Author's Note: I haven't said this in a while (maybe ever), so… Welcome new readers! Thanks for giving my story a chance. I hope you're enjoying it. To everyone else, welcome back. To the people that review anonymously, Thank You! To the people who aren't anonymous, Thank You, too! I love conversing with you people, even if it's just a smiley or a small note.
Important things:
-I don't own Glee. Even if I did, this story wouldn't be it, though Faberry definitely would be.
-This story is unbetaed so any typos or missing words are completely my fault. As is the possible misspelling of "unbetaed".
-Faberry is in an online poll on AfterEllen . com. The voting for round one is over, and Faberry won this first round! Check out the poll to vote in round two. You can vote once per hour. If you can't find it, check out my Tumblr as I keep posting about it on there. Annoyingly so, at times. Vote early, vote often, Vote Faberry!
Now I'll shut up. Read, enjoy, drop me a review if you're interested.
Quinn pulled into Rachel's driveway that afternoon, sighing from tiredness as much as anything else. Running with Rachel on top of grueling Cheerios practices was getting to her, but she refused to give up either one. Right now, if she had to choose between Cheerios and Rachel, she didn't know which way she would go. Rachel was confusing and difficult and made her question everything about herself. It'd be so easy to drop her, no matter how bad she'd feel about it. And she could talk Santana into doing the same, though Brittany never would now that she'd latched onto Rachel. It might destroy Santana and Brittany's relationship, but that was so screwed up right now she wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or a bad one. Taking care of Rachel, though? It felt like the second actual really good deed she'd done in her life, right after giving up the baby.
But then there were days like this.
She looked down at her phone again and reread the text message that Hiram had sent her.
From Hiram B.: Quinn, please come over if you are able. Rachel had a really rough day. I'll tell you about it when you get here. –Hiram
Walking to the door, Quinn gave the doorbell a harsh jab, stabbing at the damned thing. Why couldn't she just come over like a normal person? Invited to hang out or show up unexpected and everyone be happy seeing her? No, apparently that wasn't her lot in life when it came to the Berrys. It was always suicide attempt or Rachel breaking down crying or Quinn breaking down crying or just plain breaking in. Why was everything so difficult? Was it because of Rachel? Quinn knew the girl loved drama, but, damn. This was just ridiculous. Her date with Sam was already looking iffy for tonight… much like her entire relationship with the boy.
After running with the girls yesterday morning, Quinn and her mom had gone to church like they did nearly every Sunday. They'd even sat with Sam and his family, and Quinn and Sam had gone out to lunch after church. When he'd asked her about her week he'd looked upset that so much of it had revolved around Rachel.
"I just don't get why you're hanging out with her so much," Sam said. "I get that you saved her life, and you told me how you feel all responsible and want to help her, but… I guess it just seems like you're going above and beyond for someone you hate. Especially when I've barely seen you."
"I don't hate Rachel," Quinn said defensively.
"I've heard you say those exact word. I've also heard you say, repeatedly, that you'd like to punch her in the face," Sam said. "You yelled at me for, like, fifteen minutes when I did that one duet with her in Glee. Oh, and this week has been the first time I've ever heard you call her 'Rachel'."
Quinn sat there, wanting so hard to tell him to go to Hell, but no. She couldn't do that. This was her being the sharing 'open' girlfriend that Sam wanted because she needed him to be happy. She needed this relationship with him. "Maybe I haven't been as friendly towards her this year," Quinn said thoughtfully, "but I haven't really hated her since last year when some people slusheed me. I got firsthand what she went through and it changed how I saw her, okay?"
"Still, you've been with her every day since she did it," Sam said. "Don't you think that's kind of weird?"
"No," Quinn said too quickly, and she noted the doubtful way Sam looked at her. She would say it was cynicism if she though he was capable of so complex an emotion. "I like Rachel, is all. She's not that bad when you get to know her. Especially since… everything."
After a couple of moments of tense silence, Sam muttered, "I guess you're right. I'm sorry. I just hate that you're spending so much time with her when I've hardly had a chance to see you."
After that, he'd asked her to go out the next night, and Quinn had immediately said yes, because that's what girlfriends and boyfriends did: they spent time with each other. And they were supposed to be happy about that, right? And yet there was this ball of dread in the middle of Quinn's chest that refused to dislodge. She'd much rather be here at Rachel's house rather than out with Sam. She just wished the circumstances were better.
