I got a really great review so thank you for how great you think I've written the characters. Which - disclaimer - I don't own beyond the plot. So, the episode was about spirituality and I wanted to add in this chapter how Quinn's beliefs fit in with his identity.

Grilled Cheesus

"Hey, Quinn!"

"Finn, how are you?" and why are you talking to me?

"Supercool. Hey, you know all those times you made me pray and stuff? I think I did it right!"

No, no you did not. Finn and I have this rocky relationship where we barely tolerate each other but he really wants to be friends and I really need him to want that.

"See, I made this sandwich-"

"Cut to the point, Finn."

"Jesus lives in my cheese." However, the conviction with which he says that is really making me want to send him to some sort of hospital.

"No he doesn't."

"Wait, you're mad? Or upset?" Well, he's getting closer at approximating my emotions, "I thought you'd be super pumped to know where he is. Cos, like, you wanna marry him or something."

"What? No, I don't. Why would I want to marry a man?!" Oh, shit. I'm silently sending up a prayer (this is how you do it, Fudson) that he's not paying enough attention or he won't quite make anything of it. I don't really have enough time to finish said prayer because Finn has this habit of talking over me, and who cares what he made of what I said because he didn't actually hear it.

"Oh, sorry. I only heard like, what are they-"

"key words?"

"Yeah, those, when you talk and stuff." Well, good.

"Why are we still talking?" I don't want to accidentally say something else controversial, and I don't really want to hear something else offensive - to me or Jesus. I still have my faith, like I told Rachel, even if some people (cough, pastors) interpret our shared religion in a way I don't sometimes. I believe that God loves all Christians, and there's a reason for everything. It's part of my beliefs that actually gives me more confidence to accept myself, and all other Christians.

I don't think that whatever I say to Kurt it could give him any Christian faith, even if I convince him that religion is personal to everyone. Still, he's got to believe in something.

"How can you still hang on the Bible's every word. I'm pretty sure Saint Paul would stone you and be proud, Quinn!" There it is, sitting in his basement bedroom waiting for Burt to get in to watch the game.

"Kurt, religion isn't just following what a pastor tells you. I determine my own beliefs from a connection with God, and pray to Him to find salvation. The only thing set in stone - quite literally - with Christianity is ethics and morals, morals which have founded the tolerant society which tells people not to kill us!"

"How can you say that when anyone you go to church with would happily condemn you? Quinn, I know you're stuck in your faith because, I don't know, it helped you through a shitty childhood or something. You want to cling to it like a security blanket, or because you've already given up so much for it and you don't want it all to be in vain, but you can't and you shouldn't. It's just something made up and it's a lot more hateful than any high school bully."

"I know that religious communities as a whole have become corrupt. Honestly, hasn't everything? But if I didn't have my faith, I think I'd be a lot more uncomfortable right now - and not just because I'd be in a skirt! I wouldn't want to think about who I am, and I certainly wouldn't have had any reason to think that maybe I'm not sick or wrong. We're friends, Kurt, and if it wasn't for God I don't think we would be!" I'm about to cry, so I fall onto his pristine couch. He mellows, I can hear it in his sigh, before he rolls me into a sitting position.

"Please don't get tears on the furniture or the floor. Or, anything. Can I find you a tissue?"

"No." I say, and wipe my face in my elbow and then the inside of my calf just to be defiant. "I don't want your stupid atheist sympathy."

"Quinn, is it really that important to you. Has it really helped you that much?" Kurt leans into me.

"Yeah, it is. I'm not a Christian just because my parents are. My mom even said she wouldn't be offended if I wasn't, after I moved back and dad moved out. And - I promise, I don't hate the fact that you're not a Christian. Maybe I don't like it that you're an atheist, but I don't think I can sway you to join a Church or something."

"What do you mean?" Kurt asks, turning to face me, and I stand up because that kid grew over the summer and I'm not cool with him being taller than me.

"You've got to believe in something. There's got to be something that you have a connection with that you can trust and talk to, to build your own morals around. Something you understand and that will guide and support you. You've got to have something or else you'll be arguing with yourself like a crazy person over every tiny little thing and just going round and round until you are crazy."

Kurt swallows and stands up to look me in the eyes. "I've got my dad."

"Boys, are you down there?"

"Yes, Burt."

"Hey, Quinn," Burt sticks his head into view at the top of the staircase, "I'd watch the game with you but I'm feeling a little tired today."

"Dad, are you okay?" Kurt well, sounds like a girl. Bad thing to say? But, it's light and high and when Burt nods Kurt looks back to me worriedly. "I believe in Burt, Quinn. Did he sound alright to you?"

