Author's Note: The only note for now is that I'm changing the rating of the story to T. I had it at M just to be safe, and I'll change it back if anyone complains or if the story gets to a place where I think it should be an M. After reading a lot of M stories, though, I feel pretty safe with saying it's not there right now. Other than that, please continue reading and enjoying. I love your awesome reviews. Waking up and checking my email and seeing new reviews or new follows or favorites is like Christmas morning.
Cheerios practice the next day went by smoothly. Missy thankfully looked worse than Quinn did, and she glared the entire time, which made Quinn feel better. She also thankfully kept her mouth shut and Quinn didn't have to punish her especially. It could have had something to do with her punishment from Coach Sue two days previous. Apparently when the coach tells you to run suicides until she gets bored, she's only "not bored" once the person throws up or passes out. Missy did both. In that order.
After practice, Quinn approached a sullen looking Santana and an oblivious Brittany in the locker room. Like every practice, she'd waited until most of the girls were out before she even went into the locker room. Quinn liked to make sure the gym was clear and all equipment was packed away before going to shower and change. She could have made one of the other girls do it, but she liked the responsibility. Plus, that way she wouldn't have to shower with all the other girls. That had always made her uncomfortable. Santana and Brittany were used to her routine, though, so they usually stayed after everyone else to hang out. It didn't hurt that, before Artie, they used the extra time to thoroughly wash each other in a far corner of the shower while Quinn pretended she had no idea what they were doing as far away from them as she could.
Quinn neared the silent pair and sat down heavily between them, sighing. They turned to her, concerned. Quinn Fabray did not do a melancholy sigh.
"What's wrong?" Brittany asked, immediately wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulders and pulling her in closer. The tall cheerleader was an excellent hugger and extremely (some, like Quinn herself, had often said overly) affectionate. Right now, though, it was exactly what Quinn needed.
She hadn't slept much the night before, thoughts of Rachel and Lucy and Quinn and Sam swirling around in her head. What the hell had she done? Had she actually broken up with Sam? No. No, they hadn't said the words, so it hadn't happened. Then what? Were they on a break? A time-out? And if so, why? Quinn didn't even know what she wanted at this point.
Before the previous Saturday, before Rachel had tried to… had tried what she did, Quinn had known exactly what she wanted. Hell, she had exactly what she wanted. She was head Cheerio. She had a popular boyfriend on the football team. She was well-liked by most of the school. She was pretty and popular and poised to be the Prom Queen for the next two years. As long as she kept up the act, as long as no one found out that it was just an act, she'd continue to have everything she wanted.
Seeing Rachel laying there in that bathtub, blood flowing out of her as she lay dying… Quinn suddenly found the act too difficult. What was the point of living a life that she didn't enjoy? She thought the popularity and the pretty would make her happy and, sure, they had for a while. Commanding the Cheerios and the few boyfriends she'd had since becoming Quinn had been fun. The fact that she could basically torture people, that she could become the bully rather than be the one bullied, and without repercussions- that had been thrilling. True, she'd given a lot of that up when she'd become the target during "BabyGate" the year before, but… seeing the same look on Rachel's face in the picture that she'd seen on Lucy's had truly killed whatever she had left of that feeling.
So now, Quinn was questioning everything because, if nothing that she had really mattered, then what should matter? What did she really want?
"I don't know," Quinn said. She couldn't share all these problems with Brittany and Santana. Brittany probably wouldn't understand, and Santana would just mock her. "I feel like… like sometimes I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Does this have to do with Sam?" Brittany asked, pulling back from her. "Because you two broke up?"
"Wait, what?" Santana said, turning to face them. "What the hell, Q?"
Quinn knew her face betrayed her shock. "How do you even know about that, Britts?"
"Sam changed his relationship status on Facebook," Brittany said with a shrug. "It went from 'In a Relationship' to 'It's complicated'. That's just something people usually put before they change it to 'Single'."
"I'll be damned," Santana said, looking down at her phone. While Brittany was talking, she had pulled it out and was already on Sam's Facebook page. "Trouty Mouth is totally on the market." She smirked for a moment with a devious look in her eyes before looking over at Quinn who was just staring down at her phone. Instantly, the smirk was gone. "I mean, uh, what happened, Q?"
"God, I don't even know," Quinn said, finally looking away from the Latina's phone, leaning down, and putting her face in her hand. "We just had a stupid fight over…" She sighed. "Over nothing, really. He just wanted me to tell him stuff about myself, and I was, I don't know-"
"Your usual closed-off self?" Santana offered with a smile. Quinn didn't even have it in her to get mad. She had planned on bitching them out for telling Sam all the stuff from her past, but she was just tired. Tired from the six hour practice, tired from not sleeping well the night before, and tired of worrying about Rachel.
