"Hey, Quinn…?"
Rachel watched as Quinn looked up from her notebook, pen twirling between two fingers – which she really hadn't been watching for the past ten minutes – and watched as one slim eyebrow rose in question.
Brittany stood before her, in her cheerio uniform as usual, her hair in the normal ponytail – but something seemed different about the perky blonde. Her eyes seemed wounded, and her shoulder's seemed slumped; she didn't seem to carry her body with the same resilience and energy that she did every day.
"What's up?"
The diva tried to not make it look like she was listening in – she was in the choir room after all, waiting for Mr. Schue to arrive as usual. Honestly, she would have to talk to that man about his punctuality; Regionals were only a few months away and they were wasting valuable time! This would never happen on Broadway.
Finn sat beside her, his hands clutched in his lap. He hadn't really spoken to her all day, not after the day before after school hours. He'd tried to breech the subject of actually having sex, and he was wounded when Rachel immediately stood up for herself and said, no, shouted, that she wouldn't be pressured into something she didn't want to do.
Suffice to say, Finn was in a terrible mood. He hadn't spoken, nor looked at her all day and honestly, she didn't mind it. Of course, it hurt – she hated it when they argued, but sometimes he could just be a gigantic ibaby/i sometimes. He pouted over the most ridiculous of things, and sometimes he could just really get on her nerves. He'd said the same thing about her; that she was a gigantic pain in his ass, but not all relationships could be smiles and rainbows, could they?
She loved Finn, she really did – but until recently, something had her worried. They way her eyes seemed to drift over to a certain blonde had her terrified. The way she could be stood in the halls, talking with Finn about what they were going to do that night and how her eyes would just ever so discreetly drift over to the familiar blonde cheerio that stood by her own locker, grabbing her books for next period.
The conversation between Quinn and herself had been sparse, but she'd tried her hardest to try and change that. She made herself more available, went over to the blonde when a few months back, she would have stayed well away, and even invited her to her religious after school vocal sessions. If that wasn't reaching out enough, she didn't know what was.
But what shocked her more was the fact that Quinn had in fact, accepted one time, and looked to accepted another, if they hadn't been interrupted.
And Rachel Berry was not stupid. Quinn Fabray was acting more and more awkward as the days went on – especially around her. The cheerio Captain seemed to keep it together when she was by herself, just quietly thinking to herself; although she seemed as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. But when they were together, or Quinn was fiddling around in her bag, looking at something or other, she could tell that something was wrong.
Her eye for catching things was infamous – after all, she did figure out that Puck was actually the father to Quinn's baby. So it hadn't been rocket science to notice the look that Quinn gave her the day before in the library – or the looks before that, although seemingly milder. It seemed as if the blonde was confused when she looked at her, or terrified. It worried her, but not as much as it thrilled her.
If she was getting the same vibes that she thought she was getting – Quinn Fabray had a lot of explaining to do.
"Have you seen Santana, lately?"
Rachel glanced at the two blonde's from the corner of her eye, watching with eager eyes as the twirling of Quinn's pen abruptly stopped and fell from her hand. It was honestly baffling.
"Uh, can't say I have, B."
And that was the other thing – although Brittany had dropped Santana and run to Artie, the two still seemed to be very close, and although she didn't want to admit it, she knew that Brittany was in love with Santana and was only using the poor wheelchair bound boy to throw the Latina into a jealous rage and demand she come back to her.
The fact that Brittany hadn't seen Santana was mysterious. The Latina was hardly ever ill, and only ever took time off after one of Puck's parties when she needed to re-cooperate. But Puck hadn't had a party, and looking over her shoulder, the mohawked boy was chatting and leering at Lauren.
He seemed fine, and she hadn't heard of any parties – and even though she was never invited to them, even with being Finn's steady girlfriend, she always heard about them. So why Santana wasn't in school was weird, unless she really was ill?
"I tried to ringing her phone, but it said it was out of service, I didn't get it. Her phone is always in service…"
The diva's eyes snapped back to the two cheerleaders. Quinn was shuffling in her seat now, shutting her notebook and throwing it into her bag. She'd never seen the blonde so jittery before, and the way she seemed to avoid Brittany's eyes was something she'd taken note of during the whole Baby Gate scandal.
