sugar. New Directions has Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine to bring it vocally, Mike with his awesome dancing, Tina is a double threat, and Quinn likes to think she has some nice moves too. Rory is a decent addition to the club, and Finn is—well, Finn.

The impartial judges aren't really all that impartial. Ms. Pillsbury is obviously Team Schuester all the way. Coach Beiste is a wildcard, true, but the tiebreaker ends up being Burt Hummel, of all people, and everyone knows there's no way he'll vote against his son and step-son. Santana bitches about it being rigged, and Shelby doesn't seem all that thrilled, but the weird silent conversation that Quinn sees zinging between her and Rachel has the woman agreeing.

In the end, it's actually pretty cut and dry anyway. Rachel and Blaine are vocal perfection, and the scaled-down New Directions is perfectly in sync. Shelby's group doesn't fare nearly as well, since Sugar Motta believes she's the star and her awful screeching can't be masked by either Santana or Mercedes as they try to out-sing her and one another. The whole thing ends up a pitchy and disorganized mess. Shelby's fingers press into her temple throughout the entire performance, and the resemblance between her and Rachel has never been more pronounced. They both look as if they'd rather be hearing nails on a chalkboard. All three judges vote New Directions, and, as agreed, Shelby defers her coaching to Mr. Schuester.

Puck, Artie, and Brittany happily come back, and Santana begrudgingly follows when Brittany pouts and whispers some secret promise in her ear that has the girl blushing scarlet. Mercedes storms out again, and Sugar—well, everyone agrees that she should stay with Shelby. Rachel is clearly upset that Mercedes won't get over herself, but at least they have their twelve members now.

"I just don't understand why she won't come back," Rachel complains quietly to Finn at the end of their latest meeting. Quinn is slowly packing up her things and unabashedly eavesdropping because it's about Mercedes, and, honestly, Quinn has been feeling a little concerned about her lately too. Yeah, she was angry with her for awhile, but now she just feels sorry for her because except for her douche-bag of a boyfriend, Mercedes doesn't talk to anyone anymore. "I know she feels under-appreciated, but she's one of our strongest singers. We need her."

Finn makes his thoughtful face—at least Quinn thinks it's his thoughtful face. They all kind of start to look the same after awhile. "We have twelve people now though, so, like, it's kinda her loss, right?"

Rachel frowns at him, and Quinn recognizes the disappointment in her eyes. "Finn, she's part of the team. We're a family, and we're not complete without Mercedes."

"Yeah," he agrees with a shrug, "but she doesn't want to be here. I mean, what can we do?" He must completely miss Rachel's annoyance at his lack of concern, because he grins like an idiot and wraps a meaty arm around her delicate shoulder and jerks her into his side. "C'mon, let's get out of here. We've got a couple hours before your dads get home, right?"

Rachel shrugs out from under her arm with a huff and snaps up her bag. "I'm not in the mood," she mutters testily as she paces out of the room.

Finn frowns and lumbers after her, complaining, "You're, like, never in the mood anymore."

Quinn doesn't know why, but the exchange makes her smile.

xx

Mercedes finally rejoins New Directions two weeks before Sectionals. She gets the solo, and Rachel doesn't utter one word of protest. Quinn finds out later that Rachel basically bribed Mercedes into coming back with the offer to step aside, and she really wants to know why.

"Because we need her."

"Bull," Quinn mutters, crossing her arms. "Tell me the real reason." They're facing off in familiar showdown formation, this time in the hallway next to Rachel's locker, but it's probably the first time the confrontation doesn't have anything to do with Finn.

Rachel gently closes her locker door and faces Quinn. "She's been in glee club with us for more than two years, Quinn. It just isn't right for her to not be a part of it now. If giving up a competition solo is all it takes to get her back, than I'm willing to do it."

"You know, I think I remember you conceding a solo to her at Sectionals sophomore year. And again at that stupid fundraiser last year."

"I conceded nothing, Quinn. Mercedes won that solo by election of our peers and then it was stolen from her along with the rest of our set list. And last year was," Rachel trails off with a sigh and shrugs. "She deserved to have the closing number. I couldn't have followed her."

Quinn chuckles a little and leans against the closest locker, because Rachel trying to be modest is just really weird. She actually isn't sure if she likes this reasonable, grown-up version of her—adversary? Teammate? Friend? How wrong is that?

"You know you could have blown her away if you'd wanted to, but you were trying to be a good friend. And sophomore year? My God, Rachel," Quinn breathes reverently as she calls up the memory of standing just outside the theater door and listening to Rachel sing, shivers racing up and down her spine at the clarity and passion of her voice before marching down that aisle and seeing how effortlessly Rachel had taken the audience into the palm of her hand. "Nothing Mercedes could have offered would have come close to you singing Don't Rain On My Parade. I think everyone in that auditorium was completely in awe of you."

