Okay, so I think that this may be the quickest succession of postings I have ever had. Not that I am an extremely prolific writer, but still. Anyway, this may be taking forever to get anywhere, which I am sorry for, but I don't want to speed through things. It may be boring – in view of the amount of reviews I have had – but I hope it gets better for you. Enjoy.


7. Keep Holding On

[Quinn POV]

Today was another in a lengthy line of long days. The days that seem to drag on forever, and yet when they are over, I seem to have no idea what happened or what I did. It's kind of unnerving, but at the same time, I like not having to care. Making my way to my car, I do my best to ignore the lingering glances, the haunting stares, that would bug me if I let them. Starting my car, something my parent's oddly let me keep when they kicked me out, I notice a yellow paper on my windshield. Dreading opening it and hoping that it is not a ticket – my parking pass was in plain sight for crying out loud – or even another piece of hate mail, I peel back the windshield wiper and take it in my hand. Gliding back into the driver's seat, I take a deep breath before opening the precisely folded not and reading it.

Quinn,

I know things have been rough for you over the past couple of months and i that everything is starting to get worse. I am distressed for you and all the pain you have to bear. You do not, however, have to bear it alone. Even though i have left mckinley, it does not mean i have left you and your peers. I am always here for you quinn and am wondering if you would be willing to come by my apartment after school to have a chat with me. It's nothing to be worried about. I just want to help you quinn – if you will let me.

419-555-4357

Richelieu apartments

1475 edgewood drive #204

Lima, oh 45805

~Emma, aka 'ms. Pillsbury'

I am crying by the time I reach the end of the note. My tears leave big splotches on the page before me, running the ink and making it damn near impossible to read. Luckily, I know where the apartment building is and will have no need of her phone number for now. Attempting to stifle my crying enough to drive, I wipe haphazardly at my face until it is nearly dry. The traffic of other students seems to have cleared and I make it quickly out of the parking lot an toward my unexpected destination.

My car sits idling in the apartment parking lot, I in my seat, unable to make myself move. In the note she said that she wants to help, which is great. I do need help from someone, but what scares me is that I don't know what support of help she is willing to give. Shaking my head, I rapidly get out of my car and wander toward the building. As I near her doorway, I start to shake. For what reason I am unsure, but I am guessing it has to do with the uncertainty I feel. I raise my hand to gently rap at the door of number 204. It opens before me and I barely have time to drop my hand back to my side. Seeing Ms. P. before me calms me almost instantly and I attempt to smile back at her as she does the same.

"Thank you for coming Quinn," she murmurs, gesturing for me to enter her apartment. "If you could take off your shoes, that would be great. I can take your coat for you as well." Her voice is soothing and I somehow feel right at home in her immaculate entryway. Shedding my flats, I carefully place them next to her heels on the shoe rack and slide my arms out of my coat. Ms. Pillsbury takes it from me, hangs it in the closet, and then leads me to the living room with a soothing hand on my shoulder. She has set out a plate of food and a number of different drink choices. Ms. P. sits down on the couch and motions for me to take a seat next to her. She lifts the plate and offers it's contents to me. I have to admit that I am quite hungry and gratefully take an apple slice and some cheese.

"Thanks," I say. When she puts the plate down without taking any for herself, I give her a quizzical glance. "Aren't you having any Ms. Pillsbury?" Smiling, she looks up from the plate to me and shakes her head.

"No, I just at lunch and don't eat dairy anyway." She stops, pulling a leg up underneath her body and turning to face me more fully. "Please call me Emma though. I'm no longer your superior Quinn, consider us equals." Gesturing between the pair of us, she smiles.

"Okay," I mutter as I take a bite of my apple. "Ms. P- Sorry, Emma, um, what… what did you want to talk about?" I stutter, unsure of how much of myself I want to open up to the woman before me. It reminds me of Tina and how she pushed people away with a stutter she never really had. It kind of makes me wish I could just take everything back and be normal again. Then I think about what I would be giving back, and am unsure once again of what I truly want, which scares me.

