Quinn and Rachel began meeting in the choir room every day fifth period. Rachel would waltz into the choir room promptly with her brown bag filled with a meticulously prepared salad, a green tea juice box and a homemade oatmeal cookie. The bag was decorated appropriately with her name in a graceful cursive and stamped with her signature gold star. She'd place her things on an empty maroon chair and walk towards the closet to grab Puck's acoustic guitar from on top of the crates of sheet music stacked in the dirty space. From there she proceeded back to her lunch where she sat the instrument down to eat her meal.
After a few minutes, Quinn would quietly walk in, wave shyly, and sit next to Rachel with her lunch in hand which was always without fail a BLT. Together they ate and talked in their own sort of way.
Rachel talked animatedly while Quinn watched, mesmerized by her infinite amount of energy. Quinn every once in a while would respond via her computer, a machine that she was beginning to hate less and less, now that it was her only way of communicating with the brunette. Their conversations ranged from laughing over some ridiculous new song Mr. Schuester had decided was "perfect" for Nationals even though they both knew that by the next day it would be another new "perfect" song to how stupid Ms. Sylvester's latest scheme to destroy the club was which may or may not have involved an imported dwarf from Brazil.
Quinn quite enjoyed the company. It was nice with Rachel. She wasn't trapped with Rachel. She wasn't suffocated like she was around everybody else. There wasn't any pressure to speak or several pairs of judgmental eyes lingering on her as she grabbed a water bottle from the lunch line. For one period a day she could be herself, her face not plastered with that fake dull expression she had been wearing for a year straight. At first they told each other the mundane things both could relate to; Rachel didn't push Quinn too hard, but eventually they got to a point of comfort that neither could really describe.
"Favorite food?" Rachel inquired one day midway through her salad.
Quinn didn't even have to think about the last question. With a swift typing, she returned the machine to her faithfully.
Bacon
Rachel's eyes widened as her jaw dropped to the floor.
"Bacon, Quinn? Do you have any idea of how many innocent pigs are murdered each and every day in the process of making that disgusting and incredibly fattening favorite food of yours? I am shocked that you would even ingest that. I can't I just- we can no longer be friends."
Quinn's face fell and her mouth opened and closed. Rachel's face remained serious for a few more moments before she burst out into uncontrollable laughter, her hand clutching her side.
"Oh my gosh, Quinn, you should have seen your face!"
Rachel grabbed Quinn's arm softly, giving Quinn permission to join her. Their laughter filled up the room, and Quinn relaxed into her chair. After a while as both girls recovered, Quinn typed out another message, her lip in between her teeth.
You really wouldn't ditch me because of my taste in food, would you?
Rachel read the message and smiled confidently, grabbing Quinn's hand in hers, their fingers intertwining.
"I wasn't planning on it. However, your taste in clothing is atrocious!"
Quinn smirked before seizing the computer once again.
Don't you even start with me, Berry. The amount of argyle you wear is sinful not to mention those sweaters.
Rachel's mouth opened widely, letting out an exasperated breath once she read the message. Quinn was rewarded with a playful slap on the arm, one that left a tingling sensation on the limb.
"Uhm, wasn't it you who decided to follow Brittany's trend of wearing said animal sweaters? Hypocrite!" she said as she pointed accusingly towards the laughing blonde.
The girl had a point. Midway through a chuckle, Quinn typed out her surrender.
You win :P
Rachel grinned triumphantly and took another bite of her salad.
"You're turn," she announced.
Quinn smiled and thought of her next question. Part of her wanted to know exactly how many articles of argyle clothing Rachel owned, but she resisted. Then her face became a bit more serious. She typed her question a few times, rewording it several times.
Are you still in love with Finn?
It was a blunt question to say the least. Finn hadn't spoken to Quinn since Regionals because at the time he and Rachel had reunited in their quest to save the Glee Club. The relationship had been short-lived and Quinn had seen both teens hurt because of it, especially Rachel.
Rachel looked at the screen for a moment. Then she lifted her eyes to meet Quinn's curious gaze.
"No," she answered simply.
Quinn blinked.
No?
Rachel nodded as she swallowed her last bit of salad
"No, I am not in love with Finn Hudson."