Rachel's cheeks are painted pink, and her smile is soft and delighted. "Were you?" she asks quietly. Quinn, still lost in her memory, furrows her brows in confusion. "In awe of me," Rachel clarifies, and then her smile slips a bit and her color deepens as she stutters, "m-my voice, I mean. Not me, per se, because obviously you wouldn't have been…"

"I was," Quinn admits, silencing Rachel mid-ramble. The smile is back, even brighter, and Quinn feels another rush of warmth at being the cause. Yeah, this is just weird, but she's actually kind of enjoying this trying to be friends with Rachel thing.

"Thank you, Quinn. You…you don't know how much that actually means to me. Especially when I know how much you," she bites her lip and changes tact, "well, we really weren't at all on good terms at the time."

Quinn straightens off the locker with a slight frown. "Are we now?"

"I think we are," Rachel says.

"Huh? How did that happen?" Quinn asks, but she's smiling a little, so it takes the sting out. At least, she thinks it must, because Rachel doesn't look upset by the question. Quinn is genuinely curious though, because she knows she's never actually apologized for any of the really bitchy things she's done or said, and Rachel's never actually apologized for trying to steal her boyfriend (twice) while he was still dating Quinn. They just seemed to come to this unconscious agreement to treat one another with kindness.

"My charismatic personality finally won you over," Rachel offers with her dazzling, Broadway smile.

"Wore me down, you mean?" Quinn quips flatly.

Rachel shrugs casually. "Whatever works." Quinn knows that it isn't meant to be a joke in the slightest, but she laughs anyway. She's still smiling when she walks away, and she doesn't notice Santana eyeing her strangely.

A few days later, New Directions wins Sectionals without any real competition from the other choirs. Mercedes is flawless on her solo, and she hugs Rachel after they exit the stage. Quinn thinks the rest of the year might just be drama free.

xx

Quinn asks Shelby if she can introduce Beth to her parents. She's still not thrilled about including Russell, but she promised to really try with the therapy thing, and she's still undecided on the custody issue. She's trying to give Shelby more of a chance (and not just in relation to Beth) and that's how she finds out that Rachel's birthday is in four days. Because Shelby? She's kind of a weepy mess. Quinn's been there, and she knows she'll probably be going back there again every year for the rest of her life.

They really are more alike than she wants to admit, even if their circumstances are entirely different. Shelby is struggling to make a real connection with Rachel, dancing a fine line between pushing too hard and staying too distant. Quinn can sympathize, because she's sort of doing the same thing with Beth.

She ends up at the mall after her visit with her daughter, and she knows she's about to do something that she never imagined she would. She's been thinking back over the last four years and wondering if she forgot about Rachel's birth date because she just didn't care or if she honestly never knew when it was. She's more and more certain that she never knew, and she wonders if anyone else did. No one in glee club has ever mentioned it, not even Finn.

Quinn wishes Rachel a Happy Birthday in their first class the next day, because her actual birthday is Sunday. Rachel looks shocked and stutters out a stunned thank you. That reaction is nothing compared to the one Quinn gets after glee. She asks Rachel to hang back for a minute, and she ignores the slightly distrustful look on Finn's face when Rachel tells him she'll catch up. Once they're alone, Quinn unceremoniously shoves a pink and yellow gift-bag into Rachel's hands, and Rachel stares at it like it might explode.

"I…I don't…when did you? How?"

Quinn thinks she's kind of cute all flustered like this, but it bothers her to know that Rachel doesn't expect any of her friends to remember her birthday. And lo and behold, no one else did. At least, no one said anything in glee. Quinn is hoping Finn has something amazing planned for her actual birthday, but she isn't holding her breath. He never remembered hers.

"It's nothing, Rachel." The girl keeps staring at the bag and—sheesh, she's looking almost weepy now. "Just open it," Quinn commands.

Rachel draws in a deep breath and carefully opens the bag to reach inside. Her hand is halfway out when she starts to laugh, albeit a little tearfully. She pulls The New York Survival Guide the rest of the way out and grins. "I assume this is to aid me in avoiding shady characters lurking around corners."

Quinn smirks. "Or, you know, to keep you from buying tickets to Broadway shows that have been closed for a decade."

Rachel flushes in embarrassment. "Thank you, Quinn."

"Well, it's your birthday, right?"