"Yeah," she said with a sigh. Brittany pulled her in for another side hug, and she relished the contact. Hearing a matching sigh beside her, Quinn felt Santana pull in closer to the other two girls until they were all crushed up together.
"You know we're here if you need us," Santana said, and Quinn merely nodded, thankful for her friends. "Just let us know."
"I know," Quinn said. After a minute, once Santana had enough of what she called "that mushy emotional bullshit" and Quinn was able to shake Brittany off, she added, "Actually…"
"Damn it, Q," Santana said, making a frustrated noise, "That's just something people say. I didn't think you'd actually ask for anything."
"San…" Brittany whined, and Santana automatically looked apologetic.
"No, no, it's nothing major," Quinn said. "I just have something I wanted to get Rachel for Christmas, and I wanted your opinion on it."
"Pretty sure Berry's Jewish, Q," Santana said.
"That means she doesn't believe in Santa Claus, right?" Brittany asked. "Which is silly because you can totally see him down at the mall." Santana just reached across Quinn, smiling at the taller blonde and patting her hand.
"No, yeah, I know she's Jewish," Quinn said, rolling her eyes at Santana and ignoring Brittany for the moment. "I just wanted to get her something that might make her feel better. See, I have this idea…"
It took a few minutes of explaining her idea to Brittany (who had a huge smile on her face) and Santana (who looked completely apathetic), but finally she finished. While she was talking she'd taken to pacing in front of them, and, finally silent, she stood still, looking expectantly at the pair. "Well…?"
"I think it's awesome, Quinn," Brittany said excitedly. "I know just the place you can go to get one. I think she'll love it because I really love mine. Oh, oh! Can I watch while you give it to her?"
"Wanky."
Quinn shot Santana a glare while the Latina just smirked back, then turned to face Brittany again. "I don't think so, Britts. I don't know how Rachel is going to react. She may be kind of…" She rubbed the back of her neck, looking up. "God, I couldn't even begin to guess how she'll react. But once I give it to…" Quinn paused and looked over at Santana who was still smirking. She went through a list of things in her head and realized the girl could probably turn all of them dirty, and Quinn really didn't need to deal with that on top of everything else. "…once I've made sure Rachel likes her present, then I'll text you and see if she minds if you come over to see it."
"Yay!" Brittany hopped up and gave Quinn a quick hug, squeezing the girl a little too tight before letting her go. They shared a smile and Quinn was suddenly excited about her idea. It seemed the taller cheerleader's enthusiasm was infectious. After a moment, they both looked over at Santana, who was busy staring down at her nails and ignoring them.
Feeling two sets of stares on her, she finally looked up. "What?"
"Tell her you think it's going to be a good idea, too," Brittany said. It was somewhere between pleading and ordering, and Quinn wasn't sure if it would still work on Santana. In the past, before Artie, Santana would have done whatever the tall blonde asked just to keep that sad pout off of her face. Now that Brittany was actually dating someone she cared about and Santana had lost her "sweet lady kisses"...? It seemed all three of them were still adjusting to this new dynamic.
"Honestly? I couldn't care less," Santana said. "It seems like kind of a stupid idea, trying to give Berry something to live for in the first place." Seeing the looks on Quinn and Brittany's faces (anger on Quinn's, hurt on Brittany's) she quickly backtracked. "I'm not Missy. I'm not saying I wish she was dead or anything. I just always thought she was tougher than that. I'm kinda surprised that Berry was weak enough to try and kill herself, and if she doesn't want to live, there's not a lot you can do to make her want to."
Quinn's face fell as Santana articulated her exact worry. That, no matter what, Rachel would still hurt herself again.
"Thanks, San," Quinn said, taking Brittany into her arms. The tall blonde looked even more worried than Quinn did. She patted Brittany's back and shushed her, turning the two of them so that she could glare at Santana.
"But, I mean, hey. What do I know?" Santana asked, raising her hands. With an aggravated sigh Santana stood up from the bench, clearly wanting this conversation behind them. "I'm going to take a shower. I suggest you two do the same. You bitches are starting to stink," she added with a smile. Brittany started laughing, and Quinn knew the taller blonde was already forgetting about the heaviness of what Santana had said moments prior. "Then, we can all go grab some burgers and hang at my house. We can do the Christmas movie marathon today, since we only have like three days left."
"Burgers, yes, but rain check on the movies," Quinn said, grabbing her bag and heading towards the showers. "I'm going to visit Rachel today."
"Again?" Santana arched an eyebrow, curious. "Haven't you been to see her every day since little miss Allyn King got there? Not like she's going anywhere, right?"
