It was Friday morning finally, Quinn thought as she half-mindedly opened her locker to exchange books from her backpack. The hallways were a lot different since she was no longer parting crowds of students like the Red Sea. Knowing that she no longer wielded that power made everything kind of intimidating. But no one at the school had come for her yet in the same way that she used to target people. The blonde was determined to reclaim her spot before anyone decided to change that.

"Good morning, Quinn"

"Berry?" Quinn looked over her shoulder at the brunette, who was decidedly more chipper than normal. Which was concerning. "Uh, can I help you with something?"

"Actually, yes." Quinn lifted an eyebrow in response, to which Rachel answered, "I think you know what you can help me with."

Quinn tried very hard to internally qualm her need to comment on how provocative the shorter girl sounded, though she still couldn't contain the smirk that pulled her lips to one side of her face. "And that would be?"

"Oh, come on Quinn! You know I'm talking about the show. Why are you always so difficult? And I mean, not as difficult as before the preg–" Rachel's eyes widened as she caught her would-be mistake, "b-before we became friends–"

"Whoa whoa, hold on a second there," Quinn lifted a hand in front of Rachel's face. "First off, your rambling has got to stop. Second, I never said we were friends. I just… understand you a little better now."

"Oh?" Rachel shift her weight onto one side, "in what way?"

Quinn didn't know what to say that wouldn't hurt the girl's feelings. On second thought, she wasn't sure why she cared whether or not she hurt Rachel's feelings, seeing that she still didn't put a stop to it when other people did. It's that damn guilt again…

"Quinn?" Rachel dipped her head slightly, trying to look beyond those hazel eyes somehow.

"Nothing, never mind." The blonde turned back to her locker, distractedly trying to find her chemistry book as Rachel's gaze bore into her profile.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"That… thing you always do! Just talk to me."

"No."

"Come on, Quinn!"

"I have nothing else to say."

"You do and you know it."

"No, I don't! And would you stop looking at me like that?!" Quinn snapped. Rachel stepped back slightly.

"I don't know what you mean–"

"Like I'm about snap under pressure or something! Just because I hit a low these past few months doesn't mean I need you tip-toeing around me like I'm some abandoned, abused pet sitting in Sarah McLachlan's lap while she sings 'In the Arms of an Angel'!"

"But Quinn, I never–"

"Just forget it!" As Quinn walked away, right after slamming her locker in such a fashion that made Rachel and everyone else in proximity jump, she couldn't help but feel as though her diva storm out wasn't exactly on par with the tiny brunette's.


Quinn dragged her way to her next class after spending a portion of her lunch period in Sue Sylvester's office. Twenty minutes of someone reminding you how fat and out of shape you are, though with more explicit word choices, would put anyone in a somber mood. But she knew if she ever wanted to be on the squad again, she'd have to endure. Not only was the cruel, blonde head coach bringing her down, but her earlier interaction with Rachel was still eating away at her conscience. Why did she allow herself to blow up like that? Not only at Rachel, but in front of everyone else? It was completely overdramatic. Maybe she spent more time with Rachel during those several months than she initially thought.

The ex-captain of the Cheerios was painfully aware of the awkwardness awaiting her in her next class since it was the only other time she shared a classroom with Rachel besides glee. As she walked in, her eyes immediately spotted the singer concentrating on her notebook despite the fact that class hadn't started. Quinn slowed her pace, eyeing her normal seat and then glancing over to the empty stool next to Rachel.

Come on Quinn, you're being ridiculous. Nothing about Berry is scary besides her freakishly huge ego.

Holding her head up, Quinn strode over to the desk Rachel was currently seated and placed her bag on the floor, perching herself atop the stool. She noticed in her peripheral that Rachel froze as she was turning a page, finally noticing Quinn's presence.

"Hi there," Quinn tried, folding her hands in her lap. To her annoyance, Rachel proceeded to turn the page in her book, her gaze fixated on the next page as if she were trying to devour the material with her eyes. But Quinn knew otherwise.

"Would you stop," Rachel cried in response to Quinn poking her side with her pencil.

"You're ignoring me."

Rachel sighed and closed her notes. "Well, since we aren't exactly friends like I thought we were, I am no longer certain whether speaking is a thing you and I are allowed to do."

"Just because we aren't friends doesn't mean we can't talk. See? We're talking right now."

"Cut it out, Quinn. You made yourself clear this morning – you don't want me around, and so I'm trying to hold my end of the stick here."

"You're twisting my words," Quinn began whispering as more and more McKinley students filled the room. "I just – I'm trying to be better, get over things. But you set me back every time I catch you staring at me like some pitiful teenager who had t-to give up… give up her–"

"I get it," Rachel could see how difficult it was for Quinn to convey what she meant, so she decided to cut her off for her sake. "It's just that I'm trying to be there for you and help you, but you keep pushing me away."

