Author's Notes: Thanks for your patience through this long hiatus. Hope this chapter reassures you that I haven't abandoned this fic. As always, edits, readability fixes, and resolution of continuity paradoxes are handled by Mike Ownby.
The silence that falls after Quinn's declaration stretches too long to be comfortable. Quinn feels panic clawing at her insides, threatening to spill over. She stiffens her back and lifts her chin, half-hoping her perfect posture gives them the impression that she knows what she's doing.
The entire time, the words it's still not too late to change your mind float at the back of her mind.
Hiram clears his throat, the sound making Quinn jump. "If you're sure," he says, glancing at her over his glasses.
She opens her mouth. No sound comes out; Quinn swallows, moistening her throat, and then tries again. "I'm sure."
He waits until she finally meets his eyes. Quinn is surprised to find he is smiling at her. "All right, then. Would you like me to go over the paperwork with Ashley, or would you want to do that yourself?"
"I…" She swallows again. "I'll do it. I just need… I'll be back."
Quinn exits the office, pausing outside the door for a moment. The crowded corridor doesn't feel less claustrophobic than the room. Quinn starts walking until she finds a bathroom.
Alone, she closes her eyes and allows herself a moment. Quinn leans over the sink and splashes cold water on her face; it forces her thoughts away from the panicking and on herself. She leans forward and just focuses on breathing.
It would be foolish to pretend she isn't scared; of the decision she's just made, of the consequences of her decision that will last for her lifetime, of everyone looking at her and thinking she doesn't know any of this. The whispers behind her back that won't be confined to McKinley High. Quinn has a sudden vision of herself, bedraggled, walking down the street surrounded by a forest of snide voices.
God, it's like she didn't think about any of this before she decided on keeping the baby. Quinn grimaces at her reflection.
Footsteps from outside draw Quinn's attention. She half-expects to see Rachel coming in after her; Rachel has never learned how to leave her alone when she runs off like this. She braces herself and waits.
To her surprise, the footsteps pass her by.
Quinn is… relieved. And a little disappointed. It's just her, meaning she can't lash out at Rachel. She can't try to express everything she's feeling by using Rachel as a punching bag, and anxiety claws at her stomach, mixing with the ever-present guilt.
Well, she was going on about being treated like an adult, wasn't she? And here she is, running from her very adult decision like a teenager. Unable to vent her emotions or deal with the consequences of her actions like an adult.
Quinn firms her jaw, lifting her head to lock eyes with the girl in the mirror. "Get a grip on yourself, Fabray," she growls – and it's a little pathetic when she takes in the red-eyed, damp-haired girl staring defiantly back at her. She's spent long enough waiting for someone to save her from herself. So, Quinn decides, maybe it's time she stopped waiting and did it herself.
She sails back into the room, head held high, expression fixed. Everyone jumps to attention; it reminds her of the Cheerios' locker room back when she was boss, which lifts her spirits a little.
"You're back," says Rachel, completely unnecessarily, and shoots a dark look at her fathers. Quinn takes that to mean that Rachel's staying put wasn't her idea.
"Yeah," she says, and turns to look at Ashley. "I think there are some forms I need to sign?"
Ashley nods. She has a folder on her desk, Quinn notices; the hospital administrator produces a few papers from it. Quinn recognizes her own handwriting on a few. "Sign these," explains Ashley, tapping her pen on a few places, "and fill this out."
Quinn takes the proffered pen. It's deja vu from a week ago, except Rachel is sullenly watching and not barging in to stop her.
She signs her name on the dotted lines; QFabray, QFabray. The tail of the 'y' in Fabray curls wildly and erratically over the paper each time. She ignores it.
Ashley gathers up the forms, gives them a quick look through, then sets them back down. "Well," she says, smiling at her, "congratulations on your new daughter, Quinn."
"Thank you."
"Have you thought of a name?"
Now, this is something Quinn has an answer for. It's the least she can do for Puck. "Beth." She spells it out, for Ashley to print in neat block letters.
"Any middle name?"