She usually got most of Santana's unnecessarily brutal references, but this time Quinn just stared blankly at her. "Allyn King?"
"Broadway actress, killed herself in 1930," Santana said. "Wikipedia is awesome. There's a whole list of famous suicides on there."
"God, Santana," Quinn said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Can you just… not?"
"I did research, Q," Santana said, as if that was an explanation. "I could have gone with something simple like 'Cathy Cuts-Herself', but, out of respect for you and for Berry, I actually did research. On my own time, mind you. You should be thanking me."
"Just…" She started to say something, anything to get the Latina to drop it, but Quinn honestly couldn't think of anything. Turning to look at the tall blonde, she gave her a pleading look. "Britt?"
Brittany stepped beside Santana and snuck an arm around her waist, pulling them together, foreheads touching. "Santana, be nice." Then quieter, she added, "Please?"
A sigh. A loud, frustrated, angry sigh. "Fine. You guys don't appreciate my hobbies, anyway." Thankful, Quinn started walking off towards the showers again until Santana's voice stopped her. "That still doesn't answer my question, Q."
Another frustrated sigh, this time from Quinn. She turned to face the pair who were still clinging to each other. "Yes, I'm going to visit Rachel today. Again. Yes, I've been to visit her every day that she's been in the hospital. And, no, she's not still there. They were supposed to release her this morning, and I… I just wanted to see how she's doing back at home, I guess." She stared at them, waiting to see if they were going to ask anything else. When they didn't, she turned back towards the showers, choosing her usual one as close to the front of the shower room as she could.
After a few minutes, Quinn heard them enter together, though she only heard one shower starting up rather than two. Once she heard the quiet giggling between the two girls, Quinn shook her head. Poor Artie, she thought. He really doesn't stand a chance.
Quinn pulled into the Berry driveway a little after three, happy and full from the burger and the basket of cheesy fries Brittany and Santana had talked her into getting and sharing. She stared at the house, thinking about the rush to get there the last time she'd been. It was nice to actually take her time today and appreciate the drive over, as well as the chance to check out the Berry residence in the day time.
It was actually a lovely house. Beige with white trim, three car garage. A white mailbox out front with strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries painted on the sides with the words 'The Berrys' in black. It was cute. The kind of place that bespoke a different life than the one Rachel Berry actually lived. Quinn could sympathize with that. The Fabray house had been perfect looking, both inside and out.
Quinn got out of her car and walked towards the house, though approaching the door filled her with trepidation. Hiram and Leroy had been kind to her in the hospital… eventually. But what if they had changed their minds about her now that things were starting to return back to normal?
It had taken a lot of talking the night of Rachel's attempt for them to actually start to trust her. They'd been reluctant at first, as Quinn had been the one to bully Rachel the most in the past. Somewhere between saving Rachel's life and sharing the way Russell Fabray had raised her to hate the Berrys, and how he'd then turned on her also, she had won them over. They weren't exactly doting on her or anything, but at least they weren't turning her away. Now, though, after things were getting back to normal, would they still allow her to see Rachel? Would she be allowed to be Rachel's friend?
She pressed the doorbell button and waited, hearing the musical notes wafting through the house again, able to appreciate them more now. Quinn had to forcefully tell herself that nothing was going to be wrong this time when the door opened. No one would be wishing to die. No one would be bleeding to death. They were just a family trying to pick up the pieces. She heard hurried footsteps behind the door, then it was yanked open and Leroy stood on the other side.
"Hi, Leroy, I was just-"
"Quinn Fabray," he said, a harshness in his voice that she hadn't heard in the time that she'd known him. Truthfully, it was the reception she'd been expecting before meeting him, but the pleasantries of the last few days had lulled her into thinking it wouldn't happen. "Now's not a good time. In fact, I don't think there's going to be a good time for you, Miss Fabray. It'd probably be best if you left this house and left Rachel alone. Completely."
"I'm… sorry?" She looked up at him, puzzled. Quinn noticed he had a phone in his hand and a dish towel slung over his right shoulder. Looking into his eyes though, she saw worry and anger and disappointment and a myriad of other emotions. "I don't understand. Is something wrong? Is something wrong with Rachel?"
"She's fine," Leroy shot out a little too fast for Quinn to actually believe it. He stood to his full height and looked down at her, literally blocking her entrance to his home. "But you should leave. Now. Your presence is no longer wanted here in my house or in the company of my daughter. "
"I'm sorry, Mr. Berry," Quinn said, bubbling bitchiness starting to get the best of her. "Have I done something wrong? Something to upset you or Hiram or Rachel? Because the only thing I've done since I've known you is save your daughter's life and try to be her friend, and you're treating me like..." She stopped, the reality of the situation finally hitting her. He'd found out. Rachel had finally told her parents. That was the only thing it could be. Her shoulders crumpled with the realization, and she added softly, "You're treating me like I did this to her."
