Author's Note: Thanks again to Mike Ownby for the usual, as well as the new job of readability fixes. That means he checks if whatever came out of my brain works in text, and that you're getting the full fic experience that I intended :)
Even though Quinn's eyes are on the TV, her thoughts are elsewhere.
With the benefit of hindsight, she feels that her talk with Puck could have gone better, somehow. She feels guilty for being honest about her feelings for him – even though Quinn's learned the hard way that lying would have made it worse.
But, whispers the little voice inside, if you'd lied, you wouldn't be alone in this. Puck may be an idiot, but he's the idiot father of her child, and she knows he'd be there for her if she asked him to…
… Even the thought leaves an icky feeling on her skin, and she dismisses it. Quinn wants to believe she's learned something from the past year apart from never believe a guy when he says "trust me". That she's a better person now.
Being a "better" person is such utter bullshit right now, though.
Then Leroy stands up, checks the clock, and says: "I'm gonna get dinner started. Quinn, would you be so kind as to help?"
She doesn't miss the significant look he shoots at her that means he doesn't actually need any help. Nor does she miss the indignant look on Rachel's face. Quinn weighs her options.
If she's honest with herself, Quinn does want to talk to someone about – well, everything that's buzzing around in her head, since trying to handle things on her own blew up in her face spectacularly. Agreeing to give her baby to Terri Schuester hadn't worked out. Neither had pretending Finn was the father because he was much more responsible than Puck.
But when Quinn had gone to an adult – the night she had begged her father to understand – she'd been kicked out of her own home. Her mother had wanted to take her back in, but was nowhere to be found once the baby was born. And here was someone else's dad – two of them – wanting to help. Not her own.
Weren't parents supposed to be the people who loved you most?
The rejection still stings. Quinn looks away, eyes prickling, and composes herself. "Rachel's not doing anything."
"Yes, I'm not doing anything right now," agrees Rachel immediately. It's such a transparent, pathetic attempt to be supportive; and yet, it makes Quinn smile.
"No offence, honey, but given your cooking abilities, I'd much rather have Quinn help," replies Leroy easily.
Against her better judgement, Quinn nods, agreeing with Leroy's assessment, and gets a glare for her trouble.
"Really, Dad, I don't mind lending a hand," Rachel insists. "I'm sure that Quinn has other things to do."
And – really? After that little speech she gave Quinn about overstepping her boundaries? It's Quinn's turn to glare at Rachel, who blushes scarlet, but – much to her surprise – doesn't back down.
"I'm fine, Rachel," she says, careful not to add a sharp word in front of Leroy and Hiram, but she hopes she's still making her ire known.
"I – yes. Of course. I apologize." She clears her throat, smooths down her skirt, and returns her attention to the TV. Leroy shoots Quinn a surprised look as they head into the kitchen, which Quinn ignores.
She's tense; her body poised to lash back out at whatever Leroy might say to her. Rachel had no right to overstep, true; but this is her house, and those were her parents. Already, she's worrying that she's gone too far, and that she might have to pack her bags –
Best get it over with, then.
Once they're out of earshot, she rounds on Leroy and says, point-blank: "I know I shouldn't have."
Leroy frowns. "Shouldn't have what?"
"Snapped at Rachel."
He shrugs in response. "You were fine."
"I thought you'd stick up for her!" Quinn stares incredulously at this blatant betrayal.
"Rachel can fight her own battles. She doesn't need her dads to swoop in and protect her from every problem there is."
"Like me?"
Leroy's expression turns stern. "I thought we'd had this conversation already, Quinn."
She flushes crimson, anger and shame mingling in her stomach. "No, I don't believe we've talked about you and Hiram letting your daughter's bully stay in your house, and taking my side against her."
His eyes narrow. "Are you done?"
"No," she hisses. "I am so done with waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don't know what sick mind games you're playing; all of you treating me like I'm made of glass, or like you're waiting for me to snap and yell at you so you can throw me out. I hate all this fucking uncertainty, and I hate you for forcing me to be here at all."
Leroy doesn't move, doesn't say anything throughout her tirade. Quinn suddenly feels exhausted.
He points at a chair. "Sit."
She does, flopping gracelessly into it, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring daggers at him.