"Erm, not really? I dunno." I sit back down, not knowing why Kurt is so involved with his dad. I never had that relationship with mine, and I don't think I really want one with a man like that, but I still wonder what could have been.

"I know that you talk to God and Jesus, and the guys that died two thousand years ago, but I really want to keep my dad around for as long as possible. I need to be able to talk to him physical or else, like you said, I might go crazy. I believe in Burt, so I want to help him be healthy." He pauses and turns to stare down at me, "Oh, Quinn, I believe in my mom, too, but I don't have her any more."

"Hey, Kurt, don't cry. Okay, you can cry. But it's Friday tomorrow - new assignment in glee club! That'll be cool." He's still weeping openly, "Hey, it also means that you don't need to get in early because you make up for it later. You can, like, make Burt a healthy breakfast so he doesn't have to get food from the diner across from the shop!" He withdraws his tear stained cheeks from my jumper.

"That's actually a really good idea, Quinn. God give it to you?" He tries to joke as he daubs his face with a Marc Jacobs handkerchief.

"Now stop it. I could talk and talk all about my own beliefs right now, quote the Bible like I'm reading from it!" I smile back and we sit together, Kurt graciously putting the basketball on when I promise to not inflict any more 'Church-talk' on him. I do get to thinking if I could ever talk to my mom, though, about everything. If I could ever believe in her like Kurt does his dad.

I'm prompted to think and talk more about my beliefs when Mr Shue suggests songs about spirituality. Really, it seems like Finn controls this glee club, especially because Shue doesn't seem to care about Kurt's discomfort. I agree, some people at Church - and myself for a while, before I knew anything about myself except what my father's family expected of me - are awful about gays and women, and (presumably) people who claim they're neither when they physically appear to be both. I think Kurt's being sensitive about not wanting his dad to be a spirit, though, and that he still doesn't like churches because there are a lot of sheep in many of them. Especially the ones around here. I don't go to mine every Sunday, and Santana rarely goes. I'm pretty sure Mercedes' attendance is, for lack of a better word, religious - but it is a lot of singing, and less about Leviticus.

Puck, goodish guy he's become, diffuses the situation by singing a Jewish song that's not really about religion anyway. Still, I think it hits Kurt hard because of the subject matter. If he does believe in his dad instead of a god or spirit, then Burt - as I have seen, too - is benevolent. Kurt's already been worried about his health, and got sensitive over the implication that belief must be in spirits, so 'Only The Good Die Young' was sure to strike a nerve. It sure does with me when only two hours later Kurt texts me.

To Quinn Fabray: can you pick up my homework from chemistry and music, and bring all the text books from my locker?

To Kid Gay: uh yeah y?

To Quinn Fabray: can you stay over too?

To Kid Gay: ok whats up kurt

To Quinn Fabray: my dad's in a coma.

Shit. Talk about - not fate, but coincidence?

"I don't think it's a coincidence, Kurt," I say as I stroke through his de-gelled hair as we sit in pyjamas on his bed, all ready for an awkward sleepover. "I think someone's trying to tell you something." He pushes me to the floor.

"Gosh, can't you be considerate, Quinn!? Stop trying to push anything on me or make me doubt my whole existence and beliefs - you're really in no position to do that to people. I just wanted my friend here to tell me it's going to be alright, and to understand everything it means to me. I thought that was you." He dramatically curls up and falls into his pillows.

"I'm sorry, Kurt." I climb back onto the bed. When he doesn't respond I stand on it and jump up to fall down flat, something I wasn't allowed to do in that mattress commercial because, um, pregnant!, but looked really fun. "I'm here for you, dude. I shouldn't say stuff if I know it'll only hurt you."

"That's right." He says, sitting up. "You're a good brother, Quinn. I wish you were my brother."

"Your dad's great, I kinda wish he was mine, too." I frown, and Kurt leans over me, examining me, before I scowl at him and he lies back down next to me. It's a long night of comforting each other about our respective fathers after that. I simply conclude, from talking to Kurt but drawing from my faith and how God ties into everything, just like how I'd talked out my identity with Puck, that my father was meant to be in my life for as long as he was and how he was to make me who I was when I left in order to build a future I truly want. And that he's not meant to be in my life any more, because of how much of a turd he is.

Monday comes, and Kurt's pulled himself together enough to get through a week of spirit songs. I think. He grabs me as soon as he sees me.

"Finn came over this weekend"

"And I need to know this?"

"You've got to promise me that you, being the craziest religious person in this crazy religious school, will try to get everyone to do less crazy religious songs. Finn left after ten minutes, thank GaGa, but he said he'd give me some cheese if I wanted." He's hissing and whispering and shouting the last part all at once, and clutching my forearm in a death grip. Some Cheerios approach, presumably wanting to trail behind me to morning practice, before I can concur that he's nuttier than Brittany.