"Are you saying you didn't?" Leroy asked, still angry and staring her down.
"Is this what Rachel wants?" Quinn asked, suddenly unsure of… everything. "Did she… did she ask you to get rid of me? Because I thought she forgave me. I mean, she didn't say the words, but she wasn't getting rid of me like she did everyone else. She said… she said I make it better. That I make it easier for her to, I don't know. Be alive? To have survived? I thought I was helping…"
She trailed off, looking down at the wooden porch planks, and Leroy just stared at her. The anger had left his eyes, though. Now he was just taking her in as she stood there, lost in her own thoughts. "Quinn," he said, the timbre softened in his voice. "You should go. It's for the best."
She looked up at him and nodded resignedly. "You're probably right. I just… would it be okay if I said goodbye to Rachel one more time? I won't bother her after that."
He glanced behind him at the staircase, then down to the phone still clutched in his hand. "Right now really isn't a good time, Quinn," he said. "I was just about to call Dr. Richards. Rachel's having some kind of breakdown, and I… I don't know what to do." Quinn tensed, concern for the brunette washing over her. "She won't take her medicine, and she's been crying in her bathroom for the last hour and a half."
"What happened?" Quinn asked.
"I don't know," Leroy said tiredly, running a hand over his face. He was clearly stressed and concerned about his daughter. He started walking back into the house, and she closed the door, following him when he stopped in the living room. "After we brought her home, we took her up to her room, and she stopped and stared at the bathroom. We asked if anything was wrong, but she didn't respond. She just walked into the bathroom, looked around, made this kind of… moan… and just fell to the floor and started sobbing."
"Was there anything different about the bathroom?" Quinn asked, trying to think what could cause Rachel such grief. She couldn't remember going into the girl's bathroom that night to steal one of Rachel's ridiculous animal sweaters to replace her own bloodied one. "Something that would have set her off?"
Leroy looked away from Quinn, back towards the staircase again, then back at her. The worry was clear on his face. "Well, I mean, we had to- I had to suicide proof it, of course. And I cleaned it for her."
"And do you think that would have set her off?" Quinn asked out of genuine concern, but her thoughts weren't really on it. In the forefront of her mind, she was already going through things that might make Rachel feel better based on what she knew about the girl. They'd talked about music being important to Rachel, so her first thought was distracting her with watching a musical, but it just didn't seem the right thing for her now.
"No," Leroy said. "Or, at least, I wouldn't think so. We talked to Dr. Richards together about suicide proofing the house." Quinn closed her eyes and absentmindedly rubbed an eyebrow, thinking about Rachel. When she didn't respond, Leroy added, "I doubt it will help, but Hiram just went down to the Whole Foods to get her a pint of ice cream to try and cheer her up."
"Ice cream?" Quinn asked. "Isn't Rachel vegan?"
"It's not actually ice cream," Leroy said with a sad smile. "It's this coconut milk ice cream thing that they like." The smile that was there left his face. "But we were arguing before he left. I thought we should call Dr. Richards, but he just wanted to try and cheer her up." Leroy rubbed his face with his free hand. "I was trying to call him before Hiram got back."
"Don't," Quinn said quickly. "Let me try to get through to her." Leroy looked like he wanted to argue with her, too, but she quickly cut him off. "I know I'm not who you really want around Rachel right now, but… She told me when I was visiting her at the hospital that she was worried about being locked up like a crazy person." Seeing the look on Leroy's face, she quickly added "Her words, not mine. I don't know if Dr. Richards would do that or not, but I have to imagine that if she's refusing to take her meds, then he might see that this isn't the right place for her right now. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Leroy reluctantly said through clenched jaws. Quinn could see where Rachel got her hatred of losing arguments, and it made her want to smile if the situation didn't suck so much. "What did you have in mind?"
"Does Rachel have a favorite movie?" Quinn asked, thinking what cheered her up when she was depressed. Usually, it was watching her favorite movies with Brittany and Santana. "Something that's not a musical?" As an afterthought, she added, "And not romantic."
"Uh…," Leroy started. "That's… musicals and romantic comedies are the ones she usually picks for our movie nights. I know when she was younger, she really liked the Disney movies, but most of them are musicals, too."
Disney movies? Of course Rachel Berry would be all over those. Some of them were actually pretty good, though. Especially… "What about the Disney/Pixar ones?" Leroy just stared at her blankly. "Toy Story? The Incredibles? Finding Nemo? Up?"