"No."
And just like that, the baby ceases to be a remote object and becomes Beth, a person. Her person.
Everything after that passes in a blur.
Hiram takes a copy of all the paperwork, tucking the plastic folder into his briefcase. Leroy has a hand on Rachel's shoulder. And Quinn…
Quinn has the baby. Her Beth.
"Quinn?"
She braces herself. "Yeah?"
"That's a beautiful name." Rachel gives her a small smile.
Startled, Quinn returns the smile. "Thanks."
After that, there's silence. Quinn doesn't want to question it, but she does find it a little unnerving because this is Rachel Berry, and the Rachel she knows doesn't keep her thoughts under lock and key.
That's Quinn's domain.
But for now, she has other things to do; there's the forms to take from Hiram and keep somewhere safe. The baby needs to have a nap so she can have her evening bottle. And after that, there's the rest of her life to think about.
She's just put the baby – Beth – in her crib when she hears a knock on her open door.
Leroy is standing on the threshold. He clears his throat when Quinn meets his eyes. "So," he starts, "I think we need to talk."
Her heart leaps into her throat. "I…"
"Not about you and Beth's living arrangements," he interrupts. "We meant it when we said you would always have a home with us, whether it was for one or two people." He pauses to smile at her.
She smiles back, hesitantly, unsure of how else to react. It seems to be the cue Leroy is waiting for, as he adds: "No, I wanted to discuss the terms of your repayment."
"Oh."
"So far, I believe you owe us for your hospital fees, and the care and keeping of the both of you," he says pleasantly. "We're perfectly happy to wait for you to graduate from college and be financially stable; goodness knows Rachel might not. You didn't hear that from me."
Quinn knows her expression's gone sour when he reminds her of the hospital fees.
Leroy doesn't bat an eyelid. "Hiram is more than happy to go on with the babysitting arrangement. I don't know if you'd want to pick up a part-time job, but I'm sure he could use a part-time receptionist, and he'll be able to work something out that won't interfere with your schooling. Plus, that would give you more time with Beth."
She goes on nodding.
"You look scared to death. I thought we'd established that I'm all bark and no bite?"
"All bark and no bite?" Quinn repeats incredulously. "You're a grown-ass man discussing terms of repayment with a homeless teenage single mom."
He flushes, the color noticeable even with his complexion; Quinn feels a surge of vindictive pride.
"I see Rachel wasn't exaggerating when she said your acerbic wit could burn holes through steel," says Leroy at last.
Quinn doesn't quite know how to respond. She settles for a half-hearted,"She doesn't know the half of it," and looks away.
Leroy gazes at her appraisingly before changing the subject. "Mm. Are you planning on attending college?"
"Yes, of course. Even before…" She turns her head, glancing at the crib.
"Mmhmm. Wonderful. I don't see why we shouldn't help you with part of the tuition. You'd be able to pay us back faster with a degree."
She shoots him her best acidic stare.
Much to Quinn's surprise, he smiles back at her. "Jokes aside, I'm glad you're planning on college. You're a smart girl, Quinn; I don't see why you should even think of putting your schooling on hold just because of Beth." Leroy wears this expression Quinn has learned to recognize is his "I-mean-business" face; presumably the same one he wears when arresting people.
She knows better than to argue with him. "Thank you, Leroy," she says instead, ducking her head.
Leroy chuckles. "Good to see you've decided to cooperate."
"Believe me, I didn't have a choice," says Quinn, arching an eyebrow, not actually meaning it for once.
But Leroy's expression changes. "Would you like me to call your mother, Quinn?"
The question is unexpected; Quinn's mouth twists as she considers it. "Why? I don't think she'll choose me over my dad. Nothing's changed, and…" She glances over at the crib. "It's not just me anymore."
"Oh." Leroy frowns. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay." It's really not, but Quinn's reached a point where she can't muster up the energy to process that.
"I can leave, if you want."
Quinn shrugs one shoulder. "I don't really mind either way," she says, and goes over to the crib for lack of anything better to do.