"Get off of me, Lady GaGa, before you give me your disease!" I growl at Kurt, and I think I now hate myself again.

Swishing my ponytail from over my shoulder to down my back I hear Rachel mumble to Kurt "You know he didn't mean that." And I hate myself even more that these people are so good, and so good to me, and that they'll defend me. I'm not worthy of any of those right now, and I know I'll praying so hard, serenely, later that I can deserve friends like Rachel and Kurt.

"Contrary to everything I've asked before, I wish she didn't care about anyone but herself." Kurt bites back, spitting out the pronouns, just as we round the corner. It's bitter, and I know it's true. The last two years of high school (the first two years, too) I'd hear comments from people like Kurt and Rachel wishing that I cared about other people. Now he just wants me to care about myself, and whilst he was rightfully deliberately horrid, it's a very kind sentiment. He wants me to be able to be me. Logistically, it would be very dangerous, but I really think that, like Puck, Kurt's thinking about my wellbeing because he knows I feel constrained and trapped. Like my dad's locked me in confession and I can't leave until I've confessed something he can punish me for, knowing full well how claustrophobic I always had been. Kurt's not doing that, though, he's holding open the confessional door. He doesn't want me to figuratively come out, but the glee club is his Church and it could be mine, too, if I stepped out. He's wanting me to not want to feel the need to be a bitch, because he knows it wounds me just as much, if not more, than whoever it's directed at. Especially that last barb I threw at him.

"What can I do to help you forgive me, because I don't think I can forgive myself until then." I beg Kurt as I intercept him in front of the choir room.

"That." Kurt smiles, "That exact attitude is what you need to be forgiven. And a promise to never do it again. And that I can do your hair, because I know your efforts in styling are no more than Finn's, but you can at least-"

"Of course. Kurt, I am so sorry." I somber as I turn out of his way.

"I know, and that's why I feel sorry for you." He pulls me so that we're walking side-by-side.

I sigh, "I know."

Mercedes' song choice could've been better. Who am I kidding, I don't think there's really any song that could have been worse. Kurt storms out, Finn (who took my place next to Kurt because he and Burt are publicly close) chases after him, and Rachel decides they need a mediator. Mercedes leaves after them to try and persuade Kurt that he should accept the song because she believes in it so it'll come through even if he and Burt don't, and apparently Santana can't miss a second of drama so she drags Brit out to see what's going to happen. I think Mr Shue is about to say something when I give him a wave and run off on my own mission.

"Coach Sylvester."

"Fabray."

"The glee club have got to stop doing religious songs."

"Why not? I thought you'd love it."

"It's wrong, and it would torment Mr Shuester. He hasn't come up with an original idea since the start of the year, and if you shut it down he'd have no idea what to do with all the kids he just divided because of his poor choice of theme." So, sometimes I do need to be a bitch. I run this school through sheer manpower. Except there aren't that many opportunities for a man to be this cold? manipulative, socially, even if it's so much fun. I need to be a spy or something.

"Hmm. Okay, Q."

Sue comes back from Figgins' office having trashed a cabinet, so I think the equally bipolar principal said no. But when Santana and Brittany, who I know are still Sue's moles now that I'm supposedly all for the team, emerge, Santana smiles at me. She knows our spying corner, even if she can't see me. "Sue's trying to get your bum buddy to file a complaint. Figgins needs one, apparently, before he can shut Shue down."

"Shut Shue down." Brittany repeats, then tries again but mangles the words, "Like a brainteaser." She giggles and obviously neither of us has the heart to tell her that she means a tongue-twister. I wish I could tell Brit, but stuff like this means I can't.

Clearly Sue has her own motivations for also wanting to stop religious music, besides getting rid of glee club (which I don't think she wants so much) or at least hurting Shue (which I'm pretty sure she does). Kurt comes to tell me the next morning that he's filed a complaint with Figgins, and that Sue believes like him - she believes in her sister. I smile and he continues about how maybe Sue's not all that bad, and he understands how we, I, can spend so much time with her, because she does mean well. Glad he sympathises with her. I'm just closing my locker when I hear something I'm really not expecting from him.

"Have you thought about coming out to her?"

The locker slams and Kurt flinches, but my reaction is purely surprised. I'm not mad at him for asking, though he could have been a bit quieter, if he really tried, I'm sure.

"Are you out of your mind? She'd probably tell all the Cheerios and I'd have nowhere to get changed!"