Quinn…
"I really wouldn't know. Sorry, B."
…Never looked someone in the eye when she was lying.
"Oh, well…if you see her, can you tell her that Mr. Duck is doing fine?"
Rachel chuckled gently to herself, which made Finn's eyes snap to her, which she ignored.
"Uh…sure thing, Britt."
Then the tall blonde dancer just nodded and wandered over to Artie, eyes shining with unshed tears. Honestly, Quinn could have handled it better, and the way that Brittany just collapsed into Artie's chair and stayed silent was quite unnerving. The blonde was a force of nature, and the natural comedian in the group, so when she said nothing and just stared into space, it had the diva worried.
Artie, on the other hand, didn't even seem to notice that his girlfriend's pain was immediately to do with Santana Lopez. His attention had been focused on Tina, who had been chatting softly with Mike in the back row.
Rachel sighed; honestly, all the relationships in Glee Club were so messed up.
And as if on cue, Sam wondered into the room, one hand clutching the strap on his backpack, which he slid across the floor, and came to a stop at the seat beside his girlfriend. A surge ran through Rachel's body when she watched Sam sit down, lean over and kiss Quinn gently, which the blonde responded to.
The diva scoffed, "They're like twins,"
"Who's like twins…?" Oh, now Finn was paying attention to her when she ididn't/i want to be paid attention to.
"Oh, no one Finn; I'm just remembering the lyric to a song that I momentarily forgot. I apologize for interrupting your train of thought."
"I wasn't thinking…"
What else is new…?
"Oh, well I still apologize."
Finn groaned beside her, and she heard his seat creak slightly as he sat back. She wanted him to realize that what he'd said was completely out of order – if he wanted to breach the subject of sex he should have done it by the book…or by the two hour long PowerPoint presentation she had given him the day they begun dating.
Slide sixteen, paragraph two, line four: Sex in the relationship will not commence until the date of December 18th, 2019, when I, Rachel Berry, have ascended to the age of 25. If the subject of sex wishes to be commented upon before such a time, please send a formal, written question and hand it to, I, Rachel Berry, personally.
Honestly, she couldn't have been clearer!
Silently, she fumed – Finn honestly had no idea how much trouble she had gone through to put that Powerpoint together, and she had written it so elegantly as well! She assumed he must have fallen asleep when she hadn't been looking; her boyfriend tended to do that from time to time. Was she really that boring…?
Glancing back over to Quinn, she watched as Sam whispered gently into her ear. Quinn was smiling, but it wasn't a full smile that the blonde gave when she was truly happy. Her eyes seemed to be drifting off into space, and her arms were up against body, elbows propped up on her knees as if she was protecting her own body.
Rachel Berry was not stupid.
She had the biggest crush on Quinn Fabray, and no matter what she did, she couldn't ignore it or get rid of it.
Finn moved beside her once more, arm wrapping around her shoulder, "Look, Rach, I'm sorry about yesterday, okay? Can you kinda…not ignore me anymore?"
Yesterday.
Rachel glanced at Quinn quickly, then back to Finn. Yesterday.
"Look, I know you're not stupid enough…but don't get pressured into something you don't want to do, okay?"
It had seemed out of the ordinary as soon as the words had left Quinn's lips; it was a shock that Quinn had actually given her advice, but the fact that she chose that day, only hours before Finn began pressuring her into having sex, was a little weird.
No, not a little; a hell a lotta weird.
She'd noticed the cheerio Captain was acting weirder with every passing day – she seemed like her usual self Monday; she had ignored the diva like the plague and even glared at her a few times. All until the after school session in the auditorium.
Quinn had actually come to look for her, had invited herself to stay, practiced a song that Rachel had picked, and then told the brunette that she would be driving her own afterward.
Why had she done that? Why was Quinn acting so awkward?
"Right guys; let's get this show on the road!" Mr. Schue traipsed in, twenty minutes late to his own class, and slammed down the sheet paper on the piano lid, which Brad was sat at, cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief.
