ii.
It proves easier than Quinn anticipated.
Rachel is surprisingly open and unfiltered, complaining about having to shuffle between her divorced parents' homes with her younger brothers, especially now they're both in new relationships. She mentions that her parents get along better now than they ever did when they were married, which is hilarious.
Rachel also continually avoids questions about her initial allusion to Twilight, and Quinn enjoys niggling at her through the next few letters they exchange over the following weeks. They get through Halloween relatively unscathed, and Quinn is ready for a Thanksgiving away from her family for the second year running.
It's the first time she thinks it won't be so bad, which is a slightly troubling thought if she allows herself to dwell on it. So she doesn't. If she notices any kind of change to her mood or general outlook on life; she wouldn't be able to say.
Quinn is so careful, though, because she doesn't want to slip up. She won't survive saying the wrong thing and losing this outlet. This friendship they're developing.
Rachel asks her about college applications two more times before Quinn decides it wouldn't hurt to try. The worst that could happen is she receives rejection letters, but she has some money saved up for the applications, and Holly even offers to foot the bill for the Yale one when Quinn mentions it to her.
"Just for the bragging rights," Holly comments lightly, but Quinn would give her a hug if she actually did that kind of thing. "You better get in."
Weirdly, Quinn appreciates the pressure. For so long, she was weighted under far too many expectations, struggling desperately to balance the parts of her she needed to hide.
Now, she doesn't have that problem.
She's open and free. Alone, sure, but she's starting to think she'll be able to find her people as she goes through life. They're out there, somewhere, and Quinn will have to keep living to make sure she meets them.
There's actually an optimism that creeps into her very being, and she doesn't realise that other people notice.
It also makes her a little reckless in other ways, though, in the sense that she leaves herself open to ridicule when she forgets she's supposed to be avoiding the library until she's sitting at a table with her homework spread out before her, but is rather writing a letter to Rachel.
She really should be more careful in this way, because -
"What are you doing?"
Quinn goes completely still at the sound of the voice, her heart suddenly racing. She doesn't want to draw too much attention to the letter she's writing, but she can't stop her left hand from spreading flat over the words she's just put to paper. "Sadie," she says, carefully lifting her head. "What do you want?"
Sadie, who is alone, steps forward and closer to where Quinn is hunkered in the corner of the library. "What are you doing?"
Quinn sighs. "Please just leave me alone."
"Is that a letter?" Sadie asks. "Are you writing a letter?" Her voice goes a little high as she asks, and Quinn can't understand why she would even care. "To who?" Her eyes narrow. "Didn't you learn anything?"
Quinn raises her eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"
"Who is she?"
Quinn frowns in confusion, which only deepens when she figures out just what Sadie is asking her. "You think I'm writing a letter to some girl?" she asks, incredulous.
"Aren't you?"
"What would it matter to you anyway?" Quinn snaps, suddenly irritated.
"I - "
"You what?" Quinn presses, her fingers closing tightly around the letter she's just been writing to Rachel. "You think you have the monopoly on all the letters I write or something? Jesus."
"What is it?"
"It's none of your fucking business," she says, and she's suddenly very tense. "Just leave me alone. Can't you give me at least that, huh? You've already ruined my life."
Sadie's face falls. "I didn't - "
"Please."
"I just - you haven't found someone else, have you?"
The question just angers her further. "So what if I have?" she says through clenched teeth. "Just because you threw me away, doesn't mean nobody else could want me."
"Quinn."
"No," she says, "You don't get to do this to me, okay? You don't get to act all self-righteous and scorned as if I'm the one who left you, when you've been acting like everything we ever shared has always meant nothing to you."
"You know that's not true."
"Do I?" Quinn throws right back. "Was that before or after you called me disgusting for fucking existing, just last week?"
Sadie looks momentarily horrified. "You don't know what it's been like," she says, as if she expects Quinn to understand. "It hasn't been easy for me, either."
Quinn scoffs at her. "Save me the dramatics," she says. "At least you get to go home to Mommy and Daddy."
"I didn't think they'd actually kick you out," Sadie practically shrieks at her.
"Bullshit," Quinn hisses right back. "We both knew exactly what would happen if they ever found out. And then they did, and I lost my home. And my supposed friends. And now I live with a bunch of girls who hate me and I have to come to a school where every single one of my peers also hates me, and then I have to deal with you, who once whispered how much you love me in the dark of night, attacking me at every opportunity, so forgive me for not sympathising with how fucking hard it's been for you." She puffs out a breath. "Just let me write my stupid letter, so, you know, I don't end up in juvie on top of everything else."
Quinn's body is literally vibrating when she's done, and her glare must be intense enough, because Sadie backs down, mumbles something under her breath, and then turns and walks away.
Quinn is still wired when she returns her attention to the letter she's writing to Rachel. She has a bit left to go, but she has something else she has to say. She abandons the rest of her letter and just starts writing without thought, her handwriting a little rushed and untidy.
She doesn't even care.
Okay, I'm going to tell you something now and I hope you won't judge me for it. I was in this relationship for like a year, and it was good. But it was a secret. Nobody knew we were together, but then they found out, and this person pretended we were never even in a relationship, which made me look crazy, and now they have the audacity to be all hurt and bothered when it looks like I'm moving on - which I'm not - but how damn entitled is that? It's been more than a year, and it's been such a tough time for me because of their lie, and I just hate people sometimes. Maybe I'll just end up alone. Relationships can be so overrated anyway.
I just read that over, and I don't know if I should erase it. Maybe they'll white it out. Sorry. I just had a chat with them and I'm a little frustrated because of it. You mentioned a boyfriend once, which means you're in a successful relationship, right? What's the secret?
Quinn
She doesn't even bother to reread the entire letter the way she usually does. She just folds it up and starts packing away her things. She can drop the letter off on her way to the house and finish her homework later. All she knows is she can't sit here a second longer.
How dare she? God. The absolute nerve of Sadie.
Quinn is still seething when she leaves, hands tightly clenched. It just isn't fair. Quinn has been so -
It's not fair. None of it is fair, and it just sucks that it's a truth she keeps having to learn. She's already attended the lectures. She knows. She doesn't need the constant reminder.
