Title: Somewhere a Clock is Ticking
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Rating: M for language and reference to child abuse
Synopsis: (11 of 13) Judy Fabray has arrived, and she is not happy. Quinn, Rachel, Santana, and Brittany are forced to face another arduous bump in the road.
Author's Note: Lyrics from "Somewhere a Clock is Ticking" by Snow Patrol. Thank you to everyone who has been exceedingly patient with me for getting this update out. I've been going through a weird time - I've recently come out as a trans-man and am starting natural supplements to boost testosterone levels, school is weighing really heavily on my shoulders, and I've also started therapy for my bipolar disorder. And I broke my ankle back in April. Needless to say, it's felt like my life is in disorder. Nonetheless, here this is for all of you amazing people. I love you all.
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Chapter 11: Doors
Doors slam shut...
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"And it's all over, for the unknown soldier, it's all over." - The Doors, Unknown Soldier
Judy Fabray's arrival was unceremonious at best. Rachel barely had enough time to scatter off the bed in a panic before shouting was heard a floor below. Quinn was shellshocked, frozen in place and flushed warmth receding from her face.
Hiram's voice trembled from the bottom of the stairs through Rachel's door. Rachel was grasping Quinn's hand, fixing her hair and straightening her clothing out for her, the way an army wife might prepare her husband for impending battle. Quinn looked blankly at the door, her hand instinctively clutching to Rachel's as it fell to straighten the hem of her shirt.
"I can't do this. She's going to kill me. She's found out," Quinn's barely contained panic caused her words to tremor.
Hiram called up the stairs a second time, a little more urgently. In the background they could hear Leroy trying to talk Judy down and explain things. Vaguely, Quinn heard her father's name spat from her mother's mouth. This could not be good.
Rachel shook Quinn's shoulders, her muffled voice suddenly clear. Brown eyes were full of a sort of assertion only Rachel was capable of, "Come on, everything's going to be fine, you hear me?"
Quinn nodded dumbly. She didn't realize she was supposed to move until Rachel shoved her gently toward the door, guiding her with soft hands out of the room and down the stairs. If it weren't for Rachel's presence, the shaking in Quinn's knees might have caused her to topple to the bottom of the stairs.
Her mother didn't wait for her to get to the bottom before she started in on Quinn, "Your father got a rather interesting phone call the other day from Mrs. Hummel, Finn's mother."
The color drained from Quinn's face, she was sure. Rachel slipped quietly to the bottom of the stairs and stood beside Leroy, who looped his arm around the diva's shoulders. Quinn couldn't breathe. Hudson was probably pissed he'd been shown up at school and told his mother. Yet, she didn't think that Finn's mother would do that - after all, she was Kurt's stepmother and exceedingly kind. Anything she might have said that lead to this could only mean that she'd slipped and said something she hadn't realized Judy didn't know.
"And?"
Judy's palm stung Quinn's cheek, the slap causing Rachel to gasp and Hiram to push the older woman cautiously back.
Hiram spoke in a low warning tone, "Do not, I repeat, do not hit this child. Especially not under our roof."
Judy didn't seem to hear Hiram, or care that he had said anything, "Don't you dare speak to me in that tone, Quinn Fabray! You've obviously been spending too much time with these ... detestable people," the Fabray matriarch motioned at the family gathered in the kitchen, and the two sleepy and confused Cheerios standing in the living room doorway. "What's this I hear about you and this girl?" The way Judy said 'girl' carried enough venom to make the message clear: she knew.
Quinn couldn't breathe.
"I've also phoned the other parents involved, and at least Mr. Lopez seems far more sensible about this whole thing. Whatever experiment you girls are trying to conduct with one another, we will have none of it." Haughtily, Judy Fabray ignored the obviously stunned and angry faces looking at her. "Now if you don't mind, gentlemen," of course, she intended no respect whatsoever and that was clear by the way she refused to look at Hiram and Leroy, "I'm going to take my daughter out of this den of filth."
"I keep a very clean house!" Leroy called after her.