"That's the thing Berry, I don't want nor do I need your help," lies, lies, lies "– I just, I feel like I can only get back on my feet if I lift myself up."

"Well, that's where you're wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"Does getting back on your feet mean returning to the power-craving, narcissistic bitch you were before?" Rachel quipped, too angry to explain her previous comment, "am I going to start getting slushied everyday again? Will you do it or will one of your brain-dead henchmen answer your beck and call?" Quinn, mouth agape at this point, could only stare at Rachel in response with a mix of emotions – anger, pity, hurt, frustration, and an immense guilt unlike anything she'd been feeling up until that moment.

"Because I'd hate for that to be the case."

"Rachel, I–"

"Ummm, th-this is my seat–"

"Don't you see me talking right now?!" Quinn snapped her head towards Rachel's usual seatmate for their lab. "Go find another seat." Rachel watched her usual partner stalk off rather confused, and released a sigh.

"Quinn, I don't want to talk to you right now." After a few moments, Quinn turned forward in her chair, placing her elbows on the desk and resting her chin on her folded hands.

"Fine." Quinn was only trying to fix things. Fix back to what, she wasn't sure – she only wanted Rachel to understand and accept where she was coming from. But if this was the way the brunette wanted things, she wasn't going to deny her.


Lima, Ohio had its ups and downs, but jogging trails were definitely a huge plus in Quinn's book. She stopped for a moment to retie her shoelaces before standing, placing her hands on her hips and overlooking the town from the incline she was on. This was the place she called home for nearly seventeen years, yet she wanted nothing more than to get out of there. She wouldn't allow herself to fall behind and become one of the countless Lima-losers in town. Perhaps that's why Rachel Berry always seemed to be at the forefront of her attention. The girl was not only – wait, Quinn needed to take a moment to admit it – attractive, which seemed to be the only selling factor among the line of Fabray women so far, she was talented and ambitious and unlike anyone else in the halls of McKinley. This whole time, Quinn saw Rachel as a threat. There were only so many slots available to get the hell out of Lima – Quinn felt like she was battling to claim her place whereas Rachel's place on the list was a given. So, Quinn tried to tear her down, over and over again. But, adding to the girl's seemingly endless list of superior qualities, the brunette was always resilient. No matter how many times she was knocked down – verbally, physically, spiritually – Rachel Berry was always the last one standing. Quinn both admired and hated her for it. She found herself questioning why she couldn't be more like Rachel Berry, someone who was so confident that she didn't need superficial appreciation based on meaningless popularity, or a fake image weaved from insecurity and expectation. She only needed her powerful voice to move an audience to tears, and her strong personality to prove how much she really cared about something or someone. Yeah, Quinn was confident that she hated the girl.

The blonde tried to ignore it, but she actually missed Rachel. Her compassion, her sensitivity. It had been about five weeks since they last spoke in class. Rachel made it quite apparent that she had no plans to approach Quinn ever again, nor did she need to. It finally dawned on Quinn that distancing herself from Rachel was only hurting one of them. And it wasn't Rachel. There were still moments where the two would make awkward eye contact during their lab (in which Quinn was back to her normal seat) or in glee. But other than that, it seemed as though every moment they shared during Quinn's pregnancy was a distant dream. A false reality. Rachel kept her eyes stubbornly forward as she walked the halls, always missing Quinn's lingering looks when the blonde caught her walking by.

When not thinking about how screwed up things were with Rachel, Quinn was devoting her time and energy to getting back in shape. Looking at her phone, she noted that she had jogged four miles so far that morning, but she had to keep going. She was determined to reclaim her captain spot from Santana, who, lately, has been a little more distant. If she had to guess why, Quinn figured that the Latina started to realize the very strong possibility that Quinn could actually do it. Which shouldn't come as much of a surprise – Coach Sylvester pegged Quinn as her favorite for a reason. Whatever she wanted out of her girls, Quinn made sure she got it, and some. Her pregnancy weight was gone and her abs were defined again, but Quinn wanted to return in better shape than she ever was before. She wanted to win a national tournament. She had to if she wanted to get out of this hellhole where even her parents were willing to kick her to the curb.

Quinn Fabray was not going to be a mere trophy wife, and definitely not a Lima loser.

So she spent the rest of the day finishing her work out and doing homework. It wasn't until sundown that she realized she cooped herself up in her room for over five hours. She was just finishing up a paper that was due next week when she heard her mother call for her.

"Quinnie! Come downstairs for dinner!" The blonde groaned when she arose from her chair, stretching in an almost cat-like manner. She cautiously made her way downstairs, still feeling unsettled since she returned home. Things had obviously become tenser after she got kicked out. Her sister, Franny, relayed to her over the phone that her mom was seriously considering divorce. Quinn didn't speak to her mom about it herself, but she could tell that her father had no clue. Knowing her father's anger issues and obsession with the image of their family, she could only shiver when thinking about what would happen if her mom actually went through with it.