Where does Brad even come from…? She would pose the question to the man after Glee Club, honestly, if she was going to be co-captain of New Directions she had to know where each and every member (band, teacher, or club member included) came from!
"Uh…where's Santana?"
Rachel's eyes snapped from Mr. Schue to Brittany, who was still staring into space, and then to Quinn. The blonde sat up immediately, thus pushing Sam back into his own chair; he didn't seem wounded by the move, actually, he seemed a little miffed.
"Quinn? Brittany? Do you have any idea where she is?"
Quinn glanced over at Brittany and then back to Will, "I have no idea, Mr. Schue. She might be ill."
"Ah, well, alrighty then." He picked up the sheet music again and wandered over to the first row, "Now, I think I have the perfect song for Regionals."
I'm writing an original song! How dare you!
"Are you cheating on Sam with my boyfriend?"
Quinn jumped back from her locker, stared at the pintsized diva before her, then closed the locker gently, "Excuse me?" She leaned against it, her shoulder pressingly deliciously into the metal, cooling her warming skin.
"You heard me," Rachel narrowed her eyes and slammed her clenched fists down on her hips, "I have reason to believe that you're cheating on your own boyfriend with mine."
Quinn's eyes grew wide, and Rachel braced herself for a punch of some kind, but then a gentle, almost melodic laugh echoed throughout the half-empty hall.
Rachel stared wide eyed as Quinn wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach, bent over and laughed hard, her body shaking with mirth. The brunette looked around nervously as students passed them, staring at the head cheerio as if she had a screw loose.
Slowly, but surely, Quinn stood up to full height, wiped her eyes gently and took one shuddering breath in, "God I needed that, thank you."
"Excuse me?"
"I needed a laugh like that; haven't in a while, so thanks." Quinn opened her locker again quickly and pulled out her English book, "See ya, Berry," and then walked away.
Rachel stood stoic, in shock, hands still clenched at her hips; she hadn't expected it to go like that. She expected Quinn to shout the odds, perhaps punch her, or order a slushy attack? But nothing. Slowly, she turned on the heel of her Mary Jane's and narrowed her eyes.
Without thinking, she stomped her way toward the blonde cheerleader, following her around a corner. Momentarily, she thought she'd lost her among the sea of student's that rushed to get to class, but she saw a flash of blonde in the distance, heading into the girl's toilets, and followed.
Unfortunately, luck was not on her side. Quinn wasn't anywhere to be found in the toilet, but one of the stall doors appeared to be locked, so she assumed she was in there. But the fact that four cheerio's, all seniors, stood in a line at the sinks as they adjusted their already immaculate ponytails and re-applied their make-up, had her cause for concern.
It was bad enough being in a small restroom with four cheerio's, but the fact they were senior's had the diva almost shaking in her Mary Jane's. But with resilience, and the good old Rachel Berry façade of 'I don't care what you say or do, because I'm better than you' that she'd perfected over the years, she stood and waited by the door for Quinn to emerge.
"What the hell are you doing in here, tranny?"
Strike one, coming from the mastermind of the small group – Nicole Holmes, a raven haired megalomaniac who thought the world should bow at her feet. She was dating one of the guy's on the hockey team, and Rachel knew that she frequently cheated on him if what she heard from Jacob Ben Israel was to believed (which it usually was) and thought she was the most stunning girl in school.
Which she wasn't; the diva thought she looked like a mix between a crow and a raven, respectively. But that might have been a bit too harsh on birds.
"Yeah…didn't you read what it said on the door? Girls only, no trannies allowed."
Okay, really? Strike two.
There was a flush of a toilet, and Rachel's heart quickened harshly in her chest – Quinn would come out and the tormenting would stop. Although the four cheerio's were seniors, Quinn was still their Captain, and she knew that the blonde Captain was a relentless team leader – even seniors were terrified of her. But was Nicole?
"She's probably just in here to perv on us, aren't you Ray?"
Oh haha. Strike three.
The door to the toilet stall swung open and Quinn walked out, still adjusting the skirt of her uniform, but she seemed distracted. Obviously she'd heard the name calling from her fellow cheerio's, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to know who they were directed at. But what shocked Rachel was the fact Quinn completely avoided eye contacted her, rushed over to the sink and begun washing her hands.