No matter. It seemed like her fate sometimes to be continuously pissed off about something. She hated having to date Sam. She hated her plans with Sam possibly being interrupted. Most of all, she hated these newly accepted- No. Not accepted. Never accepted. Acknowledged. Quinn refused to actually accept these feeling she was having about Rachel. They were wrong and would hurt both of them in the long run. She couldn't be anything to Rachel besides her friend. And though she was loath to admit it, she hated that, too.
"Hi, Quinn," Hiram said as he opened the door and welcomed her in. "I'm sorry to ask you to come over again like this, but-"
"What happened?" Quinn asked, cutting him off. This wasn't the Quinn that Hiram and Leroy had gotten to know. This was HBIC Quinn that was going to solve whatever fucking problem had come up yet again because she was pissed at just… everything. "Is she crying uncontrollably again? Do you need me to get me to take her meds? Where is she?"
"No, it's not that," Hiram said, having bullying flashbacks thanks to this new Quinn. "She actually hasn't cried since this morning-"
"What happened this morning?" Quinn all but demanded. And for the next few minutes, Quinn listened to Hiram, losing her icy veneer as he went on until she had to take a seat, horrified.
He started with her breakdown at breakfast and her emotional blackmail of them to get Hiram and Leroy to go to couples counseling. Honestly, except for the breakdown part, Quinn was kind of proud of Rachel. If Brittany had said that Hiram and Leroy's marriage could be saved, then Quinn trusted that it could be.
He then moved on to her appointment with Dr. Richards which she seemed to come out of looking okay. Hiram said he could always tell with Rachel when she'd been crying, even if she tried to hide it, and it didn't look like she had been. After the appointment, Dr. Richards had given Hiram a new prescription for a different antidepressant medication to try and counteract the emotional grayness Rachel had been experiencing which would hopefully also help with the breakdowns that she'd been having.
After the therapist, Hiram and Rachel had gone and eaten a nice lunch, then gone to her other appointment at the hospital for her wrists. This was where Hiram paused, and Quinn had a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach.
"What happened?" Quinn asked, prodding the older man to go on, though it looked like he really didn't want to.
"Rachel told the doctor about some loss of feeling she'd been having in her fingers and hand," Hiram said. "She said she thought that her brace was too tight or something and asked if they could adjust it. She hadn't said anything about it to us, so we didn't know. If only she would have asked before the appointment, we could have explained it to her instead of her having to hear it from the doctor." Hiram stopped, taking off his glasses and wiping the lens with his t-shirt.
Quinn stared at the man, confused. "Explained what?"
Hiram sighed before continuing. "The night we were in the hospital, when Leroy and I went to talk to the surgeon, she warned us that this could be the case. Rachel is right handed and sliced much deeper into her left arm than her right. That's why she needed surgery to repair her left arm but just stitches on the right. She… apparently she sliced through some important tendons and nerves in her left arm. Don't ask me what. I don't know. I just remember them saying the surgery wasn't a definite chance they'd be able to fix the damage. While it's still tough to say how much movement she'll have in five weeks after the brace comes off, it was easier to test the nerve damage today. From what they can tell right now, she only has about twenty to twenty-five percent feeling in her left hand."
Quinn didn't know what to say to that, so she only kept silent, eyes wide. God, why was everything so fucked up? Rachel didn't deserve this on top of everything else.
"While that percentage might improve," Hiram said, "there's a very good chance that it won't. And it will definitely never be full feeling. And you know Rachel… she had to ask the worst case scenario, and after a lot of harassing on her part, the surgeon finally gave in to her." Quinn waited with bated breath as Hiram paused, and a stray thought made her wonder if it was a Berry genetic trait to include these dramatic pauses. "At worst? She loses what feeling she has now in her hand and has little to no movement."
"Oh, God." Quinn found herself sitting down at the kitchen table, unsure of when she'd actually sat down. God, this was just so… unfair. Wasn't Rachel going through enough? What would she do if she lost complete feeling in her hand? Complete movement in her hand? She was going to be a Broadway singer. Was that even something someone could do basically one-handed? What about all the other stuff? Holding hands with someone? What about something as simple as typing? Holding her future children? "H-how…" Quinn stuttered out. "How did she take it?"
"She didn't," Hiram said. "Rachel just kind of nodded and asked if she could leave. The doctor asked her if she had any other questions, but she said 'no' and just… sat there. Like she didn't care. Like it wasn't a big deal. She hasn't really said much since then. I tried asking her what she was thinking, and she said 'nothing'. I asked her if she wanted to talk, and she said she was fine. I didn't know what to do, but I know she's said that you make everything better, so…"
"That's… that's just so…" Quinn looked down at her own hands, going over everything Hiram had just told her. "Fuck," she whispered. Quinn tried not to curse, especially in front of adults, but this was just… fuck. "She's been using the monotone voice again, hasn't she?"