"Wait, Finding Nemo?" Leroy asked. "Is that the one about the fish?"
"Yes."
"Okay, yes," Leroy said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Rachel used to love that one. Went around for days calling me Marlin and Hiram Dory. It used to make him so mad," Leroy laughed. "Being called a girl's name. He eventually had to take her aside and remind her that it mean to call people names that they didn't like. She still watched it at least once a week for a while."
Quinn chuckled at the image, picturing a younger Rachel annoying her dads by calling them names from the movie. "Okay, that should definitely work. Would it be upstairs in Rachel's room, do you think, or…?"
"No, we keep all our movies over here on the shelves," Leroy said, leading her to a huge set of shelves beside an entertainment center and ridiculously sized, wall-mounted television.
"Do you mind if I…?"
"No, no," Leroy said quickly. "If you think it'll help Rachel, then by all means."
Quinn scanned the shelves which were, of course, alphabetized by genre. She wondered if Rachel had done that or if that OCD level of order was a Berry family trait. Looking through the movies, she found a section that must have been 'kid's movies' or 'cartoon movies' because they had nearly ever Disney movie made. She found the one she was looking for and pulled the case down, opening it to make sure the movie was in there. It was probably silly, seeing the level of organization, but it was a habit from being over at Santana's. Quinn couldn't take finding another sex tape hidden where it shouldn't be… though, she did have to give credit to Santana's parents for keeping the romance alive.
"Where are the pills she needs to take?" Quinn asked, tucking the case under her arm. She followed him into the kitchen where Leroy handed her two pill bottles, explaining that she gets one of the antidepressants every eight hours and one of the antianxiety pills as needed.
"We always give her a cup of water when she's upset, but she wouldn't even touch it," Leroy said as he showed her where they kept their glasses, cups, and mugs. Quinn remembered. It was one of the things they had talked about on the two and a half hour drive back from Carmel the year before when they had been spying Vocal Adrenaline and had seen Rachel's mom. She looked into the cabinet, bypassing the glass with the star on it. Rachel had been so proud when Shelby had given that to her. That was before the adoption, though.
Reaching in, she pulled out a tall drinking glass, but Leroy stopped her. "That's… we're worried about her having glass," he said hesitantly. "She might try to cut herself again, and…"
"It's fine," Quinn said, understanding. She didn't think Rachel would try and cut herself again, but remembering what the girl had looked like that night, she didn't want to take the chance. Putting the glass back in, she pulled out a plastic cup, went to the sink, and filled it most of the way with cold water.
Once Quinn had pocketed the pill bottles and had her hands full, she looked over at Leroy and tried to offer up a smile. "I have no idea if this is going to work or not," she said. "But I'm hoping it will. If I can't get her to calm down enough to take her pills, I'll come back down here and you can call Dr. Richards." She was a cheerleader, a motivator of people. She should be able to convince this man that she could make his daughter better, and she should be able to calm Rachel down and get her to take her pills. Isn't that what she had sworn she would do? She would help Rachel get better.
Quinn headed upstairs, cup of water in one hand, DVD case in the other, pill bottles causing a tight front pocket to bulge. She stopped outside Rachel's opened door, looking in, forcibly shaking the memories from her head of the previous Saturday. She reminded herself that the phantom blood she felt on her shirt wasn't really there, but still looked down to prove it to herself. Nothing there but the clean, fresh sweater and jeans she had put on after Cheerios practice. She missed the variety the dresses she usually wore allowed her, but the middle of December was far too cold for that. It amazed her that more of her Cheerios didn't get sick, having to wear their uniforms throughout the school year. Maybe there was something to the Sue Sylvester Vitamin Regimen the coach had them all on.
Walking through the door, Quinn quietly made her way to the bathroom, pausing only to place the DVD case on the bed as she walked by. At the doorway of the bathroom, she looked down at Rachel laying there on the floor, clutching a fluffy pink bathrobe like a security blanket. The fragility she showed in that moment somehow endeared her even more to Quinn than anything had at the hospital. Maybe it was the lack of the ever-present nurses that had watched over Rachel that made Quinn feel more responsible for the girl. Whatever it was, Quinn again felt that familiar pull like she had to be the one to take care of Rachel. She had to fix this.
"Hey, Rachel," Quinn said quietly, walking in. The girl looked up with the tracks of dried tears evident on her face before shaking her head and burying her face back in the robe. If she hadn't been so obviously cried out, Quinn knew the sight of her suddenly appearing there would have brought a fresh wave of tears. She wasn't sure why… yet… but she knew she would probably know before she left the house that day. She just hoped it wasn't her fault, though Leroy's reaction suggested otherwise.
