If the Roles Were Reversed
"Why are you doing this, Quinn? I don't understand."
Finn's voice was whiny and incessant, and Quinn was worried that she would be forced to slap him if he continued with this repetitive line of questioning much longer.
"I've told you over and over, Finn. We're done. That's it. I don't feel the desire to be with you anymore." She sighed heavily, realizing that she may be coming off a bit harsh. He's asking for it though, she reasoned. She turned directly to him and stared straight up into his eyes and said, "Don't pretend like you haven't seen this coming for a while now, Finn. We just don't work anymore."
She turned to leave when Finn called out, "Is this because of Rachel?" Quinn immediately came to a stop. "Is it because I kissed her? Because she came onto me, you know. I wasn't the only one who was guilty. She practically threw herself at me."
Quinn turned back to Finn. Was it because of Rachel? "No, Finn, it's not because of Rachel." Liar. Liar liar liar, she repeated in her head. "It's because sometimes, people change – people grow apart. Some people aren't meant to last. Move on, Finn."
As she walked away, she heard Finn angrily pound his fist against his locker and release some kind of guttural shout. She flinched, but she kept moving. That kid always did have anger management issues, she mused nervously, quickening her steps as she pushed open the doors to exit the building.
Quinn hadn't made it very far – in fact, the school doors had only just closed behind her when she heard them forcefully thrown open again, banging off of the wall to either side of the entrance. She quickly turned one hundred and eighty degrees, only to find herself faced with a Finn who looked as if steam should be comically pouring out of his ears.
And yet, Quinn was finding the situation entirely sobering and not funny in the slightest.
"Finn," she started. "What do you want?" She tried to sound more confident than she was actually feeling. Finn was freakishly tall and substantially larger than Quinn. And he was legitimately scaring her. Her eyes flitted down to his hands – they were tightly balled into fists, his knuckles were white with the force he was exerting.
"This is unbelievable! I've been nothing but good to you, Quinn! You can't just break up with me for no reason!" He was stalking towards her now. Quinn turned and began power-walking to her car. She reached into her duffel bag at her side, searching frantically for her keys – and attempting to make it appear as if she wasn't frantically searching for her keys.
"Don't walk away from me, Quinn!"
"Finn, you need to calm down. And you need to leave me alone. Just get over the fact that it really is as simple as – I do not want to be with you anymore! And, frankly, the way you're acting right now is making me believe I made the right decision!"
She got to her car and reached out to unlock the driver's side door. Finn, however, had other plans.
He grabbed her wrist tightly – tightly enough that she let out a shocked gasp – and her keys fell heavily to the ground. He turned her around to where her back was up against her car. He had dropped his grip on her wrist only to grab both of her forearms – tightly. She let out a slight hiss at the pain he was inflicting on her.
"You do not get to do this to me, Quinn. Do you have any idea what this is going to do to my reputation? First of all, I join glee club which is bad enough – do you have any idea what kind of crap I get from the guys in the locker room? And then I have to deal with the fact that you're the president of the celibacy club… The celibacy club, Quinn! Do you know how much of a chump that makes me look?" He shook her. He literally shook her, and her head bounced around – like a rag doll.
She knew he was strong. But she hadn't realized just how strong he really was. And now, he was fueled by anger and the prospect of potential humiliation.
Quinn tried to keep her face straight – she didn't want Finn to see just how scared she was in this moment.
"Look, Finn, I'm sorry that you have to deal with all of that. But I never told you to join glee. And I never told you to ask out the president of the celibacy club! You did that all by yourself."
"Yeah! And you said yes! Why would you say 'yes' if you were just planning on breaking up with me? Were you planning on making me look stupid all along?"
"Finn!" she exclaimed, seriously frustrated at this point. "Why are you saying these things? Of course that was never my goal! You should know me better than that –"
"Oh, I know you, Quinn Fabray. I know that you are the Queen Bitch of this school. I know how you treat people. Even people who you're supposed to consider friends! You think I never noticed how horribly you treated Rachel? And she's even supposed to be a teammate."