"Do you want to go back to the Joneses?"
"What?"
"It's clear that you hate it here," says Leroy flatly. She flinches. "I can call Aurelia now and have you back there by tonight."
Quinn's face hardens. "Can we not do this right now?" she hisses, glancing at the living room, afraid Rachel will come barrelling in.
"If we don't do this now, we'll just keep glossing over this, and you'll repress all this resentment until you crack. Like you just did."
She feels her face burning hot. But she also feels the familiar fire in her belly that always fuels her when she's confronting someone. It energizes her in a way Quinn's almost forgotten.
He turns away to set a large pot on the burner. "I know you don't really trust adults right now," says Leroy, "least of all me, because I'm forcing you to be here."
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Quinn retorts, her voice dripping in acid.
"Don't take that tone with me; we both know very well you needed help, and you wouldn't have accepted my help otherwise," Leroy snaps back with equal venom.
Quinn, startled, swallows the initial response on the tip of her tongue. "Still doesn't mean I have to like it."
Leroy sighs. "Of course you don't." He takes a seat opposite her. "Just tell me what you want, Quinn."
"I didn't want any of this."
"It's too late for that now," he says hotly. "Just accept that so you can move on. Do you want to go back to the Joneses?"
"I want to stay here."
The bald admission shocks them both; arguably, Quinn more than Leroy. "I-I mean…" she stammers, "I've already moved here from there, I don't want to move back again…"
He scrutinizes her for a long moment, before he nods. "Alright," he says. "But I'm going to set some ground rules. You don't get to bully Rachel. Here, or in school. No insults, no slushies, no whatever you and your Cheerios did. Ever again. Is that clear?"
"I already stopped," Quinn mutters, but it's a weak excuse and she knows it.
"You're an intelligent young woman; you know what I mean."
Quinn can't resist. "I thought you let her fight her own battles."
"These are special circumstances." He fixes her with a glare. "Now that's out of the way, I want to make it absolutely clear there is no other shoe, Quinn. There are no mind games. You are the only one in this house who is hung up about bullying Rachel last year."
She opens her mouth indignantly, but Leroy continues talking. "Next rule," he adds, "no more tantrums."
Quinn bristles but decides to hold her tongue.
"I was brought up to talk about my problems constructively, not bottle them up until I lash out at everyone. This isn't your house; neither Hiram nor myself are your father. We're not going to punish you if we don't like whatever you have to say to us or Rachel, as long as you do it in a constructive manner."
It feels like someone has pricked the balloon inside her that is holding all her anger. Everything drains out of Quinn, leaving her cold and empty. "Fine."
"Are we clear?"
"Yes."
Leroy nods. "Good."
"But I have a question."
Leroy looks amused. "Go on."
Quinn gestures at their surroundings. "Did you actually need help, or was this your terrible attempt at interrogating me about what went down this morning?"
Leroy looks embarrassed. Quinn feels a surge of vindication. "A little of both, to be honest," he says, and she appreciates his honesty. "Though," Leroy adds, smiling at her, "I also figured that chopping up some poor, innocent vegetables might help you feel better."
It startles a laugh out of her. "Yeah, that would, actually," Quinn admits.
"Wonderful. Then vegetable soup for dinner it is." He hands her an apron. "How comfortable are you in the kitchen?" he asks, busying himself gathering ingredients.
"I know how to feed myself." Quinn's repertoire consists of staple dishes and finicky special-occasion meals with no in between. She doesn't say any of this, though; Quinn thinks she's said enough for today.
"Good, good." He passes her a few potatoes, leeks, and carrots. "Cut these into half-inch cubes, please."
"Okay."
"You're lucky it's my week to cook; Hiram's dinners are usually out of a designer cookbook," continues Leroy as he minces garlic. "It's not exactly to my taste."
He's smiling, though. The words, "You don't seem to mind," slip out of Quinn before she can stop herself, and she bites her lip.
To her relief, Leroy doesn't seem offended; he chuckles. "He was a lot worse before we had Rachel. We drove to Columbus for groceries once because he saw a recipe for smoked partridge breasts and lord knows how diverse and well-stocked Lima's supermarkets are. I swear, that man drives me crazy sometimes."