Even though her back is turned, she hears the creak of springs that tells her Leroy is sitting on her bed. "Did I ever tell you how I ended up in Lima?" he says conversationally. "It's not that hard to believe, really, being the most welcoming place in the Midwest. They practically roll out the welcome mat for everyone: gay men, teenage mothers..."
She snorts unwillingly. She knows what he's trying to do; he's trying to smooth over his misstep. But she's curious; Quinn admits defeat and turns back to him. "No," she says, and watches a triumphant look flit over his face.
Leroy smiles at her before launching into the story. "I was from Indiana, originally. In high school, I was scouted to play on Purdue's varsity team. Would've gone pro after graduating college, but I tore two ligaments in my knee in senior year." Leroy rubs his right knee. "My parents found out I was gay when they came to visit me in the hospital, and ran into my then-boyfriend there."
Quinn sucks in a breath.
"They didn't take it well. Neither did my ex, when he found out I'd been lying about having told them about him. And coming out," adds Leroy, almost as an afterthought.
"You lied about coming out to your parents?"
"I drove home one weekend to do it. Lost my nerve outside of their house." Leroy's mouth twists, expression bitter. "Went on a bender instead. He thought I'd gone ahead with it, and I was too cowardly to correct him."
"Oh."
"Anyway, the whole thing was a mess," says Leroy with a grimace. "My parents disowned me, the league scouts dropped the contract talks when they found out how bad my knee was. Luckily, my coach was from here, so he was able to use his connections to get me a job in the local force."
"My ex… he was offered a great job in Detroit, and he wasn't about to give that up to be tied down to an injured ex-footballer, living in a small homophobic Midwestern town. We fought, we broke up. I came here alone and tried to make the best of things. Until I ran into this short, nerdy, Jewish guy in Rays who was also reaching for the last bottle of Sriracha hot sauce."
Quinn smiles in spite of herself.
"What are the odds of meeting another single gay man in this small town, right? We got talking – I think he was trying to distract me so I'd let go of the bottle – and he inadvertently let slip that his ex-boyfriend normally does the shopping but they'd just broken up, and things kinda went from there." Leroy shrugs. "Hiram's parents are extremely supportive, though sometimes I wish I had the courage to go find my parents and show them what they missed out on. I wrote them a letter when Rachel was born; I never got a reply."
It hits uncomfortably close to home, and Quinn squirms. "I'm sorry."
He waves away her concern. "I brought up your mom, so we're even now," he says, giving her a wry smile. "Now, I think I'll leave you in peace." Leroy gets to his feet. "Dinner is in 30 minutes, okay?"
"Okay."
The conversation over the Berry dinner table flows as it normally does, with one notable exception; Rachel has yet to say a single word to her.
Quinn doesn't understand why it's bothering her. Before today, she would've given anything for Rachel to leave her alone.
Perhaps it was something she said? Honestly, Quinn has no idea. She's been on her best behavior this entire time. Unless…
She chews on a forkful of whatever is on her plate, not even tasting the food. Rachel wanted her to keep the baby, but now that she has, Rachel isn't overflowing with enthusiasm and energy. Perhaps she wasn't expecting Quinn to do it. Perhaps she –
"Quinn?"
"Hmmmm?"
Leroy looks amused. "You must be enjoying that spaghetti immensely. I've had to call your name twice."
Belatedly, she realizes the conversation has stopped and everyone's attention is on her. Quinn feels her cheeks heat. "Oh. Sorry. I was… distracted."
"I could tell. Anyway, I was asking you if you wanted to go to school tomorrow. Given the circumstances."
Quinn waits for Rachel to chime in with some ridiculous statistic about teenage truancy. It doesn't come.
"Uh, no," she says, clearing her throat. "I want to stay home." She's a little unsure whether she needs the Berrys' approval; she's still a teenager, but she's also officially living here now. Technically, their roof, their rules; that's the way she was brought up.
The circumstances are complicated enough that it makes her head spin to think about it.