Isn't she…?
"Hey Q, don't you think we should teach Berry a lesson for perving on us?" It was Nicole who asked, and naturally Rachel felt an impending sense of doom hit her lower stomach. Quinn might have been the Captain, but when by herself, without Santana or Brittany flanking her, she might as well have been a freshman being sent to slaughter. Nicole was the HBIC as of right then, not Quinn.
"Uh…"
"What do you mean, uh?" Nicole crossed her arms over chest, and then flicked her hair over her shoulder as she regarded Rachel, eyes narrowed, almost into slits. "She's being a perv; she needs to be taught a lesson."
Quinn quickly glanced over to Rachel and locked eyes – Rachel felt her body explode as Quinn's hazel eyes scanned her own brown ones, almost posing a secret question, or trying to find a hidden answer.
The diva knew what Quinn was trying to do – to tell her to leave, just turn around and forget she'd ever walked in. But Rachel stood her ground, arms crossed defiantly over her chest, foot tapping gently against the dirty tile of the toilet floor.
Stick up for me, Quinn. Stick up for me.
She tried to concentrate the message on Quinn, but before she could, Quinn's eyes snapped back to Nicole. She just shrugged at the senior and Rachel sighed heavily – it wasn't an agreement, but it wasn't a cut all answer saying: Stay away from her.
Quinn wasn't going to stick up for her – she was stupid to even think she would.
Nicole laughed and turned, her back finally facing Quinn who took one almighty gulp of air. With Nicole blocking her view of Rachel, she let her eyes fall to the floor, where she blinked back the tears of mortification; Nicole's punishments were even harsher than hers.
"Get your phone out, Chloe."
A brunette cheerleader reached down into her bag and pulled out her iPhone, thumb punching down on some of the buttons before she looked to her leader for clarification.
"Just keep the camera on it."
And so she did, and with two giggling cheerleaders watching from behind the camera, and another trying to fight back tears, Nicole launched herself at Rachel and grabbed her by her arms, pulling her into a nearby stall. The two cheerio's followed with camera in tow, giggling by the doors as the tell-tale sounds of splashing could be heard.
Quinn's eyes shut painfully tight, trying to block out the sound of Rachel's shoes squeaking against the tires and Nicole's almost devilish laugh's echoing throughout the bathroom.
"And let that be a lesson to you, freak!" Nicole left the stall, wiping her hands down on the sides of her uniform. She glanced down at the phone and smirked, "We'll give that to Jew Fro, it'll be all over the school by tomorrow morning."
Quinn's eyes snapped open, eyes blazing with a hidden anger, "Let's go girls." She opened her mouth to say something, but the words stuck in the back of her throat. She tried to force them out, but before she could even try, the four cheerio's were already out the door.
Silence enveloped the restroom; it was unnerving, and she wanted to leave, but Quinn couldn't move her body. It felt as if it was stuck in place. But after a few seconds, she finally found the strength to move, and walked gently over to the sinks to grab the English book she'd left there.
Her fingers had only just grazed the cover when sniffing rang throughout the room, and then gentle sobbing. A gentle splash of water sounded deafening to her ears, and when she turned to look at the stall, she saw all the water that had sloshed onto the floor.
She felt disgusted with herself.
The blonde was slightly shocked when she realized Rachel hadn't moved yet, so with small, gentle, almost baby steps, she walked toward the stall and fought back a gasp when she stood at the entrance.
Rachel sat there, back pressed against the stall wall, arms cradling her raised knees that her forehead was pressed on. Her body shook as she sobbed, which seemed to be growing heavier with each given moment. The diva was soaked, the front of her cerulean blouse completely sodden through with toilet water, her hair plastered to her head.
Suddenly, Rachel's head snapped up and she regarded the blonde with watery brown eyes. Quinn couldn't help but think that she'd never looked so beautiful – even sodden through and shaking, she still looked breath-taking.
"I'm-,"
"Don't you dare say it," Rachel snapped, wiping at her cheeks before clambering up to her feet slowly, almost worthlessly brushing at her skirt. Raising her chin defiantly she shoved past the blonde, checking her on the way with her shoulder.
