Spending the night in the top floor of the apartment complex Quinn had just tried to throw herself off of wasn't the exact way Quinn had seen her night going. She had mostly been expecting to not see the night through, and yet she had agreed to this. She had agreed to spend one more night alive for Rachel Berry, the girl she had just met. And who had then dragged her out to have coffee.
After assuring Rachel for the hundredth time that she did not require anything (if she was going to die the next day, what did trivialities such as food and water matter?) she was left to go to bed. The smaller brunette had offered her a change of clothes, in case she wished to make use of them, but Quinn didn't. Instead she simply unhooked her bra, pulling it out from under her top, and undid the belt looped tight around her waist. They formed a neat pile on the floor beside her shoes, and the still folded collection of Rachel's clothes. Quinn hadn't even bothered to open them up, but she was expecting to find a musical-themed oversized shirt of some kind in the pile.
The spare room was not what Quinn had been expecting. It wasn't necessarily cluttered, but did house some things that didn't fit elsewhere. A treadmill was pressed up against the far wall, loaded high with boxes. Quinn rifled through them briefly, glancing over old polaroids and certificates from Rachel's high school days - and earlier still. She wondered if she should feel guilty, running her fingers over every part of Rachel's past, but then decided she didn't care. Rachel was the sort of girl who'd go off an a tangent if Quinn asked, so it was an area she was best off discovering alone.
After acquainting herself with the memories Rachel kept boxed up in her spare room, Quinn returned to the bed. She drew her legs up to her chest, staring out through the window which lacked curtains. The room was empty, but it still felt so weird of her to be there - wrong, in a way. Feeling out of place was something Quinn had fought against her whole life, but it kept happening. It was like being in Mercedes' house for the first time all over again, knees as close to her body as they could be with that stomach. Quinn ran a hand over her midriff, feeling a distinct pleasure at the flat stomach that she found.
Beth. She would have a good life with Shelby. She wouldn't miss awkward Aunty Quinn, who cried whenever they were permitted alone together (not often). She'd grow up and do something special. She didn't need Quinn, just like her father didn't need Quinn either. No one did.
As she had laid Lucy to rest beneath the sweat of near-constant workouts and the knife of the plastic surgeon, so to would she lay Quinn to rest. Only this time, it would be for good.
And somehow, those thoughts running through her mind, Quinn fell into a satisfied sleep.
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She awoke to someone knocking on her door. Without waiting for an answer, Rachel poked her head into the room. "Good morning." She greeted.
Quinn sat up in bed, holding up a hand to defend her eyes from the sudden onslaught of light. "Morning." She replied, slowly adjusting to the waking world.
Rachel walked into the room, wearing the pyjamas she'd had on the roof earlier that night, before their coffee trip warranted a change. "Are you hungry?" In her hands she had a bowl, holding it out for Quinn to take.
The blonde shook her head. "No." She said, then caught herself. "Thank you." Quinn added politely, propping herself up against the headboard.
Rachel took this with a shrugged shoulder, coming to sit down on the end of the bed. Quinn pulled her feet out of the way as Rachel sat down, crossing her legs and beginning to eat whatever she had bought in. Cereal or muesli of some kind. "So, have you changed your mind?" She asked around a mouthful of breakfast, as if this were an ordinary morning conversation for her.
Over the course of the night Quinn hadn't changed anything, except her determination to succeed. "No." Quinn replied, cursing the weak part of her that was saddened by watching Rachel's face fall.
"Oh." She said, now staring deep into her bowl. "I see."
"You couldn't have changed my mind." Quinn said distractedly, watching a bird settle on the ledge outside the window. "I've known what I've wanted for a long time now." The bird hopped around briefly, picking at what it mistook for crumbs on the brickwork, before fluttering off again. At last Quinn drew her eyes back to the girl facing her across the bed.
Rachel sighed. "You know," she began, taking another spoonful of what Quinn now identified as muesli slathered in yogurt, "I've been doing some thinking."
Quinn didn't answer at first. The silence stretched out in front of them, broken only by Rachel chewing. "And?" Quinn prompted at last, growing uncomfortable with the lack of discussion. It was awkward to sit by, spectator to Rachel's breakfast.
"And I think a lot of the problems you have - you know, with your boyfriends and your baby and stuff... I really think that you're bringing it upon yourself." Rachel furrowed her brow, mulling thoughtfully over her next bite as Quinn absorbed her words.
"Bringing it upon myself?" Quinn repeated, tone taking on that famed head bitch quality from back in the Cheerio's.
To her credit, Rachel was unfazed. "Well, I mean, you did cheat on your first boyfriend then wonder why he didn't really like you..." Here she lingered for a moment, a puzzled frown drawing her brow in, before she shrugged to herself and carried on, "and it was your choice to keep the baby and then give her away. You can't blame the adoptive mother for keeping her, nor can you blame her father for just wanting to be in her life." Rachel leaned over to an old dresser and set her food on its dusty surface. Once that was done, she crawled forward on the bed, sitting almost face-to-face with Quinn. The blonde turned her head away. "Go back to them and say sorry. Make things right. If you want to leave the world, don't leave behind all these broken hearts." There was a plea in Rachel's voice, but at the same time a type of firmness.