"I'm not sure, Quinn, and she might let you wear slacks, as well, if you-"

"Kurt, I can't. I don't know what she could do. She's crazy, it's too risky." I say with finality, because it's true, before walking into senior literature and leaving Kurt in the hallway. We only share a few classes, because I made my mission to get as many credits as I could to try and get early acceptance to college. Preferably an Ivy League school, but anything out of state would be alright. Early acceptance means I can take more time off at the end of senior year, so I can do that hard thing I'm trying not to think about until I want to do it.

I don't know why everyone's so upset about not being able to sing religious songs, they weren't ecstatic in the first place. Oh, Shue. Whatever, it is a bit of a disappointment that I won't get to sing songs I know really well and could probably impress everyone with.

"Quinn?"

"Rachel. Berry."

"Um, Mr Shue specifically mentioned that we could sing religious songs outside of school and it gave me an idea."

"Oh, you've stopped. What's your idea?"

"Well, I was thinking that we could sing to Kurt's father, and -"

"We?"

"I was just getting to that part. Huh-hum. We, meaning myself, yourself, and Mercedes, as well as Finn and his mom, could sing to Kurt's dad - or you could all be present and praying for Mr Hummel's health whilst I sing - because we are all of different religions, or, well, denominations. We all have the same G-d, so surely at least one of us must be praying to Him correctly. Together, we could -"

"Okay, Rachel, breathe or we'll all be by your hospital bed, instead-"

"You'd really sit by my bedside, Quinn?" She's grabbing my arm.

"Um, yeah." I look down and cough, and she releases me. Why do people touch me to convey sincerity? "Well, okay, I'm not quite sure that you've got religion exactly correct, but your motivations are good. I'll join you, again, if you think we can help." God's got to listening and seeing this girl and how good she is; I really do want Burt to get better and it really might help.

Okay, maybe Rachel's prayer circle wasn't a good thing for Kurt to see. I still maintain that it was a good idea, but I can see how Kurt is disappointed that I still prayed for his dad when he's only concerned with the perfectly physical. Acupuncture. I don't see how that can help when Burt doesn't even know that he can't feel his body, and I want Kurt to at least respect the ways that we want to help his dad - it's not like praying could possibly be detrimental to his health.

Still, I can understand how Kurt doesn't want the help. I've rejected people trying to share in solidarity with me when they know nothing about what I've been through to get here. I begin to pay attention in glee club, which seems to have become songs-for-Burt week now, when Kurt gets up. He tells us about his mom's funeral, and now I understand. There needs to be respect for other peoples' faiths, like I respect his Burt-ian beliefs, but if he doesn't want religious help because he doesn't want it to help. For his own peace of mind, Burt needs to make Burt better.

Mercedes wants to talk to him, and I know they're girlfriends so I'll let them be. I hope she brings up that he can't just dismiss us all, because with other people doing things like that will really make him hated. We're sensitive to him, but the world doesn't revolve around him or Burt. Even if he doesn't want any divine intervention, he can't tell people that their beliefs are nonsense and he won't be around them. He'll get hurt. It may seem ironic, but I'm going to pray for him to become more socialised. There's hiding yourself, and then there's sensible restraint. I don't think Kurt really knows that.

Finn bounds in to the choir room as I'm trying to hear Mercedes talk to Kurt, and I think she was chewing him out for hating on theism in general. Finn's got a song. What a surprise. Everyone's gone back on their distaste for not being able to sing religious songs and are mad at Finn for singing R.E.M., even if it's only religious in name, not nature. I'd despair if I wasn't already despairing at Finn's song choice.

Kurt's abandoned me for Mercedes, and they apparently had a heart-to-heart after they went to church together.

"I guess you would prefer her church to mine. There's no singing or hats, and it's. It's very stereotypically religious." I pass the basketball to him and he just throws it right back.

"Sorry I haven't been around much recently, Quinn, I know you have a lot more - informed, and, objective, views on religion. But I really needed my homegirl, and I think she needed me. I think she wanted my acceptance to validate her beliefs." He says as I take a jump-shot.

"No, Kurt, she wanted you to accept her beliefs so that she can be friends with you. It's not like if you don't accept her being religious she's going to doubt it or, what, keep asking you to reconsider thinking that religion can mean things to people. If you don't think it can help other people she's not going to start thinking that, too, even if it's never helped her yet. It just means she'll be more distant with you." I stop playing, bounce the ball a few times, and then just tuck it under my arm and direct my words to him, hoping he'll get the message.

"Are you trying to be hurtful, Quinn?"