She's already learned this lesson, and even aced all the tests.
Something is different in the tone of their letters after that.
It's almost as if Quinn's little tirade has unlocked something between them; taken them to a different level where they feel free to talk about anything and everything.
Rachel ends up saying things like, your ex sounds like a right asshole, with all the seriousness in the world. From what I know about you, I believe you deserve the world, and so I hate this person on principle. Which is all fine and well, but then Rachel also says things like, whoever this person is must also be an idiot, because you sound like the type of person anyone would be lucky to be with.
Which is -
Yeah.
But then she also says, my boyfriend and I are actually on some kind of a break at the moment, because he can't seem to figure out what he wants next year and I'm tired of trying to convince him to take these last few months seriously.
Quinn really doesn't know what to do with that information, and she makes a joke about how all Rachel's energy has been spent on trying to convince Quinn instead, which she regrets sending as soon as the letter is gone, because it makes it sound -
Shit.
It makes it sound as if Quinn is more important than Rachel's boyfriend.
So, obviously, Quinn stresses about it, just waiting for Rachel's reply that'll end this thing they've been doing. As a result, she's antsy and snappish and she actually scares little Martha when she raises her voice when she and Zena are getting a little too rowdy instead of doing their homework.
Quinn immediately apologises to them both, continually terrified of being anything like her father. "Just please finish your homework, and then we can all go play in the leaves once we're done." It seems to placate them, and Quinn sees out the rest of the little ones' homework and takes them out back while Dinah and Erin get started on dinner.
Terri won't be home until later, the woman still desperately trying to hold onto a marriage they all know ended a long time ago.
Quinn and Dinah are technically the same age, but Quinn just seems older, and she's usually left in charge whenever Terri isn't around. It used to be more often, since her husband lives in an apartment elsewhere, but Quinn knows their marriage was falling apart long before she even arrived.
Maybe since the very beginning, the way Quinn sees it.
But it's not her business and definitely not her problem. Instead, she just watches as Martha, Zena, Kerry and Sylvie roll around in the fallen leaves. The backyard isn't that big - the group home isn't that big - but they're having fun.
Quinn wishes she were that young, but then she also doesn't. At least, when she was their age - eight, six, six and seven - she was still living with her parents, with her own room and not quite as traumatised. She can't even imagine what a kid has to go through to be here at their age. They're too young to warrant it.
At least Quinn can reason that there's a part of her that must deserve it.
She shakes her head, trying to clear her head of the thought. She claps her hands, getting their attention. "Bath time," she declares. "Who's first?"
They all look at one another, because nobody ever wants to be the first one. Quinn secretly finds it adorable, but now she just raises an eyebrow and waits.
"I went first yesterday," Zena says, which means it's supposed to be Martha's turn today according to the rotation.
The house has three bedrooms and three bathrooms, one of which is in Terri's bedroom. The third bathroom was installed in the basement when the house was turned into something like a group home, and borrows its plumbing from the laundry, which means it's really a tossup whether one gets hot water or not. It's designated for the older girls, mainly because the younger ones are too scared to go down there after Erin told them the basement is haunted.
Martha pouts a little, but she eventually goes back into the house, Quinn reminding her to use lotion once she's done. Martha always just conveniently forgets to do that.
The rest of them follow a few minutes later to pack up their homework and take their bags back to their room.
The younger kids also have two sets of bunk beds in their room, and they definitely seem to enjoy them more than Quinn's sure she ever will. The next half an hour is a bit of a whirlwind of picking out pyjamas, rushing them through their baths and getting them dressed in time for their seven o'clock dinner.
There's a chance for some TV after they've eaten, and then bedtime at eight o'clock. Quinn usually gets roped into reading a story with them, but she tired them out quite a bit with the leaves, so they're all out like a light pretty quickly.
Quinn finds Dinah finishing up in the kitchen when she's sure they're all actually asleep and carefully avoids her as she shuffles through to the dining area. It's no secret Dinah doesn't like Quinn, for whatever reason, and Quinn really just isn't in the mood for some kind of fight right now.
She's a Fabray, so she won't back down. Which is also something Dinah knows.
So Quinn ignores her and gathers her own dishes, because none of the other girls are going to do it for her.
But Dinah surprises her. Instead of antagonising her, Dinah rather says, "Luisa thinks we should do a Meatless Monday," like Quinn really does have a say in what they do in this crazy house. They're only eight girls, sure, but they sometimes feel like a hundred.
Dinah shifts her weight from her one foot to the other. "Apparently, they're studying the food industry in one of her classes, and she'd probably want us to go full vegetarian, but that's never going to happen."
Quinn manages a smile. "The girls would riot."
Dinah nods, chuckling a little. "Is that something we could do?" she asks her. "To appease her, at least."
"I think it's a great idea," Quinn tells her, sincere. "And if it goes down well, maybe we can add another day as well? A Soy Saturday, Tofu Tuesday or something?"
Dinah winces at the name suggestions, but her eyes remain light. "Yeah?"
Quinn nods. "Yeah."
"Cool."
"Cool."
Dinah shrugs, and then leaves the kitchen without another word. Quinn stands, frozen, for another minute before she gets moving. She cleans up her own dinner mess, absently wondering what she did to warrant such behaviour.
It's something she knows she would like to talk to Rachel about. She wants to be able to explain how her life has changed in the last year, tell her about the younger kids and about how she grew up in a house that was too silent. She really wants Rachel to know her, and it is a scary, terrifying thing.
Especially when she considers that she might have ruined it all.
When Quinn receives the automated text that there's a letter waiting for her at the precinct, she can barely contain the relief she feels.
Well.
Right until the moment she realises it could be a letter severing all contact. Rachel seems like the type of person polite enough to give a person a goodbye before effectively ghosting them.
It takes everything Quinn has to get through the rest of the school day, uncharacteristically distracted enough that some jock manages to knock her into the lockers before she can dodge him. She barely notices, determined to get her hands on that letter before she implodes. She won't wait for Holly to pick it up if she's going past the station.
Quinn has tutoring and community service to get through first, and then she makes her way to the station. Her heart is beating a little too fast, stressing over what Rachel could have written in response. The last thing Quinn wants is to have ruined whatever they've managed to build.