Quinn only fell back slightly, and pushed her back up against the stable wood between two stalls as she regarded Rachel. The diva stood, still shaking, in front of the mirror, pushing her hair back from her face.
"Can I say it?"
"No," Rachel bit out.
"Can you at least look at me?"
"No,"
Quinn sighed gently and walked forward, coming to a stop only a few inches behind Rachel. Gently, she lowered her voice, and desperately she asked, "I need you to look at me, Rachel…"
There was no reply and Quinn felt her heart do something it hadn't done since Finn found out he wasn't the father of her baby. And when Rachel turned and left the restroom, slamming the door shut cleanly behind her – it felt twice as worse.
She had a fucking lot on her plate – and it was only a matter of time until it all caught up on her. She wandered the halls, which none of the teacher's questioned, because she was Sue Sylvester's mini-me, and they left her to her own devices.
It was lonely, too lonely in fact, but she didn't really care. She continued to walk, just thinking back on the look of utter desperation on Rachel's back in the restroom. It would have only taken one word from Quinn to actually stop Nicole – but her reputation as head cheerleader got in the way…again. She just couldn't understand; being popular was supposed to make you feel good, not feel completely disgusted with yourself 99% of the time.
She had never seen that look in Rachel's eyes before; not even when she came to the group for advice on Jesse, or the look she held when she entered the choir room again after the whole Sunshine scandal. That look was so foreign to Quinn, and the tone in Rachel's voice.
Damn…
With a shudder, she stopped in the middle of the hall. What was she thinking? She alienated the only person who really iunderstood/i her; the one who could look at her and not see 'Head Cheerleader' or 'HBIC' but Quinn Fabray, the 17 year old girl.
"Q, what are you doing?"
Quinn's head snapped up and toward the sound of the voice. Coach Sylvester stood in the doorway of her office, Becky stood behind her clutching a clipboard, "Oh…I was just…going for a walk, Coach."
"Hm," Sue looked down at Becky, and then tapped her on the shoulder gently. Almost automatically, Becky shuffled past Sue, then Quinn and disappeared down the hall. "Come inside, we need to talk."
Quinn settled herself down into the seat opposite Sue's desk, not really caring that she wasn't given permission to. Her Coach's journal was sat open on her desk, her scruffy handwriting blanketing the white pages. She couldn't read it from where she was sat – nor did she want to, being in Coach Sylvester's head was more terrifying a thought than dying again.
"You haven't been all there, recently." Sue leaned back in her chair, swirling gently from side to side, "In practice, you just haven't been paying attention."
"Sorry, Coach."
"Sorry won't cut it, Q. You've cut valuable time, and now I can't even seem to find Chesticles. Do you have any idea where she is?"
Quinn shook her head and then sighed angrily – damn, she'd forgotten about Santana. How could she focus on saving her own life when her best friend was stuck back in 1556 by herself, in a town where they hadn't even come across Latina's yet?
"Sorry, Coach."
Sue pulled her glasses off and threw them down onto her journal, "Let me break it down for you, Q." She pressed her fingers together, "Either you get your act together, or you're off the squad. I can't waste my time on a girl who doesn't want to be a part of the team. I have plenty of other girls who would love to take up your spot."
Clenching her jaw, Quinn looked up to her Coach with watering eyes and nodded. It was her popularity that had ruined it – and her popularity sprouted from being a cheerleader. And really, what was it going to do for her? She scoffed silently in her seat – was she going to become a professional cheerleader anytime soon?
"Then I quit."
Sue's face dropped, "Wait, what?"
The words sounded so freeing when they escaped her lips, so again, with a smile, she stood from her seat and looked down at her coach, "I quit the cheerio's." Slowly, she rounded the chair and walked toward the office door, quickly, almost flippantly she told her ex-coach before leaving, not even looking at her, "You'll have my uniform by the end of the day."
A weight, small, but a weight none the less, was suddenly lifted from her shoulders. She didn't have to worry about the popularity that accompanied being a cheerio – but she wouldn't be left completely in the dark, she'd have something that would keep her head above water.