She keeps quiet, unsure of how to respond, struck by how… normal it sounds. How much like a normal couple, that is. Despite her father's condemnation of homosexuals, Quinn has never shared his fire and brimstone views – she has always suspected the 'friendship' between Brittany and Santana runs deeper than they let on – but she's never met anyone so… comfortable with being different. Being like everyone else but not really.
But then Rachel comes into the kitchen, pulling Quinn from her thoughts. She fetches a mug and fills it at the tap, clearly doing her best to act nonchalant.
"You alright there, honey?" asks Leroy, sounding as though he's trying very hard not to laugh.
Rachel's back stiffens. "Yes, dad, thank you for asking." And she practically scuttles out of the kitchen.
Quinn snorts.
"I swear, Hiram's exactly the same way. She got it from him," comments Leroy with a shake of his head.
She decides not to respond. She has other, more important things to think about than Rachel Berry. "Before, when you said you'd have a place here for one or two…?"
Leroy stops chopping. "I did say that."
Quinn's teeth press into her lower lip, briefly. "You really don't care whether I keep the baby?"
"We don't, and neither do the Joneses," Leroy gently reminds her.
"Okay." Quinn concentrates hard on cutting celery.
She doesn't know where that outburst came from. It isn't like she hated living with the Joneses, or that she loves being in close proximity 24/7 with Rachel's crazy…
God. It's just not possible that she wants to stay here because she likes these people. She doesn't – she can't like two gay men who treat her like she's –
– an adult.
Which is her breakthrough moment. Aurelia and her husband, Mark, treated her like a teenager. Hiram and Leroy have treated her like an adult.
And if she's honest with herself? She stopped being a teenager the day she held her baby in her arms for the first time, and she's not sure if she can go back.
No matter how much she wants that.
"Quinn? If you're done with your veg, I'm ready for you now."
She blinks. "Yeah. Hang on."
With all the drama that's been going on, it doesn't hit Quinn that she goes back to school tomorrow until Hiram reminds her that he has driving duty for the week.
Quinn isn't looking forward to school; not with Puck there, and being another day closer to making a decision. She runs her spoon through her soup distractedly, lifting it, then letting soup spill back into the bowl. It's not a slight against the soup in any way – it's surprisingly good for a vegan recipe – but the thought of school effectively killed her appetite.
Quinn notices Rachel watching her like a hawk. She helps herself to another piece of garlic bread (the non-vegan ones Leroy made with plenty of butter) in the vain hope it will put the other girl off. It's warm and buttery, just the way she likes it; Quinn thinks Leroy made it as an apology for earlier, and for the vegan menu.
But Rachel is undeterred. She keeps shooting her little, worried looks throughout dinner, which Quinn ignores, unwilling to deal with both Rachel's brand of concern and – herself, to be honest.
Losing her temper with Leroy earlier was cathartic. And as much as she hates to admit it, she does believe his words – just as she doesn't believe Puck.
Quinn scowls. He's not grown-up enough; he spent his time playing games or hanging out when she was staying at his place. Puck isn't going to be the one holding the baby, or singing her to sleep, or getting up in the middle of the night to soothe her –
– like Rachel does.
She blinks rapidly, astonished by the audacity of her thoughts for the second time today.
Meanwhile, the older Berrys carry on their own conversation, talking about work and plans for the upcoming summer holidays. Quinn puts her spoon down. "May I be excused, please?"
Leroy frowns at her half-finished soup and bread. "Is that all you're eating?"
"I'm full."
"At least finish your garlic bread. I made that especially for you." Leroy arches an eyebrow, and continues shamelessly: "It'll be a shame if it goes to waste."
She glares at him; he stares back at her. The battle of wills ends when Quinn grudgingly nods. "I'm taking it up to my room."
"If you bring down your plate later and wash it, we have a deal."
Rachel shakes her head, seemingly scandalized. Quinn takes comfort in the fact that it seems likely Leroy will get a dressing-down from his daughter once Quinn's out of earshot.
She is prepared this time, when the soft cries of the baby wake her from a troubled sleep. Quinn brings the baby downstairs while she reheats the bottle, afraid her cries might summon Rachel. She can't handle Rachel right now, not when it's just the two of them and she'll have no choice but to be honest.