Quinn found the strength within her to shove Finn back – it resulted in him losing his grip on her arms, but he surged back even more intimidating than before.
"Don't pretend that you know anything about me and Rachel. We're friends now, Finn."
"Yeah, and you're breaking up with me! Wow, things change super fast, don't they?"
He was advancing on her again, and Quinn was sure that he was going to hit her. In the face, probably. She closed her eyes and even went so far as to lift her hand to shield her face.
Suddenly, someone called out from a few cars away, "HUDSON!"
Quinn dared to open one of her eyes. She saw Finn – with his hands still clenched into fists, semi-raised in front of him – and she saw none other than her best friends, Santana and Brittany. They had both broken out into a run at this point. Santana got to Quinn's car first, and she immediately placed herself – hands planted firmly on her hips – between Quinn and Finn.
"What do we have here, Hudson? Suddenly decided that it's ok to beat on girls?" Santana sneered.
"Get out of here, Lopez, this is none of your business," Finn growled back – the rage still hadn't subsided from his eyes.
Brittany had pulled Quinn to her – she was holding her, shielding as much of her body as she could from Finn. She had wrapped her arms around Quinn, and Quinn had flinched noticeably as Brittany's hand came in contact with the already-forming bruises that Finn had left behind. They were monstrous – just like his frying-pan sized paws.
Santana noticed this interaction between Brittany and Quinn, and she started becoming enraged herself.
"Guess what, Frankenteen? When you physically injure my best friend, it becomes my business." She started taking steps towards Finn, causing him to backup as she advanced. "First of all, I think Figgins will be interested to know that Brittany and I caught you assaulting a student on school grounds." Finn scoffed. "Second, I know that Coach Sylvester will be positively thrilled that you have injured not only her Head Cheerio – but the best damn cheerleader on the entire squad." Finn visibly gulped. "And we'll finish this off with a quick text to Puck – who will inform all of the football team – that good ole Finn Hudson likes to hit girls. I'm sure that they will have quite a bit to say about that, won't they, Hudson?" Finn shuddered – none of the guys on them team were ok with that. Sure, if Finn had managed to impregnate Quinn or something, he'd probably get high-fives all around. But hitting her? He'd be a pariah.
"Ok, I get it…"
"No, I'm not sure you do," Santana replied. "You fucked up, and you fucked up big time. You're going to apologize to Quinn, you're going to act civilized and not like some freakishly tall Neanderthal like you have been today, and you're going to keep your whining to yourself. Or else I tell Figgins. And Sue. And Puck. I don't have to lay a finger on you to destroy you. But if you lay another finger on her, I will do whatever it takes to make your existence a complete nightmare. Do we understand each other?"
A final surge of anger seemed to flow through Finn – Santana could see it in his eyes, and she braced herself to do whatever it took to keep him away from Brittany and Quinn. But the anger seemed to leave as quickly as it had come.
He hung his head in defeat and shame. "I understand," he mumbled quietly.
"I'm sorry, what? I didn't quite hear you. Was there an apology in there somewhere?" She glared pointedly, her voice practically dripping with attitude.
"I said that I understand. It won't happen again. Quinn," he moved to take a step forward, towards where Quinn was standing, sheltered behind Brittany.
Santana, however, was having none of it. She put a firm hand on Finn's chest, stepping in between him and the other girls again. "Nah uh, Frankenteen. Say what you have to say. From here."
Finn gritted his teeth before addressing Quinn again. "Quinn, I'm really, really sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. But," he continued desperately. "Can't you understand why I'm so upset about this? The guys on the team –"
"OK!" Santana interrupted. "Clearly you never mastered the Art of the Apology. Get out of here, Finn, before I make you."
He sent one last glare in Santana's direction before turning abruptly on his heel and storming off to his own car.
Santana secretly hoped that he would trip over his oversized feet. He didn't. She shrugged.
She turned back to her best friends. Quinn's eyes were closed, and she had her arms wrapped around Brittany's waist with her head resting on the taller blonde's shoulder. Santana walked over to them, placing her left hand over Brittany's – which was situated on Quinn's side.