"Yeah," Hiram said, nodding. "So you see why I asked you over."
"I do." Quinn got up, rubbing her right eyebrow. Something about the motion always made her feel calmer. "I'll go talk to her. I don't know if it'll help, but… maybe." She started to turn away, but thought of something else. "She has been taking her medication, though, right? The new one?"
"She has," Hiram said. "But this isn't just her depression. This is something that anyone would be upset over."
"I know, I know," Quinn said. "I just wanted to see what I was dealing with. I'll try and cheer her up or… I don't know. Something."
Hiram thanked her, and Quinn made her way upstairs, stopping outside of Rachel's door. She paused and watched the brunette sitting in a built-in window seat, arms wrapped around her legs and staring out the window. It wasn't the one Quinn had climbed up to, the one she had taken the picture through. That window was on the side of the house and looked into her room at a different angle. This one looked out over the front yard and the street beyond.
Rachel turned as Quinn stared at her, acknowledged her with a glance, then turned back to staring out over the yard. After another quiet minute in which Quinn realized she had no idea what to say to this girl, Rachel finally sighed and said, "I should have known Dad would call you."
"He texted actually," Quinn said, coming in and sitting down on the girl's bed. Babs lay there on a pillow, so Quinn reached out and stroked the kitten on the head.
"Really?" Rachel asked. "He hates texting. He must not have wanted me to hear him."
"Must not have."
"He told you everything?"
"He did."
A pause. "And..?"
"And what?" Quinn asked.
"And… why are you here?" Rachel asked.
"To cheer you up. I'm a cheerleader, remember?" Quinn shook her head because it even sounded stupid in her ears, but it resulted in a sad sort of smile from Rachel, and that was something. God, this was so… ugh! Loss of feeling, possible loss of movement in her hand. How do you cheer someone up over something like that?
They sat silently staring at one another for a minute before Rachel said, "You know, you're not doing a very good job of it."
"I know." Quinn stood. "I just don't know what to say to you, Rachel. It's pretty much the worst news I've heard since I found out I was pregnant." Rachel started to speak, the anger there in her eyes, but Quinn cut her off. "And don't tell me that the pregnancy was temporary. I know that. And this could be permanent. I know that, too. So don't even get angry with me. I'm on your side. This sucks. I know. Hell, I know 'this sucks' isn't even a strong enough phrase to use for how terrible this situation is."
There was silence for a minute, and then, "If this is you cheering me up, you're not a very good cheerleader."
"I know," Quinn said, chuckling bitterly. "I'm kind of terrible at making people feel better. Especially if it's something real, like this. I could butter you up and get you to do whatever I say, but for something like this? I'm more of the tearing people down type, I guess. But you already know that."
"I do."
Quinn was silent for a moment, thinking about when she was pregnant and how people had treated her, and, more importantly, how she wished they had treated her. After a minute, she said, "But here's something I will do for you. I'm not going to feel sorry for you. I'm not going to pity you. You did this to yourself just like I was the one responsible for getting pregnant."
At those words, blaming Rachel for what had happened, the brunette looked up. She was angry, but also curious. She guessed this wasn't anything like the doctor or Hiram had said to her. She took a few steps closer but made sure to give the girl her space. Quinn had her undivided attention.
"Here's something I'll tell you about being pregnant and thrown out at sixteen that I've never told anyone else," Quinn said. "The worst part wasn't all the stares and the looks at school. It wasn't the whispers behind hands or the names or the blatant trashing me to my face. It wasn't even the slushees, though we both know how bad those can be. It was the pity. The looks that Ms. Hudson or Mr. and Ms. Jones or you gave me." Rachel looked down, knowing now that it was true. "That 'oh, I can't believe something so bad happened to this sweet young girl'. They, and you, couldn't understand that I was the one that screwed up and now I was the one dealing with it."
"I…" Rachel started, shaking her head, hair falling down to cover her face. "I don't…"
"Tell me honestly," Quinn said, taking another few steps closer until she was standing right next to her. Reaching out, she brushed Rachel's hair back behind her ear, and the brunette looked up at her. There were no tears there, and Quinn gave a small prayer of thanks for that. "If you had to choose between the women at the mall laughing at you or the way your dads have been looking at you, like they pity you, like they feel sorry for you, which would you choose? Honestly."
"The women at the mall," Rachel said quietly.
