A/N:Thanks for the feedback, all! The comments make me SO happy. Again, I'm late replying to them and I apologize. I had a bit of family craziness over the weekend - I have a beautiful new nephew named Teddy (making me an aunt x8!), but he was born twelve weeks early and he's got some growing to do. :)
Back to the fic, I once again had trouble deciding where to cut this off at. I would suggest that you never write 15,000 words of a oneshot and then decide to split it up. It's a bitch to figure out where to start and stop each chapter.
Quinn starts spending all of her free time with the Berrys, at first under the guise of their class project, but then because it's the closest thing to a home that she's felt in months. Actually, when she really thinks about it, it's the closet thing she's felt to a home in her entire life.
It's strange, though, because even with her spending most evenings and sometimes entire weekends in Rachel's home, sometimes she feels like Hiram and Leroy are her friends instead. Rachel is unfailingly kind and hospitable, but she seems guarded. Quinn notices how her fathers will brace themselves for an outburst if they decide to watch a movie she voted against or if someone is particularly on their game and kicking her ass in Scrabble, but she remains perfectly even-tempered and polite. They'll probe her to tell Quinn some hilarious story about her crazy piano teacher, but she will decline, saying that it's really not all that funny.
Quinn is frustrated, because she's really trying here. At first they were just sort of stuck together at odd times and Quinn realized that she didn't completely hate it, but now she thinks she might actually enjoy the girl's company, but it feels like the harder she tries to put Rachel at ease, the more she shuts her out.
It all starts to come to a head as Regionals draw near. They're rehearsing nearly every night of the week, long after the dismissal bell rings, so Quinn has pretty much just gone to school and then back to the Puckermans' house for a few weeks. She and Rachel still eat lunch together, but the brunette seems distant, and it eventually becomes clear why.
Finn.
He and Rachel have been this on-again, off-again thing for ages; Quinn initially joined the Glee club just because she knew that there was something between her boyfriend and that blind girl, and when Rachel explained to Finn that you can't get pregnant via hot tub, she freely admitted that her motives were not completely noble.
They keep going through this cycle where Finn expresses interest and Rachel throws herself at him and they're great for a few weeks, until Finn remembers that he's a shallow asshole and he can't handle what Rachel does to his reputation, so he comes up with a reason for them to break up without having to shoulder any of the blame himself. This is Quinn's view of it, anyway.
They're obviously in the beginning stages of another ill-fated attempt at a relationship, because Rachel spends every rehearsal clinging to him and laughing at all his stupid jokes and putting on a happy face even when she's clearly terrified to dance with him (who wouldn't be, blind or not?). It makes Quinn sick.
On the Thursday before their Saturday performance, they all chip in a few bucks and order pizza, allowing them to eat dinner quickly in the choir room and maximize the small amount of time they have left to practice. They'll depart for Cleveland on Friday afternoon, so this is their last chance to work out the kinks in their performance.
By the time they're done, she's exhausted and still hungry and her ankles are swollen and Rachel hasn't said a word to her since lunch, and all those things combined completely justify the fact that she's pinning Finn Hudson against a locker and demanding to know what he's doing with Rachel.
"I could ask you the same question," he replies. "I love her. What are you doing with Rachel?"
"You…I'm her…I'm her friend," Quinn finishes lamely. "And we both know that you don't love her."
"And we both know that you're a lying bitch, so…?"
"Be good to her." Quinn's voice grows dangerously quiet and she pushes his shoulder back into the locker. "I mean it. If you hurt her, I swear to God, Finn…"
Finn rolls his eyes and sidesteps Quinn's grasp. "I don't know if you're jealous or something, but seriously Quinn, just back off. It's not your business. Rachel is not your business."
With that, he walks toward the exit, leaving her in the hallway, seething and envisioning a piano falling on his big, stupid head.
–––––
She's still furious when she gets into her car and pulls out of the empty parking lot; everyone had left by the time she confronted Finn, and he was long gone by the time she felt composed enough to get behind the wheel.
She takes a left out of the parking lot and drives for approximately two minutes (long enough for her to get really into an angry song on the radio) before she catches the glint of a reflection up the road. It takes her a moment to realize what she's seeing, but when she does, she can't even begin to suppress her outrage.