"Quinn?" Brittany questioned softly. Quinn didn't make any response, nor did she give any indication that she would be moving anytime soon.
A single tear managed to find its way from behind her right eyelid. Santana reached up and cupped Quinn's cheek gently, wiping away the offending tear in the process.
"I'm sorry I didn't get here fast enough, Q," Santana said softly, her hand still firmly in its place on Quinn's cheek. As Santana said this, Quinn's eyes slowly fluttered open and she looked at Santana with a sad expression on her face. "I told you I would never let anything like that happen to you. Not again, not after him." She dropped her hand from Quinn's face and lightly – ever so gently – ran her fingers over the bruises on Quinn's upper arm. "I'm so, so sorry I didn't get here in time…"
All Santana could think about was the last time she was too late – the last time she had failed to keep harm from coming to her best friend.
It was the night before the girls were going to be starting their 8th grade year. Santana and Brittany were sleeping over at Quinn's house – it was a tradition that they had been sharing since they had all become friends in 1st grade. The night before their first day of school each year, they would all stay over at one of the other girl's houses. This year, it was Quinn's house.
The girls were watching television in the living room, and Quinn's parents were in her father's study. Russell Fabray had consumed just a bit too much scotch. And by 'a bit too much,' it should suffice to say that he was practically incoherent. Judy Fabray would have helped him up to their bedroom and away from the eyes and ears of the young girls in the room next door – but she had also consumed an impressive amount of the finely aged, expensive drink.
Back in the living room, Brittany accidentally spilled her cup of fruit punch. Quinn winced. Brittany started apologizing profusely, but Quinn waved her off. "It's no problem, B. I'll just go get some paper towels."
"Yeah, B," Santana reiterated. "We'll make the carpet as good as new again." The girls all grinned at each other, and Santana and Quinn trudged into the kitchen to grab some cleaning supplies to soak up and, hopefully, remove the stain from the pristine, white carpet.
On their way back to the living room, they passed Russell's study. He saw what they were carrying and called out to Quinn, "Quinn! What is all that for? Are you making a mess in there?"
Quinn immediately shooed Santana to go ahead to the living room to try and start soaking up the fruit punch. She turned to her dad. "N-nothing, Daddy. We're just watching TV."
Russell huffed and pushed himself up out of his well-worn, leather chair before advancing on Quinn. He grabbed her wrist and began to stumble into the living room with her small figure trailing helplessly behind him.
When he saw Santana on her hands and knees, pressing vigorously on the blossoming red stain – he snapped, turning on Quinn.
"Did you do that? Did you do that to my carpet? After everything your mother and I do for you, that's how you repay us – you ungrateful little brat!" He drew back his hand before allowing it to swing forward and catch Quinn around the jaw.
Before she even realized what she was doing, Santana was on her feet and was shoving – with all the might her tiny 12-year old body could muster – Russell Fabray away from his daughter. Brittany also rushed over – but she rushed to Quinn, gingerly taking Quinn's hands in her own and leading her away from the scene and into the kitchen for some ice.
Santana stood staring up at Russell, silently daring him to make a move after the retreating blondes. He didn't. Instead, he just chugged back the rest of his scotch – which had remained steadfastly in his left hand throughout the entire ordeal, impressively – he hadn't spilled a drop.
Santana watched him stumble back to his study and slide the door closed behind him. She entered the kitchen and lightly traced her fingers over Quinn's jaw – she had wiped away the tears from her best friend's cheeks and had wrapped both of the girls in a tight embrace. That night, they all held each other in one mass of bodies in the middle of Quinn's bed. At some point throughout the night, each of them cried – Santana and Brittany, for Quinn; and Quinn, for her father.
The next morning, Judy Fabray gave her youngest daughter her first real lesson on the application of makeup. She had, after all, a lot of practice.
Santana remembers the look of shock and disbelief that was etched on Quinn's features in that moment before Russell Fabray's hand had come in contact with her face. She had vowed to never allow that to happen to Quinn again – or Brittany, for that matter (though her parents were much cooler than Quinn's anyway). Seeing the bruises on Quinn's arms alone was enough to infuse a sense of failure within Santana.
