Disclaimer: I don't own Glee

Quinn will never be the same. That, she's sure of. And she knows that Beth was the reason for her change. The name stirs up painful memories, ones she'd rather not think about at the moment. Beth made her so much stronger, but also weaker. Quinn was scared. She needed help. And only one person was there when she needed support the most.

But even he left after all of it.

No, that isn't being fair. She left too, in her own way. She withdrew into herself so deep that it was impossible to come back out. Quinn is still in there, somewhere, but she isn't planning on coming out any time soon. Quinn was hated. People despised Quinn. Quinn was such a stereotypical blonde cheerleader it was nearly impossible not to judge her.

The girl Quinn has become is different. She'll never go back to the cruel words, the shallow desires, or the flips of her hair that said more than she ever could. This girl isn't confident enough to throw out biting one-liners with the ease that Quinn had. This girl's glare can't vaporize people twice her size. This girl is afraid.

Sure, she responds to Quinn. But every time she turns around, all she's thinking is 'Lie, lie, lie.'

Xxx

At lunch, Quinn usually sits at the Glee table. She doesn't participate in conversations too often, but even this new girl she's become hates to even imagine sitting alone. It doesn't matter that Glee kids are only one step up from that.

A step is a step, after all.

Today, though, she's going to start finding herself. It might sound completely cliché, but she likes to think that she lost herself along with Beth, and she's beginning a new chapter in her life. She took Kurt's words to heart. Maybe she can start over. Maybe this is the world giving her another chance. Or maybe she really is lost.

The only way to find out is to try, she supposes. Turning to Blaine, who is the only person at the table who didn't know her before the whole Baby gate debacle, she initiates a conversation.

"Hi," she says, feeling ridiculous. They're already halfway through lunch.

"Hey Quinn," lie (the word stings), "What's up?"

"Not much. You?"

"Same old, same old. I was thinking about getting Kurt and I tickets to see RENT at the community center next week, though."

She smiles warmly. "He'd love that."

"I hope so."

She just nods politely.

It's painful how careful she's being.

She's on her tiptoes. She wouldn't want anything to break.

And with that bitter, sarcastic thought, her world crashes down around her. She's giving it up, once and for all. Not just her supposed journey to self-discovery, but her fear. She gives up her hatred, her insecurities, her patience, and her anger.

She's empty.

"I- I have to go."

And with that, she's gone.

Xxx

She leaves school early that day. Her mom hovers at first, asking question after question. No, she isn't sick. Yes, her head hurts. No, she doesn't need anything. Only when she feigns sleep does she get to be alone. Only when she's pretending can she have silence.

The room feels louder, somehow.

Finally away from concerned presences, she allows herself to think. In the lunchroom, she decided to give up. Pretending isn't going to cut it anymore. But how can she stop pretending when she doesn't know what was behind it all? She groans audibly.

"Quinnie, dear? Are you all right? Do you need some water?"

"No, Mom, I'm fine. Just tired."

"Okay, just holler if you need anything."

Her mom's muffled voice does less than nothing to improve her mood. She just lies there listlessly, consumed by a desire to do absolutely nothing. She doesn't want to figure her life out. She doesn't want to get calls and visits from friends asking if she's all right (like that would happen). And she really, really doesn't want to have to deal with the aftermath of her decision. Not that there needs to be an aftermath…no one actually knows what she's doing.

No. She can't keep living a lie.

What will you be living, then?

She ignores the question her mind poses. She never said she had the answers.

Xxx

Day one of being herself (whoever that is) is about to begin, and Quinn is posed with a problem so shallow she almost laughs at herself. She has absolutely no idea what to wear. Pulling out various options, she finds herself getting more and more frustrated. She doesn't even recognize herself anymore.

Looking into the mirror, she's curious. As she raises her hand, so does the girl staring back at her. It tilts its head at the same time that she tilts hers, and the blinks are synchronized. It's a perfect likeness.

Why does it look like a stranger?

She holds up a favorite dress of hers from last year, watching with a sort of detached interest as Quinn does the same. The warm tone looks radiant against her skin, and she smiles. And just the sensation of a smile makes her feel somewhat better, even if it isn't real.

She looks sad. Even with a smile on her face and a dress pressed up against her body, she's sad. Her bitch glare is still fully intact, and her ice queen expressions are all fully functional. Her hair tosses are still deadly; she knows that. But she isn't sure if she can handle everything inside of her. The emotions are flitting through her mind: happy, sad, angry, and scared. But they aren't really emotions. There aren't any triggers around. They're shadows of what they once were. She thinks back to her pregnancy, where everything was magnified a million times. It's the opposite now.