"No! God, no! I just need you to understand that to a lot of people, religion isn't fickle. It's their entire lives, Kurt, and if you tell them that you think it won't help, they'll tell you that they think it does right back. You've got to respect that. When they tell you they believe in something, you're not allowed to keep on trying to tell them that your beliefs are any more right than anyone else's. They're not. I'm not saying that people don't know which belief is right and that we can't tell, I'm saying that everyone's beliefs, even yours, are right. Just respect people." His face was neutral and understanding until I said that last sentence, now it's appalled. "Kurt, you can think what you want all you like, but people are not wrong about their own beliefs. That'd be like you telling me I'm a girl. It doesn't work like that." Now the face has dropped, finally I think I've got through to him, relating religion in terms that he can understand. "Yeah, you wouldn't like it if people said that because they didn't believe you're gay that you're wrong to believe you are. Thankfully, people don't really do that, so don't do the same to them."

"Oh, Quinn. I'm sorry. Have I really hurt you?" He asks as I turn and start dribbling again.

"No, I know you didn't understand. But you've got to learn before you go out into the world, Kurt. You've got to learn a lot of things."

"Do you want to visit Burt with me?"

"No, Kurt, you need him and he needs you."

"Okay," he says, walking to the bus stop, "well, you know where the spare key is if you need to use the facilities." He waves and turns back around, "And you know you've got to hold it, I'm not getting blamed for your pee everywhere like last time, Quinn!" He shouts and I blush. Anyone could have heard!

"Quinn?"

And by anyone, I mean my mom.

And by could have heard, I clearly mean did hear.

Kurt's eyes widen as he turns back around to see her, and I'm guessing mine do the same. Kurt walks right into the bus stop and I laugh until I feel my mom's hand on my shoulder.

"Quinnie, what did he mean? And is that the 'gay kid'?" She asks, and whispers the last part. I turn around to face her, maybe suggest we go home first, "Quinn, what are you wearing?" She snatches her hand away, wipes it on a doily-like handkerchief (probably just a doily) she procures from her handbag.

"Yes, mom, that's Kurt and he's gay. I'm in glee club with him. Are you okay with that?" Let's gauge her reaction.

"Well, if he's your friend, honey. I just thought he wouldn't be, because you never used to - I mean, you had the opinions of your father."

"Don't remind me, mom. Let's go home." I try to push past her and head towards her car - free ride - but she puts her hand back up.

"Did you - did you wet yourself, Quinnie?" She says the whole thing quietly, but I react a little louder.

"What!? Where would you get that idea from?"

"It's just, you're wearing these clothes - and what, um, Kurt, said about the bathroom." 'The bathroom' obviously mumbled through the corner of her mouth because there are certain words, not topics, that she won't say. Topics with my mom can get weirdly personal. I blush, though, I should've probably just gone with the pissing myself story. I look down but my mom says my name again.

"Quinn. I'm going to ask once, and I want you to be honest, and then I'll never bring it up again, okay?"

"Um. Okay?" I ask right back. I'm not sure what she's going to ask, like if I'm dating Kurt and do I know what gay means and that'll be awkward, so I don't know if I don't want her to ask. She takes a deep breath, and I think now may be the time.

"Do you think you're gay, honey? Because you know I'm perfectly okay if you are, Quinn." She's holding me by both of my shoulders, elbows bent because I'm only a bit taller, and looking me dead in the eyes. I take a deep breath myself.

"No, mom, I don't think I'm gay." She lets out a sigh, but I know I'll never do it if I don't continue, "Because I like girls." Her eyes dart right back up and search my eyes.

"Quinn, you do know what 'being gay' means, honey?" She whispers again, and it makes me smile, especially the scanning for people nearby before saying it. I'm at least glad she didn't do it when asking me; she's a good person, really, and I want to be closer to her.

"Yes, mom. Do you know what transgendered means?" I ask my honest question genuinely and in a hushed voice, because there's someone walking a dog across the street. My mom takes a few minutes - deep breaths I can tell are being counted as 10 seconds in and out - and watches as the woman gets to the end of the block, waiting for her to cross the road before she looks to the pavement and then meets my eyes.

"I think I do. Like boys who dress like girls?" She's trying to understand. I'm actually glad that it's now that she's found out, because I have all my religious arguments and comparisons ready in the back of my mind.

"Sort of. It means that I'm your son, but my mind is in a girl's body." That's as simple as I can put it. She takes another few seconds searching my eyes before she cracks a smile.

"I always wanted a son." It's weak, but she's tearing up and holding my shoulders tightly. I pull her into a hug.

"I love you, mom."

"Oh, Quinn. My Quinn." She holds the back of my head in the crook of her neck as she straightens up, then kisses my hair. "I love you, too, honey. I always will."