I only own Glee in my dreams.

Becoming We Three.

One. Reality

The reality of her situation hit Quinn as she left the diner where she'd eaten breakfast.

As she walked out, towards her car, she passed by a lonely looking man, thin, wearing a thick but tattered jacket. He looked - and smelled - like he hadn't shaved, showered, or eaten a good meal in at least a week. Her initial reaction was to look down on him in pity, throwing a couple of dollars into the hat that lay, overturned, at his feet. But as her thoughts turned to how awful it would be to be homeless, like this man, she realized that she was. Her parents had kicked her out, her boyfriend had rightfully broken up with her, and in that action kicked her out as well. She had no place to call home, nothing to call her own except the contents of her car.

Her chest constricted in this sudden realization, pressure building behind the dams of her eyes. She hurried to her car, reaching it just before the water works took over.

She didn't know how long she sat there in the front seat, holding herself and crying until her cheeks were covered in tears. She probably would have stayed there a lot longer if she hadn't heard her cell phone going off. She flipped it up, struggling to read the new text through her tears. It was Rachel, asking where she was. The bus for Sectionals was supposed to leave in five minutes.

Quinn wiped back her tears. She could cry later. Right now, her team needed her. She loved that feeling - being needed. It meant that she was important, that if something would happen to her, she would be missed.

She arrived a couple of minutes late, hurrying onto the bus as they maneuvered Arty into the lift.

There were ten seats. Enough for almost everyone to have their own. Quinn stood at the front for a moment, scouted out her options. Santana and Brittany were together, switching gossip as they shared an iPod. Jacob, she knew, would at least try to sit with Rachel, although he might not be successful. Puck was sitting moodily in a dark corner of the bus, as if daring her to come back there. She wouldn't.

Finally, she took the only open seat in the front, away from everybody else.

A moment later Ms. Pillsbury boarded the bus, surveying the seats for an open one. There weren't any, Quinn had taken the last one. Her eyes lighting on the young girl, and Emma quickly sat beside her – a little to eagerly, in Quinn's opinion. Ms. Pillsbury would probably try to physco-analyze her pretty soon. Just what I need right now she thought, biting back the tears she had been fighting ever since she'd gotten Rachel's text. She couldn't cry now. She couldn't be vulnerable in front of Puck.

Ms. Pillsbury called role – was it really that hard to just head-check all twelve of them? – before sitting back in the seat, telling the driver that we were all ready to go.

"Are you excited?" she asked Quinn. Did she look excited? Quinn had her elbow nudged onto the thin window ledge, her left hand around her neck and her forehead against the cool glass. Her right hand rested uneasily atop her bump, rubbing it in worried circles. She shrugged at Ms. Pillsbury's words, not wanting to look up and give her a real answer. But the moment she lifted her shoulders, she regretted it. Ms. Pillsbury was just trying to be kind, after all.

"Are you alright, Quinn?" she asked, an edge of concern in her voice.

Quinn felt the tears pressing against her eyes, the lump rise in her throat. She gave her head a simple shake. No. No, she wasn't alright.

A tear fell. Then another. She blinked them away. Not here. Not now.

She felt a soft hand on the back of her shoulder, Emma's words falling onto her, another pressure to cry.

"What's wrong?"

She swallowed back the tears.

"Quinn?"

She turned her head to see Ms. Pillsbury watching her, her big eyes round with concern for her young pupil.

"I can't do this."

There. She said it. It was out there. Out in the world and there was nothing that she could do to get it back.

"It'll be okay."Ms. Pillsbury assured her. "Sure you're down a member, but you guys are so great, I'm sure you'll win."

"I didn't mean the competition." Quinn murmured, so softly she didn't think that the guidance counselor would hear her.

"Is It . . ."

" . . . the baby." Quinn finished, nodding. Somewhere in there short conversation she had stopped leaning on the window sill, and was now facing Ms. Pillsbury, longing to fall into her arms and just cry, like she would do with her own mother. But Ms. Pillsbury wasn't her mom or a friend's mom. She was a teacher. Someone that Quinn didn't know well at all.

"You're planning on giving her up for adoption, correct?"

"I had been." She qualified, a few tears slipping out. "N-now, I don't know. Puck doesn't want to give her up, and I thought we m-might have a shot at it, but then he went and t-texted Santana and stuff and he can't be t-trusted. But th-then I found out that Mr. Sh-shuester found out, so that fell through and I don't think I c-can't give her away to just anyb-body. But I don't h-have a place to l-live and I can't rai-raise a baby that way. I don't even have enough money for doc-t-tor's visits so I might ha-have to give b-birth on my own or something j-just to save money, and it's j-just too h-hard and I want it all to g-go away." She knew that she sounded crazy, leaking her private fears between sobs, the words becoming more and more indistinguishable until she could no longer speak. Crying took over, her arms wrapped around her as she shook, falling into Ms. Pillbury's open arms.

"Shhh," the counselor whispered, stroking back Quinn's hair. "Oh Quinn," she sighed, "you should have told me sooner! This is exactly what I'm here to help with." Okay, that was a bit of stretch. Normally she dealt with popularity issues and college worries, but her job was to help the students, and Quinn, at least for now, was a student

Ms. Pillsbury listened to her student sob for a moment. She had to do something about this. She hated crying. Crying meant tears, and snot, and puffy eyes, and running makeup. In short: another mess. So she did what she did best, organize and prioritize.

"Well, the first thing you need is a place to live, isn't it?" she asked, more to herself than to the still sobbing teenager. "Do you think you could find a friend's house, just for a night or two?"

Brittany's parents might let her stay with them – they had had Brittany when they were only twenty, so they might sympathize with her. Quinn was also sure that if she asked, Rachel would be more than willing to take her in for a night or two. But that was if worst came to worst. Rachel was nice and Quinn wanted to be friends, but she also knew that Rachel wanted Finn, and that was too sore a wound to open up so soon.

She nodded at Ms. Pillsbury to continue.

"Well then, I'll check around, see if there are some local organization that help girls in your situation and tell you on Monday."She looked over at Quinn, but the girl didn't seem all that reassured as she sniffled. "There's bound to be something, Quinn. You aren't the first pregnant teenager in Lima and you're not going to be the last, either." She still didn't look all that heartened, so Ms. Pillsbury decided to tackle another problem. "You know, I think there's a home for teenage mothers nearby. You can probably stay with them, and even if you choose not to I'm sure that they'll have the resources to help you make all of these decisions and deal with your debts, Quinn."

"They will?" Her voice was soft and scratchy from her crying. But there was hope there. Feeble and fleeting, but hope all the same.

"I'm sure that they can help you." Ms. Pillsbury repeated, glad that the girl had stopped crying, at least for the moment. She pulled out a package of tissues and handed them to Quinn so that she could dry her tears.

Quinn dabbed at her eyes, the warm feeling of hope filling her chest. Maybe this would all be okay.

A/N: A little bit of hope at the end. Ain't it sweet? You know what's also sweet? Reviews! Oh, and I've decided that this will be four to six chapter with no planned sequel. And it's SNOWING here! More than a foot and no sign of stopping which happens maybe once a decade here (Northern VA)! Yay! More time to write!