Sitting the cup of water on the bathroom counter, Quinn stepped around Rachel's prone form, stopping to tear a couple of squares of toilet paper from the roll hanging next to the toilet, folding them, and placing them on the floor at Rachel head. Reaching into her pocket, she opened both bottles of pills and placed one of each on the folded toilet paper. She then reached back to the counter, grabbed the cup of water and placed it beside the pills on the floor.
"Rachel," Quinn started again gently, kneeling now beside Rachel. She reached out and rubbed her shoulder, and the physical contact caused Rachel to look up at her again. "I know that whatever's wrong, you probably don't want to talk to me or anyone else, and I get that, but you need to take your medicines. The blue one is the antidepressant, and the white one is the antianxiety." With one last pat on the arm, Quinn stood, looking down at the broken diva whose eyes followed Quinn around the room. "I'm going out there to your bedroom to watch Finding Nemo, because I haven't seen it in years. If you'd like to talk, or not talk if you'd prefer, you're welcome to join me, but only if you take your pills."
With that, Quinn turned and left, going back into the bedroom. It felt kind of bitchy to order someone around like that in their own room, but she really did feel it was the right move for Rachel. The girl needed someone to get her to do what was needed, and clearly her fathers weren't up to the task.
Setting up the movie was simple, as Rachel was the type of girl that labeled things like her remotes. Putting the movie in the DVD player, Quinn walked over and sat on Rachel's bed, sitting back against the headboard. She hadn't really thought much about the bed the first time she'd been in the room, but now, sitting there, an image popped into her head of a picture. Much like the pictures of Lucy, it was also hidden on her computer's hard drive in a random place that hopefully no one would ever find. Unlike the pictures of Lucy, though, Quinn often found herself coming back to this picture.
It wasn't like Quinn was gay. Being gay was a choice, like lying or murder or any other sin, and she made the choice every day not to be gay. It was easier this way. She couldn't be the pretty popular cheerleading prom queen if she was some big gay lesbian. Quinn considered it another part of Lucy that she'd had to give up, like the comic books and video games. Besides, if someone as "badass" as Santana was too big of a coward to come out of the closet because of how they'd be treated -just look at what happened to Kurt, Quinn thought- then what choice did Quinn have? She'd already lost her father by getting pregnant, even if he was a judgmental asshole. She couldn't bear to lose her mother, too.
So even though she may have had completely inappropriate thoughts about girls sometimes, Quinn buried those deep down under mountains of willpower and routine. If she didn't want to have thoughts about naked girls, she wouldn't shower with the rest of the cheerleaders. If she didn't want to talk about making out with girls with Santana and Brittany, she'd just say how sick it made her and how wrong it was. If she didn't want to think about Rachel half-naked and masturbating on the very bed she was now sitting on… and yet she kept finding herself thinking about the picture secreted away on her hard drive.
Quinn let out a sigh as the movie started, because that Rachel, the one that Lucy would have had a huge crush on, and the one in there on the bathroom floor… they weren't exactly the same Rachel, were they? That Rachel had been fearless and happy and was going to be a huge Broadway star one day that Quinn could point to and say 'I knew her back when'. This Rachel was sad and broken and medicated, and Quinn had no idea how to get her back to her previous self. All she could do, all she knew to do, was what seemed like a good idea at the time. And right now, that involved trying to forget about all three: the broken girl, the happy girl, and the sexy half-naked girl… and just try to focus on watching the movie.
It wasn't until Nemo's mom and brothers and sisters died that Quinn heard any movement in the bathroom, and that included letting the previews play on the DVD rather than skipping them. Hesitant footsteps. Running water. Rummaging around. Quinn listened intently as she watched the movie.
By the time Nemo was swimming out to touch the "butt", Rachel was standing there in the doorway of the bathroom, looking nervously at Quinn. Quinn took her eyes off the screen and looked over at her before giving her a half-smile and patting the spot next to her on the bed. Rachel walked over cautiously, and it was just odd to see her being so shy and uncertain in her own bedroom. Maybe it was the fact that Head Bitch Ice Queen Quinn Fabray was sitting on her bed watching a Disney movie that made it so surreal. Whatever the reason, seeing Rachel act like some nervous Bambi in her own room made Quinn's lips twitch up into a smile, partly because it was simply adorable of Rachel, and partly because some small part of Quinn just liked making people nervous when in her presence.
Eventually, Rachel came over to her bed, pulling back the covers and getting under them and sitting beside Quinn with her back up against the headboard. Quinn copied her, standing long enough to get the covers up on her side before getting underneath them and pulling them up to her chin. She used to watch movies the same way when she was a little girl, and she again found herself thinking Rachel was adorable for doing it. As much as she wanted to keep thinking things like that about Rachel, though, she needed to know.
