AN- thanks again to anyone that is reading. Have had up to here planned so far so trying to get it all out before i forget bits and parts. I have an idea where the story is going but want to try a few things between now and the end. so the direction i'm heading may change, so bare with me if i don't update every few days. Down to the nitty gritty now lol
Any mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy.
You know that feeling, when you're not fully asleep and you fall-the shock it sends to your system? Or when you are at the highest point of the roller coaster, looking over the edge just waiting for your body to react, and when it finally does the butterflies occur. Or when you somehow manage to drop your phone, but reflexes kick in instantly allowing you to nearly grab it. Yet the phone just manages to suspend in air for another few seconds, which only adds to the suspense of will it or will it not fall? Well Quinn was feeling just like that, all at the same time.
Hearing something that has become an everyday occurrence shouldn't cause this much panic. Hearing your name shouldn't send your adrenaline to course through your body. But when she heard Quinn, that's exactly what happened. Synapses fired, blood pumped, muscles tensed-begging, screaming for her to run. Chaos was transpiring behind closed doors, all internal reactions. Externally however, Quinn barely flinched. She had to play the role of Belle. Maybe it was a trick, her mind playing some cruel joke. She had been under a lot of stress, the move, new school, Rachel. It had to be a trick.
"Quinn? Wow, is it really you?!"
Puck rushes to her side, lifting her clean off the floor, twirling her round.
Protesting she struggles to break free of his hold, "Get off me you oaf!" He sets her down, beaming from ear to ear.
"Who do you think you are?" she glares.
"Yes, You are definitely Quinn Fab..." Before another syllable is muttered he is grabbed by the ear and pulled ohh and ahh-ing into the hall.
"What the hell Q?"
"PJ, what the fuck are you doing here?"
"Hey, wow, no-one and I mean no one calls me PJ. Keep your voice down!"
If her head wasn't about to explode she would have run back into the choir room spilling every little detail she had on Noah Puckerman Junior, but clearly her head was about to explode and instead she seized hold of this wrist yanking him towards the exit.
"Where the hell are you bringing me Q? If you wanted to make out with the Puckasaurus all you had to do was ask" he smirks, and winks as she turns to face him.
"Oh no, scary Quinn."
He's not entirely sure how he had awoken the ice bitch, but he had. He has seen this look before, way too many times for his liking. The first time he saw the look was when he was four years old. He accidentally spilled blue paint on Quinn's brand new white pumps. He ended up with a black eye. After that he was very careful around Quinn. He only ever drank anything from a safe spilling distance. When he ate food, he would imagine a bubble surrounded Quinn and avoid it.
The last time he received the look he had just informed Quinn that he had to move. His dad had been relocated somewhere out of town. It wasn't his choice, but that didn't stop Quinn from being beyond angry. He was eight years old and leaving his best friend behind, he was angry too. She hit him, and then ran off. It wasn't the best of ways to part, and it nearly would have been their last encounter before the move if Quinn hadn't shown up on his front porch the night before he left. She handed him wallet sized photo of herself, "So you don't forget." They hugged.
He hadn't cried any of the times Quinn hit him, but he cried then. They both did.
"Kidding, kidding, Jeez did you lose your sense of humour?."
"Just shut up! And follow me to the car. My dad is going to blow a fucking gasket when he sees you."
Puck always liked Russell Fabray, why would he be so abhorrent to see him? Puck was completely unaware of the mess he had just caused for the Fabray family.
Frantically she drives home, not caring to slow down for any of the traffic lights. Her thoughts are going a mile a minute, she feels the need to match its pace-and so she speeds. She swerves. She's outright reckless.
"How? Just fucking how? Really?" She wasn't in her right mind to be forming full sentences. All that she could think where curse words and one word questions. "Fucking really!?"
She could feel eyes watching her suspiciously, but she wasn't in the mental state to try and explain anything. Nor did she want too. When she realised that it was PJ-or Puck or whatever his damned name was now a days she was happy. For a split second; she let herself be happy, but there was more at stake than her happiness. For one her family's safety was now under question, what if it got back to New Jersey where they where? This was too much for her teenage brain to handle. And that was exactly why she was driving straight to her father. He would know what to do, he always did.
"Get in the house will you!"
"Quit pushing me."
"Dad. Anyone? Somebody answer!"
Foots could be heard scurrying down the stairs. Too loud to be her mothers or brothers, it was just the person she was looking for. He came into view after the sixth or seventh step, his handgun also coming into view.
"What? What happened?" he's frantic, not really registering the third person in the room. Who was currently hiding behind the hall table. Puck may act like a bad ass, but when he saw that gun, he hid. He wouldn't even be ashamed to admit it. Honestly. Yet later after all this was sorted he would plead with Quinn to never to tell.
"Calm down. It's not gun worthy, well not yet."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She points to where puck is still sitting, on his honkers hands covering his ears, eyes closed. He expected a gunshot that clearly never came.
"Noah?"
"Hey Mr.F. Long time, no see." He slowly brings himself to his feet, inching closer to Quinn. Standing slightly behind her in case the gun shot he had expected still happens. Surely he'd not shoot his own daughter, he reasons.
*Ding Dong*
All eyes shift to the door. Two sets of eyes are wide, who could possibly be calling here? We don't know anyone? They think the worse; it's what they were told to do by their Witness protection handler. The third set is looking purely because the bell rang.
"Dad what do we do?"