Actually, the last thing Quinn wants is to run into Officer Puckerman, which is exactly what ends up happening. Quinn can usually just stop by the front desk to pick up her mail, and then leave without anyone the wiser. The initial letterbox is still where it's always been, sequestered to a table that people generally ignore.
Quinn is usually ignored.
And then she's not. Quinn wasn't kidding about that weird feeling she gets around him when she mentioned it to Rachel. There is just a way he seems to look at her that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Because she is a pretty suburban white girl, and he knows it.
"You've been doing well," Officer Puckerman says, catching her on her way out.
And, the thing is, Quinn knows she has. She's deeply aware that this stupid program has worked - mainly because of Rachel - but she's definitely not willing to acknowledge it in front of him.
"I'm glad you've made proper use of the program," he says. "I've been keeping a close eye on you." Which totally isn't creepy at all. "There hasn't been any tagging, has there?"
Quinn just stares at him, determined not to reply.
He chuckles, as if she's acting exactly the way he expects. "Go on, then," he says, "Get out of here."
Quinn backs away, not quite ready to turn around until she's out of sight. As soon as she's out the main door and round the corner, she turns and finds a bench to read Rachel's letter. She can't wait, already antsy and unsettled.
Rachel's words usually have the opposite effect on her, calming and soothing her.
Dear Quinn,
I hope it isn't too weird, but I enclosed a coffee voucher for you. It's from one of those chain places - ugh - so I hope you have one in the area. I just wanted to say thank you. I suspect you won't believe me when I tell you this, but you've really helped me these past few weeks. Everyone keeps talking about how this program is meant to help YOU, but they forget that we get something important out of it too.
I wanted to send more than a voucher, believe me, but Danny informed me that wouldn't be allowed. So you get coffee, which I hope you actually drink.
You see, before we started talking, I had this idea of the way my year would go. I mean, I've had plans for my future since I was old enough to know what I wanted from life, and I'm afraid I might have lost sight of that for a while.
It's just that it's our senior year and it's supposed to be a big, important one. Finn and I - the boyfriend - have been together on and off for some years now, and it's always made sense to me that we would graduate together and go on to college and live our best lives. It's always been part of my plan, but never his, and I think I would have buckled under his desires for less than my own plan if I hadn't met you.
Quinn, this might be another thing you won't believe, but you are important to me. Please never joke about it, okay? I'm keeping you, remember?
There's a lot more in your letter I need to reply to, but I just wanted to send this one and wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you're warm and happy and healthy and loved.
Take care,
Rachel
Now, Quinn has previously been at a loss for words just three times in her life before this. The first was when she was six and she fell out of the tree her mother explicitly told her not to climb and ended up breaking her arm. The second was the first time Sadie told her she liked her back, and the the third was when she saw the letter she wrote to Sadie in Lauren's hands and just couldn't come up with an excuse for it that wasn't the truth.
Today is moment number four, and not for any reason other than the fact Rachel has decided that Quinn is worth something. It's been difficult to think of herself that way, but here Rachel is, an essential stranger, who sees something in her even she hasn't seen in herself.
Quinn doesn't cry, but she has the sensation that she might start if she actually allows herself. She pockets the letter immediately, gets to her feet and starts walking. She needs to walk. Distract herself. Just let Rachel's words settle over her.
This thing with Rachel feels dangerous, in that Quinn knows she could get too attached. Maybe she already is. Getting attached just spells trouble, so Quinn needs to walk.
It doesn't help, not really.
Which is fine. That's probably the worst part.
Quinn receives another letter from Rachel before she's had time to reply to her. It's long and detailed, Rachel clearly in a relaxed mood as she puts pen to paper and tells Quinn things the blonde is convinced she wouldn't tell just anyone.
Things like: I sometimes wish the world would just stop for a minute, just to give me time to think and just breathe. Sometimes, I feel like I can't breathe.
And things like: One day, you and I are going to meet and I'm going to get to see exactly how tall you are. But I'll also get to see you, and talk to you and look into your eyes and know that you're real.
And then: My brothers are driving me insane. Would you bail me out if I threw them off a cliff? Okay, I mean, I wouldn't, but the idea's pretty solid, don't you think?
But it's this that really gets Quinn's little bruised heart to stutter in her chest: Sometimes, when I have a bad day or even when something really good happens, I find that the only thing I want to do is tell you about it. Just want to pick up the phone and call you and know you'll pick up. I think about what you sound like more than I should admit.
Which is -
See, Quinn is gay.
Like really, really gay, and she's got a fragile little heart that can so easily latch onto people who show her kindness. It explains that short, disastrous crush she had on Holly, and don't even get Quinn started on Sadie.
These are not things Rachel should be saying to her, and Quinn spends the first half of December fighting with herself, because she really can't afford to develop some kind of crush on some girl she's never met. Quinn doesn't even know where she lives; doesn't even know her surname.
Wouldn't know how to find her, which is perhaps the whole idea.
Rachel lets slip that her birthday is coming up on the weekend, which makes Quinn want to scheme. She wants to send her something, but she doesn't know what. What would she even be allowed to send, given all the rules and restrictions of the program? All she knows is that she can't forget.
Quinn starts with a card. It's got a cartoon star on it, dancing across its front, and Quinn can't look at it without thinking of Rachel. She can't look at a lot of things and not think of her. It's a bit of a problem, given there's nobody else Quinn can tell about this nearly-disastrous path she's going down.
In the end, Quinn actually paints Rachel a scene from Wicked. Rachel once mentioned her favourite part of the story is the friendship between Elphaba and Glinda, so Quinn paints them together. She debates over the scene for a moment, and then decides to have them sitting side by side on Glinda's bed in their shared bedroom, hands gently clasped.
In a speech bubble above Glinda's head, she writes, Sometimes, when I have a bad day or even when something really good happens, I find that the only thing I want to do is tell you about it.
And above Elphaba, she writes, I find I want to know every single thing, big and small, and Quinn means it with her whole heart. It's knowledge she craves, desperately wanting to learn every thing she possibly can about this girl wherever she is.
She worries, of course, that the message she may or may not be sending may or may not be received, but she wants to do this one thing for this person who's done so much for her already.