So Quinn finds herself standing in the Berry kitchen at an ungodly hour, absently swaying on her feet as she hums a lullaby she used to love as a child.
And…
She doesn't hate it. Hate her. Quinn stares down at the baby in her arms as she contentedly sucks on her bottle.
"You're not making this any easier," Quinn grumbles.
She feels like someone's given her a hard shake, knocking all her pieces out of place, and that she is trying to put herself back together. Except it's becoming apparent that she doesn't even know who Quinn Fabray was in the first place.
Certainly, she knows who she's supposed to be, but it seems less of a priority now.
"Did she wake you up last night?"
Quinn shoots a furtive glance in Rachel's direction. "Yeah, but I was expecting it. She quieted after she'd gotten her bottle." Quinn smiles triumphantly. "Didn't need you coming to the rescue again, Berry."
Unless she was sorely mistaken, Rachel actually looks disappointed. But it's gone in seconds as she beams at Quinn. "I'm glad to hear that, Quinn."
When they get out of the car, Quinn is surprised to see most of the glee club standing around outside the school. "What're you guys doing here?"
"Waiting for you!" Brittany says brightly, as Mercedes, Tina, and Kurt flap at her like a bunch of distressed chickens, saying "shhhh".
"Waiting for…" Quinn repeats, and then sees Rachel looking shifty. "Oh."
"I may have enlisted some help keeping Noah away from you for at least today," mutters Rachel. "And anyone else who wants to give you a hard time."
Quinn's cheeks flame. "I, uh, thanks, Rachel."
"You're very welcome."
Then Matt and Mike are on either side of Quinn, talking animatedly about all the math homework they did not do over the weekend as they shepherd her into the building. The rest of Glee follows them in, and it's almost like everything is normal again.
Until she spots the Slushies.
She knows the leering faces behind the Slushies well; she got used to them when she was pregnant. But it's never been an ambush like this. Quinn defiantly steels herself, lifting her chin, channelling as much Head Cheerio as she can.
"Welcome back, Preggo," says Karofsky, his smile cruel. "Got you a welcome present from all of us," he adds, nodding at the jumbo slushie in his hand, and exchanging leers with the other football players around him.
"David! Don't you dare!" Rachel snaps.
It startles Quinn a lot more than it startles Karofsky, because – Rachel wasn't there until a second ago, and now she's standing to Quinn's left, not-so-subtly edging in front of Quinn as though trying to take the hit. "Put that away!"
It would be ridiculous except this is McKinley, and slushies really are their equivalent of guns.
Karofsky grins. "Oooh, it's the loudhailer." His goons snigger. "Whatcha gonna do? Sing at me? I'm so scared." He mimes a shiver.
Mike and Matt exchange glances, then Mike goes to flank Rachel, while Matt sticks closer to Quinn. "Back off, dude," says Matt.
"Yeah? Why don't you make me, Rutherford?" Karofsky shoves him; Matt shoves back.
Out of nowhere, Finn appears, pushing the boys apart. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Karofsky," he says. "Unless you and your buddies feel like running wind sprints today."
The other footballers mutter darkly but walk away; Karofsky, sensing he's lost, backs off. "Whatever." He contemptuously tosses the Slushie into a nearby bin. "I got better things than to catch loser-itis from being near all of you." He slouches down the hallway, elbowing a nervous freshman out of his path.
Rachel smiles gratefully at the guys. "Thank you," she says, leaning into Mike and Matt.
"We didn't do anything."
"You didn't abandon us," says Rachel simply. "That counts for a lot in my book."
Finn doesn't seem to acknowledge Quinn's presence. "You okay, Rach?"
"I am. Thank you for standing up for us, Finn."
Quinn nods at them all. School hasn't even started yet, and she's already exhausted. "Thanks." She could mention that he wasn't even there when she needed him before, but that would be ungracious, and she can't afford to burn every bridge she has.
Finn gives her a lopsided smile, and – it's something.
The rest of her day is thankfully relatively drama-free; she still hears whispers behind her back, but she doesn't elicit a Red Sea response when she walks through the hallways. The teachers are busy winding up the school year, their hearts clearly not in the classroom; the rest of the student body is already making summer plans.