Quinn flinched away when Rachel made to grab her hand, but that still did not stop her. "They might not forgive you right away, but better to try and fail than not at all. Don't leave the world this way, Quinn. Don't make your legacy one of hatred and sadness."
Quinn slapped Rachel across the face. She was kinda glad the girl had put down her meal, because she'd have a mess to clean up otherwise. "What do you know?" Quinn snapped, bringing her legs up quick enough to dislodge Rachel from her place.
"I only know what you told me!" Rachel cried, righting herself on the end of the bed.
"You haven't lived my life, so don't tell me what I have or haven't done right!" Quinn got to her feet, grabbing her stuff off the floor in a fury. "You're sitting around acting like you have all the damned answers!" She screamed, hands in tight, white-knuckled fists.
Slamming the door shut behind her, bra, belt, and shoes still clasped in hand, Quinn made for the door. So what if articles of clothing came fluttering down after her, what difference would that make? This wasn't middle school - her mother hadn't gone writing her name all over everything. Any suicidal woman could shop at Victoria's Secret.
Quinn was seconds away from reaching the door to Rachel's apartment when it flew open in front of her. She had to take a moment to catch herself, stumbling back to ensure she didn't walk straight into the person who stood there.
"Oh, sorry." The taller figure said, holding out two hands beside Quinn's body in case she fell - a reflexive gesture, if not a bit late.
Quinn gave a noisy huff, rearranging her things in her hands, prepared to storm out before Rachel caught up to her. She looked up with every intent of giving the intruder a particularly venomous glare, but the look melted into disbelief. She recognised that figure - tall, well-built, and with this near-constant look of confusion. Though right now, Quinn thought, he was most entitled to that look.
"Quinn?" Finn said, and Quinn was sure their expressions of pure shock matched. "What are you doing here?"
"Finn?" Rachel said, coming out from the bedroom at last. "I'm sorry, this probably looks really weird, I can explain."
"What are you doing here?" Quinn ground back, staring up at him through hooded eyes.
Finn cleared his throat, looking very much uncomfortable. "Rachel is my girlfriend."
Quinn spun on her heel, focusing on the stunned brunette watching them both. "Your girlfriend? Since when?" At one point Rachel made to intervene, but Quinn held up a hand to silence her.
"Since when is it any of your business, Quinn?" Finn said, shutting the door so that the neighbours wouldn't be privy to their discussion - argument. Whatever. "You cheated on me. Do you think I'm just going to be faithful to you forever? Even after we broke up? We go to completely different schools, you don't control me."
Mouth opened on a reply, Quinn fell short. No words came. Why was she mad? She had no right to be, really. She was just mad. At everything. That revelation did not stop her feeling that way - Quinn was furious, and if she could form a suitable retort it would be flying around the room by now. The skill she'd had at arguing on the spot (the debating team had asked her to join for most of her time at McKinley) had suddenly fled her body, leaving behind a pure rage that had no words to express itself with.
"Okay, one of you is going to explain what is going on here." Rachel came up between them now, raising both hands. "You're not leaving until I know what's happening." She said to Quinn, with her back to Finn. The taller man lay one hand on Rachel's shoulder.
"Quinn and I-" Finn began, but he was cut off.
"Finn is Mike." Quinn said with a resigned sigh, using the name of the other Glee clubber she had substituted for Finn's own. The taller man made to argue, but Quinn hadn't lost her ability to produce a ball-breaking gaze along with her mastery of words.
Rachel clearly took a second to piece everything together, and then made a long noise of understanding. "I know you." Rachel said after a moment. "You're Quinn." She said the name she knew, but it held so much more weight now. Like all of the bad things (they couldn't possiby be good) Finn had said about her were now resting on her shoulders. Rachel's look, however, was not as Quinn expected. There was concern, curiosity, and certainly a little bit of anger there. Quinn had broken Finn's heart - it was something she'd carried with her a long time, and sometimes wore as a badge of pride simply because accepting what she had been to him was too much. It would have cracked the Quinn Fabray façade. Laughing as she described Finn crying over her to Santana was easier than admitting she, too, had cried - a lot.
Quinn swallowed, her throat tight, and then nodded. "I'm going now." All the fury from earlier had drained out, to be replaced with defeat. Finn had found happiness, where she had not. Her happiness was six floors down, and it was waiting for her. She ducked past Finn, who just watched her go, unaware that he had any reason to step in and stop her.
"Quinn, wait!" It didn't sound like Rachel wanted her to stay for her own safety - perhaps to hear her story, but not to keep her safe. Not like the request for coffee, or the offer to stay the night. Those had been a good Samaritan doing her best for someone in need. This now was a person who had an insatiable need to know, and Quinn had just made herself the most interesting person in the world. But Rachel had done her part, and now all she wanted to do was satisfy her curiosity.
So Quinn didn't wait. She just kept going, upstairs.
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author's notes: reviews are loved! :)