"You have got to be kidding me," she murmurs to herself, speeding up slightly to catch up with the figure and then braking to a near stop once she's matched their pace. She rolls down her window quickly and immediately shouts Rachel's name. The brunette jumps, turning her head from side to side to place the sound, and almost loses her grip on her cane. Quinn kind of feels bad about that, except she really doesn't, because Rachel is being an idiot.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demands.
Rachel lets out a relieved sigh when she realizes that it's Quinn and resumes her stride. "I'm walking home, Quinn. May I ask what you're doing, aside from attempting to send me into cardiac arrest?"
"I'm driving home, like a normal person would at ten o'clock. Where are your dads?"
"Daddy is out of town and Dad's schedule prevents him from picking me up past five o'clock."
"Why isn't Finn taking you home?
Rachel scoffs at the contempt in Quinn's voice. "I didn't ask him to."
"Then you shouldn't have stayed late, or you should have asked someone else for a ride," Quinn snaps. You should have asked me for a ride, she wants to say. "You should not be roaming around in the dark right now."
Rachel grins mischievously. "I do it every day, Quinn."
The blonde groans and rests her head on the steering wheel. "That was a horrible joke, and it's not what I meant. You have no idea what kinds of riff raff are lurking around, looking for innocent teenage girls like yourself. It's dangerous."
"You sound like the narrator for a Dateline special," Rachel says dryly. "I live less than a mile away and I only have to cross the street once. I do it all the time. Plus, I carry a rape whistle. I'll be fine."
"I'm pulling over and you're getting in my car."
"Thank you, but I'd rather walk. The weather is lovely this evening."
"That was not a suggestion, Rachel," Quinn growls. "I'm taking you home."
"You know, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were some variety of riff raff prowling for innocent teenage girls such as myself," Rachel says thoughtfully. "Trying to force me into your vehicle and what have you."
Quinn pulls up against the curb and puts the car in park, then exits as quickly as she can (if she had known that she'd be pregnant at this point in her life, she wouldn't have picked out a car that sits so low to the ground for her sixteenth birthday present). Rachel stops walking when she hears the door slam shut, allowing Quinn time to catch up to her and grab her elbow.
She knows that this is an overreaction, but she's just so angry about everything (and by 'everything', she means Rachel, and yes, she realizes the implications of these feelings), and she's overcome by how much she wants to protect Rachel and how much she wishes that Rachel would just listen to her and let her prove herself as a good person and a good friend and a good…friend. That's it. Friend.
"Really, I appreciate your eagerness to help, but it's not necessary, so if you could just…"
"Not everything has to be this difficult," Quinn bites out. "Just get in the car."
"I'm not an invalid, Quinn," Rachel says with a heavy sigh. "I really don't need your pity, so please let go."
Quinn frowns. "I don't pity you, Rachel, I…we're friends. I'm trying to be your friend."
"No, Quinn, you're trying to be my savior. Your pregnancy has knocked out of your place in the social hierarchy and now you feel obligated to take on the school freak as some sort of project, or something. Is that it? I really wish you would just tell me what your angle is here, because I don't get it. Why are you doing this to me?"
Rachel's expression has shifted from lighthearted annoyance to true anger, and Quinn has the sense to let go of the diva's arm. Rachel pulls away at the same time that Quinn releases her grip, sending the brunette stumbling backwards several steps. Quinn chooses not to help her regain her footing.
"I really am trying to be your friend," Quinn says quietly, crossing her arms over her stomach. "That's all I've been…"
"We both know that's not true, so just stop, Quinn. Stop it. Finn and I have been talking about it, and…"
"Finn is an idiot, Rachel," Quinn spits, delighting in the way Rachel flinches at these words, because she knows they're true. "You deserve so much better than that."
"This isn't your business, Quinn."
"That's the party line, huh?" Quinn says with a snort. "Newsflash, Rachel, I'm the only person in that school who cares about you, so actually, it is my business."