The formerly-knocked-up ex-Cheerio is old news, after all.
Even so, she's glad to be done with classes and moving on to Glee. Quinn picks a seat at the back of the room, where she's promptly joined by Mercedes and Kurt. Rachel's already present, sitting at the front with Finn; she glances at Quinn when she enters, but Quinn ignores her.
Mercedes takes the seat beside her. "So how was your weekend, Quinn?" asks Mercedes.
Quinn glances surreptitiously in Rachel's direction before answering. "Horrible."
Mercedes snorts. Kurt tuts at them both.
"Really? It was that bad?"
"Well…" And Quinn is stuck. Explaining just how horrible her weekend was would entail telling them about Puck, and she knows that Kurt and Mercedes are the two biggest gossip hounds in the school. It's so easy for her to imply Rachel being her usual self is just as horrible as they think it would be.
But she made a deal with Leroy, and – Rachel doesn't deserve it anyway.
"Puck showed up," she says. "He wants us to be a couple, and to raise the baby together."
"I take it that you didn't want that," remarks Kurt dryly.
"No. We fought about it. He's pretty upset with me."
"Ouch." Kurt reaches over to pat her hand. "That explains why Rachel had us wait for you this morning. I'm sorry."
"It's fine," says Quinn, and finds that she means it. "I told him I don't like him that way. He took it pretty well, but… it's just kinda awkward."
Puck chooses that moment to slink in. He glances at her, and picks the farthest seat from her, crossing his arms across his chest.
Mercedes tuts. "I get that."
Quinn sighs.
"So, if you turned Puckerman down, what are you gonna do, then?"
And Quinn doesn't have an answer yet.
Quinn feels like she can finally breathe after Mr Shue dismisses them for the day. Just as she's gathering up her things, Mercedes pats her arm. "Don't leave yet, we've still got to rehearse for Mr Schue's performance," she mutters under her breath.
She sighs. "Yeah, okay."
Quinn doesn't have much input. She sings when she's supposed to, keeping quiet when Rachel and Kurt bicker about last-minute changes to the arrangement. When they bring up costumes, Quinn accepts Tina's offer of an old T-shirt, and Brittany's old jeans (they should be fine if she rolls up the cuffs).
The meeting automatically breaks up when Santana and Brittany walk out of the choir room, pinkies linked. The other Glee clubbers file out in twos and threes after them.
Except for her, and for Rachel and Finn.
They don't seem to have noticed that the meeting's over, both wrapped up in their own little conversation. Quinn watches dispassionately for a minute or so, before clearing her throat when they completely ignore her presence.
She doesn't feel anything. All that old jealousy and anger is a distant ache, a vestige of a time when life seemed so much simpler.
"Hey," she says.
Immediately they break off to glance at her, looking awkward.
"God, Berry, you can talk to him," says Quinn, rolling her eyes. "It's not like I'm gonna pull your hair out for talking to my ex-boyfriend."
Rachel's eyes widen.
"I was joking."
Finn shuffles his feet, looking uncomfortable. "Didn't sound like you were joking. Sounded like Scary Quinn."
"I beg your pardon?" Quinn asks, narrowing her eyes at him.
He blanches. "Uh, sorry."
Quinn sighs. "Forget it, Finn. Just… whatever. I'm not here to be a bitch to you."
He nods. "Oh. That's great."
Rolling her eyes, Quinn decides to ignore him until a small movement draws her attention, and she spots Rachel treading on Finn's foot out of the corner of her eye. She's tiny compared to him, so it takes a while for Finn to notice what she's doing, and longer still to figure out why she's doing it.
Quinn fights the urge to snap at them both.
"I'll see you at home later?" says Rachel brightly. "I need to help Finn work on his breath control technique."
"Is that what they're calling it nowadays?"
Rachel blushes. "I know what you're implying, Quinn, but it's not like that. While Finn and I do have chemistry – and a considerable amount of mutual attraction – things have been rather complicated recently and we've decided to focus on being friends for now."
Finn, meanwhile, is suddenly intently focused on the ceiling.
"Isn't your dad supposed to be picking us up? Like, now?" says Quinn curtly, not in the mood for a Rachel Berry-style overshare.
"I'll text him."