Quinn tried to wrench her mother's grip from her wrist, but found the effort fruitless as she was pulled forcibly from the Berry household, her helpless girlfriend looking on her. Santana was yelling something, but Judy was violently shoving her daughter into the backseat of the car and slamming the door before Quinn could do anything else.
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Quinn felt her head crack against the kitchen floor and her vision blurred. She may have cried out but she wasn't all-together sure.
"You have brought shame on this family," Russell Fabray smelled of scotch and cologne. It permeated Quinn's senses and she cringed. Her head throbbed, and as she moved her hand back to touch the spot where she'd hit her head, she felt precariously for any serious injury. She would not cry, would not allow herself to cry.
Instead, she screwed up her expression defiantly, "Oh, and beating your wife and daughter brings such pride at the country club, does it?" Quinn spat up at her red-faced father. "I'm sure they love to hear how a full-grown man slaps around two half-sized women in his spare time, smelling of scotch and piss." Long-simmering anger burst to the surface with every syllable; she didn't know what courage possessed her but she knew she would pay. He had come close to fully beating her before, and tonight she knew he would. If she was going to have to endure this, she wasn't going to go down without a fight.
Army-Quinn loaded her AK-47 and waited, sizing up the enemy.
Russell seemed shocked at the words confronting his consciousness. It took him more than a few moments to recover, and Judy Fabray's earlier venom was almost gone. When Russell was around, she was docile and meek, in order to keep herself safe. There was of course no preamble when it came to Quinn; it was every person for themselves when Russell was in a rage. "You ungrateful cunt," Russell leaned down, whispering dangerously. The smell of alcohol made Quinn gag, and as she tried to push him away he grasped her wrist and pulled her up off of the ground. "We let you live under this roof, give you every opportunity, and because of your little dyke friends this life isn't good enough for you?" Russell shoved Quinn against the kitchen counter and slapped her across the cheek hard enough to make her vision go white for a moment.
Quinn struggled against her father's grip. "Stop calling them that," she hissed, and in vain tried to kick at his knee so he would lock up and be unable to stop her from slipping away. Another slap.
"You speak when I say you can," the man breathed again. He was a monster. He was Mr. Hyde. "If I ever hear about you spending time with that sort of crowd again, I will send you as far away as possible."
She was losing ground as his grip tightened around her wrists, and his free hand wrapped itself around her throat.
"Do – you – understand – me?" Each word was emphasized by the flames dancing in Russell's eyes.
Quinn wouldn't speak. She couldn't, mostly because his grip was tightening with every word.
Suddenly a rap at the door caused him to slacken, and he barked at Judy to answer it. Obediently, she disappeared into the foyer and Quinn could hear the door open.
She panicked. Not because he was going to let her go or beat her more later, but because he wouldn't get caught if she didn't do something now. He would lock her in her room and whoever it was would never know that she was likely to have a broken bone or two. Murmurs in the foyer. She had to think quick. In her head, Army-Quinn fired the first shot – draw the enemy out.
"You are nothing but a drunk and a wife-beater. You think it doesn't count because you have a nice house," she felt Russell pulling away just before he registered her words, and his eyes filled with a level of hatred she'd never seen before, "but it makes you worse. You pretend you're perfect, when you're the worst kind of coward there is. A coward beats his children and his wife. Real men own their mistakes."
Judy's hurried footsteps, "Really it's just – it must have been a prank call, really it wouldn't – you know us, we've known you for very long, been over to dinner and everything!" Her voice was hurried, panicked, and her footsteps even more so. Heavy padding footsteps sounded a bit closer than Judy's.
Just as Russell slammed Quinn's head against the cupboard, Quinn heard deep male voices shouting at Russell. Her head cracked again, very close to the same spot as before, and the thud sickened her and she immediately felt her stomach coil. Her vision turned white as she dropped from Russell's grip and fell against the counter. Her arms felt like rubber. She couldn't catch herself and began to dry heave. He'd done some damage this time. Before her vision went completely dark, she saw men in police uniforms pointing their guns at Russell Fabray, and smelt ammonia. Russell was pissing himself in fear.