She was dating a football player after all.
She decided to go home and get a change of clothes – she'd already missed all her morning lessons, and it wasn't as if she was hungry enough to go to lunch. She'd just opened the front door when she heard the tell-tale sounds of her mother somewhere in the house.
"Quinn? What are you doing home?"
Judy Fabray stood at the top of the steps, one hand resting comfortably on the staircase rail. She was already in her work clothes, obviously just about to leave for work at one of the main banks in the centre of Lima.
"I just came home to change, mom." Quinn smiled briefly up at her mom before walking past the staircase and toward the basement door at the far side of the house. She'd moved her room after her father left; it was originally his place where he liked to relax after work – he'd sit, drink, smoke and listen to some overly religious music.
As soon as he'd moved out, she'd overtaken the room and asked her mom if she could make it into her own room. Her mom had quickly agreed, after all, anything that would make her daughter happy, was good enough for her.
So she'd re-decorated – her whole room now a light cream colour, with a mix of exposed brick, art deco pieces lining the walls that her mother had collected on time at a car boot sale. Quinn had loved them as soon as she had seen them, as well as soon gorgeous photos taken by a predominant New York photographer. It had actually made Quinn want to take up photography, and after a little persuading, she managed to go half and half with her mother on a state of the art camera.
Her room now fitted for a girl her age – not bright pink that her father demanded she keep it like. She knew that Russell Fabray always wanted to keep his daughter as his little princess, but when she got pregnant that was just thrown out the window. And although she wanted to forget everything about her father, she couldn't get rid of everything to do with her faith. She still wore the cross around her neck as a solitary reminder, but the huge picture of Jesus was a no go.
It was hidden, safely, in the back of her closet.
She ripped off her uniform in her haste to get it off, but took her time folding it – she wasn't going to cross Sue Sylvester again only to explain why the uniform was ruined. She threw it in her gym bag, which she knew she wouldn't need anymore, and placed it on her bed for safekeeping.
Stood in her underwear, she slowly began to realize that the PAD had been stuffed between her skirt and skin. "Oh no…" Her head snapped around, looking around on the floor for the elusive device. With a deep sigh she found it halfway underneath the bed. "Oh thank God,"
She grabbed the PAD and dropped it gently on her desk that was pushed up against the exposed brick wall. There it would be kept safe, and she wouldn't lose it like she had a habit of doing lately.
"Quinnie…?" Her mother knocked gently on the door and invited herself in, half blushing when she realized her daughter was down to her underwear – a rather racy lacy black pair. When had her daughter bought those?
Quinn noticed her mother's eyebrows shoot up her forehead when she caught sight of her underwear, and with a blush, she rushed over to her wardrobe and pulled out a pair of light blue jeans, a white faded band tee and a pair of military boots that she'd bought a few weeks before with Mercedes on an impromptu shopping trip.
The young blonde dressed as her mother continued, "Why are you changing out of your cheerio's uniform? Don't you have practice tonight?" Judy glanced down at her wristwatch, "Actually, shouldn't you have practice right now?"
Quinn sat down on the bed and began pulling on her boots, "I quit the cheerio's, mom." She began tying the lace on her left boot, "I was getting sick of the pressure Coach Sylvester kept putting on me."
"She was pressuring you? Well, you are…were the Captain of the squad, Quinnie."
"I know mom, but I've got a lot on my plate right now, I'd rather not have the cheerio's just adding pressure to me."
Judy crossed her arms gently over her chest, "A lot on your plate? Like what? I thought you were doing well in school?" A shadow crossed over her mother's face, "That Evans boy isn't pressuring you is he?"
Quinn barked out a laugh, Sam hadn't even breached the subject of sex with her yet – thankfully. "No mom, he's not pressuring me at all."
Judy nodded, "Well…that's okay then. But this pressure; what's happening?"
The younger Fabray finished with her boots and jumped to her feet, walking over to her desk to shove the PAD into her jeans pocket. "Nothing's happening, mom." Understatement of the century, "Look I really got to get back to school," She nudged past Judy gently, "Have a good day at work."