Quinn knew that look too well. She released one of her arms from around Brittany's waist and held it out to Santana, pulling the girl into a three-way hug. "It's not your fault, San. I know you feel like it is, but I promise it isn't. It wasn't then, and it's not now." Quinn laid her cheek against the top of Santana's head. "You girls are the best friends I could have ever hoped for."
At this, Brittany smiled – she leaned forward and kissed both Quinn and Santana on the cheek.
Rachel left the auditorium about an hour after school was over. Brad had been kind enough to stay behind and work on 'Maybe This Time' with her; the song was already in her repertoire, but after videoing it for her latest MySpace slot, she had realized that there were aspects of it on which she had to improve.
She stopped by her locker, grabbing her books for the weekend. She had a calculus test on Monday that she was not looking forward to studying for – she was seriously bad at calculus.
She exited the school and wrapped her scarf more firmly around her neck. The wind was blowing quite hard, and it seemed to be finding all of the crevices in her pea coat – effectively chilling her to the bone.
As she approached her car and tossed her backpack in her backseat, she noticed the three Cheerios on the other side of the parking lot. She got in her car and started it before driving over and stopping behind what she recognized as Quinn's car.
"Hey girls," she hesitantly said as she climbed out of her car.
"Oh, hi Rachel!" Brittany exclaimed happily, a smile lighting up her face. She unwrapped herself from Santana and Quinn and skipped over to Rachel as she joined them. She hugged Rachel tightly and then placed her hand on Rachel's baby bump. Rachel's eyebrows shot up at the gesture. Brittany asked, "Is it kicking yet?"
Rachel laughed. "No, Brittany. The baby isn't big enough for that yet. Also, you should know this since you're helping me compile a list of possible baby names – the baby is a girl!"
At this news, Brittany's jaw dropped open and she gave Rachel another huge hug. "That's awesome, Rach!" Brittany then jumped over to Santana and Quinn. "Rachel's having a girl!"
Rachel caught Quinn's eye then. The other girl was smiling at Rachel, but Rachel could tell that there was something more behind the smile – her eyes were incredibly sad, and it was making Rachel's heart ache.
Santana nodded at Rachel, a small smile also gracing her features. "Congratulations, Berry."
"Thank you, Santana."
Brittany continued to jump around excitedly. Rachel's mind kicked into gear. She came to a decision which she rationalized with the fact that, one – she needed to find out what was wrong with Quinn – two – she desperately needed any extra help she could get in calculus – and, three – she really did think it would be fun to try and pick out baby names.
"I was wondering," she began. The three Cheerios immediately all focused on her; Brittany stopped jumping around. "Would you girls be interested in spending the night at my house? I really would love to talk baby names… But I also seriously need some calculus help, if, perhaps, Santana and Quinn would be so kind as to help me in that area?"
Brittany instantly turned her puppy dog eyes on Santana – the girl was a goner.
"Sure, Berry. Brittany and I will come over. Q?"
Rachel saw Santana reach out and gently lay her hand on top of Quinn's, questioning the girl silently. Quinn quickly locked gazes with Santana before turning back to Rachel.
"Of course, Rachel. I'd love to come over."
Rachel beamed at the girls in front of her. "Great! It's settled, then." Rachel hastily texted Santana and Quinn her address so they could find her house, and then she set off to get ready for the sleepover.
The first sleepover Rachel Berry had ever hosted.
Santana and Brittany each gave Quinn a final hug before heading to Santana's car, then to their respective houses to get what they needed for Rachel's.
Quinn climbed into her car and sighed. Rachel hadn't seen her bruises because of the way she had been standing with Santana in front of most of her body. She didn't want the girl to see her bruises at the sleepover, either. Well, she decided, I'll just wear long sleeves tonight. No biggie.
Despite her emotional afternoon confrontation with Finn, Quinn was allowing herself to feel blatant giddiness at the fact that she was going to spend the night at Rachel Berry's house. Things were definitely looking up.