The police officers split up and shoved Russell face-down against the tile of the kitchen floor. Quinn's blood was spattered here and there, and she hoped they were shoving Russell's face in it. She felt her stomach tighten and twist again. Concussion.
"Call an ambulance," one of the police officers ordered. He sounded far away, as if in a distant end of some tube.
Judy's voice joined the rush of sound in Quinn's ears as she closed her eyes. "You can't arrest me, this is ridiculous! There was nothing I could do – " she continued to try and save herself, and Quinn let out a laugh that was barely audible. Nothing Judy could do. Sure.
"Miss, are you okay?"
Just peachy, Army-Quinn slapped the man on the back. In reality, Quinn could only shake her head. All she could do was slump against the floor. She couldn't see very well. She didn't want to end up in the hospital.
"We got here just in time, she's bleeding out."
Bleeding out?
Army-Quinn touched her head, and pulled her fingers away. Blood. The AK-47 dropped with a dull thud against the rainforest soil.
Quinn blacked out.
###
"Took some damage, soldier." Army-Quinn was laying her cards out on the table, and slapped her comrade on the shoulder affectionately. "Fought like a real man," she smirked.
Quinn could only smile at her reflection. "I don't know what I'm doing here."
"Waiting, you know. Train's coming into station and all that. Come on, play some cards and forget about it. Old man's in the clink and you're scott free. Even the old hag is wishing she had a bottle of wine but instead probably lookin' for some butch daddy in jail."
"I think they only have those in prisons."
"Little rabbit's late. And the gang's all assembled."
Quinn watched herself lay out her own cards, "Straight."
"Far from it," Army-Quinn chuckled. "Now you won't get shot for it."
The world felt fuzzy. It was hot and muggy in the little shanty Army-Quinn had set up for herself. In her mind, she was in her own mind. Like a weird dream.
"Thinking some loud thoughts there," Army-Quinn commented, sucked on her cigarette. Some Thai brand, light blue with white packaging. The smoke smelled sweet. "Want one?"
"No."
"Come on, soldier, those ain't your real lungs. You're gonna be here for a bit anyway."
Quinn seceded, and took a cigarette. It was already lit when it touched her lips.
"Gotta leave Underland soon," Army-Quinn motioned to the door where a silhouette soon. "Your ride's here."
Quinn awoke to the sound of salsa music. The room was a little dark at first, but as her vision cleared she saw two dancing figures at the foot of her bed. One taller, one only a little shorter. She didn't realize someone was also next to her bed until she felt a hand on her forehead and then heard a gasp.
"Awake!" Rachel's voice chimed, and she jumped up enthusiastically, slapped at Santana's arm. The Latina turned her head and Brittany broke away. Forgetting herself, Quinn moved to sit up and felt the room spin dramatically around her. "Shh, shh, no, sit still. It's okay. You're okay."
"I'm in the hospital," Quinn stated the obvious but sounded confused. Her parents. Were they really locked up? Was Army-Quinn right? "Where – are my parents uhm, still … ?"
"It's been a week, Q," Santana explained briefly, "Rach had her dads call the cops that night, just to make sure that you were going to be okay and – "
Rachel broke in, tears in her eyes. She reached over and took Quinn's hand, pressed her face against the palm of it, "They said they got there just in time. You lost a lot of blood just before they came. You were in intensive care for three days. They couldn't get you to stabilize. I'm so sorry we couldn't stop him." Suddenly, the full Berry waterfall was unleashed. Rachel's expression forewarned, and tears came heavy and hard. The funny thing was, Quinn was only sorry that she'd worried Rachel so much. Gently, she sifted her fingers through Rachel's hair until she found the nape of her neck, gently encouraged Rachel upward just a little. A little awkwardly, without lifting her head, she pulled Rachel to her shoulder and held her. The diva's small hands gripped the safest parts of Quinn and they embraced for a moment. Quinn closed her eyes, hushing Rachel softly.
"It would've been much worse if you hadn't called the cops. You probably saved me." Quinn opened her eyes as she felt a warm pair of lips at her forehead. Brittany pulled away and brushed the damp spot with her thumb.