The Berry men exchange looks, before Hiram says mildly: "That's perfectly fine. It is the last week of school before your summer holidays, after all."
"Quinn?"
Quinn glances over at Rachel, who wears a look of mild concern.
"Ordinarily, I would be supportive of your decisions given the change in your personal circumstances, but we have the surprise performance for Mr Schue after school tomorrow."
"Oh. Crap. Yeah, I completely forgot about that." She turns back to Hiram. "Sorry, but could you take her tomorrow?"
Hiram smiles. "Of course. There's no need to ask."
She's left feeling oddly disconcerted about the exchange.
Beth, for once, has decided to settle down; it's almost like she knows her future has been decided on, and that it's time to relax. That leaves Quinn plenty of time to be alone with her thoughts.
The most irritating thing is that she doesn't understand why she's so bothered by Rachel's lack of – well, Rachel-ness.
She doesn't even make it to an hour before she gives in. Quinn hovers outside Rachel's door for a while before knocking.
"Yes?"
"It's me."
The door swings open to reveal a very surprised-looking Rachel. "Quinn. Good evening. It's a surprise to see you here…"
"Why have you been ignoring me?"
Rachel looks fairly confused by the point-blank question. "Ignoring you? Quinn, I haven't been ignoring you."
"You've barely spoken to me since the hospital." Even as the words leave her mouth, Quinn is struck by the inanity of it. "I can't figure out what I did that finally made you shut up."
"I've been trying to give you space. You're always complaining that I won't leave you alone," Rachel explains. She sounds hurt.
It's a perfectly reasonable explanation, but Quinn can't accept it. "You're not ignoring me because I decided to keep her?"
"No! Of course not. I've been quite vocal – even by my standards – about my personal opinions this entire time, but I would never overstep my boundaries."
The more she speaks, the more Quinn wants to curl up into a ball and die of embarrassment. Her pride, however, refuses to let her concede gracefully. "Oh," she says, very articulately. "I… um, I appreciate it."
"I'm glad to hear that," says Rachel. She looks bewildered by the entire conversation. "I, too, appreciate how communicative you're being right now."
She nods dumbly. This was a bad idea; she needs to leave. Once in the safety of her room, she tells herself, she can sink into a pit of self-inflicted humiliation in peace. "I should go. Uh – check on the baby."
"Of course. Good night, Quinn."
She mumbles a reply and scurries down the hall, back into her room. Quinn allows herself a self-indulgent whine as she buries her face in her pillow. She's so bad at being nice to Rachel, and this complete humiliation is entirely her fault.
School, it turns out, is exactly what Quinn needed. A break from being inside her own head. A break from the Berrymen (which – if she's being honest with herself – she doesn't hate anymore) and their tendency to talk about everything.
In school, her reputation hovers between bitchy Cheerio and pregnant teen, meaning that most of the student body avoids her. Which Quinn appreciates.
Most importantly, Rachel has yet to speak to her after last night's fiasco.
She cuts the last period of the day to sit in the auditorium, waiting for the other Glee clubbers to file in for their surprise performance. Much to her surprise, Santana and Brittany appear not long after, sitting on either side of her.
"Aren't you two supposed to be in class?"
"Could say the same for you," replies Santana. "We won't tell if you won't."
Quinn purses her lips. "Do what you want. I'm not the hall monitor."
"I didn't want to be in English, I already speak it," says Brittany. "So San pretended we had important Cheerio business and totally got me out of class."
Brittany's unique outlook on the world never fails to amuse Quinn. "That's great, Britt. Santana making herself useful, for once."
"Speak for yourself. Looking good there, Fabray," says Santana, giving Quinn's borrowed clothes a once-over.
Quinn exhales. "Can we not do this right now?"
Santana holds both hands up. "Wow. Touchy, much? What's got your panties in a twist? Can't be the midge, she's been avoiding you all day." Her eyes widen. "No shit, is it the Puckerspawn?"
"Fuck off, Lopez." Tears prick at her eyes, for some reason.