Quinn sat down beside Rachel on the window seat with Rachel facing her, "Why?"
"Because…" Rachel looked again out the window, and Quinn thought she was just going to leave it at that one word answer, but then the brunette started to speak again. Maybe Quinn was getting through to her. She didn't know exactly how she was getting through, but at least she was talking. "Because it hurts less, knowing that some people don't care about me rather than knowing the people that should have cared didn't. Not enough, anyway. I see it in my both of my fathers' eyes the same way I saw it in the Glee Club's when they came to visit in the hospital. Pity and guilt and worry… And all I can think is where was all this when I needed it?"
"I get it," Quinn said. "When I saw all these people pitying the 'poor little pregnant teenager', my only thought was why couldn't my parents feel this way? Why could all these strangers feel this for me and my own parents couldn't? I hated it. I hated them. My parents as well as these other people. I couldn't stand their pity because it was coming from the wrong ones."
They both fell silent as Quinn looked down at her hands and Rachel looked out the window. After a few minutes, Rachel said, "I'm sorry."
"Don't," Quinn said softly, turning to look at the girl. "You don't need to apologize for anything. You did what you thought was best, the same as everyone else. I just wish now that I would have actually accepted one of the times you kept reaching out to me. I think it probably would have changed everything for us."
"Maybe," Rachel said. Turning to look at Quinn, she asked, "How?"
"I don't know," Quinn said. "We might have been friends sooner. I might not have lied to Finn for as long. You may have talked me into keeping the baby. Who knows?"
"I wish…" Rachel started, then stopped. "Never mind."
"No, tell me."
"I was just thinking," Rachel said. "I would have let you come and live here, if you wanted. I know it would have hurt Finn and he would have hated me, but I would have. I wanted to ask you that day, the day I told Finn. Santana came up to me after Finn punched Puck and yelled at me for basically getting you kicked out of another home, and I wanted to go make it right. That's why I went to apologize to you. I was going to ask if you wanted to come and live here. I just wish I'd have had the courage to ask you. I know Dad's in the guest bedroom now, but he wasn't then. It could have been your room, maybe. Things might have been better for you."
"That would have been nice, I think," Quinn said, leaning over and against Rachel, resting her head on the other girl's knees that were still drawn up and encircled by her arms. They sat that way for a while. How long, Quinn wasn't sure. Rachel stared out the window, and Quinn stared into the empty bedroom, but neither of them saw anything they were looking at. Life sucked for both of them at times, but for now, at least, they had each other. And that was something.
"No," Quinn said after a while, standing up with a renewed sense of… something. She hadn't decided what yet. She'd only just decided she was through. "You know what? Just… no."
"No, what?"
"Just… no," Quinn said. "No more feeling sorry for ourselves. No more regretting the past, the things we did or didn't do. No more of any of that. I'm tired of it."
"I'm… sorry?"
"Don't apologize," Quinn said. "Just… God, don't you get tired of being depressed? Being all mopey and sad? I know I do. I was really depressed and angry for a while when I was pregnant, and it took Mercedes barging her way into my life and making me stop with all this self-pity to get over it. So that's what we're going to do."
"We're going to get Mercedes?" Rachel asked.
"No. I'm going to be your Mercedes for tonight," Quinn said, smiling. "Let's do something fun. We don't have to go anywhere if you don't want to, but let's just do… something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know," Quinn said. She started pacing, looking around for something to do. Everything in the girl's room was music related, it seemed like, but Quinn wasn't sure something like karaoke would be a god idea. She hadn't heard Rachel sing since at least before Sectionals. With everything Rachel had told her in the hospital about it being her outlet to the world, she didn't think it would be the right time. Not yet.
They'd both watched too much television as of late, first with the movie marathon, then with how much Buffy the Vampire Slayer Rachel had watched, so watching television was out, too. She wanted something simple. Something easy but fun. When Quinn was little and she'd had a bad day at school, she used to help her mother in the kitchen. Judy would let her peel potatoes or carrots or stir the pots on the stove. It was fun, being there with her mom. She remembered Rachel saying she didn't like to cook or was bad at it, Quinn couldn't remember which.
What else? Quinn racked her brain, thinking of something to do, and suddenly it hit her. Sometimes, when there was nothing to help her mom with in the kitchen, Judy would sit little Lucy at the table with a coloring book and a box of crayons. They would sometimes color together if Judy saw that Lucy'd had a particularly bad day, and it was one of the most fun things she'd done. It was also the start of her love of drawing and of art in general. Quinn hadn't colored in years, not for fun anyway, though she still sketched occasionally.