"I'm glad you're okay now, Q. And that your dad's finally where he belongs."
"No kidding," Santana stated a little darkly, cursing in Spanish as she took one of Quinn's hands and held it for a moment. "I'm glad you're awake. I was starting to miss that smooth voice of yours, Q. I'll expect you to be singing tunes by the end of the night."
In the background, salsa music continued playing quietly. Sunlight fell in through the blinds, a warm orange glow across her bedsheets. The warmth of Rachel pressed into her shoulder and relief of Rachel's tears, Santana's strong grip in her own, and Brittany's sympathetic smile gave Quinn a reason to smile.
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A kind police officer, one she recognized by his voice, came in the next day when Quinn was alone. Rachel and the other girls had gone home – or rather as Santana explained the day before, to Brittany's, because Santana's parents had kicked her out thanks to Judy spilling the beans.
"How are you doing, Miss Fabray?"
Shrugging her shoulders, Quinn wasn't all-together sure whether or not she was really okay. "I'm alright," she stated simply. She wondered why the police were here.
"Well, I know you're probably not feeling the best, so I promise I'll make this as quick and painless as possible. I need to take a statement from you on what happened that night between you and your parents. I have the statements of those involved before you were removed from the Berry household, and just need yours to tie up the loose ends."
Ah, so that was it. Relief swelled. They were going to pay. They weren't just going to be bailed out. From beginning to end, Quinn didn't spare any small detail on what happened. She wanted the bastards to pay for terrorizing her since she was old enough to speak. She wanted them to pay for outing her friends, terrorizing them. It took a little bit of time, and by the time she was done telling the story, there were tears in her eyes and her hands shook.
"How long has this situation been happening?" The officer was nice, and seemed to empathize. He even looked a little angry in Quinn's defense.
"Years. And years."
The officer nodded his head. His badge said "Howell." Officer Howell.
"Thank you, for getting there when you did."
He clapped her gently on the shoulder, so as not to aggravate any injuries she might have, or bruises. "It's cases like this that make me go out there every day. I want to protect the people who can't protect themselves. I'm only sorry we didn't get there sooner. You're a strong kid though."
Quinn hesitated, nodded. "So – what … happens now?"
"Well, I can't let you in on all the details, but your parents are being investigated for abuse and neglect, obviously. Since you are 17 years of age, you are at the legal crossroads in which you can emancipate yourself from them, pending results of the case. I'm sure you'd prefer that to the foster system."
The blonde nodded just a little, and her eyes became unfocused as she stared at the window ahead of her. What would all of that mean for her? Where would she go? There was little she could do except get better right now. All the legal stuff was almost too much to think about.
"They're both in the county jail and will remain there. They are not allowed to contact you, even after their release, unless they're cleared of all charges, which I can personally assure you they won't be. The best lawyer in the world couldn't clear them. Not after what the other officers and I have seen, the ones who arrived on the scene that night."
Quinn's hazel eyes shot up – she felt hopeful. She had been so afraid that she'd only end up back with her parents, and they most certainly would find a way to kill or cripple her for the 'shame' she'd brought them.
"You're safe, Miss Fabray. That much I promise. I'll be back in once I have more information for you. It might be a few days. It seems that the Berry men have vouched to take you in once you're released from here. While," he looked at his paperwork, "it seems that there's really no legal grounds for it, you don't have any family in the state and therefore you're technically a temporary ward of the state. And the Berry family seems to be the safest place for you."
Silently, Quinn nodded and took a breath.
"I'll let you be. You get well soon, Miss Fabray. Everything's gonna be just fine, I'll make sure of it." She noticed for the first time that Officer Howell had a slight Southern accent. He winked, offered a kindly smile, and left the room.
She felt little stabs of pain, and lay her head back. It was time for her to get some rest. She knew when she woke up, Rachel would be at her side. She wanted time to go faster, and the only way she knew how to make that happen was to sleep. The rest she'd have to deal with when she was out of the hospital, when the sting of trauma had faded away and logic could take over.
"One damn good soldier," Quinn spoke aloud to herself, and smiled.