Quinn tried to suppress a smile, a smile that died instantly when she saw how Rachel's eyes were dulled by a sudden sadness. Quickly, Quinn seized the girl's hand and gave her a look that hopefully asked "What's wrong?" She was too lazy to let go of her soft hand to type out the question. Rachel sighed, loving the feel of Quinn's hand grasping onto hers supportively.
"I am sick of my life revolving around him. I know I get obsessive over boys, but the truth is I only liked Finn because well," she looked down at their hands, "he chose me over you, Quinn. I'll never understand it because I mean you're- you're so beautiful. When he did that, it made me feel…beautiful for a little while."
Rachel trailed off, locking her eyes onto Quinn's, allowing herself to get lost. Her heart began to race slightly as the silence became uncomfortable. Rachel cleared her throat.
"I now realize that it was a farfetched fantasy and that I am far better off without him."
Quinn swallowed thickly. With her free hand she seized the machine.
Rachel, you are the most beautiful girl at this school. There is a reason Finn chose you over me. Finn isn't good enough for you, none of us here in Lima are.
Rachel read the message and squeezed the hand holding hers. A tear rolled down her cheek and Quinn couldn't bear to see the normally confident brunette upset. It also made her want to murder a certain quarterback. She swiftly wiped the tear gently away with her thumb.
"Thank you, Quinn," she breathed, clasping another hand over Quinn's.
Quinn grinned as her fingers tingled. They just sat there for a while, taking the other one in, until suddenly Rachel sniffled.
"Hey, Quinn?"
The blonde nodded, her eyes glued to Rachel.
"Are we friends?" she blurted, causing Quinn's heart to momentarily stop beating.
Before Quinn could think about typing a message, she pulled the hands in hers up to her lips and kissed them firmly, letting her lips linger on the warm skin. Rachel's smooth skin was intoxicating. When she looked up at Rachel, who was currently gaping at her, she smiled and then nodded. That stupid machine wasn't enough. It couldn't really tell Rachel how much Quinn cared about her.
-/-
"Do you ever wish you were back on the Cheerio's?" Rachel asked a few days later while munching on a stalk of celery.
The blonde looked up from her meal to meet Rachel's curious eyes. It was a good question.
Coach Sylvester had practically begged her to join, offering to completely forget the pregnancy and let her reaccept her position as head cheerleader. Santana had been thrilled when Quinn rejected the offer, as generous as it was.
Quinn sighed and grabbed the computer to type her answer. There was something so innocent and kind about the way Rachel was gazing at her that made Quinn type out the truth.
As Quinn handed back the machine, Rachel was smiling softly. The blonde cocked her head sideways. Rachel giggled as a blush pervaded her cheeks.
"This is all just so…strange, you know? I mean a year ago you were throwing slushies in my face and calling me derogatory nicknames, most of which were wholly unoriginal, and fighting over Finn obsessively and now here we are eating lunch together and-,"
Quinn gaped at the brunette.
"This is a good thing, that's what I'm trying to say. I am normally much better at controlling my speech being that my lexicon is incredibly and perhaps overly developed but with you I just seem to ramble on and on and I-,"
Completely red in the face, Rachel zipped her mouth shut. Quinn giggled uncontrollably at Rachel's nervousness, the sound of her laughter warming the rambler's heart despite her embarrassment. It was completely endearing for Quinn to see Rachel Berry fumble for the right words to say.
"I'm going to stop talking now," she announced, humiliated at her incoherency, and looked down to read Quinn's answer.
Sometimes I do. But it doesn't feel right. Coach Sylvester was ready to forget about everything that happened. I don't want to forget. Plus, Santana deserves the head spot, not me. That wouldn't be fair.
It was indeed strange, the radical one hundred and eighty degree flip in their relationship. Bullying Rachel was never a part of Quinn's plan; it just sort of happened. Prior to her learning that Rachel was pursuing Finn, Quinn had noticed Rachel quite often. A few times she had contemplated saying hi or something but she could never muster up enough confidence to do so. It had been branded into her brain that popularity was more important than anything else, more important than love, friendship and happiness. And she had blindly accepted that.
Of course now it meant virtually nothing to her. She was free of Sue Sylvester, of Finn Hudson, and of her innate desire for popularity. She threw on her dresses, let her hair down, and hit the books because she needed to get a scholarship now that she was without the security that came with the blazing red Cheerio's uniform. Quinn Fabray, head bitch in charge, had been put to rest once the team lost Regionals and she lost her daughter.
