"I love her

and that's the beginning

and end

of everything." – F. Scott Fitzgerald

It was three weeks before school was back in session.

That's when it happened.

It was one o' clock in the morning, when Judy Fabray happened upon her little Quinnie crying, quietly.

She had gotten up for a glass of water, and to give her daughter a goodnight kiss. She had done it every night since Quinn was a baby. Once Russell kicked Quinn out of the house, Judy knew what a mistake she had made by not standing up for her little girl when she went into her room for a kiss only to find the bed empty.

Judy cried that night, harder than the night she found out her daughter was pregnant, and harder then when she found out Russell was cheating.

It was then she promised herself that she would never abandon her baby girl again. She would support her, no matter what.

Judy knew something was off from the moment she woke up that morning. Quinn stood, for the most part, locked up inside her room, watching T.V. She only responded in one or two words, whenever Judy would peep in to ask her something. Quinn had only come downstairs to eat dinner, and even then she asked if she could bring it back upstairs to eat alone.

Judy thought maybe Quinn was on her computer, talking to friends, or on her phone, but her laptop was left charging in the living room, and her phone had stayed on the kitchen counter all throughout the day.

And of course, Judy had tried. She asked if she wanted to watch a movie, or if she wanted to call Santana to go out to the mall, or if she wanted money to go to the mall herself. The answer was always no.

It was only once Quinn actively sought her mother out. It was nearing nine o'clock, and Quinn quietly made her way into the kitchen, where Judy was washing the dishes.

"Yes, honey?"

Quinn shook her head, slightly, indicating it was really nothing important.

Judy turned off the running water to give her daughter her full attention. She had been reading a lot of parenting help books, and almost every one of them said that children often feel neglected if they're trying to get their point across while the parent is engaging in anything other than them.

"I…" Quinn was nervously twiddling her fingers. She took a deep breath, and shook her head again.

"Is everything alright?" Judy said. "You know you can trust me."

"Yeah." Quinn nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"Is it school? Are you worried about going back? You can transfer, if you'd like."

"No, no, it's…" Quinn trailed off.

"Is… it your friends? Are they ignoring you?"

"No, mom- just- I," Quinn sighed. "It's nothing."

"Is it that, er, man you're seeing?"

No, Judy didn't approve of that man Quinn had taken a liking to (for some ungodly reason), but Judy had already decided she was going to be supportive. And if Quinn was going to date a forty-something year old-works-in-a-record-store-skateboarder and possible drug dealer, Judy would let her. As long as he made her happy, and didn't disrespect her in any way, shape or form, or change her in any way, shape or form, or come over to the house at all, or drop her off after her curfew, or try to borrow money from her, or made her deal drugs for him; Judy would let her.

"I'm not really seeing him?" Quinn said, still confused as to why her mother was okay with that. If Quinn was going to be honest, she only did it to see if she could get away with it, because her mother had been extremely lenient lately. She thought for sure Judy would stop her. She didn't.

Mission accomplished, Quinn thought. "And no, no, it's not him."

"Quinnie…" Judy said, stepping toward her. "You can tell me anything."

Quinn shook her head, again. "I, um, I…"

Judy nodded for her to continue.

Quinn laughed, nervously. "No, I just... want to dye my hair. Would that be alright?"

Judy nodded, but was skeptical. "Of course, sweetie. What color? Back to brown? Highlights, or…?"

"Maybe highlights... maybe the whole thing… and no. I haven't decided on the color."

"I could make an appointment-"

"No, I'll- I'll do it myself."

"Sure." Judy said. "Are you… are you sure that's all?"

Quinn looked down at her feet. "Y-yeah. That's all. I'm going to bed."

"But it's," Judy glanced at the clock. "Only nine. Don't you watch that T.V show? 'Ice Loves Coco', or something?"

"I'm… tired. Not tonight. I'll record it. Goodnight, mom."

"Okay. Goodnight, dear. Sleep with the angels."

It took a lot to make Quinn cry, Judy knew that from experience. Her little girl was strong, and extremely guarded when it came to her emotions. In a way, it ran in the family. The Fabrays never did know how to handle their feelings.

But the way Quinn had been acting all day had been leading up to something like this. She expected Quinn to break down, but she hadn't expected to see her break down. It didn't look as if Quinn tried to hide it, at all. Her door was wide open, and she was sobbing heavily into her pillow.

Judy wrapped her arms around Quinn, pushing strands of hair off of her tear stained cheeks, and placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry." Quinn barely said, hugging tighter, and sinking into her mother's shoulders. "I'm so sorry."

Judy almost broke down at how small Quinn sounded.