"I just wanted to talk a little bit about what is happening with you Quinn," she says in her soft, calming voice. "Where are you living right now?" I knew this question would come up. How could it not? Yet, somehow I am still wholly unprepared. I know what needs to be said, but don't want to have the conversation that follows. I pause, considering whether or not to just say I would rather not talk. But then again, Ms. Pillsbury is not here to judge me or impose her own opinions. No, like she said, she is here to help, so why not let her?

"At Finn's," I admit, looking up at her through my lashes as I pretend to study the apple slice in my hand. Apple. That reminds me of Finn and his insipid baby name. Although it incensed me to hear what he wanted to name her, it also made me happy that he wanted to be a part of things, and sad that he couldn't. We can't name her. I can't name her. Because I am giving her away.

"And how do you feel about that?" Her question snaps me back to the present and I attempt to remember the topic of conversation. "How does he feel about that?" she adds, and soon I realize she is speaking of Finn's feelings about me living with him. Ah, yes, here's the hard part.

"I…" Trailing off, I glance in her direction, hoping to voice through my eyes how hard it is to put everything into words. How scary it is to say it aloud. She seems to understand and returns my look with compassion.

"It's okay, Quinn," she sooths, placing a hand atop mine in my lap, "you can tell me. I promise not to tell another soul."

"Even Mr. Schue?" I ask before I even know what I have said, realizing that I am afraid of him knowing my plight. In my heart I still want him to take the baby and don't want him to think of me in a negative light.

"Yes, Quinn. Even Mr. Schuester. This is between you and me." As if to elucidate her point, Ms. P. squeezes my fingers lightly within her own. At that same moment, I feel the words tumbling out of my mouth like word vomit.

"It's hard," I confess, somehow feeling much lighter than before. "Living there is hard. I don't want to be there anymore because I can feel how much it hurts Finn to have me around. I don't deserve to be there anymore. His home should be his haven, not the place he avoids at all costs. I just… I have nowhere else to go." I sigh as it all comes out in a hurry, any attempt at censorship thrown right out the window.

"What about Santana?" Ms. P. asks, her voice laced with concern and I can't help but wince at the mention of the name.

"Were not exactly close friends anymore – not after the whole Puck debacle. Moving in with her would be no better than being at Finn's. And I can't move in with Brittany either. They don't have any room for me." Ms. Pillsbury nods, taking in what I have told her while she considers other options in her head.

"I see, and you're-" I cut in quickly before she has the chance to mention what I assume is going to come out of her mouth.

"I can't go back to my parents." I mention, hastily, shaking my head and taking another bite of apple just to fill my mouth. I don't want to talk about them. Not now, not ever.

"I wasn't going to suggest that," Ms. Pillsbury whispers, lifting my chin with her pointer so that out faces meet and quickly pulling her finger back. "I was asking if you had any other friends you thought might be able to take you in." My eyes gather moisture as the weight of her question sinks in and I contemplate the answer.

"I don't really have friends anymore. After being kicked off the Cheerios, everyone kind of shunned me; Except Glee club, but I don't know any of them well enough to ask. I just… I'm stuck." A lone tear slips down my face and Ms. Pillsbury summons enough courage to wipe it away with her thumb.

"Well, Quinn, would you ever consider… I mean, well… moving in with me? Just until you get back on your feet. I have an extra room that you are welcome to. You'll just have to be careful to keep it clean. I… it would be nice to have a little company. But, if you would rather stay at the Hudson's-"

"Really?" I don't wait for her to finish rambling and cut her off with an exclamation. "You'd… you'd let me stay here?" My heart begins to beat faster in my chest at the thought. Living here. My eyes grow almost as wide as hers as I wait with baited breath for her response.

"Of course Quinn. Would you be interested in living with me?"

I hold my breath and nod, not sure what would come out of my mouth if I were to open it.

"Good." She barely pauses, wasting no time in getting to the heart of the matter and a smile begins to develop on my face. The first smile in as long as I can remember. "Look, let's talk for a bit about what that would mean and a little more about what is happening with you right now. Then we can go pick up your things together. How does that sound?" My smile only widens when she mentions going with me to get my belongings. I won't be alone. Not anymore.