Once she sends it, she's convinced her heart never beats the way it's supposed to ever again. She's constantly aware of it, her body operating at a level of anxiety that keeps her on edge as the last days of the semester crawl by.
As far as Quinn knows, Terri hasn't mentioned any plans for Christmas, but Martha did say that she would be spending parts of it with her mother, so that's one less little one to worry about.
It's Quinn's second holiday season away from her family, and this year is decidedly less depressing than the last. This year, she's not completely heartbroken and she's not terrified of her second foster father. This year, she doesn't have the weight of the world on her shoulders, or the fear of the rest of her life crippling her.
This year, she also has Rachel.
It takes nearly a week to get a response from Rachel, which is the longest week of Quinn's short life. In fact, it's ten days before Quinn can actually get her hands on Rachel's response, and Christmas has already come and gone with little fanfare by the time she can make her way to the police station to get the letter.
Thankfully, she doesn't encounter Officer Puckerman inside the building, but he is leaning against an outside wall when she walks out. Quinn can pretend she doesn't notice him, but his appearance startles her so much that she nearly slips on the wet ground.
He's not in uniform.
Quinn gives him a quick look, and then turns to start walking to the bus stop. Her body is tense already, but it stiffens considerably when she hears footsteps behind her.
Then his voice.
"Not even going to say hello," he says, tone purposefully light.
Quinn knows she has a choice now. She knows it the same way she knows she has pepper spray in her backpack. She could stop, make awkward and polite conversation as she tries to get out of this situation. Or she can keep walking, pretend she didn't hear him, and run the risk of him following her all the way to the stop and forcing conversation there.
Quinn internally curses, and then comes to a stop. Better to be closer to the police station, right?
"Officer Puckerman," Quinn says, keeping space between them. "Didn't see you there." Which is a lie, and they both know it.
"Did you have a good Christmas?" he asks.
"I did, thank you."
The way he watches her now isn't new, but it is the first time he's so blatant about it. "Picked up your letter, I see?"
"Yes."
"Didn't really expect you to take to the program so well," he points out, which might be true. "Better than juvie, I bet."
"You would know."
He chuckles. "I would, indeed," he says. Then, after a moment, he says, "You should be grateful."
Quinn says nothing.
"It really could have gone very badly for you," he says, "If I hadn't vouched for you." He smiles now. "Didn't even get a thank you." It's meant to be some kind of joke, but Quinn registers the danger behind it. The expectation of gratitude.
She takes a small step back, reaching for her phone and checking the time. "Yeah," she says, "Thanks." She clears her throat. "I should get going. Got places to be."
"Where you headed?" he asks. "I'll give you a ride."
Oh.
Oh no.
Quinn is definitely not going to let that happen.
"I'm meeting Holly," Quinn says, and it's enough to get Officer Puckerman to remain where he is.
"Still doing that, huh?"
Quinn frowns. "What?"
"The foster care thing?"
Which makes Quinn feel a little sick, because it means he knows she's still a minor. "I guess," she says, and wonders if he knows her birthday is in February. Hopefully, by then, she'll be done with him and this place and this program.
Before then, though, she has to find a way to let Rachel know that she wants to know her beyond this whole writing letters thing. Sixteen weeks isn't nearly enough time to know her, and Quinn won't just let her go after all this is over.
"I need to go," Quinn says, taking steps back. "Bye."
When she turns now, he doesn't follow. Just calls out, "See you around," like a promise, and Quinn quickens her steps. The letter is still in her hands, but she won't open it anywhere near Officer Puckerman. Won't let his presence taint it.
Quinn isn't meeting Holly, of course, but she does board a bus and go to the Lima Bean. After that encounter, she deserves some kind of treat, and that comes in the form of a caramel macchiato and a pain au chocolat. She finds a table in the corner, settles in her seat, and finally opens the letter.
My dearest Quinn,
When you mentioned you liked to draw and paint, I had no idea you were this talented. Sometimes, people mention hobbies in passing, and it seemed like a bit of a sore subject for you in the beginning, which is why I never pushed to learn more.
I realise now that was a mistake. I want to know everything.
Not just about your art, but about everything. Your likes and dislikes, all your little quirks. Your pet peeves, all the fleeting thoughts in your head. I find I want to know every single thing, big and small, as well.
Thank you for my gift. It's beautiful, and meaningful, and I've put it up in my bedroom. My friends ask about it, and I get to tell them all about my insightful, broody, adorable pen-friend. Now, you're probably wondering how I know you're all those things, but I can assure you that they're all things I've picked up in your letters.
Thank you for my card, as well. I always appreciate heartfelt words, and yours are very special to me. They always are, in whatever way they arrive. I look forward to them, always, your letters some of the highlights of my days and weeks.
My day was wonderful, thank you. I was lucky it was on the weekend, so we were able to do something significant. We had lunch as a great big, blended family, and then I had a small get-together with my friends in the evening. Things might have got a bit rowdy, Danny might have had to step in, there might have been several hangovers come the morning.
It was mostly awkward because Finn made some rather distasteful comments about the fact we're currently off, in our on-and-off relationship. At this point, I'm not interested in being on again, and it's been a difficult time for all of us. He seems to think there's someone else, which is baffling to me. As if I couldn't just decide I don't want him without having to want someone else.
Have you managed to sort out your own ex-drama? You haven't mentioned them in a while, so I hope they've left you alone. You deserve someone who will choose you, every time, above all else. I do too, and I know I don't have that in Finn.
Quinn. I wish I could just talk to you. I'd love nothing more than to be able to pick up the phone and call you, but I don't think that's an option for us. I'm going to try to give you my number anyway. [White Out]. I'll know they didn't white it out if I get a call from you. I just have so many things I want to tell you.
I have an audition coming up in January for a school in New York. I'm nervous about it, of course, but it's just a step towards what I've always wanted, and I would really like to be able to share that with you. I've been asking Danny about what happens after the program ends, and he mentioned they'll hold focus groups to determine the success or failure of it all, but I don't think your group will ever intersect with mine.
Don't worry, though. I'll figure it out. I just want you to know that I'm not just going to disappear when the sixteen weeks are over, okay? I told you I'm keeping you. You're stuck with me now.