"Okay, don't laugh at me, but I have an idea," Quinn finally said.
"I wouldn't laugh at you, Quinn," Rachel said. She let go of her knees and turned to face Quinn fully. "I promise." And there was such a genuine sincerity in her voice that Quinn marveled at it. God, this girl…
"Okay," Quinn said, focusing her thoughts away from Rachel. "So… when I was little and I'd had a bad day, my mom and I would sometimes color pictures in one of my coloring books to cheer me up. It would always help me to forget about whatever was going on."
"You want me to color?" Rachel asked, skeptically smiling. Quinn could see she was trying her best not to laugh at her. "In a coloring book? With crayons? Like, pictures of dinosaurs or cartoon characters? Oh, I know! We could color in a My Little Pony coloring book!" And now she couldn't fight it anymore and she was full out laughing.
"No, forget it," Quinn said, irritated and turning away from the girl. "It was stupid. Just forget I said anything." After Rachel's laughs turned to giggles and started trailing off, Quinn added, "You suck at not laughing at someone, by the way."
"I'm sorry," Rachel said, and she did sound genuinely apologetic while fighting those few last stray giggles. "I'm… I just pictured a cute little six year old Quinn sitting at the table kicking her legs and coloring pictures. It was adorable. Then, the My Little Pony thing, after Brittany called me a pony yesterday, I pictured six year old Brittany and Santana there with you, and all in Cheerios uniforms, and… I didn't mean to laugh at you." She could hear Rachel get to her feet behind her. "I'm sorry, Quinn. Really."
Quinn turned to face Rachel, anger forgotten at the absurdity of what the brunette had just said. "Britts called you a pony?"
"Yes," Rachel said, widely smiling. It was such a change from how she'd been when Quinn had first walked in that she couldn't even be mad at the girl. "I was highly offended at first, but then she explained it- and I still don't think I'm anything like a pony, mind you- but the way she said it, it sounded like a compliment."
"I'm sure it was. That's just kind of how she is sometimes," Quinn said. They were silent for a moment, staring at each other. When had Rachel gotten so close to her? She could have sworn they were further away from each other than that. And, God, that smile looked so good on her. Not her show smile or her way too happy smile or even her enthusiastic smile. That little bashful, heartstoppingly cute, slightly nervous, 'you can kiss me if you want to' smile. The way her lips curved up just slightly, the way her cheeks were just slightly rounder, that hint of a blush. Quinn started to take a barely registered step forward, and God, she just wanted to pull her in and–
Quinn took a sudden step back and turned around quickly. "So, coloring, yeah?" Her eyes cast wildly around, looking for something, anything, please God, to distract her away from Rachel. Her eyes landed on a laptop. "Oh, okay! Great! We can look up pictures on your computer and print them out in black and white to color and because you seem like a crafter, I'm betting you have all kinds of crayons and markers and colored pencils and stuff that we could use to color with, so if you want to just hop on your laptop, or I could if you don't-"
"Quinn?" Rachel called, stopping her mid-ramble.
Quinn took a deep breath. "Yes?"
"Are you okay? You're starting to sound like me."
"What? No. That's silly," Quinn said. Except she couldn't tell if Rachel was convinced or not because her back was still to the brunette.
There was a couple of beats of silence before Rachel said, "You know, I have plenty of those antianxiety pills. You could have one if you want."
Quinn spun around to eye the brunette and saw the laughter there in her eyes. "Berry, I'm pretty sure that was a joke."
"Umm… yes?"
"Good," Quinn said, smiling. "Go me. So I believe you owe me an apology, then."
"What?"
"You said I wasn't a good cheerleader."
After finding pictures online, Quinn watched as Rachel went into her closet and took out what looked like a big plastic tool box. Opening it, she pulled out a 120-count set of crayons, a 50-count set of markers, and a 64-count box of colored pencils. While Quinn didn't really consider herself an artist, not like Tina at least who she knew took all the art classes William McKinley offered, she was still a little in love with Rachel's arts and crafts box. Sliding over beside the girl, she found all kinds of construction paper, different shaped hole punches, rulers, pencils, paints, brushes… anything one would need to run an art class. Well, almost everything.
What she realized as she looked through the box was a lack of scissors, even those crappy safety scissors. Rachel must have noticed the same, because her expression seemed to fold in on itself.
Taking a page from Brittany, she reached over and gave the brunette a quick side-hug, saying, "This is impressive, Berry. Let's get started, okay?"
Rachel gave her a nod and an "okay" and closed the box back.