Much to her surprise, Santana does back off. "No way. You're actually keeping the kid?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No, of course not. I didn't mean to upset you."
"We don't always mean for shit to happen," replies Quinn bitterly, "but it happens anyway." Brittany pats her hand, resting her head on Quinn's shoulder. The gesture comforts her.
Santana sighs. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know."
"Fair enough." She sighs again. "Damn, Q."
"It'll work out," Brittany says. "Because it's you."
Quinn manages a smile. "Thanks, Britt."
"What's her name?"
"Beth."
"Cute."
The auditorium doors creak, and Rachel comes in. She pauses when she looks over in their direction, but she doesn't break her stride as she heads over to the stage.
Santana eyes her. "What, so everyone's cutting class now?"
Quinn ignores her.
Finn appears shortly after, and is dragged backstage by Rachel. Santana scoffs. "Figures." But she doesn't say anything else after that, and Brittany just holds Quinn's hand, her warmth soothing Quinn just as much as the silence does. She feels comforted, like she hasn't felt in a while.
Finn and Rachel don't reappear until the bell rings, and the rest of the club start trickling in. Matt, the next to arrive, quickly gets roped into arranging stools onstage with Finn, directed by Rachel. Despite the noise they are making, it's quiet up in Quinn's little bubble.
"You gonna tell them?" Santana's question cuts through the silence.
Quinn's gaze lingers on Finn. "I… I don't know."
"Hmm. Whatever you decide, we'll back you up," says Santana gruffly.
Quinn can't help herself; she stares at Santana.
"Don't look at me like that. The way I see it," says Santana nonchalantly, "you need a new family 'cause your real one sucks. Glee's pretty fucking annoying, but they're the closest thing to a family that you've got. And that means us, too, I guess," she adds. "Like, we didn't sing all those songs for you and Finnessa just because Berry batted her eyelashes and asked, y'know."
She's spared from responding with the arrival of Kurt, the last to arrive, and Rachel waving at them to take their places, both hands over her head like she's directing a plane.
Santana can't resist a last snide, "That settles it; Berry can't do a thing without being overly fucking dramatic" before they join the rest of the club onstage.
She sits in the back of the choir room while Mr Schue sings for them. Quinn studiously avoids the longing glances Puck shoots at her throughout the song.
In their last conversation, she'd all but told him she was giving up the baby. She knows he'll take it as a slap in the face, that she wants their baby but not him, and that she didn't have the decency to tell him that. There is a part of her that is willing to be the heartless villain here, to let Puck hate her.
Quinn wonders when she'll finally finish dealing with all the consequences of her mistakes.
Once Mr Schue dismisses them, Puck comes over to her. "Hey."
"Puck…"
"So, I was hoping that I could come see her before you give her up," he says without waiting for her to finish.
Quinn grips the hem of her T-shirt tightly. "Can we… Puck, there's something I need to tell you."
"What is it?" His expression changes rapidly. "Are you fucking me over again?"
Around them, the rest of the Glee club is gathering like storm clouds, sensitive to the next installment of drama. Quinn had hoped to make this as private as possible, but there's no chance of that happening now. She decides to stand her ground and pull the Band-Aid off in one tug. "I'm keeping the baby," she says, heart pounding. "I wanted you to know."
Puck's face darkens. "No way."
"I'm sorry."
"Save your fucking apologies. They never meant anything, did they?" He runs both hands over his head. "I thought we were good, Quinn; you and me, eating Sunday burgers like we used to. What happened to us? What did I do to deserve all this?"
"I don't know," Quinn says, tears pricking at her eyes, "but I'm sorry for all of it. I never wanted to hurt you, Puck."
"Yeah, well, fuck you too."
Santnaa and Brittany move forward to flank Quinn. "Back off, Puckerman."
His eyes flick from them, to Quinn. "They know? Everybody knows, huh? What, am I the fucking last person to know? Didn't even have the decency for that?"
"Puck."
"Save it. You're just screwing me over like you screwed Finn over. Last fucking thing I need right now." He shoulders past them, down the stairs, outside.