"Would you like a roll, sweetie?" Quinn cringed at the term of endearment. Her mom was still trying too hard for comfort, as if acting overtly-motherly would erase the months of fear and helplessness Quinn felt when she was pregnant and alone. The ex-Cheerio knew it was her father who wanted her out, but her mom could have at least stood her ground and refused to go along with it.

"No, I'm fine. Trying to cut down on the bread."

"Oh, that's right! You're exercising again. How's that going?"

"Fine."

"That's good." The silence returned, and remained for the rest of dinner. Quinn really had nothing to say to her parents, at least nothing that wouldn't get her kicked out the house again. Her father didn't speak at all. Her mom seemed hesitant. It was overall an unhealthy atmosphere. Quinn wouldn't even dare to look at her father. Instead, she eyed the greens and spaghetti on her plate and settled for listening to the clinking of silverware and chewing.


Quinn was back in her room, lying in bed with her back pressed against the headboard. In her lap was a new book she picked up from the bookstore on her way home from glee that afternoon. Even though it was sci-fi, her favorite genre, she found her mind trailing away from its pages and towards images of glee club.

When she walked in the choir room earlier that day, Quinn was immediately met with the sickly sight of Rachel perched in Finn's lap, the brunette's arm around his shoulder and his arms firmly wrapped around her waist. The two were laughing at something, the blonde had no clue what, then again, she didn't care, but she felt her entire body heat up. The sensation surged from every limb, climbing all the way to her cheeks and forehead. Maybe it was a sign from her subconscious that she wasn't completely over what happened with Finn. Maybe it was just a physical representation of her disbelief that the boy – and Rachel – could so… so blatantly disrespect her by hooking up behind her back. Sure, peg her a hypocrite, but to the blonde, her one night of infidelity was just not the same as what the diva and the goof managed to forge. Quinn and Puck were drunk, and neither of them had done anything with each other up until that moment of weakness. Finn and Rachel, on the other hand, had been establishing a connection while the quarterback was still with Quinn. The fact that anyone would ever cheat on her, on Quinn Fabray, was still inconceivable to the blonde and perhaps the rest of the student population. Especially when considering that the lead male singer was cheating on her with Rachel Berry.

Rachel Berry… Rachel.

How come being with Rachel, one-on-one, never rendered this kind of rage? When she spoke with the short girl, all she could feel was this… intense need to do something to repay her. Chalk it up to Fabray pride, she guessed – she just didn't feel comfortable being indebted to Rachel. After thinking about how much the brunette helped her, she then mulled over the years of mistreatment she dealt to the girl. Which only makes it feel like there's nothing she could do to ever compensate for just how… how overwhelmingly kind and selfless the girl was.

But… but shouldn't she be upset? Shouldn't she think of Rachel's help as due payment for stealing her boyfriend? Quinn slammed her book shut and removed her reading glasses before running her hands down her face. It was so confusing… everything was. But for some reason, she just couldn't stop thinking about it. She couldn't stop thinking about Rachel.

Dammit!

Quinn had been fighting the urge for the past couple of weeks, but tonight seemed to be the breaking point of all her restraint and composure. She went to her desk and opened her laptop. After a few moments of starting up, Quinn opened her Google app and quickly typed in 'YouTube.' After the very first (and only) live stream she walked of DivaDuo, she made herself an account so she could subscribe and comment on future videos. At the very top of the YouTube home page, she could see the videos she so stubbornly had tried to ignore. Staring back at her from the page were ten new videos from DivaDuo, each of them with about thirty-thousand views (the oldest one with around fifty-thousand). Quinn could feel a pang of emotion as she gazed at Rachel's smiling face in the screenshots for each video. How many times had she managed to wipe clean that smile from her face? How many times had her taunting brought tears to her eyes?

Quinn spent the next few hours catching up on all the content she missed over the last few weeks. Unsurprisingly, the singing was brilliant. There was even part of a video where Rachel rapped a verse from a Kanye West song per request from a commenter. Kurt was great too, and she could tell which parts of each video were probably his idea. Making a game using quotes from Breakfast at Tiffany's definitely had Kurt written all over it, but she was sure Rachel had no qualms with obliging. One of the videos had Finn make a brief appearance, but Quinn managed, begrudgingly, to make it through the whole thing.

It was past 1 AM by the time she finished. The blonde knew when she got up for school she would regret it (under eye circles, here we come…) but watching those videos seemed like exactly what she needed. She was going to talk to Rachel at school. For the sake of her sanity, she had to.


A/N: This one was a tad shorter, but it felt appropriate to stop where it ended. Please please please, review. Feedback would help me improve and also cater to what you guys may want to read. Plus, it'd be nice to know if you guys are enjoying the story so far.

And also, Happy New Year!

- K