They set themselves up on the bed, a clipboard apiece for a hard surface to color against, and set to work. After about an hour, Quinn and Rachel had been coloring with relatively peaceful conversation before Quinn looked up at the girl. Rachel was just finishing her third My Little Pony coloring page while Quinn was still working diligently at her first.
"It's not a race, you know?" Quinn said, smiling as she sat there, back against the headboard looking down the length of the bed to Rachel who lay on her stomach across the bed. Why this tiny girl needed such a giant bed was beyond her, but, at the moment, she was glad for the distance.
"You're just mad that I'm winning," Rachel said, not even looking up. She slapped her latest colored page down and picked up a fresh one, slipping it onto her clipboard and picking up a blue colored pencil. "What's taking you so long, anyway?" Rachel rose to her knees and knee-walked the length of the bed, plopping down beside Quinn as she said, "You've been working on-" But her words were cut off with a gasp.
"What?" Quinn asked, suddenly self-conscious. But the brunette didn't speak, just shaking her head while looking at the picture. Quinn had picked a My Little Pony page to go along with Rachel's because it amused her. And as her inner Santana had said, 'Fuck it. It's her hour.' Something about the one she had chosen, though- the hair, maybe?- reminded her of Rachel, so she had done her best to color it and make it as much like Rachel Berry as possible. She wanted it to be perfect.
So rather than doing what Rachel had been doing and just coloring the picture, Quinn had done her utmost to make it come alive. She'd added blushing to the cheeks, variegated the colors of the skin tone to make it look more realistic, added shading with first a lighter purple then a slightly darker one. She'd even added a star to the pony's back end. Finishing the actual pony part of the picture, she'd just moved on to adding background before Rachel came over.
"I've never- I didn't even know something like that could be done with crayons," Rachel said. Taking in the tannish brown color of the pony, the star, the brown hair with the slight highlights, she asked, "Is that… is that supposed to be me?"
"Only if you like it," Quinn said. "If not, then no. Not at all."
"I do," Rachel said, still in awe of the picture. "I really do."
"Then yes," Quinn said. "It's supposed to be you. I just wish I could have found one with a bigger nose to really-" But Rachel stopped her midsentence with a hard slap to the arm. "Ow!"
"I didn't hit you that hard," Rachel said. "And you made fun of my nose! I'll have you know that I have a proud Jewish nose much like the iconic EGOT-winner Ms. Barbra Streisand, and even though they told her she'd never make it without a nose job, she proved them wrong. And I, for one, will follow in her legendary footsteps and prove them and you and everyone else wrong, too, when I win my own-"
"Calm down, Rach, Jesus," Quinn said, interrupting the brunette's tirade. "I was just picking on you."
"Yes, well, I've had enough of you picking on me for one lifetime, thank you very much." Rachel folded her arms as best she could with the brace and looked pointedly away from Quinn.
God, this again? Seriously? "I didn't mean 'picking on you' as in trying to hurt you," Quinn said. "I just meant 'picking on you' as in harmless teasing. Something friends do."
"Right," Rachel said, refusing to turn towards her. "Sure."
"Did I or did I not just spend an hour on this pretty pony picture of you? For you?" Quinn asked.
A pause. "You did."
"And does that seem like something I would do for someone that I wanted to mock?"
Another pause. "Well, no, but-"
"Then just accept what I'm saying is the truth, Berry," Quinn said. "I'm not going to just go back to hurting you. I promise. Those days are done and we're working on our fresh start, remember? Openness, honesty, all that stuff we said in the hospital? Sound familiar?"
Rachel sighed and turned back towards Quinn. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just…" But she trailed off and looked away again.
"You're just what?"
"It's nothing. It's- it's stupid. And I don't really mean it. So never mind."
"No, what, Rachel?"
She turned back to Quinn, chewing nervously on her lip. "I'm just… this is all so crazy to me still," Rachel said. "You three- the 'Unholy Trinity', the most popular girls in school- being friends with me. It doesn't make any sense. Besides the feeling guilty part, there's no reason you three should even like me. I mean, I get Brittany… kind of. She's liked me from the beginning for whatever reason. But you and Santana? You two were the worst, and now you're suddenly sitting in my bed coloring with me? It's insane, and it makes me feel even crazier just thinking about it. Like I'm setting myself up to be humiliated yet again. Everything in me is telling me not to trust you, but I just… I just want so bad to believe you're telling the truth…"
"Rachel," Quinn said softly. "Look at me." Once Rachel's eyes were locked onto Quinn's she said, "Number one, you're not crazy. You might have some issues you're having to deal with, but everyone does. So don't say that to me again. Number two… I know it's difficult to believe, but we're not lying to you. We're not setting you up for anything. You've seen Santana and Brittany together. San would never lie to her. Neither would I. How can you? She's like a puppy or something. So when we tell Brittany that we're done picking on you, that you're our friend now, you should believe it. We've lied to you a lot over the last couple of years, but never to her. Trust that if nothing else, okay?"