She's left in the room, uncomfortably aware of everyone's attention on her.
"That went well," says Santana. "At least he didn't throw a tantrum and kick over some chairs."
Finn frowns. "Hey!"
"If the shoe fits…"
"That's enough, Santana," interjects Mr Schue, then turns his attention to the rest of his Glee clubbers. "Everything alright, guys?"
"Yes, Mr Schue," Brittany answers for them.
He nods, looking unconvinced, but thankfully doesn't comment further.
"Wait, you're keeping the baby?" Finn pipes up. Rachel elbows him.
"Brilliant deduction, Hudson," says Santana, rolling her eyes.
Rachel sighs. She leaves Finn's side to stand beside Quinn. "Quinn, are you alright?"
She shakes her head, not trusting herself to speak. She's completely miserable; angry at Puck for making a big deal out of this, at herself for getting into this mess – which brings her back to Puck and his wine coolers.
"Quinn?"
"I need some air," she mumbles.
"Of course."
Rachel follows her out to their spot. It comes down to this, the both of them again, here in this little alcove. Maybe Quinn is doomed to repeat history until she does something right.
"Quinn, please say something. I'm beginning to worry."
"I'm just really, really sick of this." Quinn sits on the bench, her hands gripping the edge until she loses sensation in her fingers. "I'm just… when is it gonna end? When am I going to stop fucking things up?"
"You haven't messed things up," replies Rachel primly. She joins Quinn on the bench, her posture just as prim as her demeanor.
Quinn scoffs. "That was an unqualified disaster. He was already mad at me before; he'll probably never speak to me again."
"It is what it is."
Quinn turns her head to stare at her. "What?"
"What?" Rachel echoes.
"No opinions? No suggestions on how I could've done whatever it is better?" She isn't angry; just genuinely curious.
Rachel shrugs. "The past two weeks of cohabitation have been very educational with regards to how I should conduct myself."
She rolls her eyes, but can't suppress the little smile Rachel's remark elicits. "Too bad none of it has taught you to talk like a normal human being."
"There's always room for improvement." Rachel brushes away a wrinkle in her skirt. "I have another two years of high school left."
Quinn sighs. She tips her head back and stares up at the ceiling. "... Do you think I should've told him?"
"Told Noah what? That you were going to keep Beth?"
"Yeah." Quinn's tired of going round and round in circles. "He is her father. He's half of her, no matter what. And a part of me still feels guilty for denying him that."
Rachel blinks rapidly. "While I would like to take this opportunity to restate that I've learned my lesson about meddling in other people's affairs… yes, I would have. He is still her father, and even if I wouldn't want him in her life, I would still want him to know. Besides," she adds, "Noah would've found out sooner or later anyway."
Quinn nods. She knows there could have been a better time or place to tell him, but it's done now, and that's one less thing on her mind.
"Honestly, I think you've been very brave," Rachel is saying now.
"Brave? Me? Did you even see what happened months ago?"
"Yes, but you persisted nonetheless. You are incredibly brave, Quinn Fabray, and you shouldn't downplay everything you're doing." Her phone chimes; Rachel reaches for it. Quinn settles in her seat, grateful for the distraction.
"Daddy will be here soon," says Rachel. "What do you say to ice cream to celebrate the end of a highly successful year, and another year of Glee?"
"Highly successful year…? Are you serious?"
"We went from not having a Glee club at all, to reaching Regionals; I would count that as a success."
"If I can not get pregnant again next year, I would count that as a success," Quinn mutters dryly.
"... Are you teasing me, Quinn?"
"What do you think?"
"You are teasing me," concludes Rachel with a frown. "Oh my God, I couldn't tell. Despite our vastly improved relationship, my image of you as the beautiful but evil cheerleader stereotype persists."
Quinn doesn't bat an eyelid. "That's cold, Berry; I thought we were friends. Or something like that."
"We are. I was merely stating my former opinion of you. You're certainly more than the single throwaway line I was planning on giving you in my autobiography chapter about the trials and tribulations of my teenage years."