Russell tucks the handgun into his back, between trouser and skin. Hoping he'll not have to use it.
"Take Noah and get in the back room."
She takes hold of Pucks arm yet again, trailing him into the back.
"I'm getting really fed up with this." He didn't really have the courage to say it aloud, that and Quinn pushes her finger to lips, signalling for quite. After seeing the gun being wielded so casually he decides it's best he follows her instructions. They stand by the back door. Quinn reaches up and claims the shot gun above the frame.
"What are you doing?" he asks hysterically, lowly.
"Just shhh. Will you just shut up, and step back."
Standing with her back to the kitchen wall, she listens and waits for the worst. Nothing happens.
His hand is on the gun, more specifically the trigger as he peers through the peep-hole, but sees no sign of anyone on the other side. Carefully, and apprehensively he opens the door little by little. Only to be surprised by a five foot three brown haired girl.
"Is this where Belle lives?"
He doesn't respond, his adrenaline is still pumping. His lack of answering allows for Rachel to continue,
"I'm sorry for showing up without announcing i would be doing so, I don't have Belle's number. You see i go to school with your daughter, and at Glee club today she ran off and with one of our more skilled singers. Once they never returned I became worried, so i asked the registry office for Belles address. And here I am, I hope you don't mind the imposition I was just worried. Is she here?"
Quinn listens intently from the kitchen; a small smile creeps its way upon her face. Puck witness the noticeable relaxation in Quinn's stance, the almost smitten look upon her face, but what he notices most is the fact that Rachel has called her Belle.
"Belle?...Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on, please."
Quinn's once serene face was now replaced, by what? Tension? And perhaps, yes aggravation.
"Just wait here. I'll have my dad explain everything. I need to get rid of Rachel okay?"
"Fine Q, just yano, keep it in your pants." He clicks his tongue, winking at her.
He had been reintroduced back into her life for less than an hour and already he was an expert once again at getting on her nerves. She growled at him, handing him the shotgun and points to the frame. He takes that as a signal to place it back, he does, but not before raising it to his shoulder, aiming it out the back window he spots a stray bird, he mouths "bang."
"Dad, you're wanted in back."
His line of sight moves from the wide smiling girl to his daughter. He takes the hint, and leaves them alone. "Quinn never had friends over before, maybe this was the best decision after all. Now what to tell Noah?"
He joins Puck in the kitchen, informing him that this discussion was one that should be shifted into the study. Puck moves sheepishly along, dragging behind Russell. Eventually entering the study and closing the door. Fear caught in his throat. He used to join Quinn (on occasion) when they were younger, sitting upon the stairs trying to hear the conversations that would occur within Russell's old den. Mainly, what actually occurred was a lot of shouting. Anticipating just that, he swallowed audibly in preparation.
"What are you doing here Rachel?"
"I was worried."
"I heard, as you can see," using her hands to indicate around her body, "I'm in once piece, you can leave." She goes to close the door, only for it to be stopped by a shoe. A shoe that was connected to a small foot, to Rachel.
"Why are you being so cruel?" she tries to mask the pain, but fails.
Quinn sighs, exasperated. Not by Rachel, merely by the situation. "Please Rachel it's not the best time," she begs. Silently pleading for the girl to just leave it be. Rachel however was never very good at social queues and proceeds to push her way into the home.
"It's very quite lovely. Once you have everything unpacked I'm sure you'll feel right at home."
Quinn just stares at her; "she is so infuriating," Rachel drags her hand along the back of the couch,
"So..." the question was just on the tip of her tongue. She knew after the storm out today the matter was clearly one that wasn't supposed to be brought up
"What Rachel? What do you want, really?"
"I was genuine about my concern for you, Quinn," Her eyebrows shoot up, blowing any chance of denying the use of the name earlier, "I couldn't help but over hear Noah referring to you as Quinn earlier. So, which is it? Belle or Quinn?"
"It's complicated," she responds monotonously. She's done with this day, who knew having a secret identity could be so draining and difficult.
"Simplify it," she straightens her skirt out with her hands, tucking it neatly beneath her thighs before making herself comfortable on the two seat couch, pointing to the empty space next to her. Quinn moves around the chair, throwing herself down in defiance. In defiance of her questions. In defiance of her ability to make Quinn so compliant.
"I really can't Rachel. Can we not just talk about this later, please." she knows she's begging, but she doesn't care. She needs Rachel to leave. To gather her thoughts. She's distracted with Rachel around. Her lips. Her eyes. Her ridiculously long legs for such a tiny person. "Not now Quinn. Remember, your dad and PJ are in the study. You need to get her to leave. Nicely."
"Please Rachel." In a last ditch attempt she narrows the gap between them, once again placing her hand on the small girls. She let's herself notice how well her it fits neatly atop Rachel's, she wonders would it fit as well if their fingers where entwined. "Quinn seriously, stop!"
Rachel stands, without another word she walks to the closed door-reaching for the handle to open it. Stopping briefly she turns to look at Quinn still sitting on the couch, head deflated.
"It's Saturday tomorrow, how about you pick me up for coffee and you can explain then." She departs, gently closing the door as her absence is now made aware to Quinn by the latch clicking. Her head perks up, beaming, "Coffee. I can do coffee." She thinks. Now to deal with whatever is being said to Noah in the study.
"Girl can't catch a break," she groans making her way to the study. Really she should be more concerned with what's happening behind that closed door, but she's mentally preparing what outfit to wear tomorrow.