Rachel laughs humorlessly and shakes her head in disbelief. "The slushies and the mean names and the pornographic drawings in the bathroom stalls…I haven't seen them, of course, but I hear that they are incredibly well done. It all makes sense now. You care about me."
She has never seen Rachel this upset before, despite the years of abuse she has watched her endure. The small girl is literally shaking with anger, and before Quinn can get another word in, she continues her rant.
"You took one slushie for me, Quinn, but let's not kid ourselves here. You'll have that baby and then next year you'll be the one throwing them again."
Instead of trying to formulate a reply, Quinn turns around and gets back in her car, slamming the door with enough strength that Rachel jolts a bit at the sound.
She drives away quickly, but her eyes stay fixed on Rachel in the rear-view mirror, until she's completely out of sight.
–––––
Quinn only catches brief glimpses of Rachel on Friday; she has no idea how a blind girl could possibly be this good at avoiding people, but somehow she's managing quite well. She wasn't even in the choir room over their lunch period. Quinn knows that they're on less-than-stellar terms at the moment, but she still feels hurt when Rachel never shows. They haven't made it an official thing, but they've eaten lunch together every day for a while now and Quinn knows it's not a coincidence that she's alone today.
She breaks the girls nose and they continue on like normal; she tries to help her home and Rachel loses it. It figures, really.
The day passes slowly, but eventually they're gathered around a large charter bus parked near the front of the building, and Mr. Schuester is giving some lame pep-talk that she's not really paying attention to, because she's watching Rachel instead. She has a pink, rolling suitcase, just like her backpack, but larger, propped up against the bus and she's holding her cane loosely in her right hand. She has her left arm looped through Finn's right, and Quinn presumes that she's asked him to help her navigate the myriad of unfamiliar surroundings she'll be faced with over the weekend. Jealousy burns in the pit of her stomach when he whispers something in her ear and Rachel laughs quietly.
After a few more platitudes about being winners no matter what happens, they begin lining up to enter the bus. Quinn ends up toward the back of the group, making it a lot more difficult to end up next to Rachel than she thought it would be originally. When she enters the bus, Finn has just sat down next to Rachel in a row toward the back.
"Finn, Mr. Schue asked for your help loading the bags."
He frowns in confusion. "He didn't say anything to me."
"Well, he changed his mind," Quinn says impatiently. "Go make yourself useful."
Finn shrugs and takes off down the aisle toward the front of the bus without another word. It's just too easy, really. As soon as he's completely off the bus, Quinn slides into the seat next to Rachel.
The brunette stiffens in her seat and Quinn wonders if they're both feeling rotten about last night or if Rachel's still really, really mad. "Good afternoon, Quinn," she says. Her tone lacks any indicators of what's going on in her head, and Quinn hates how good she is at that. "How are you?"
Quinn shrugs. I'm really hurt because I seriously thought we were friends and last night you were kind of mean, but the worst part is that everything you said was true. "I can't complain. You?"
"I'm anxious to begin the competition," Rachel replies, crossing her hands in her lap primly.
"Stage fright, huh?"
Rachel shakes her head. "No, not at all. I'm completely confident in my ability to carry this team to victory. I'm just ready to have the trophy in my hands, that's all."
"Understandable," Quinn says with a light smile.
Finn appears on the bus a moment later. "He said he was fine."
"I must have misheard."
Finn rolls his eyes just as Mr. Schuester enters the bus with a bright smile on his face. "Let's all take our seats and we'll go over a few quick ground rules, and then we'll be off!"
"Uh, well, Quinn is in my spot, so…"
"It's closest to the restroom," Quinn says with a saccharine smile. "Sorry."
"But…"
"Plenty of seats up here!" Mr. Schuester says enthusiastically; Quinn is so glad that he's almost always completely oblivious to the goings-on of his club.
Finn shoves his hands in his pocket and sends Quinn a glare before slowly making his way to the front of the bus and slumping into an empty aisle by the door.
Mr. Schuester claps his hands together excitedly. "Let's get this party started!"
–––––
It's two hours into the drive and Quinn still hasn't managed to start a conversation with Rachel. The brunette has alternated between listening to her iPod and reading a novel they're studying in English, and she's made it clear from her clipped replies to Quinn's questions and comments that she has no desire to talk.