"Quinn?"
The blonde's head shot up abruptly. Rachel was staring at her with concern.
"Are you alright?" she asked softly, subtly moving a bit closer.
Quinn could lie and say yes, though Rachel wouldn't buy it for a second. Or she could be honest. Why couldn't she just lie? It normally was so easy, especially now that people rarely talked to her. This was the first time in perhaps months that someone asked her that question and actually meant it.
Her first instinct was to grab the machine and type out a no sans explanation. Her fingers, however, had a different idea, and she quickly grabbed the device, rapidly typing her question. She timidly handed it to Rachel and waited quietly.
Why do you care?
It wasn't a question that would have been said with anger or animosity had the blonde actually used her voice to ask the question. It was just odd. Why was Rachel sacrificing her lunch period every single day to eat with her mute nemesis and listen to her play the guitar and talk through a stupid piece of plastic because that same nemesis was too cowardly to speak?
She watched as Rachel's eyes widened and then rose to look at Quinn.
"Quinn, you don't know how many times I have asked that question myself."
Quinn grabbed the computer again and typed out another question.
You've never cared before. Why now?
A flash of hurt pierced Rachel's eyes. Quinn regretted the question but still yearned for the answer.
Quinn didn't even deserve this. Twice Rachel had reached out to her and what did Quinn do? Reject. Bully. Fight with her, fight the friendship as if the moment they became friends the world would combust. That wasn't to say that Rachel was perfect but as far as kindness goes Rachel was the only person right now willing to endure a conversation with her. And that was saying a lot considering that for the most part the conversation was one-sided.
"Can I be completely honest with you, Quinn?" Rachel asked suddenly.
Quinn nodded enthusiastically. Rachel released a nervous breath before continuing.
"When you first became… silent, I didn't know how to be around you. None of us were therapists and councilors and everybody was bombarding you with offers of help. I knew that my trying to force you to talk wasn't what you needed then and isn't what you need right now. What you needed then was for people to let you be; so I let you be. I also figured that you wouldn't even want to talk to me at all. I mean we were hardly friends. But just because I didn't reach out to you then," she paused and finally met Quinn's eyes with honest chocolate brown ones of her own, "doesn't mean that I don't care about you now because I do… I care about you, Quinn."
Rachel Berry just admitted to caring about her. Her heart was beating faster as she felt the familiar burn of tears in the back of her eyes. She looked like she meant it too, like she actually did care.
And for a moment, Quinn wanted to be better again, but she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve Rachel. She was a monster. She abandoned her daughter and bullied the one girl who supposedly cared about her and lied to Finn and cheated with Puck and disappointed her father and broke Finn's heart and the list was just never-ending. Rachel shouldn't care about her.
Quinn's breath became labored. All four walls of the choir room seemed to be closing in on her.
"Quinn?" Rachel questioned again, though this time she was blurred by the tears streaming down her face.
A violent sob ripped through her. Quinn wanted to scream at Rachel to leave her alone, to stop caring. It wasn't right. Hot tears left a burning trail down her cheeks; but it wasn't enough. Quinn deserved punishment. Why was Rachel offering her forgiveness, help, comfort?
She deserved more pain. Her throat throbbed with the urge to scream, but before she could a strong pair of arms enclosed her trembling form. A rush of warmth shot through her, a kind of rejuvenating force that only made her cry harder. She fought against the arms around her, slapping and clawing, her mouth opening and closing as she sobbed. Desperately she tried to push Rachel away but it only made the brunette hold on tighter. For a tiny girl like Rachel, she was surprisingly strong.
As Quinn pushed and pushed and Rachel pulled and pulled, something finally changed. The blonde in her arms began to calm, her clawing arms slowing down to a pathetic pawing at Rachel's blouse. A gentle hand rubbed her back as Quinn was cradled on the cold choir room floor.
She was tired, God she was so tired. The exhaustion hit her like a truck on the highway going seventy miles per hour. Her breathing was shallow, but her heart was still pounding because she could smell Rachel's perfume emanating off of her freshly pressed blouse and it made her head spin. Her head was buried now in long brown locks and Rachel curled her arms around her back.
"Shh…I'm here," Rachel whispered softly.
Quinn, unable to control herself, mumbled quietly into her hair.
"Why?"