She can't feel anything.

The thoughts of the pregnancy bring Beth to mind. An image of the fair-haired girl flashes through, but she pushes it away with a pang. She misses Beth dearly. That much she'll admit. And Puck would have made an excellent father. As much as it hurts her to think about her short times with him, she does. She misses him, too. She misses all of it. While it was happening, she couldn't wait for it to be over.

Now she'd give almost anything to have it back.

Huh. Hurt is hurt, and pain is pain, but they're something. She clings to them. She finds the littlest sliver of hope in the flickering emotions, and she holds on tightly.

She doesn't know what will happen if she lets go.

Xxx

She finally settles on her favorite pair of jeans (the ones that fit perfectly), and a simple, flowy white shirt. It's basic, and it's far more casual than anything she would have worn last year, but it fits. As she walks through the halls, she keeps her science book close to her.

She doesn't have science until after lunch, but it's the biggest, most solid book she has. And even if it is a little bit unrealistic, it's comforting. She ignores the stares the best she can.

"'Sup, mom?" she hears from behind her.

She throws a withering glance at the jerk that's brave enough to try that. She's quite tempted to roll her eyes, but she likes her clothes dry and ice-free, thank you very much.

She keeps her head down, and realizes that with her hair down the way it is, and her clothes as inconspicuous as they are, many people won't even recognize her. Not that she minds. Being invisible for a while sounds nice. The thought is strangely ironic.

The girl who's worked her whole life to be noticed is taking comfort in anonymity.

She continues to trudge through the halls, rarely looking up. When she finally makes it to calculus, she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. This is familiar. In class she doesn't have to pretend to be anything she isn't. She sits in the back, maintains an A, and does it all without speaking a word. She carefully takes notes, making sure they're far neater and more complete than they need to be. It gives her something to focus on. And if she thinks too hard about math, it won't make her question her identity. Something must be wrong here, though. Did she really just compare math to her life? And did she really choose math?

The rest of the class passes in a blur of too detailed diagrams and over-attentive listening. She can't help but think that that class was the calmest she's been in a long time.

But the day is far from over.

Xxx

It only takes one person to recognize her for the jeers to start flowing in her direction.

"Fabray? You look trashed!"

"What happened to you?"

"Watch it, loser."

"Look what the fashion-challenged cat dragged in."

"Hey Q! You think moving out of the way is hard? Try running a marathon with two broken legs and a heart condition! That's hard!"

"Quinn? Are you all right? You look a little bit down."

The last call to her takes a moment to register in her mind. Not an insult. She turns slowly, as if she would break by moving too suddenly.

"I'm fine, thank you."

His brow crinkles in concern and she tries to telepathically tell him to leave her alone. The last things she needs right now are reminders of her past. Unfortunately, that's not what Finn has in mind. He grabs her book (darn him) and walks her all the way to English. It draws an eerie parallel to the same time two years ago. But this time they aren't talking, or flirting, or holding hands. They aren't the school's power couple. They aren't fake. Not anymore.

Finn has Rachel now. Quinn used to be jealous of the midget. She used to feel so much envy that it seemed to eat her alive. She used to lash out in the ways she knew best. She still to this day knows exactly what to say to hurt Rachel Berry, and no matter how cool she looks, she knows how to get to her. Rachel knows how to put up a convincing front.

Fortunately, so does Quinn.

"Listen, I know we aren't, you know, together anymore. But I kind of wish you were happier. You just seem so sad lately. Is something wrong?"

She smiles, knowing while she does so how brittle it looks. "Everything. But I don't expect you to understand. It's all right."

"Why does no one think I understand?"

He looks so much like the boy he used to be. Like the boy who used to think it was possible to impregnate someone in a hot tub. Like the boy who drove her around in a wheelchair. Like the boy who took her to prom. Like the boy who took her first kiss (and let her take his).

Her times with Finn were when she was at her highest. Everything was so easy back then. Sure, the smiles were lampshades, but did it ever really matter? You couldn't see through them, per se, but there was always the promise of something hidden beneath them.

Now his smiles are genuine, and hers are anything but. She can't help but feel she got the short end of the stick when their relationship ended.

Xxx

Music is her escape.