Rachel nods, and then she carefully places the book back into the bag and sets it aside on the chair. "I'm going to hug you now," she announces, and steps forward with open arms. Quinn stiffens as Rachel's body makes contact with hers, and she fumbles with her own arms until they finally settle loosely around Rachel's waist. It's really awkward for a few seconds, and then Quinn relaxes into the hug a little, and it feels—God, it feels nice. She can't really explain it. She's been hugged before—by Finn and Sam, by Puck once or twice, by Brittany and Mercedes, and occasionally by her parents—but she's always felt suffocated by them, uncomfortable and eager for escape. She doesn't with Rachel and she has no idea why. Maybe it has something to do with being the taller person for a change.

That must be it.

Almost as soon as it starts, it's over, and Rachel is stepping back with uncertain eyes and nervously biting her lower lip. Quinn unconsciously licks her own in response. Rachel swallows thickly and abruptly turns away to gather up her belongings. "Th-thanks again…for the gift. And just…you know." She laughs at her own awkwardness and shakes her head. "Yeah…thanks," she finishes with a sweet smile before she disappears out the door.

Quinn stares after her for a moment and wonders what the hell just happened.

xx

The holidays roll around and Quinn is grateful for the break. The last week of school had been strange to say the least. Apparently, Finn hadn't remembered Rachel's birthday until he'd seen Quinn's gift, and he'd rushed to throw something together for her at the last minute. Quinn knows this because she overheard Kurt and Blaine talking about the couple's disastrous date on Saturday night and a recycled, gold star necklace that Finn had tried giving to Rachel last year when they were broken up, only to have it rejected when she'd slipped it back into his locker three days later. Needless to say, it had been rejected again. The result of this had been nearly unbearable tension between the happy couple. Quinn was a little grateful though, because it distracted from the weirdness between her and Rachel.

Quinn spends Christmas Eve alone with her mother. If it's not exactly merry, it's at least quiet and relatively peaceful. Christmas Day is a different story. Russell comes over for dinner, and it's uncomfortable and overly formal and too much like the family dinners at the Fabray house used to be. All that's missing is her sister, Abigail, who hasn't really been home since she got married four years ago. It wouldn't matter if she were there anyway, because Abby hasn't even spoken to Quinn since she got pregnant.

Quinn is feeling increasingly trapped, and all she wants is to get away, but Russell seems to sense her discomfort and he surprises her by letting her go without a fight. Quinn retreats to the safety of her bedroom and turns on her iPod, picking up a favorite book to read.

She sees him again two days later when her parents finally meet Beth for the first time. Shelby has invited Puck and his mother too, and while relations between the Fabrays and Mrs. Puckerman are decidedly chilly, they all melt the minute Beth comes into the room. It's a really good night.

Russell pulls Quinn aside after they drive home and asks her to sit on the couch and speak with him for a few minutes. "Have you made any decisions?" he asks.

Quinn's jaw clenches and she stares at the far wall. "Not yet," she finally admits.

"My offer to support you still stands," he tells her seriously, "but I'm glad you're not rushing into anything. She…Beth," and his voice crackles with emotion, "she's beautiful, Lucy Quinn. And she deserves only good things."

Quinn wipes at her tears. She wants to ask him what he thinks those good things are, but she's not sure what answer she really wants anymore.

"You deserve good things too," he tells her gently, and that's it. She can't stop herself from breaking down and falling sideways into her father's solid body. His arms are around her instantly, and maybe it doesn't feel perfect yet, but it feels better than it ever has before. She isn't going to forget what he's done to her, but maybe—maybe if he stays like he is right now, maybe she can eventually forgive him.

A long time later, when she's cried out and composed, Russell broaches the subject of college, "Because if you decide not to pursue custody of Beth, then you need to start thinking about your own future."

It's strange, because she knows her father, and she knows what his voice sounds like when he's pushing his own agenda, and this isn't it. Reverend Ellis must really be a miracle worker.

"I was thinking of OSU," she mumbles with a shrug.

His face hardens, and Quinn knows he isn't happy because he's still a Northwestern man, but he doesn't say anything derogatory. Instead he just tells her, "There are a lot of good schools out there, Quinn. You should do some research. It can't hurt to apply."

It can though, because Quinn still doesn't feel like she's good enough to get into a decent college and get out of Ohio. She's not even sure leaving the state is really an option now that Beth is back in her life. Of course, she's counting on Shelby sticking around, but that isn't a guarantee. She'd up and taken Beth to New York once before, and she could easily do so again, especially if she has incentive in the form of a Broadway bound Rachel.

The next day, Quinn downloads information on a few schools in New York.


³Glee, 3:04, Pot O' Gold


Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews. I decided to go ahead and post the second part. Obviously, this isn't how Season Three will progress, but it's nice to dream they won't completely turn Quinn into an unsympathetic villain.