"Good," is all I can muster, however, this seems to be enough for Ms. P. and she smiles back before continuing on.

"Great. Okay, so, Quinn if you are going to live with me, you need to know a little bit about myself first. As you may have noticed, things stay extremely clean around here and that will be something that you will need to keep a close eye on when you live with me. You see, I… well I suffer from mysophobia, which is what some people may more commonly call an irrational fear of germs. I can tell you the long story later, but for now, I just want you to understand what you may be getting yourself into. I am not too worried about you making a mess because you do seem to be a quite clean person overall, but you will also have to be careful to clean up after yourself. Do you think that this is something you could handle and agree to, Quinn?" She looks at me expectantly for a moment before I realize I have yet to respond. I had gotten so caught up in her story that I guess I missed the question.

"Yes," I say, quickly remedying my silence. "I promise not to make a mess, and clean up after myself, and I'll even keep my room tidy. I… I really want to stay here." My eyes once again fill with tears, not out of sorrow, but out of anticipation of the contentment that lies ahead. Maybe I will make it after all.

"Then I think we have reached an agreement, Quinn." I blink back my tears and smile at the kind woman before me. How could I get so lucky as to have such a caring person in my life when I have done everything possible to screw it up as of late? "Now, can we talk a bit about what you plan to do with your baby once it is born?" The tears seem to be back full force at the question that was even more difficult than the last. My baby.

"I'm not sure," I divulge, shaking my head so slightly even I can barely feel it. Ms. Pillsbury seems concerned and confused by my answer and asks another question of me.

"You're not sure if you can talk about it or not sure what you want to do with the baby?" Both, I think to myself before realizing who it is I am speaking to. Together, she had said. Together, she will help me get over this, and so I need to let her in. Ms. P. needs to know my personal confusion, especially if I expect to live with her. There will be another person in both of our lives in just about five months.

"The latter," I mutter, barely above a whisper. "It's just… well, I wanted to give the baby to the Schuesters because I wanted her to have a good father and I thought that would be Mr. Schue. I wanted him to have her. But now that the marriage has fallen apart, well I'd rather give her to anyone over Mrs. … uh, Terri. And then I stop to think about it and I don't want to give her to anyone. I want my daughter, but I know that I can't keep her. I'm not a kid anymore. I stopped being a child the minute that little plus sign appeared, but I also know that I can't support my child like a stable couple could. I know that, but in my heart, I want her." After my brief rant, I glance up at Ms. Pillsbury and wait for her reaction. I half expect her to say she doesn't want me anymore – that I am making her life too complicated already, but then again, Ms. P. is not the kind of person to go back on her word. "I know that was a lot to unload on you Ms. … Emma," I correct myself hastily at the look she gives me and then continue on with my train of thought, "but, well, I don't know what to do and you said you wanted to help, right?" At this, she takes my hand in hers once more and pulls our joined fingers into her own lap. As I look into her eyes, I know that she is trying to find the right way to tell me what I need to hear.

"Yes, Quinn, I did. And I do – want to help that is. You are in quite the predicament and there is no easy answer for me to give you." I sigh at her answer, the always diplomatic Ms. Pillsbury never fails to disappoint. "I understand wanting to keep your own child, I really do. But you are also correct in the assumption that you would not be able to support a child. Why don't we just take this one step at a time?" She looks into my eyes, silently asking if it is okay to continue. I nod. "The two of us could look into adoption agencies. If you can find a family you like, one that you think could do a better job of raising your daughter than you could yourself, then we will work on letting her go. However, if you can't find anyone worthy, then we will work on finding some reasonable way for you to keep her. We will do this together Quinn. How does that sound?" There it is again. Together. I like the way that sounds – not being in this by myself. Also, having the other person be a mature responsible adult I can turn to for advice doesn't hurt either. I like that and so I nod once more.

"Good. That sounds good." Ms. P. is soon nodding her own head in response and I can't help but smile.