It surrounds her, it covers her, and it protects her. It drowns out white noise in the background. Things are clearer when she can forget the real world for just a moment. Everything is different. It's like being underwater. She feels weight pressing down on her, and she can't stay under forever. Sometimes it's overwhelming, the amount of emotion she feels emanating from a song.

She feels normal. Like maybe she isn't so different after all. Every second she lets music speak for her, she feels lighter. It's as if her burdens aren't necessarily hers anymore. They're everyone's. And that makes her life easier to deal with. Of course, there's always a time when the ear buds come out, and reality sets back in.

It's in the fleeting moments when Finn's eyes are full of something unlike she's ever seen. That happens when he looks at Rachel. It's in the way Puck glares moodily out of the window, pretending that his reputation matters to a bunch of misfits. It's in the way Mr. Schuester hardly ever addresses her directly anymore because he knows she has nothing to say.

But that doesn't really matter in the big picture. Because she feels the least reserved when she's moving her body, singing with all she has with people she barely consider to be her friends.

Glee club started out as a joke. Now it's her life.

Xxx

The school year is winding down. She's turned in many of her textbooks and her classes mainly revolve around final reviews in preparation for the dreaded tests. It's almost graduation. The only class without a final is Glee, unsurprisingly. They've been rehearsing their piece (written by Tina, oddly enough) for the last several days, but today will be different. They're just going to be talking to each other. Reminiscing, she supposes. People will sing (don't they always?) and people will cry. It'll be heartbreakingly sweet and painful when Quinn doesn't join in.

She can already knows that she won't. What would she say? Hey guys, remember that time when I actually knew what was going on in my life? How great was that?

A feeling of dread settles in the pit of her stomach as she makes her way to history, her last class before she faces her real friends. Though it hasn't seemed like they care an awful lot about how she's been. When have they ever, though?

The only time she felt worth caring about was that dark time when she didn't even deign talk to a single one of them (with the exception of Finn, as well as Puck. But those two were expected). She walks into the classroom silent and alone. But isn't it always like that nowadays? Her voice of reason tells her it doesn't have to be this way. She's doing it to herself.

Something makes her feel like she deserves it. Like putting herself through all of this will make up for her past mistakes. No one else is punishing her, so she's punishing herself. It makes sense, in a twisted way. She's clinging to the shred of logic that resides in the idea with a fierceness she didn't know she possessed.

She takes her seat numbly, thoughts still racing though she tries to focus on the lesson. She's startled when a note lands on her desk. It's folded neatly into quarters, edges crisp. She opens it quietly, wincing as she hears it crackle slightly, but the teacher doesn't look up once.

Hi! How are you feeling? You didn't look so great yesterday. –Blaine

She hastily prints a response, hiding the offending object surreptitiously under her notes.

I'm better, thank you. I was just a little bit under the weather. –Quinn

With another quick glance towards the front of the room, she refolds the paper. She turns back to see Megan, a former Cheerio, sitting behind her, and she nods. The understanding mutual, her note finds its way back to Blaine. For a fleeting moment she'd actually wanted to tell the truth. But even if she did, it couldn't be through a note.

Sorry to hear that, but it's good that you're feeling better. Did you need yesterday's homework? I have it with me. –Blaine

That would be great, thanks. I'll just grab it on the way to Glee. –Quinn

Sounds like a plan. –Blaine

She rereads the note after she gets it back, distantly amused at how formal they're being. She can't imagine he's that formal with Kurt or Mercedes. Heck, she's seen him acting absolutely ridiculous. When he's on stage, or telling a story, he's like a different person. An interesting, fun, bright person.

A person Quinn wants to know.

So she decides to figure him out.

What are you doing after school today? –Quinn

She sends it without hesitating. Maybe helping him come out of his shell will help her come out of hers. It's worth a shot.

Xxx

The adrenaline she got from her random act of bravery is wearing off more and more the closer they get to the choir room. Blaine is talking about something or another, but she isn't really listening. All she wants is to quiet the rapid fluttering of her heart for just a moment. She misses the courage she used to have, back when nothing could shake her.

She's fragile enough now to be swayed by a breeze.

Her steps slow, and she wants to veer towards the bathroom. She wants to turn to Blaine right now and tell him she can't do this. She wants to turn around and walk. He couldn't stop her, could he? What right would he have? But even as she thinks this she knows she's being a coward. Summoning her inner queen bee (because no matter how unnatural it feels, she's still an expert at going through the motions), she holds her head high and narrows her eyes. The difference is almost imperceptible.