"It's alright. It's going to be alright, dear."

"No, no, it's not. I'm so sorry." Quinn took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm in love with her, mom."

Judy froze.

"I'm in love with her and I don't know what to do."

Mothers have a scary ability to know more about their children than they know themselves. As the saying goes, "You can fool all of the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you can't fool Mom." Judy knew exactly who Quinn was talking about, because she was all Quinn talked about.

At first, she was only mentioned in the company of Brittany and Santana, and usually, it was just a spew of insults. Then, she would only be mentioned whenever Finn was. That was just the first year.

But the insults soon disappeared, and so did any mention of Finn. Quinn took every opportunity she had to bring up the girl, compliment her, talk about what they had in common.

Judy wouldn't have found it odd, normally, but the two girls weren't even friends. Quinn had made that much clear.

"Maybe you should invite her over sometime." Judy would suggest. After all, she had the right to meet someone who was having that much of an effect on her daughter.

"We're really not friends, mom." Quinn would say, and leave it at that.

And then Judy finally met the Rachel Berry. She had seen her fathers sometime shopping at the supermarket, and gave a polite nod. They seemed… fairly normal. Russell would always speak ill of them and their lifestyle, but the few conversations she had with the Berry men were always pleasant.

One day, the tiny brunette came over to the Fabray household. For what, Judy didn't know. Quinn had told her Rachel was just bringing something she had forgotten at school.

Judy opened the door and was greeted with a bright smile, and a very, very talkative, tiny girl. Quinn rushed down the stairs once she heard the doorbell.

Judy watched Quinn take a few steps toward them, before stopping. She seemed stuck.

"Um, let me take your coat, Rachel." Judy said, uncomfortable with the silence. Rachel had nodded, frantically, and allowed her to do just that.

The two girls never broke eye contact, until very quietly Quinn said, "Let's go upstairs- to my room."

Rachel was only there for a little over half an hour, but Judy knew.

The way her daughter looked at Rachel wasn't at all how she looked at anyone else.

Judy knew.

But it didn't stop her from wanting to ask why- or how. How could Quinn know she was in love? And with a girl, no less. Judy couldn't understand. She had been with Puck and Finn and Sam- all boys. She never once seemed attracted to girls. Judy read somewhere that the attraction starts sometime as early as six or seven, or at least, that's when they start noticing. Judy couldn't remember Quinn ever seeming like she liked girls.

Quinn had only been close to two people, before 'glee club' happened; Brittany and Santana, and Judy was more than sure there was something going on with those two.

But her own daughter?

Judy couldn't understand, but she wanted to. God, she wanted to.

Maybe this was why her daughter was always so distant. Maybe this was why she always seemed so sad. Maybe all she needed to do was accept herself.

Judy wanted nothing more than to help.

"It's okay." She said, quietly. "It'll be okay."

"No, it's not. I- I've- it's a sin, and- I've disappointed you, and I tried so hard- mom, I'm so sorry, I tried so hard to pretend that I don't- I tried so hard to ignore it, but I can't anymore and it hurts. It hurts so much." Quinn pulled away from her. "I get this feeling, whenever I'm around her... and I didn't know what it was at first. I thought I just hated her, you know, because she stole Finn from me, but- but I never really cared about that. I never cared that Finn loved her but- but- but I realized that I cared that Rachel loved him. I didn't like the idea of anyone dating her. I... I'm jealous. And for the longest time, I told myself I was jealous of her but I know now that it's not. It's not. I'm jealous of Finn, not... her."

Judy just watched her. She was ready to hear it all.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't do this. I can't... love her. I can't. I'm so stupid..." Quinn slumped over.

"You're not, Quinn. It's okay." Judy said again, because she didn't know what else to. She knew it wasn't okay. Forget God, forget her beliefs, forget her morals; that's not what she was worried about. It was her job to protect her daughter. It was her job to keep her safe, but she couldn't. She couldn't now. She couldn't protect her when she was thrown out of the house, and she couldn't protect her now.

And she felt so helpless because of it.

"Quinnie," Judy helped her daughter sit up. "Quinnie, look at me. It's okay. I'm not disappointed in you."

Quinn looked confused.

"You love her?"

Quinn nodded.

"With all your heart?"

Quinn shut her eyes, in an attempt to stop herself from crying even harder. She nodded, frantically.

"Then that's all that matters." Judy said, and pulled her daughter into a hug.

"She doesn't love me." Quinn sobbed. "She'll never love me."

"It's okay. We'll make it work, I promise. We'll make it work somehow. It will be okay."

And it was the first time in thirteen years that Judy Fabray held her daughter in her arms while her little girl fell asleep.