"Fine." She picks up her binder and heads for the exit.
"Quinn, wait," Finn says just before she can leave.
"Yeah?"
He shuffles uncomfortably. "Can I, er, talk to you for a sec?"
"Okay."
She follows him a little way down the corridor towards the stairwell. Finn looks incredibly nervous, like he did the first time he asked her to go out with him.
"So," he starts, scuffing the linoleum with his sneaker, "I wanted to say sorry for ignoring you last week."
Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Ignoring me?"
"Last Friday," he clarifies.
"Yeah, I got that. But what do you mean, ignoring me?"
Finn looks confused. "Not talking to you and stuff."
She gets it. She thinks he doesn't want her to get the wrong idea after he'd stood up for her this morning. "It's fine, Finn."
"Like, I know things between us haven't been the best, but I was mad at you, over the baby and all." He frowns. "You lied about a lot of stuff and hurt me."
"I know. I'm sorry."
He shrugs. "It's cool. I'll get over it. I just needed some time to think it over, 'cause Rachel apologized for telling me 'cause it wasn't her place, but it was good she did, and – "
"– did Rachel put you up to this?" Quinn interjects, irritation prickling at her.
"No! No. She didn't, like, force me to talk to you or anything. I just wanted to do it 'cause it's the right thing to do." Finn shoves his hands into his pockets. "I was mad at you, but she explained that you were having a hard time, and you did a lot of the stuff you did because you didn't have a choice. So it's not fair of me to keep being mad at you for things that aren't really your fault."
"Okay," says Quinn, bemused. "Finn – are you forgiving me for lying to you, or for sleeping with Puck?"
He frowns. "Uh… all of it?"
"... Okay." She doesn't know what to make of it – least of all, how exactly Rachel is involved in this – but Quinn's tired of what she now sees as superfluous drama. "I accept your apology, Finn, if you'll forgive me for lying to you."
"Yeah, of course. We're good." He beams at her, and for a brief moment – she remembers why she wanted Finn to be the baby's father.
Then he clears his throat and says: "Uh – I gotta go meet Rachel," and the spell breaks. "I'll see you around?"
"Yeah," says Quinn, managing a smile for him. "See you later, Finn."
Hiram swings by punctually, baby in tow. "Where's Rachel?"
"She's with Finn," says Quinn. "She said she'll text you."
If the name sounds familiar, he doesn't let on. "Ah," says Hiram, pulling out of the school parking lot. "Well then. I'll just remind her she has a strict curfew on school nights. And what about you?"
"Huh?"
"Nothing on after school?"
"No." She's uncomfortable.
"Ah." Hiram is distracted, momentarily, when he pulls onto the main road. "Quiet night in, then?"
"I guess."
He doesn't say anything after that. Quinn lets out the breath she doesn't realize she'd been holding, and turns her gaze outside until they pull up outside the Berry house. "I'm going to make myself hot chocolate," says Hiram, "would you like some?"
She knows a ploy to get her to talk when she sees one, but Quinn finds that she doesn't really care. "Okay," she says. Quinn settles the baby in the crib in the living room and sits in the kitchen.
Hiram chuckles. "This isn't an interrogation. You don't need to look so terrified."
"Leroy said about as much," Quinn fires back.
"He's a police officer. He doesn't know how to do subtle, believe it or not," says Hiram, tone light.
Quinn shakes her head. "I'll have that hot chocolate if you promise not to talk."
"Deal," chuckles Hiram.
She hears Rachel before she sees her.
Quinn had grand plans for her evening: feed the baby, do homework until Leroy comes home with dinner, and then back to her room until it's time to sleep. But the baby hasn't stopped fussing, so Quinn has her homework spread out on the kitchen table while Hiram coos at the baby.
"You didn't have to stay down here," Hiram had told her. And she'd been tempted.
But she's inconvenienced everyone enough. The baby spends weekdays at Hiram's office and it's her fault. Quinn only wants to be beholden to one Berry at a time.
So she's working her way through calculus when she hears Rachel's distinctive laugh. Followed by Finn's deeper chuckle.
Her throat tightens.
Hiram peers at the door. "Do I need to flick the porch lights?" he wonders aloud. He's looking at Quinn as he says it, so, clearly looking for a reaction from her.