But now, her steps are purposeful rather than timid. And so is she.

Xxx

She's sitting in the top row of the bleachers, face smooth and serene. Beside her is Blaine (the only person who isn't constantly judging her), and below her sit Mercedes and Tina. Rachel is several seats away, swaying to her I-Pod, and every so often she sneaks fleeting glances at Finn. Puck, once again, is ignoring everyone around him but Finn. They're talking about some movie or video game revolving around something with plenty of violence.

Brittany is perched between Artie and Santana, completely oblivious to the thinly veiled insults they're flinging at each other. That isn't surprising. Brittany is a constant. No matter how much people change, she's the one they can count on to stay the same.

Quinn wishes she had that. She wishes she didn't have to wonder.

Mr. Schue steps up signaling with his hands that everyone quiet down. His vest is as hideous as always, the unfailing brown mixed with several other colors Quinn can't name, other than the fact that they look equally dull on the scratchy wool.

"Today's a day to remember Glee club, and all of our incredible experiences together as a club. Whether you were here from day one," a few cheers can be heard, "or just joined us," they all turn to smile at their newest member, "we've had plenty of great times, and some not so great ones, too. But today is our chance to flesh everything out, reminisce, and get closure. So let's party!"

They all groan good naturedly at his blatant excitement, and within about three seconds of silence, Rachel is talking. Not that Quinn is surprised. Nobody is.

"Well, I'd like to start off by saying how much you all have changed my life for the better. I know that some of us didn't get along too well," Santana scoffs, "but I wanted you guys to know how much this club means to me."

Several people 'awh,' and Puck rolls his eyes, but Quinn is just jealous. If you'd asked her two years ago if she'd ever be jealous of Rachel Berry, Quinn would have laughed in your face. Now, she just wants what Rachel has. She wants to be able to say that even though no one here is her absolute best friend, they still changed her life. She wants to be able to say she finally belongs.

But the truth is, joining this club made her a misfit. She used to belong. Now she doesn't. It's as simple as that.

She dimly registers Brittany talking about families and how they have become one. If they're a family, she's a distant cousin. They all know her, and they know she's part of them, but she isn't considered central. She isn't the same.

It's just too much for her. She can't sit here and pretend everything is perfectly awesome when she's a mess. And there's only one way she knows how to express that. No one is surprised when she stands up and whispers in Brad's ear. It's like she told Blaine on the first day. They all sing for the same reasons.

It's her turn now.

The piano begins softly, and she gets a few confused looks. Ignoring them, she waits for her cue. Once the beats are all counted, she takes a breath, letting the words speak for her.

You don't know how I'm feeling
When the whispers contain my name
You don't understand the way I am

You won't look me in the eye
When I send a cry for help
You don't understand the things I need

Oh, a simple misunderstanding
Oh, leads to a place called nowhere
Oh, a simple miscommunication
Oh, leaves me alone

You believe my plastic smiles
When they're anything but real
Just take a look at me now and see

The way I'm not myself
When I'm talking right to you
You don't understand the way I was

Oh, a simple misunderstanding
Oh, leads to a place called nowhere
Oh, a simple miscommunication
Oh, leaves me alone

She breaks off there, letting the piano die down in the background. Her voice isn't typically suited for such a harsh sound, but the chorus is exactly what she needed. The rawness in her voice is almost surprising.

Almost, but not quite.

Xxx

Where were you when I was

Slipping away?

Where was the love you

Promised me?

What happened to

'We'll be all right?'

Because I'm not

Xxx

She takes her seat calmly, but her traitorous heart is pounding. She never was used to the spotlight. She feels several pairs of eyes on her, but she stares resolutely ahead.

"That was very heartfelt Quinn. Is there anything you'd like to say?" Her teacher's voice is inviting, but she ignores the desire to respond. Her ponytail swings gently as she shakes her head. She's said all she needed to say. It's their fault if they weren't listening.

"I think that her song choice said it all, Mr. Schue."

Leave it to the one girl Quinn thought she'd never stop hating to be the only one to understand. Her throat constricts, and she nods gratefully. Looking around, she tries to figure out if anyone else noticed.