"Alright, I think we have done enough talking for right now. Would you like to see the rest of the apartment?" Smiling back at me, Ms. Pillsbury waits for my response.

"I would love that." She stands and waits patiently for me to do the same. When I do, she takes steps toward the room opposite us, separated from the hall by a large archway.

"Well, you've already seen the entryway and the living room of course. This is the kitchen. I will clear out a shelf for you in the fridge so you can have dairy or whatever you want for yourself. I will cook meals and make you lunches for school if you want. Um, you are welcome to use anything in here whenever you want, just remember to clean up afterward, like I already said. Here are the plates and bowls. This is the silverware drawer. And here is the cups and mugs. Feel free to look through the cupboards later and familiarize yourself with the kitchen." She turns around excitedly and is back in the hallway before I realize it. My smile only grows wider as I follow. She takes me into a smaller room to the left with a large, polished, wooden table centered around six chairs.

"This is the dining room. I guess there's not much to tell you about it, except that it is here. Most of the time, I eat at the table to avoid messes on the couch." Walking away, she gestures over her shoulder for me to tag along and I do without a word. She walks back into the kitchen and then takes a left into the hallway and another sharp left into an even smaller room housing a washer and dryer.

"This is the laundry room. You can do laundry anytime between eight am and ten pm. If you do it at night, it disturbs the neighbors. The supplies are in this cabinet here and there is a hamper in your bathroom." I look around the almost closet sized room and nod my head, showing her I am ready to move on. The next room she shows me is a good sized bathroom just off the hall from the laundry room.

"This is the main bathroom and will be yours as well. I have my own in the master bedroom, so you only have to share with company. If you need anything in the way of bathroom supplies, just let me know." My own bathroom. I smile to myself thinking of not having to share with a teenage boy. We move then into a bedroom straight across the hallway that also seems to be used as an office.

"This is going to be your bedroom. As you can see, my desk is in here right now, but I will move my laptop and you can put yours there. This is your bed. Additional bedding and sheets are in the hall closet if you need them." The last room we enter is another bedroom slightly bigger than the previous one.

"This is my bedroom. My bathroom is just through that door," she mentions, pointing to her left. "If you ever need me and I'm asleep, don't hesitate to wake me. I, uh, I think that's about it." She smirks at me and the pair of us slowly make our way back into the living room, but don't sit. Ms. P. crosses her arms and continues speaking once more. "If you ever want to bring a friend over, that's fine. Just remind them of the cleanliness rules and always remember to take your shoes off at the door." She pauses for a moment, as if thinking and then looks at me again. "Is there anything else you want to know?" I take a moment to contemplate the question and seriously can't think of anything else I would need to know.

"No, not really." There's so much information swimming around in my head already that it is almost too hard to make sense of it all. I look around the room, trying to cement it into my brain. This is my home.

"Quinn, are you okay?" the question pulls me back to the present and I focus my attention on the slender redhead standing in front of myself.

"Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed, I guess." I attempt a full-blown smile, but it doesn't really reach the corners of my mouth. She notices and places a hand on my shoulder, her fingers separated from my germs by the cardigan I still wear.

"I know it's a lot to take in. And I don't want you to stress out about anything, Quinn. I want this to be a safe place for you. Just know that I am here for anything you need. Even if it's just to talk." Ms. P. lets that sink in for a moment before running her hand down my arm and dropping it to her side. "Are you ready to go get your belongings?"

"I think so," I murmur, staring at my bare feet. "Yeah, I'm ready." She turns to walk around my and picks up a pair of white heels that match the knitted beret on the hat rack. "Emma?" I call out, still standing where she left me. She returns to my side and I slowly thread my arms around her and burrow my head into the crook of her neck. "Thank you," I mumble into her before I realize all of the germs I have transferred and pull back without hesitation. She, although somewhat flustered at my actions, doesn't seem to mind so much and smiles at me a final time before we leave.

"You're welcome, Quinn. Everything is going to be okay now. Everything's gonna be okay."