She was halfway up the steps when her mother's voice stopped her, "Don't shut me out like you did with your father, Quinn."
Foot halfway up on another step, she stopped and turned around, looking down at her mom. Silently, she wished she could tell her mom what was going on – but she knew she couldn't, she wouldn't understand. She'd freak out and make everything just a little bit worse. She'd be doing her mother a favour if she didn't tell her what was going on. So instead, she plastered a smile on her face and said with an unnervingly weird sense of calm, "I'm not shutting you out mom, trust me. We'll speak soon, I love you."
And then rushed back up the stairs, smiling at the very faint but loving, "I love you too," before leaving the house.
"What's wrong?" Finn found his girlfriend sat in the empty auditorium, sat at the front of the stage, her impossibly long legs kicking gently in the air, "Everyone's looking for you in Glee,"
Rachel sighed and let her boyfriend sit down beside her before dropping her head on his shoulder, shutting her eyes serenely. Thankfully she'd had a change of clothes, her emergency bag was still stowed in the back of her locker (which had been left unused for a few weeks) and managed to do something with her hair. It was still limp at the ends where her curls usually bounced freely, and although she looked like she could face the public again – she just…couldn't.
"How about we just go back, okay? You sing a solo, be happy and we'll talk afterward, okay?"
"Singing a solo won't improve my mood state at this moment in time, Finn."
"Oh," He frowned and wrapped his arm around her waist, effectively pulling her closer, "Well, do you want to talk about it? Maybe it'll make you feel better."
"You wouldn't understand," Rachel sighed gently and pulled her head away from Finn's comforting shoulder. She couldn't do with being that close to him, not now, not after everything that had happened.
"Is this about yesterday? I said I was sorry. I was going to apologize but Quinn walked in and-," He glanced over at his girlfriend when he realized she'd begun sobbing, "Uh…what did I say?" He clutched tighter at her waist and bent down to look at her lowered face, "Hey, talk to me?"
She took a shuddering breath in and wiped the tears that had fallen at her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater, "You'll hate me," She whispered, desperately weak.
"I could never hate you, Rach."
And that just made her want to cry all over again; how could she be with someone so loving when she couldn't even keep her eyes and feelings on him? How had her mind suddenly gone from wanting Finn to wanting ihis/i ex-girlfriend. It wasn't as if she had an issue with being gay, because hello, two gay dads, but the fact that it was the ex-president of the celibacy club, cheerleading captain, all around Christian Quinn Fabray, it made her want to jump into a hole and stay there.
Finn stayed silent as she regained her breath and composed herself – which usually wouldn't have taken her long, but the fact that she was trying to stall for time on what to say next, helped a little. Would she really tell him that she was feeling something more than friendship toward Quinn? Or would she just lie and pretend it didn't happen; pretend to make happy families with Finn Hudson, the boy who loved her, the boy who had already been through enough heartache when it came to Quinn Fabray.
"Are you okay now?"
"No, no I'm not Finn," Rachel sighed and braced herself to stand up, prompting Finn to move his arm away. The sudden lack of warmth from him made her shiver, but she put it down to what she was about to do. Standing and moving as far away as he possibly could, she kept her back to him and steadied herself, hands clutched in front of her.
"You're breaking up with me," He said gently over his shoulder, but his tone held no malice.
"It's not because of you, it's me." Gently she chucked to herself, "How clique, I'm quoting every romantic novel and film."
"Don't make a joke out of this," Finn slowly trailed off before continuing, "Not now…"
"I'm sorry," Rachel slowly turned to regard him. He wasn't looking over his shoulder anymore, he faced forward, leaning forward on his elbows, his head dropped to look at the auditorium floor, "But really, it's nothing to do with you."
"So this isn't because I pressured you into having sex?"
Rachel shook her head, "No…not at all, I swear." With a gentle sigh, she looked down to her hands and wrung them, "I just finally realized some things that I hadn't before,"
"Like what?"
"I have feelings for someone else," She slammed her eyes shut and waited…and waited…and a full minute had passed before she finally head Finn reply.