They stop at a gas station in a small town that Quinn has never heard of, and the bus immediately empties out. Someone rendered the bathroom unusable about thirty minutes earlier (Mike swears it smelled like that before he went in), so they've all been eagerly awaiting a convenience store amongst the nothingness of rural Ohio.
Quinn makes a move to get out of her seat when they first stop, but then she notices that Rachel doesn't seem interested in getting out. She asks Rachel if she'd like to get up and stretch her legs, and when the brunette shakes her head ("I have an exceptionally large bladder," she says, like it's something to be proud of), Quinn settles back into her seat. She could really, really use a toilet right now, but she's not going to miss her chance to talk to Rachel alone, or risk losing her seat to Finn.
When everyone is safely out of earshot, she angles her body toward Rachel. "So, about last night…"
Rachel's face flushes a deep red again and she immediately draws her arms close to her chest. "I don't think this is the appropriate venue for this discussion."
"I just wanted to apologize. I'm sorry for being pushy last night, and for everything that we talked about."
"Everything that I yelled at you about, you mean," Rachel says.
"Yeah, that."
Rachel purses her lips together and nods slightly. "Is the bus empty?"
"Yes, it is," Quinn says, with slight hesitance. For all she knows, Rachel is about to reach over and strangle her.
The brunette takes a deep breath and turns toward Quinn.
"I trust that you can understand why your unexplained friendliness has been disconcerting, considering our past. Usually when people are nice to me, it's an elaborate prank. So this has been confusing for me, especially because…well, usually I can just ignore it, but I can't ignore you. What I mean by that is if you're messing with me, if this is some sort of game, I won't be able to handle it."
"Rachel, I'm not…"
"Still my turn," Rachel says with a slight smile. "You can imagine that dealing with all of these new feelings about you, combined with the fact that you were quite pushy last night…"
"I should have trusted that you to know your own limitations," Quinn supplies, hanging her head like a scolded child.
"Yes, you should have. I felt cornered and I lashed out. However, this does not justify my behavior, and I regret it very much. It was cruel of me to suggest that your attempts at friendship were anything less, when you've clearly been putting forth an effort. Perhaps we can just start over with a newfound understanding of each others intentions."
It takes Quinn a moment to realize that Rachel is accepting her apology and offering one of her own, but she lets out a relieved sigh as the realization hits her. "So, we're good?"
Rachel smiles. "We're good."
–––––
They stop briefly at the hotel to check in when they arrive in Cleveland, and then they decide to get a good look at the convention center before dinner. It's a large, fairly new building where they host indoor car shows and consignment sales and the occasional traveling acting troupe puts on off-Broadway productions. It's not much to look at, really, but all they really need is a stage.
The bus pulls right up to the curb and they quickly pile out onto the sidewalk. They're already walking toward the building while Rachel is still feeling for the drop-off of the curb with her cane. She's stepped prematurely and twisted her ankles far too many times to assume that every sidewalk is the same. Quinn stands nearby, unsure of how she should proceed. She's not about to leave her to figure her way to the entrance herself (so much for Finn helping her navigate – she has to admit, she's rather glad that he's already proven himself an unacceptable guide) but Rachel might freak out again if she tries to help, and she'd really like to keep altercations like last night's at a minimum.
Rachel makes it onto the sidewalk without issue, and then just kind of stands there, biting her bottom lip. After a moment, she lets out a resigned sigh. "Finn's forgotten about me, hasn't he?"
"It would appear that way," Quinn replies, taking a few steps toward the smaller girl. "But his attention span is comparable to a puppy's, I think, so don't take it personally."
Rachel huffs and shifts on her heels a few times. "I suppose it would be terribly hypocritical of me to request your assistance after my behavior last night?"
Quinn rolls her eyes. Considering that Rachel knew she wasn't going to leave her stranded on the sidewalk by herself (she refuses to believe that she really breathes so loudly that Rachel can hear her), she should probably know the answer to this question already.
She closes the gap between them with a few more steps and nudges Rachel's arm with her elbow. "Let's go."