Rachel nodded, and gave her another quiet, "Okay." And hey, look at that. Again with the no tears, so that was a win. Quinn reached over and pulled Rachel into another hug because it seemed like the right thing to do. Also, because she was soft and smelled really nice. If Quinn couldn't kiss her because she was trying her damnedest not to be gay and because she had a boyfriend, then she was sure as hell going to friend hug her as much as possible.
"Also," Quinn said, pulling away, "I think it's time we did something else while we colored, okay?"
"Like what?"
"Quid pro quo."
Rachel didn't respond. Not verbally, at least. Instead, she moved away from Quinn and back towards the other end of the bed where she had been laying. She put her clipboard down in the same place she'd had it, picked up a colored pencil, and started coloring again on her picture.
"Rachel…?"
"What?" she responded. "I already know what you want to ask me. About my hand, right? How I'm feeling or something like that?" She scoffed, blowing the hair out of her face. "I should have known you'd want to talk about it. You're not my therapist, Quinn. Stop trying to act like you can fix me."
Quinn wanted to deny it. She wanted to say something about how she was just being her friend, but that wasn't the truth. Trying to 'fix' Rachel had been her goal for the last week, no matter what she'd said about being her friend. The fact that they were getting along was a nice side benefit, but it wasn't her purpose. It wasn't what she was trying to accomplish. Quinn had a goal of a healthy, determined Rachel. And she was a girl used to achieving her goals. She'd gotten her figure, her Head Cheerio spot, and her popularity back after last year. If she wanted, needed, to 'fix' Rachel, then that's what she was going to do.
"You're right," Quinn said eventually. "That's what I've been trying to do. To fix you. To help you get better. And if that upsets you for some reason, I'm sorry. But I think you're missing the golden opportunity you have here. You get to ask me anything, and I'm going to answer you honestly. Quinn Fabray. The 'Ice Quinn' herself. The girl that doesn't let anyone in, remember? You said Finn told you as much. And you have an all access pass to whatever you want to know. All you have to do is be honest with me, too."
Rachel stopped her coloring and looked up at Quinn. The girl didn't want to talk, not about this, but the curiosity was there in those beautiful, chocolate brown eyes. God, could she really do this? Answer anything that Rachel asked her? She couldn't even do that with her boyfriend. Quinn had just decided to step up her lying and manipulation with him. Did it make her a bad person? Probably. She liked Sam genuinely as a person, and it sucked to have to do that to him, but she needed him. She needed to keep dating him.
But Rachel? Quinn couldn't do that to her. Couldn't lie to and manipulate her. She'd seen the bloody consequences of that already. Rachel wasn't the only one that changed that night. Quinn felt like a different person, too, though she wasn't sure just how yet. Maybe it was subtle, but the change was there.
"You'll really answer anything?" Rachel asked. "Honestly?"
"As honestly as I can," Quinn said. "If I think it'll hurt someone, or if it's something someone has asked me not to tell, then I'll tell you I can't say. Other than that, consider me your open book." Was that dirty? It felt a little dirty. Something about the word 'open'? Quinn tried to put it out of her head.
"Fine," Rachel said. "But I get to ask first."
"Okay."
The brunette lay there, coloring her picture, deep in thought. Quinn marveled at the cuteness of the way her tongue stuck out when she was thinking. God, she just wanted to taste it. That tongue. Those lips. Ugh! Quinn turned back to adding background scenery to her picture because everything else was just torture.
"Okay, I have a question," Rachel finally said. Quinn looked up, ready for whatever Rachel was going to throw at her. "Why were you nervous earlier? When I made the joke about you taking my antianxiety pills. You seemed freaked out over nothing. So, yeah. Why?"
Well, shit. Wasn't that just fucking perfect? The real answer? Because she'd been looking at and thinking about Rachel's smile and then her lips and then she'd wanted so bad to just kiss Rachel senseless right then and there. But she'd be damned if she'd actually tell her any of that. This whole fucked up situation was difficult enough as it was without Quinn making it any more awkward. She couldn't lie, though, right? Half-truth, maybe?