"I know,"
Rachel's eyes snapped open and she stared at the back of Finn's head, completely stupefied. It wasn't everyday that someone shocked Rachel Berry into wordlessness, but somehow someone like Finn Hudson had done it. She watched him rise to his feet and turned to look at her.
"I may be a little slow – I mean, I thought I could get a girl pregnant from hot tub water," He shrugged and pushed his hands into his jeans, "But why did you fight for me for so long when you knew that you liked someone else?"
"I only figured this out a few days ago…" She whispered gently.
Finn smiled gently and nodded, "I think you've always known, I mean…" He kicked the toe of his sneaker against the stage, "You always found a way to protect her," Rachel's jaw dropped, "You told her you'd be her friend when she treated you like dirt." Finn shrugged, "I never understood it, probably never will – but I can't change it, can I?"
"H-How did you-,"
"Know it was Quinn?" Finn shook his head and sighed, "The way you've been looking at her recently – you can't seem to take your eyes off of her. And whenever she's with Sam you just seem to…shut down."
"I-,"
"You don't need to say anything," Slowly he moved toward her, letting the silence envelop them both before he came to a stop before her. He looked down at her and smiled, but she knew it was forced, "Just promise me you won't let her treat you like dirt."
"I don't even know if she feels the same way…"
"You're Rachel Berry." Finn smiled and rested his hands on Rachel's shoulders gently, "You'll find a way to figure it out." Then his hands left her shoulders, and fell limply at his sides, "I'll just…go now, okay?" He turned to leave, "Can you tell Mr. Schue I wasn't feeling well or something?"
"Of course."
"Thanks."
She felt her heart break as she watched him walk away, "Finn?"
He stopped and turned, but not fully, he wouldn't let her see the tears that were falling down his cheeks, "Yeah…?"
"She didn't stick up for me today."
She didn't need to explain, she knew Finn understood. So she watched him nod, take in a deep breath and continue his trek out of the auditorium, "Is she worth it then?" Then left, letting the door fall shut gently behind him.
"Girl, why are you out of uniform?"
Quinn looked at Mercedes over her shoulder and smiled, "Just got fed up with it."
One brow shot up questionably, "Serious…?"
"Yup. Serious."
"Damn girl, it's about time. I was fed up of seeing you in that damn uniform all the time," Mercedes patted her on the shoulder, "And to see your hair down. Quinn you look so much better with your hair down, girl."
The blonde laughed and gently took a lock of her curled blonde hair between two fingers, "You think?"
"Damn straight."
"Thanks, Mercedes."
Mercedes smiled, and Quinn watched as her friend's eyes flicked up quickly toward the choir room doors, "Damn, has she been crying?"
The blonde's head quickly snapped toward Rachel who was stood beside Mr. Schue, explaining why Finn couldn't make it to Glee practice due to sickness. She frowned, because she'd only seen Finn fifteen minutes ago when he went to go find his girlfriend and he seemed fine then. But the way Rachel sat down, furthest away from anyone in the club and crossed her arms defensively over her chest, made her realize that something was really wrong.
Glee Club went faster than usual – maybe because Finn wasn't making mistakes and his dancing talent – or lack of—wasn't keeping the whole club behind. They finished twenty minutes before schedule and Mr. Schue let the group go.
Quinn purposely stayed behind, saying a quick goodbye to Mercedes and Brittany as they left. Rachel was rifling through her bag, putting her notebook back and making sure it was in its proper place before zipping it up.
Rachel stood up, and Quinn made to move to block her from leaving, but a gentle vibration against her leg made her freeze.
Damn, not now."
The PAD vibrated gently against her leg, she reached into her pocket, keeping her eye on the brunette who moved toward the door with purpose. Glancing down at the PAD, she read the read-out;
December 30th, 1994.
"Why do you want me there? I'm not dying," She groaned, looking up briefly. With sigh, she realized she was alone. Rachel had left and it looked as if she wasn't coming – not that Quinn had the time to look for her.
Biting her bottom lip she held back a groan of frustration – how could she talk to Rachel now? How could she sort out the situation of Santana stuck in 1556?
Clutching the PAD tightly in her hand, so tightly in fact she thought she would shatter the metal, she squeezed her eyes shut and felt herself be taken away.