"Did you take your pills?" Quinn asked, turning slightly to look at Rachel. She stared at the side of the girl's head until she nodded. Good. Maybe she could get back into Leroy and Hiram's good graces by doing for Rachel what they couldn't. Maybe that way, they wouldn't hate her as much, and they could at least get back to the level of civility that they'd had that first night at the hospital. "And did you want to talk?" There was more she wanted to say, more questions she wanted to ask, but whatever was in her that felt compelled to help Rachel was putting the broken girl's needs first and thankfully keeping her silent.
Rachel only shook her head and continued staring at the television screen and so they sat there in silence, watching the movie. Quinn was glad this was one of Rachel's favorite movies, as she hadn't had a chance to see it again since seeing it in theaters when she was younger. That was back when Frannie had still lived at home, and the Fabray family would often go out for family evenings. They'd often see movies together or go bowling or play miniature golf. Something the family could do together.
Those days are gone, though, Quinn thought, letting out another sigh. Back then, she'd thought her father was always right, that he'd always love her, and that her family would always be together. Now it was just her and her mom, as her father was who knows where and she hadn't spoken to her sister since Frannie had called to condemn her for being pregnant. That last phone call in which Frannie had urged Quinn to go begging and pleading back to their parents, which she had refused to do.
At first it had been pride that prevented Quinn from following Frannie's advice. Once Be… the baby… had started moving inside her, though, and she realized what it meant to be a parent and to love someone more than yourself… she knew she would never go back asking to be a part of their lives. They had clearly failed as parents if they didn't have the same bond with their daughter which they'd known for seventeen years that Quinn had with a baby that she'd only known for a few months. It was only her mother's promises to get and stay sober and for them to attend family therapy, both of which she'd kept, that got Quinn to come home.
Though Judy still struggled with sobriety every day and was thankful for the weekly AA meetings that Quinn still made sure she went to, it was the therapy that had really saved them. There had been a lot of tears and accusations and bashing of Russell Fabray during those weekly hour-long sessions. Quinn got a better sense of the woman Judy had been before and during her marriage to Russell, and Quinn was able to deal with her own issues with being kicked out, being a pregnant teenager, and giving up a child. She even went to her own private therapy sessions for a little while to deal with these, as well as getting prescribed some antidepressants for the postpartum depression. When she'd let slip to Jacob Ben Israel's stupid video blog at the beginning of the school year that she was crying a lot less, she been truthful about that. That lecherous Jewfro'd moron had been more interested in Santana's chest than Quinn's mental state, thankfully, and, even better, Brittany had jumped in with that nonsense about being lost in the sewers to distract him away from the both of them.
Bringing Quinn's mind full circle, she noticed that Brittany's ditzy good-heartedness was a lot like Dory's, and she had to remember to thank Britts for being the Dory to her Marlin. Actually, she was pretty sure if she phrased it just like that, Britts would totally get it on the first try.
"The bathroom was where I was going to do it," Rachel said, still staring at the television. On the screen, the fish in the tank were trying to make the tank dirty before Darla got there, and Nemo was again attempting to jam the filter. Grabbing the remote in front of her, Quinn paused the movie, and it sat on the fish in the tank pushing a plastic flower into a water tube. Quinn wasn't sure if Rachel realized the movie was paused, or if she'd even been watching the movie at all. Her voice was monotone and detached, slow and deliberate, and she just stared ahead blankly as Quinn watched her.
"I had it decorated. There were candles on the counter and rose petals in the bathtub. It was going to be beautifully tragic, like something out of a movie or a painting. My daddy would come home eventually, and he'd be confused because it was so quiet when the house should be full of girls. He'd look around the living room and the kitchen, then make his way up to my room. He'd look in and see the candlelight reflected from the bathroom, and then he'd come in and see my lifeless body. The white dress marred with blood, symbolizing my unrealized future. There were notes left for everyone explaining it all. One for my fathers, telling them that this should be the catalyst that gets them to reconnect and renew their love for one another. One for Shelby, telling her that she needn't worry about this daughter that she was losing since she'd already replaced me anyway. One for Finn, telling him how sorry I was for cheating on him and telling him that I'd love him forever and that I'd always watch over him. One for the Glee club, apologizing that I wouldn't be there for Regionals, and suggesting song choices and who might be the best to sing them. And lastly, there was one for the student body in general that was supposed to go to Jacob Ben Israel so he could post it on his blog. It was a list of people who'd bullied me and what they'd done. I didn't really blame them for this, but I thought that if they thought they were responsible, then maybe some of them would know there are consequences to their actions and maybe they'd change for the better." Rachel stopped, still staring at the screen.