Tell me about your Christmas. I want to know what you got up to. I sent you a little card, hoping it'll make you smile. It's all I want: for you to be smiling always. I wish I could see it.
I'll talk to you in the New Year, Quinn. May it be a good one for us all.
Take care,
Rachel
It's a letter that's unexpected in numerous ways. It almost feels as if Rachel is trying to tell her something without actually telling her. It's there, hidden in the words she's written, and Quinn is desperate to decipher them, but it's as if she's missing the key.
It's what she's trying to do when someone slides into the seat across from her. Quinn is just sitting and frowning at Rachel's letter, her coffee going cold in front of her, and then she's looking up to see Sadie watching her with an unreadable expression.
Of fucking course.
Quinn looks around, searching for any of Sadie's goons, but the coffee shop is surprisingly empty for what is part of the Christmas period. She sighs. "What do you want, Sadie?"
"Who is she?"
Now, Quinn wouldn't claim she's a particularly violent person, but she has the sudden urge to throw her drink right at Sadie's face. Quinn used to find her so perfect, beautiful and wonderful and so kind, but now she's seeing clearly.
Sadie Jackson is just as terrified as Quinn once was.
It's the first time Quinn realises that Sadie is actually jealous of her. Because, between the two of them, only Sadie has to keep hiding. Sadie is mean and awful and acts as if she hates Quinn, because she hates that Quinn is free.
Quinn suddenly feels sorry for her in the worst way. Quinn might be homeless and family-less and near penniless, but she gets to be honest. She gets to be authentic, and that is something Sadie doesn't have. Might never have, if she doesn't want to end up like Quinn.
"You don't know her," Quinn finally says, and Sadie's face falls.
"She's your - you're actually- "
Quinn frowns. "Why do you care, Sadie?"
"I don't."
"Then why are you asking?"
Sadie looks down at the table, expression troubled. "I meant it, you know," she says, "What I said about what our lives could be like after graduation."
"When we're out of this place, you mean?"
"Yeah."
Quinn shakes her head. "I'm not going to Yale, Sadie, and I literally want nothing to do with you, anyway."
"I got that," Sadie says, "You can barely look at me."
"Do you remember the night before it all exploded?" Quinn says. She's made a point not to think about that night, because it's the last time she felt peace.
Before Rachel, at least.
They'd been at Sadie's house, lounging on the trampoline in the backyard and soaking up the afternoon sun. They were lying so close together, their hands clasped between their bodies, and they watched the clouds move across the sky as they talked about their dreamed futures. Together.
They were always together in the future, and now Quinn can never see that happening, even if Sadie wishes for it.
"I remember," Sadie says. "You kissed me in my bedroom, promised me everything would be okay, and then walked out of my house, and nothing was ever the same."
"I felt peaceful that night," Quinn tells her. "When I got home, I wrote that letter. I poured every dream I had into it, and it was my mistake to leave it in your locker the way I did, but there is - there was something so wrong about having my peace mocked the way it was."
Sadie's expression is pained.
"Did you ever actually read it?" Quinn asks.
"No."
"I promised you the world, Sadie, and I was vilified for it," she says. "I will never make that mistake again."
"But you've promised it to her?"
"No." Quinn's response is quick, curt. "She doesn't know how I feel about her." And Rachel likely never will, because even Quinn hasn't been able to put words to all the emotions Rachel evokes in her.
Quinn knows she feels something, but she's never allowed herself to put any kind of name to it. She already knows there's heartbreak in her future, and she's trying not to make it worse for herself. She might look it, but she's not actually a masochist.
"Will you tell her?" Sadie asks, and it is entirely too weird to be having this conversation with her.
"Maybe," Quinn allows, lifting her cup and drinking some of her coffee. "Probably not. It didn't work out so well for me the last time."
Sadie nods once, looking momentarily troubled. Then her expression clears and she says, "I'm sorry, Quinn."
Quinn almost chokes on another sip of coffee, coughing several times. "Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry," Sadie says again, which means it's not a fluke. Quinn can hardly believe it. It's been more than eighteen months since Quinn's world fell apart, and she never dreamed she would ever get an apology from anyone, let alone the girl who essentially threw her under the bus in the worst way.
Quinn doesn't tell her it's okay, because it's not, and she doesn't bother asking what Sadie is apologising for. It will help nobody listing all her transgressions.
"After Winter Break," Quinn says, "Will you leave me alone?"
Instead of answering the question, she rather says, "I miss you." Her breath catches. "I have missed you so much, Quinn."
Truthfully, Quinn doesn't know how to respond to that. At the start, Quinn missed her the way she missed her home and family. It was all lumped together in heartbreak, and then came the confusion, because Quinn was hurt even more in the aftermath, the object of everyone's ridicule.
Quinn does not miss Sadie at all, and that is perhaps the most heartbreaking part of this entire thing.
Sadie must see that truth in Quinn's expression - or lack thereof - because her shoulders slump and she seems to deflate. "Yes," she finally says, "I'll leave you alone in the new year. We all will."
Quinn will have to see it to believe it, but that's possibly one less thing to worry about.
Sadie leans forward. "Did you seriously not even apply to Yale?" she asks, and Quinn would love it if Sadie could start leaving her alone right now.
"I have no home, and I have no money," Quinn tells her. "Yale is the last thing on my mind." Which isn't true, of course, but she's not going to tell that to Sadie. She hasn't even been able to tell Rachel that she applied to any colleges at all, let alone Yale.
That's something she should change. If Rachel wants to know everything, Quinn is going to tell her.
"It was your dream," Sadie tells her, claiming to have known her in a way that irritates Quinn.
"I had a lot of them I had to let go of," Quinn tells her. "Need to be more realistic now, right?"
She looks impossibly sad for a moment, and then she nods. "I suppose so."
They sit together for a while, neither of them saying anything. Quinn sips her drink and nibbles her pastry while mentally writing her response to Rachel.
Sadie sits, unmoving, expression conflicted. When she does move, it's because she receives a call and has to leave. It's her mother asking where she is, and Quinn feels an aged pain in her chest at the thought that her mother probably doesn't care about her whereabouts.