Quinn isn't going to give him one. She shrugs. "Do whatever you want."
Hiram glances at her as he heads towards the door; Quinn is indifferent. She's been on the receiving end of a lot of looks today.
Her life goes by in a blur until Wednesday night. She stands by numbly as Hiram and Leroy make arrangements for tomorrow.
Rachel keeps trying to catch her eye. Quinn is determined not to look at her, because seeing that look of complete empathy will be more than she can bear.
"All right," says Leroy, putting his phone back into his pocket, "we're all set, Miss Thing. We'll be leaving at ten."
Quinn nods, throat tight. "Okay."
She wasn't expecting to get any sleep tonight. At the very least, the baby seems to understand the gravity of the situation, and settled down immediately after her night feeding.
So why is Rachel Berry outside her door?
"Quinn? Are you awake?"
She grunts. "No, I'm asleep," Quinn calls back, rolling over and pulling the covers over her head. God, it's hot. With a little luck, she'll probably suffocate to death overnight, magically solving all her problems.
There's a pause, before Rachel says, "Funny. May I come in?"
"If I say no, you'll come in anyway, won't you?"
"Possibly," she admits, "but I'd much rather have your permission. I don't want to intrude."
"And where was this consideration for my feelings all year?"
"I'll be happy to discuss this in further detail, but I'd rather not do it through a locked door," comes Rachel's testy reply.
Quinn grunts. The one quality she lacks, which Rachel possesses in abundance, is patience. "Fine. Let yourself in. Door's not locked."
By the time Quinn kicks off the blankets, climbs out of bed, and pats down her hair, Rachel is inside. She's wearing a hideously pink flannel pajama set, spangled all over with gold stars, the look completed with matching pink fluffy slippers.
"God, Berry, what are you wearing?"
"Pajamas," Rachel fires back. "My poor circulation necessitates dressing adequately for bed."
Quinn, clad in an old camp T-shirt and shorts, feels hot just looking at her. "Fine, fine. Just… I don't know what to say. I don't know what I was expecting, even, given that it's you."
Rachel shrugs it off. "How are you feeling?"
"Just peachy," Quinn practically snarls. "Couldn't you guess?"
"Ah. I take that to mean I shouldn't have asked the painfully obvious."
She likes that Rachel isn't so horribly clueless anymore. "What gave me away?"
Rachel sighs. "May I sit?" she asks, and does without waiting for Quinn's reply. "Quinn, you're a good person. No matter what you choose tomorrow, because that decision will be made out of love. Nobody can fault you for that."
"Yeah? Tell that to my parents. And McKinley. And most of this cow town."
"Perhaps, but do their opinions matter? The Glee club cares about you. So do my dads, and Mercedes' parents."
"You don't understand, Berry."
Rachel smiles faintly at her. "You know me, Quinn. I'm open to explanations."
Quinn exhales. "Look. You don't know what it was like for me, growing up with my dad. He… he only had brothers, and he really wanted sons to take fishing, and play catch with, and spend Sunday afternoons tuning up the car with. Instead, he got me and Frannie."
"Frannie was his golden girl. Salutatorian, Head Cheerio, Prom Queen. Full ride to Ohio State. She was a real daddy's girl, and she made him be okay with not having sons. But me?" Quinn laughs bitterly. "I was an odd duck. I wasn't girly like Frannie. I wanted him to teach me how to fix a carburetor, and to shoot a gun. But that's not what he wanted, y'know? He wanted another Frannie, or a boy, and he didn't know what to make of me."
Quinn bows her head, staring down at her hands. "I thought I was on track. He was so proud when I told him I'd been made Head Cheerio, youngest ever to hold the title. And I lost all of that because of one mistake. Years of hard work down the drain."
Rachel startles her by reaching over to grip her hand. "I'm sorry."
Quinn nods. There's a part of her that wants to kick Rachel out, to scream at her as though she's responsible for all her problems. Rachel would probably let her; it worries Quinn a little. "This is my chance," she says. "I can give her to someone who can look after her better than I can. I can go back to my life like all of this never happened."
"If you've already decided, why are you so upset now?"
Quinn pauses. It's a good question; it's just not a question she wants to answer. "Why are you doing this?" slips out before Quinn can stop herself.