Finn is the first to meet her gaze, unsurprisingly. Just as soon as she lifts her eyebrow, though, he turns to Rachel. She studiously avoids him. Kurt's looking at the ground, suddenly very interested in his shoes. Blaine is watching her carefully, and she can see the obvious concern written in his expression. But that concern seems ever-present with the people he surrounds himself with.

Only one other face stands out. His jaw is clenched, hands balled into fists. It isn't abnormal in the slightest. He seems the same as ever. But that's only at first glance. Because she shifts her line of sight just the tiniest bit, and she almost gasps. She's only seen him like this once. She remembers holding up the slip with that plus sign. She remembers telling him it's Finn's. She remembers trying to give up on him. She remembers the way he looked. It's mirrored now, in this moment.

Shining in his eyes are bright, glassy tears.

Xxx

Hey, did you mind if Kurt comes over too? His dad had a last minute emergency at the shop and I picked him up. –Blaine

No problem. –Quinn

She wants to smile to herself. She would have last year. But lately, smiling makes her feel so hollow. Having Kurt there makes her plan so much easier. Not that it's really a plan, but the idea remains the same. She will be with the person she wants to figure out and the one person who already has. She's happy, she tells herself.

She just doesn't believe it.

Xxx

Her doorbell rings, echoing loudly in the empty house. Her mother is still at work, like Quinn knew she would be. Checking through the window that the bell was, in fact, rung by two teenage boys and not a random stranger, she walks over to open the door.

The two smile warmly at her, and she steps aside to let them in. Blaine is tugging awkwardly at his scarf and Kurt smacks his hand. They all settle into the brown couch in the living room (Quinn pushing memories of her and Finn sitting on the very same couch far out of her mind).

Like the polite host her mother has raised her to be, she asks if they would like anything to drink.

"Just some water for me," replies Kurt, crossing his legs.

"Do you have soda?" asks Blaine.

"Ignore him. Trust me, you do not want to see him on sugar."

"Hey! Not cool, Kurt, not cool." He pouts, but Quinn can see him fighting a smile.

"I'll be right back with a water and a Coke," she chooses to reply, winking at Blaine brashly. Kurt sighs exasperatedly.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Fabray. If he starts climbing on your furniture, I reserve the right to say I told you so."

"Furniture?" She hears the confusion in her voice clearly as she rises from the couch.

"Nothing," Blaine says too quickly.

She feels the urge to laugh bubble up inside of her, so she does. It's short and sweet, but she feels much lighter than she has in a long time. She goes to the kitchen and fills three glasses: one with water, one with Coke, and one with iced tea that's her mom's. She debates bringing a tray, but decides against it. If she's going to break the rules, she might as well break all of them.

It seems ridiculous to her that her bravery is reduced to overlooking coasters, but the perspiration dripping onto the wooden table is making her perversely happy.

One hour later, Quinn finds out firsthand exactly what Kurt meant.

"Why am I so hyper?" Blaine wonders aloud from where he's perched on top of her bookshelf. She doesn't even know how he got up there without breaking his neck.

"Told you so," Kurt singsongs under his breath. Quinn just turns to Blaine, but her smirk is amused.

"Blaine, can you come down from there?" she coaxes, trying to sound gentle.

Rather than climbing down like a normal person (not that a normal person would be in his place anyways), he jumps, lands on his feet, somersaults, and ends up on the other side of the room. She nearly has a heart attack, but Kurt just rolls his eyes.

"He's kind of like a hyperactive puppy, isn't he? I know it's shocking, I fell for his outward charm too, at first."

"He's still in the room!" Blaine's head pops up from behind the loveseat and Quinn bites back a laugh, trying to look stern.

"No more climbing, okay?"

"But sitting still is so boring!"

"Are you sure you didn't slip something in his drink? He's reminding me of how he was after Rachel's party." The accused party turns bright red at this.

"I'm sure. And to be honest, that doesn't surprise me," Quinn teases. She can't remember the last time she actually teased somebody.

By the time Blaine crashes (and crash he does), Quinn's mom is already home. She smiles softly at her daughter and Quinn smiles back brightly. Her wave is peppy and a bit too enthusiastic.

And the best part is, it finally feels real.

A/N: Well, this ends Act 1 of the story! I'd like to start by thanking everyone who's been reading (and especially you reviewers!). Just so this is clear, if Quinn seems OOC, it's because she is, in a way. I've made her character AU after season 1 because I haven't liked the character she's become. So this is my way of rewriting her. Thanks again for reading, and stay tuned for Act 2!

Review?