Sadie looks at her. "She asks about you sometimes," she says as if she's read Quinn's mind. Well, they were best friends once upon a time, so maybe she knows a thing or two about her. "Judy. At barbecues or at church. She asks how you are."
"And what do you tell her?"
Sadie gets to her feet, smiling sadly. "I tell her that you're free," she says, and then walks away and possibly out of Quinn's life for good.
Quinn remains exact where she is.
In the new year, Quinn dreams of Rachel for the first time.
She's faceless in the dream, but her voice is clear to Quinn. Her touch, as well. Like a phantom in the night, only Rachel is coming to save her and not haunt her.
Quinn read somewhere that you can't dream a face you haven't seen before, which means that strangers in your dreams are essentially people you've seen before and just never registered. It's comforting in a way, because she doesn't want to apply some fabricated face to Rachel.
No.
She's waiting for the real thing.
They're making plans without actually making plans. Quinn has told her that she does want to meet, in no uncertain terms. It's just that she doesn't know how or when or if they'll even be able to find each other with all the white out that now gets applied to their letters.
In the new year, Sadie does indeed leave her alone. In the new year, Martha gets to return to her home, which is sad and wonderful at the same time. The other little ones cry for a few hours, but there is another girl, Ruby, in Martha's bed by the next day, and there just isn't time to be sad.
Ruby is the youngest, labelled a selective mute, and possibly the cutest kid Quinn has ever seen. For some reason, little Ruby takes to Quinn in a way that would be annoying if it wasn't endearing. Quinn reasons it might be because Quinn is the only person who hasn't tried to get her talk. Because Quinn gets it. If she could just stop speaking, she definitely would.
Rachel calls her cute when she actually mentions her new shadow, Ruby, and Quinn's heart is already on its way to disaster. What follows is the the children conversation, and Quinn tries not to dwell too much on the relief she feels that Rachel actually wants them.
I'm not too concerned with biology. I know I'd definitely like to adopt at some point. It is my dream to be able to give a child the love of a home that I was blessed to have.
Quinn reads the words, and just knows there's no stopping her feelings now. They're deep and potent and terrifying, because she knows there's a very big chance she's going to have to bury and suppress them.
I'm currently in foster care, Quinn writes back, and hopes they don't white it out. I became a ward of the state the start of my junior year. It's a story I'd like to tell you some day, but yeah, I'd like to give a child a home, too.
It's something she thinks about. While Terri has her issues - not limited to her asshole husband - she's trying to do a good thing here. Quinn has thought of doing something similar when she's older. Just has to get the means first.
In the new year, Quinn decides to go back to blonde. Dinah and Luisa are all too willing to help her, which turns into a bonding experience for all three of them. Dinah even gives her another cut, shortening it to a length that she says makes Quinn look hot.
Quinn just lets it happen, unsure what to make about the situation. It just is, and she's choosing to enjoy it. Maybe this could be her place. For now, at least.
Because Quinn knows she's turning eighteen soon. Terri hasn't mentioned it, and neither has Holly, but Quinn isn't under any illusion that either will keep her when they don't need to. She knows there's extended foster care in place, as well as support initiatives until she's at least twenty-one. She's even found some Older Youth Houses that sound a bit terrifying, but the truth is that she just doesn't know what's going to happen once she ages out.
Dinah's lucky her birthday is in April, and it's likely Quinn won't be here for it.
In the new year, a sophomore boy named Kurt comes out, and Quinn is suddenly not the only openly queer kid at school. She's tempted to reach out to him; to offer some kind of support. And she really would - she would - if, in the new year, the letter program comes to an abrupt end.
Quinn doesn't see it coming.
It isn't even supposed to be the end, which is the part that really catches her off guard. They still have two weeks of this program left but Quinn still gets an automated message that the entire program has been terminated.
It arrives when Quinn is in class, reading the text only when the bell rings. The words keep her in her seat, a frown on her face. What?
It doesn't make sense. What does that even mean?
Quinn is tempted to skip her last lessons of the day to go to the police station and find out just what is going on, but it'll be obvious to everyone she's bunking, and she really doesn't need that added to her sheet.
Instead, she skips tutoring and community service. She needs answers, but that is easier said than done. The officer at the front desk won't tell her anything other than the standard, the program has been terminated. He won't give her any other information, won't even tell her why, and he absolutely refuses to get Officer Puckerman when she asks.
"He has actually work to be doing," he says. "Not answering your pointless questions."
Quinn doesn't understand. Nothing makes sense. Without the program, there's no way to contact Rachel. Without the program, she's essentially lost forever.
She leaves in a bit of a daze, her blood slowly moving through her veins. She can almost feel it, because she can't quite feel anything else. Somehow, she finds herself seated at the bus stop, her phone in her hand. She stares blankly at the black screen, trying to figure out what she's supposed to do now.
She can't think of the last thing she wrote to Rachel. What did she say? What did she ask her? It just never occurred to her that that letter would be the last one?
Quinn calls Holly.
She answers with a distracted, "Honey, I can't talk right now, I'm about to walk into a house visit."
Quinn can't bring herself to speak.
"Quinn?" Holly asks, "Is everything okay?"
She audibly swallows. "They ended the program."
"What program?"
"The letters," Quinn says. "I can't - she's just - how am I supposed to - Holly."
"Hey, hey," Holly says. "Take a breath. What's happening? Where are you?"
Quinn tries her best to explain, stuttering through the absolute nothing she knows about the fact these people have taken Rachel from her.
"Okay," Holly says. "Okay, I'm going to make some calls and find out what's happened. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Maybe you should go home," Holly suggests. "I can stop by later. I have to check on Ruby anyway, and you sound like you could do with a milkshake."
Quinn is just out enough to follow the instruction without protest. And just out enough not to notice that Holly's mention of the word home sends her to the one place she now feels safe.
"There was an incident with another pairing," Holly tells her, later, while they're sitting on the front steps of Terri's house. Holly did bring her a milkshake, but she hasn't touched it. "Because of it, they deemed the program too dangerous, and so they decided to terminate it. You're supposed to receive a formal letter in the mail about it."
Quinn doesn't realise that there are tears on her cheeks until Holly is giving her a concerned look.
"Quinn, you're crying," she points out, and the reality of the situation crashes down on her.
Rachel is gone.