She has to ask. "So, what am I now in your biography?"
"It's only been a week since we redefined our relationship," Rachel informs her. "It's simply too early to tell, although I am very optimistic that it will be positive."
Quinn shakes her head. "You think I'm beautiful?"
Rachel stares at her, her scrutiny almost painful. "Of course. Aesthetically, it goes without saying; and as for your personality, now that we are friends I'm seeing more of your nicer side, which is much more pleasant than your Cheerio attitude, if I'm being frank."
It occurs to Quinn, then, that the entire pregnancy could have been avoided if she'd had a frank discussion with Rachel instead of letting Puck get her drunk. The thought makes her snort.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing."
"It can't be nothing. Are you teasing me again? Is this some esoteric aspect of friendship that I was hitherto unaware of?"
"Quit while you're ahead, Berry," says Quinn. "Seriously."
Hiram gamely drops them off at the mall with a twenty-dollar bill for Rachel, and instructions to be back in the car in fifteen minutes "or your dad will suspect something".
"Is ice cream a crime?" Quinn asks innocently.
"Only if he doesn't get any," replies Hiram, and places his order for a double scoop of strawberry cheesecake. "Thanks, girls."
"Why didn't your dad come in with us?" asks Quinn as they head inside.
"Daddy hates parking at the mall, but loves ice cream," says Rachel. "We have an arrangement."
"Which has nothing to do with being a teenager at the mall with your dad?"
Rachel smiles suddenly. "Nothing at all."
Quinn shrugs, smiling back. "Rachel?"
"Yes, Quinn?"
"Thanks."
"While I do appreciate your expressions of gratitude, I would appreciate them even more if I knew what I have done to merit them."
Quinn rolls her eyes. "For taking my mind off everything." She hasn't thought about her life for a good half-hour at least. It feels good.
"Oh. You're very welcome."
She rounds a corner, feeling at peace with herself – optimistic about the future, even – and then it all goes to shit.
"Quinnie?"
"Mom?"
She looks exactly like the last time Quinn saw her.
"How… how are you?"
"Fine." The long-simmering anger in her belly has cooled to resentment. "Bye, Mom."
"Quinnie, wait."
"Wait? That's rich, Mom. I waited for you in the hospital. You said you'd kicked Dad out, and that you were gonna take me back in. I think I've waited plenty."
Judy Fabray looks like she is about to cry. "I'm sorry."
"That's not good enough. Unless you're still willing to take me and your granddaughter in."
"Granddaughter? You kept her?"
"Yeah. I couldn't give her up," says Quinn softly. "I know what it's like, being abandoned by family; I don't ever want her to know what that feels like."
Judy recoils, as though she has been slapped. "I'm sorry you feel that way."
"You and me both, Mom." Quinn's lip twists. "I'm pretty sure we don't have anything left to discuss?"
"Where are you staying?" Judy's eye falls on Rachel. "Aren't you one of Quinnie's school friends?"
"This is Rachel Berry; Beth and I are staying with her and her fathers," says Quinn with relish. The Berry household is an (in)famous one in Lima, and a popular subject of her father's rants. She reaches for Rachel's hand. "We have to go now. It was nice seeing you again, Mom."
Rachel barely has time to stammer out a "Bye, Mrs Fabray," before she lets Quinn drag her away.
She feels strong. Like she's in control, for once; and it feels good.
"Quinn, slow down."
She does. "Sorry."
"No, don't apologize. You just confronted your mom. Are you okay?"
"I…" Now that she has the time to think about it, the shock catches up with her. "Ask me later."
Rachel laughs softly; Quinn, much to her surprise, follows suit.
"I did tell you you were braver than you think you are. I've always been a little psychic."
She sighs. "Sure you are, Rachel."
"Ah! You doubt me; I can see it in your eyes. But mark my words, I will prove to you the veracity of my prophecies."
"Now you're teasing me."
"Teasing? Quinn, I was being completely serious."
"Oh my God."