"Because I was looking at your smile and thinking about the different ways you smile," Quinn said eventually. "You know… your show smile, your 'encourage the Glee Club' smile, your actual smile."
"You've paid attention to my smiles?" Rachel asked, scrunching her eyebrows.
"That's a second question," Quinn said. "And yes. I guess not seeing it much over the last month or so has made me think about the different ways you smile."
"That's still no reason to freak out."
"I'm getting there, interrupter," Quinn said, chuckling at the girl. There was no way one question at a time would ever work with her. "I was staring at your smile and thinking about it for a minute, and then I realized that I had been staring and thought you'd probably think I was thinking about kissing you or something, so that made me freak out."
"Oh," Rachel said. "And you definitely weren't thinking about kissing me?"
Okay, what the hell? She sounded almost… disappointed. But there was no way Rachel would be disappointed because she wasn't gay. She'd dated Jesse and Finn and Puck and she wasn't into girls… was she? And, damn it, she'd just asked her another question that she couldn't lie to. Could she? She shouldn't. This was such a stupid fucking idea.
"If I thought it would cheer you up…" Quinn started, looking back down at her picture because she was pretty sure she didn't want to see Rachel's reaction. Or maybe she just didn't want the other girl to see hers. "If I thought it would help you get better, I'd make out with you all day, but no. I wasn't thinking about kissing you." That was it. She'd lied after promising a suicidal girl not to lie to her. She was definitely going to hell.
"Oh." Really? Again with the 'oh'? "Good. Because that would be weird." She paused. "Right?"
"Yes, Berry," Quinn said, voice hardening slightly. Why the fuck do I always have to be like that? The 'Ice Quinn'? "It would be weird."
"Right."
They were silent for a minute before Quinn changed the subject. "You already know what I want to ask, I guess, but I'm going to say it anyway. How are you feeling about your doctor's appointment today? With everything about your hand?"
"Honestly?" Rachel asked. "I'm just trying not to."
"Okay, but that's not a how," Quinn said. "That's a what. Try again."
"What do you want me to say?" Rachel asked. "You've already said it: it sucks."
"It does," Quinn said. "But that's not how you're feeling either. Try again."
"This is stupid," Rachel said. "Talking about how I'm feeling isn't going to change anything. It's not going to make my hand suddenly work. It's not going to repair the damage that I did. You said it while ago. This is my fault. It's something I did to myself, and there's nothing that can change that. Including telling you how I feel."
"Oh, no, Berry," Quinn said. "That's not how this game works. I answered your question honestly," Mostly, anyway… "so you have to answer mine."
"Ugh!" Rachel got up from where she was laying and flung her clipboard down on the bed, waking and scaring Babs who rushed over to Quinn. Quinn only picked up the kitten and nestled it close to her chest. "I hate it, okay! I hate that I did this to myself! I hate that I ruined any chance of fulfilling my dream. Do you know how many disabled Broadway stars there are? Go ahead, guess." She paused with angry tears in her eyes, looking at Quinn expectantly, but Quinn wisely held her tongue, causing Rachel to just shake her head. "And I'm not even sure if it's still my dream. All of this, everything, it's changed now. I don't sing anymore. I don't even feel like singing anymore. I don't even feel like me anymore. But if I'm not me then what am I doing? What does it matter if my hand never works again? It doesn't. So I'm just… I'm just trying not to care, okay? Because I don't. It doesn't… it doesn't matter."
Quinn got up off the bed and went over to Rachel, but the brunette backed up, holding out her hands. "No! I don't- I don't need you," Rachel said, the tears starting to fall. "You can't- you can't just hug me and make everything okay. You don't get- you-" but she was cut off as Quinn dodged around her arms and wrapped her in a tight hug. She felt the smaller girl struggle for a bit before finally breaking in her arms, gut-wrenching sobs shaking her apart. Quinn went to the floor with her, back against the bed as she held her. She didn't know what else to do for her besides be there and hope that was enough.
After a while, Rachel's sobs slowed down, becoming quieter, turning into a slow fall of tears and then a few sniffles. Quinn looked down at the brunette in her arms, seeing that she was worn out from the emotional turmoil of the day, probably of her entire life right now. Rachel, now slumped in her arms, looked up at Quinn and blinked sleepily a couple of times. "You won't leave, will you?" she asked quietly.
From where she sat, she could hear the buzzing vibration of her phone in her purse. It was getting late, and Quinn knew it was probably Sam wondering where she was. He was her boyfriend. He should be one of the most important people in her life. She shouldn't be blowing him off, putting other people before him yet again. Right?
"I'm not going anywhere."