Just like that, another person has been taken away from her, and Quinn lets out a sob, her heart cracking open in her chest.
Holly turns to her, hands reaching out. "Quinn, honey, what's wrong?"
Quinn doesn't know where the words come from, but her mouth opens and she says, "How am I supposed to tell her I love her?"
Holly looks so confused for a moment, but then her expression clears with understanding. "Oh, Quinn." Her hand reaches for Quinn's hair, smoothing it down. "What did you do?"
"I didn't mean to," she says, because she really didn't. "I didn't even know - and then - she was - Holly, you have to help me find her."
"Quinn," she says, "Quinn, I don't - that's not - "
"Please." She doesn't even care that she sounds like she's begging. "I know I won't be your problem in less than a month, but please, please can you help me with one last thing?"
"What?" Holly leans back. "What are you talking about?"
"Her name is Rachel," Quinn says. "I don't know where she lives, but she volunteers at a youth centre and has - "
"Quinn."
"What?"
"Take a breath, please," Holly tells her.
Quinn forces herself to breathe deeply. "Please, Holly," she says. "I can't lose anyone else."
That seems to strike a cord with her, because she sighs and nods. "Okay," she says, "I'll see what I can do." Her gaze meets Quinn's. "And you're not going to lose me, okay? No matter what happens in the future, you have me."
It's like Quinn doesn't hear her.
As it turns out, there's very little Holly can actually find out. A lot of the program was designed to maintain anonymity among participants, so it's unlikely they would wilfully hand out actual identities.
Quinn also suspects that Officer Puckerman wouldn't just give away Rachel's name without getting something in return, and that something might end up being Quinn herself.
So, when Holly calls to say, "They won't tell me anything, but you might actually have better luck," Quinn knows it's come straight from Officer Puckerman.
Quinn is willing to take the risk. How else is she supposed to find Rachel? She's gone through every letter she has, trying to put as many pieces together about Rachel, but there just isn't enough information there, which is why Quinn goes to the station. It should be safe inside, right? He wouldn't ask anything weird of her, surely?
Quinn is only half right.
Officer Puckerman looks far too smug when he says, "So I hear you're looking to find your penpal?"
Quinn actually hates him. "I am," she confirms. "I wasn't given the chance to say goodbye, which I would like to do."
"Hmm." He leans forward, conspiratorial. "You understand I can't exactly do that, correct?"
"Oh? Why's that?"
"Privacy things," he says offhandedly. "Can't just hand out names without having proper cause."
Quinn nods. "I understand," she says, "Is there really nothing you can do for me?"
His expression shifts. "Well, it really depends on what you can do for me," he says, and Quinn suddenly feels sick.
She frowns. "Like what?"
He looks over his own shoulder, making sure nobody is close enough to hear him. "You're a smart girl, Quinn," he says, "What could I possibly want from you?"
She notices that he doesn't explicitly say it. "What's her name?"
"Not so fast."
"I'm still seventeen."
"Not for much longer."
Quinn's jaw clenches. "What's her name?" she asks again.
He smiles as if he's won. "To be honest, I don't actually know," he says, "But we do have a landline listed here." He meets her gaze. "I call this number. You give me what I want."
"What's that?"
He laughs, seemingly enjoying this more than she ever could. "Use your imagination," he says. "Because it must be all you have, right? You've never actually had anything I have to offer yet, have you?"
Quinn doesn't say a word, and he just laughs again. Then he reaches for the landline on his own desk and dials the number. Quinn's heart starts to race immediately, and she doesn't even breathe when he hands her the receiver and she presses it to her ear.
It's ringing.
"Akron Youth Centre," a voice answers on the fifth ring, "Gail speaking."
Quinn doesn't even know what to say. "Um." She clears her throat. "Hello."
"Hi, dear," Gail says, "Can I help you?"
"Um, I was wondering if I could speak to Rachel?"
Gail hums. "Let me just check if she's in," she says. "She's reduced her hours the past two weeks, so I can't be sure she's around. Hold on a second, will you?"
"I'm holding." She makes sure not to look at Officer Puckerman, though she can feel his gaze on her.
She can feel her heart beating in every extremity of her body. Right there in her fingertips, erratic and loud. The anticipation would kill her, but she definitely doesn't want to die in an actual police station.
Eventually there's the sound of muffled voices, a bit of static, and then a voice is saying, "Hello, Rachel speaking."
It takes everything Quinn has not to burst into tears immediately. "Rachel," she whispers.
"Hello," she says again, and her voice is so much more than Quinn imagined. "May I ask who's speaking?"
Quinn lets out a little chuckle. "It's Quinn," she says, and Rachel actually gasps.
"Quinn," she squeaks. "Oh my God, is it really you? Are you okay? Shit. What even happened? How did you get this number? I've been going crazy trying to find you, but Danny hasn't helped at all. Are you okay? Where are you?"
Quinn doesn't even know where to start. "I'm okay," she says. "I think."
"You think?"
"I've been trying to find you as well," Quinn tells her. "Your voice is - " she stops.
It's pretty perfect. Quinn can barely believe she's actually talking to Rachel. She's talking to her, in real time. Quinn's heart can't even handle it.
"Yeah," Rachel says, and her tone is softer. "I think I know what you mean." She laughs. "I can't believe I'm actually talking to you."
Quinn might actually be smiling like an idiot, but she definitely doesn't care right now. "I have so much I want to say."
"Me too."
"But I can't think of a single thing."
Rachel laughs, soft and tinkling, and Quinn falls in love all over again. "Me either," she says. "And I'm never speechless. Ask anybody."
"I've rendered you such, have I?" Quinn asks, and she doesn't mean to sound flirty, but it comes out that way, and they all hear it.
Three things happen at the same time. Rachel gasps, Quinn is mortified, and Officer Puckerman's fingers press down on the phone's lever, essentially ending the call.
Quinn looks up in betrayal.
"That's enough," he says, and his voice is stiff.
Quinn wants to argue with him, explain that it wasn't nearly long enough, make sure he knows that she didn't learn anything else about Rachel in that short conversation.
"You'll get another call when you pay up," he says, and Quinn's eyes narrow when she hands back the receiver. "That your girlfriend, huh?"