"That's… I'm sorry, Rachel," Quinn said after a moment, patting her hand with the brace that was sitting on top of the covers. "I can't imagine… I don't know what to… I'm sorry."
Rachel sniffed, starting to cry again, and Quinn scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her away from staring at the television. Once her eye contact from the frozen screen was finally broken, Rachel turned into Quinn's embrace as the cheerleader's arms encircled her fully. She started crying harder, and Quinn just held her, rubbing circles into the girl's back and speaking low soothing words that didn't have any meaning outside of the boundary of her arms.
Eventually Rachel calmed enough to start talking again, though she never left the blonde's embrace as she spoke, and Quinn had to struggle to understand her as she was partially muffled by having her face buried in Quinn's sweater at the crook of her neck.
"When I came home today, everything was okay. Not okay, like it was suddenly all better, but okay enough, I guess. I came up to my room, and it looked like things had been moved around some, but Dr. Richards had talked to us about 'preventative measures' at home. Temporarily suicide-proofing my room, the bathrooms, the rest of the house. I hadn't thought about it at the hospital besides being embarrassed. When I got home, though, and got up to my room, and then into the bathroom, I finally realized it. The bathroom was completely clean. Everything I'd set up, the rose petals, the candles, the… the letters. The letters were gone, and I knew they'd read them. Not Dad, he didn't know, but Daddy… I could see it in his eyes when I looked at him. And everything just hit me again, and I… I couldn't…"
Quinn shushed her again, squeezing her a little tighter, rubbing her back a little firmer. She didn't know what she was trying to convey, but she hoped, whatever it was, that it was getting through. That it was helping. Rachel, for her part, seemed to be resting in her arms, taking in the unspoken comfort that Quinn was offering. She clung to the cheerleader, nuzzling into her neck in a way that had Quinn desperately trying not to think the wrong thoughts.
After a few minutes of just holding her, Quinn thought again about the reception she'd received at the door. "That would explain it, then," Quinn mumbled to herself. Finally Rachel shifted in her arms, pulling back just enough to turn to her with a confused look. Quinn sighed. She hadn't meant to let that slip out. "When I came over today, Leroy wasn't exactly as welcoming as he was at the hospital," she explained. "I figured he'd found out about everything, I just didn't realize how."
"You thought I told him?" Rachel asked, a slight look of hurt crossing her face at the realization. "You thought I told him about how horrible you were to me." It wasn't a question anymore. "After I… after I agreed we could be friends?"
"Yeah," Quinn said, feeling guilty about doubting Rachel. "I'm sorry."
Rachel was quiet for a long time, looking down at the neckline of Quinn's sweater, eyes focused on the silver cross dangling there. The moment seemed to stretch out forever, and Quinn was afraid to move or make a sound so as to not disturb whatever was going on in Rachel's head. Finally, the brunette looked up at her, and her chocolate colored eyes shone with something Quinn couldn't seem to understand. "I forgive you."
Quinn smiled playfully, hoping to lighten the suddenly serious mood now that she had a chance to respond. "I wasn't too worried about it," she said with a chuckle. "I mean, I didn't know about the letters, so it made sense to think that you had-"
"No," Rachel said, her quiet voice bringing Quinn's words to a halt. "At the hospital, you apologized, and I… I forgive you. For everything. For all the pranks and the insults and slushees and everything else since we met. You're not the same person that did all of that, and you've apologized for it, so I forgive you."
"Rachel, don't," Quinn said, finally releasing the brunette from her embrace. She was purposely not going to think about how empty her arms felt now that she wasn't holding her. "You shouldn't. I don't deserve that. I don't deserve your forgiveness."
"I don't care," Rachel said. "You apologized, and I want to forgive you. I'm tired of everything bad that's been between us. I'm tired of doubting you. For the past…" She paused, counting. "Four days? Has it just been four days? It feels like so much longer." Quinn nodded, agreeing, and Rachel went on. "For the past four days you've done nothing but be nice to me and be my friend, genuinely, when no one else has." Here Quinn wanted to argue with her, seeing as the other members of the Glee Club had gone to visit her in the hospital the previous day, but Rachel was complimenting/forgiving her and actually starting to sound like her old self a little, so she let it go. "So I forgive you."
Quinn stared at her, looking deep into the coffee-colored depths of her eyes, and saw the truth in them. She really did forgive her for everything, just like that. Smiling, Quinn pulled Rachel back into her again, hugging the girl, a quiet tear slipping down her own face. She never thought she'd apologize to Rachel, never thought she'd care if Rachel forgave her, but now that she had it…? "Thank you."