"I just want you to have no regrets about your decision, Quinn."
"What are you, a fucking saint?"
"I don't think I can be a saint. I'm Jewish." Rachel taps her lip with a finger thoughtfully. "But if it were possible, I think it would be nice if I could be a patron saint of music. Or singing."
"Are you seriously telling me that you've thought about this?"
"I like to keep an open mind," replies Rachel, just as seriously.
"Figures."
Rachel shrugs. "You know… I was crushed that Shelby didn't want a relationship with me."
"Way to be subtle about changing the subject, Berry."
Rachel acknowledges the comment with a tilt of her head. "I know it's dumb to be upset. She was a surrogate, she signed a contract. Shelby knew she would possibly never see me again; it was a fluke that we even found each other."
"So, why are you so hung up on that?" Quinn asks, even though she suspects she already knows the answer. "It's not like she ever wanted to get to know you, let alone be your mom."
"I have two dads, Quinn. I was a precocious child, enough to know that a mother is required for procreation."
Quinn makes a disgusted face at her. Rachel doesn't react, continuing, "When I was old enough to fully understand adoption, my dads told me everything. So, I knew I had a mom out there as well. My dads are the best parents anyone could have, but it didn't stop me from wondering what my mom was like."
"I've long suspected that part of the reason I was bullied so badly was because I had to teach myself how to wear makeup, or do my hair, or any of the usual feminine things. My dads tried, of course, but it wasn't the same."
Quinn fidgets a little.
"I was so excited when I found her because I thought I didn't have to wonder anymore what having a mom would feel like." Rachel looks down at her hands. "But, as we all know, that was shot to hell. Shelby's my mother, not my mom, and she will never be."
"I'm sorry Shelby sucks," says Quinn sincerely.
Rachel giggles. "Thanks. But my point is… your little girl is going to have a great life, no matter what. Look at me, I turned out just fine."
"If you were me, what would you do?" Quinn asks quietly.
"I'd keep her," says Rachel just as quietly. "I know what it's like to grow up without a mom."
"You're saying that no matter how wonderful her adoptive parents are, she's always going to wonder what her biological mom is like."
Rachel sighs. "I suppose I am. I apologize; I came here with the intention of assuaging your fears, but I fear I haven't helped very much."
Quinn turns her attention back to the sleeping baby in the crib. "Can I ask you something, Rachel?"
"Of course."
"Why did you get them to do it?"
"Do what, Quinn?"
"Walk me into school. I was fine last Friday without an escort."
Rachel blinks rapidly. "Well, that's... I may or may not have overheard your conversation with my dad on Sunday. I had no idea you felt that way," she says in a rush, as though fearful of Quinn's reaction, but wanting to get everything out. "It's not much, but I thought that would've helped you with whatever you're going through. Of course I have no clue exactly what you're going through, but I just wanted to do something to help. Something other than overstep my boundaries."
"... So, you didn't make Finn apologize?"
"What?"
"Nothing. Forget it," says Quinn.
Rachel frowns at her, but complies.
She's thrown up twice so far; immediately after she woke up, and again after breakfast. She does it like a Fabray; quietly, with her dignity intact. Quinn brushes her teeth thoroughly. She thinks she may be back soon, judging from the way her stomach is turning over itself, even with nothing but bile in it.
"Ms. Cummings will be with you shortly," says the receptionist.
Quinn barely hears Leroy thanking the woman. All her attention is on the baby in her arms, wrapped in the same pink baby blanket she left the hospital in.
She'd burst into tears the first time she met the baby. She's hoping there won't be a repeat performance.
None of the Berrys have said a word to her so far – even Rachel, who looks conflicted, but is still keeping quiet. Distantly, Quinn appreciates their silence.
"Quinn. It's lovely to see you again," says Ashley warmly.
Quinn nods stiffly.
"Have you come to a decision?"
Time stands still. Quinn's chest feels tight, like the universe is collectively holding its breath, waiting for her answer. Memories of the past year flash through her mind; of finding out she was pregnant, of being kicked out. Being shuttled from house to house. Finn's face, then Puck's. Of the day her baby was born.
"I'm keeping her," Quinn hears herself say. Her voice sounds detached.