Quinn definitely doesn't respond to that.
He laughs, sick and malicious. "Does she know just what you'll do to find her?"
Frankly, Quinn hasn't done anything yet, and she has no plans to. This is the last time he's going to see her. She's never coming back here.
Quite abruptly, she gets to her feet, and his smile slips. "Thank you for your help, Officer," she says just loud enough to be heard by the few people around them in the bullpen. "I'll be sure to stay out of trouble from now on, so I think we're done here."
His eyes narrow, almost daring her to say more.
Quinn wouldn't disappoint. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to reject your offer, though," she says. "You know, since I'm gay and all. But I'm sure you knew that."
His jaw clenches so tightly that she's convinced he's going to crack a tooth.
But then Quinn says, "I'm sure your little brother's a catch, but I'm just not interested," and his expression freezes on his face.
Who really has the power here, hmm?
It's enough for her to walk out of there. In fact, she runs, needing to get as far away from him and the station as possible. She's actually running on some kind of adrenalin, because she talked to Rachel.
She talked to Rachel.
She can barely believe it. But it happened. It happened, and Quinn knows what she sounds like. She knows how her laugh sounds.
She also knows that Rachel works at a youth centre in Akron, which is actually something she'll be able to work with. She can find their number online. She can call again, speak to Rachel for real. Without prying eyes, and for as long as she wants.
Quinn has all these great big plans for when she gets back to the house, but that all gets derailed when she arrives to the kind of scene one sees only on television. It's like something out of Shameless, and Quinn has to question if she's at the right house until she hears Terri yell, "I never want to see you ever again," from within the house.
And then a handful of shirts are flung out the open front door.
Ah.
That explains the strewn clothes and other belongings on the front lawn. Also explains her husband's presence. As a rule, Mr Schuester generally doesn't come to the home, choosing to spend his time in the apartment he rents closer to the school.
"I can't believe you would do this to me," Terri yells, appearing in the doorway. From her position on the street, Quinn can see she's red-faced and furious, and there are little kids cowering behind her. "After everything we've been through!"
Oh.
Oh shit.
Terri must have found out about the affair.
Quinn doesn't know what to do in this situation. Obviously, Terri and Mr Schuester need to talk this out, so maybe Quinn should take care of the kids, right?
When Terri sees her, she says, "Oh, good, you're here," and actually sounds relieved to see her. "You're about to witness a murder."
Quinn steps around Mr Schuester, glaring for good measure. "What's happened?" she asks Terri.
Terri isn't any less calm when she says, "You know, he told me that he wanted to wait to have children." Her voice is even and terrifying. "And that's what we did. We waited and waited, and then I inherited this house and thought maybe it was time for us to fill it with children of our own, but no, he wanted to wait. And wait.
"And so I opened it up to foster care in the meantime, waiting and waiting and loving children who come and go, and now I'm too damn old, and this man - " she stops, her voice cracking. "This man, who has made me wait and wait to start my own family has just told me that he's starting one of his own with another woman."
Quinn's eyes widen. "What?" She looks at Mr Schuester. "You're doing what?"
His eyes are on Terri. "Oh, don't make yourself the victim here," he says, and Quinn has never seen that expression on his face before. It's hateful in a way that makes her step closer to Terri. "You've spent all your time here with these children that aren't even ours. Just ignoring me. What did you expect to happen?"
Terri just stares at him, incredulous. "Is that really what you want to be saying to me right now?" she says. "Because we're still married."
"Well, I want a divorce."
"And I'm going to take you for everything you have," she snaps. "How are you supposed to support your mistress then? Better yet, how are you going to explain all of this to your school? Aren't you supposed to uphold the morals of the school, hmm? I'm pretty sure they won't look too kindly on adultery. Especially from two faculty members."
For just a moment, he looks worried. But then he laughs. "And what about you?" he asks. "You think I'm the only one with anything to lose here? I know more than enough about you to lose this precious house you love so much and every single thing inside it."
"And you're just heartless enough to do that to innocent children," Terri shoots right back.
"I might even be doing them a favour," he says. "They'd be better off without you."
"Get off my property," Terri suddenly says, her entire demeanour changing. She stands straighter, expression hardening. "Do whatever you want to me, but don't you dare come after my family." Her left hand reaches for Quinn's right one, pulling her closer. "Get lost, Will, and don't ever come back."
His eyes dart between the two of them, mouth opening to speak before he stops and thinks better of it. With a huff, he starts gathering his belongings on the front lawn, and Terri pulls Quinn into the house and slams the door.
She's trembling, so Quinn keeps hold of her hand for as long as she needs. They just stand there, trying to calm down, lots of eyes watching them. Quinn wouldn't know what to say, so she doesn't try to speak. Just uses her eyes to indicate to the little ones that Terri could probably use a hug right about now.
They comply after a moment, but -
Quinn's heart stills. "Where's Ruby?"
There is an entire investigation.
As far as Quinn knows, Ruby ran from the yelling, probably triggered by the loud noises, but all eight of them get moved out of the house while they try to piece together exactly what led to a mute, five year old girl managing to run away from a house without anyone noticing.
She's fine, though. They find her in a park not too far away, curled up under a tree, and Quinn aches at the thought of her being scared enough to go out on her own.
Terri is mortified and heartbroken, left to answer all the questions Holly and other case officers ask. Terri tells Quinn to try to stick with the little ones until all this blows over, but Holly can't find them emergency care that will take so many, or at such a large age range.
Quinn ends up staying in a different group home altogether, feeling as if she's back at square one all over again. Holly is deeply apologetic, and she gives nothing away when Quinn makes sure she knows that Terri didn't actually do anything wrong.
"We'll get it sorted out," is all she offers, and Quinn tries her best not to think the worst.
The stability is gone. The fear has crept back in, and she really doesn't know what's going to happen when her birthday arrives. Maybe Terri would have kept her, but now Quinn isn't so sure. Holly hasn't said anything about it, either, but she's been pretty busy with the Ruby situation and who knows what else.
Quinn is left to fend for herself, trying to make plans and deeply afraid that she's going to end up lost in the world all over again. There's no way she can contact Rachel now. What could she possibly offer her? Quinn has nothing.
She is nothing.