Title: Catalyst
Author: neveraworsename
Rating: T for first two, M later on
Fandom: Glee
Words: 5,218
Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric
Author's Notes: Second chapter, two weeks after the first. Let's hope I can keep this up.
Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.
Chapter 2 –
Sometimes, Quinn felt like she lived in TV Land, how her mother wore an apron and her father came in from work at exactly five thirty, no matter the day. Other times, like when Brittany and Santana were cozied up in a booth across from her, she felt like something trashy on The CW. Today, it was Showtime, even though she had never watched that network. Her parents believed firmly that anything worth watching must come on basic cable. Except, you know, UFC. And boxing. And John Haggerty.
It was Showtime, though, because there was nudity. At least, she thought that they showed nudity. They showed Dexter, which was about a serial killer, so genitalia showed up at some point, didn't it? Whatever.
Quinn sulked on the couch, drinking her third cup of beer in an hour. Brittany only filled them up a quarter of the way for her and diluted that with water and juice, which made it really gross, but the blonde asked about it each time she came back from dancing, so she sipped. Besides, Santana told her Puck got the cheapest thing he could find because it was only a Wednesday night party, and he was saving for the Saturday night "Back To School Bitches" extravaganza, so it was possibly an improvement. It was themed for Catholic school girls and strippers.
She'd only gone to the party because Finn was being an idiot and started asking to do more, which she wasn't going to. Then he'd called her fat and she'd called him a lot of names that she shouldn't have. His mother was a nicer woman than that. So, he'd claimed to be going to Puck's party, so she had to go so no one noticed that they were fighting. Unfortunately, he'd texted an apology and said he was going out of town with his mother ten minutes after she'd gotten there and now she was stuck with Brittany and Santana. They were feuding because Santana wanted to get high and not dance, which would only last until the end of the night, really, when they would curl up like sickening puppies in Puck's room.
She wobbled into the kitchen, where Santana, Tracy, two football players, three no-ones and that Asian chick were giggling hysterically. The football players were naked. The blonde stepped over outstretched legs to a rack of unopened wine coolers. She held them up to the light to make sure there was nothing floating in there or murky colored or any holes anywhere. She grabbed one of the cases and carried her bounty to the couch.
The teenager had only drunk one before Puck tried to flirt. Quinn ignored him. She glanced around, thinking that it was boring, until she saw three girls, mostly naked, dancing on a table. Her mouth got dry, so she kept drinking until it was empty. Her mouth didn't feel any wetter though. Puck turned in the direction she was looking, obviously confused as to why she wasn't unzipping his pants, and flopped into the seat next to her once he saw, holding a hand out for a wine cooler. Between the two of them, they'd finished the case off before the girls even started to glisten in the light.
Puck staggered into the kitchen and emerged triumphant with Tracy on his shoulder. She scowled, drunk. That bastard was supposed to be bringing more drinks, not that slutbucket. It was possible to fit her in a straw, but Quinn wasn't going to drink that. When she tried to stand and couldn't, she laid fully on the couch to take a break. After the room stopped spinning, Quinn got up and danced with Brittney and a slender boy with a lot of piercings, and then a lot more people that just blurred together because she'd had more drinks.
She was dancing with Brittany again, when she felt slender hands on her hips. It wasn't very obtrusive, so she let him. They moved well, whoever it was, and wasn't nearly as clumsy as Finn or as crude as, well, all the other boys at school. Then she wobbled, laughing, and whoever it was caught her. She couldn't hear much but she let whoever lead her upstairs and into a room. If this was a guy, she would be really embarrassed, so she hoped it was a girl. It probably wasn't, though, as they finally just picked her up with a grunt. It made her feel fat, fatter than Finn's comment because he would at least have picked her up without making any sounds.
The room was dark and he struggled to lay her on the bed without bumping into anything. He had small shoulders and felt short, shorter than her. She hoped it wasn't Jewfro. She'd have to kill him and then herself, if that was the case. He didn't do anything, just slipped her shoes off and took her jacket off before pulling the covers to rest around her shoulders. She wiggled out and struggled with her pants before he helped her with those and her shirt.
He stood but Quinn grasped his sleeve. It was quieter and she felt a little more sober so she asked, "Water?" There were a few moments she didn't remember before the stranger was back, helping her drink the liquid. He kept a hand on the back of her head to make sure she was elevated enough to keep from spilling. There was another blank, and then she was kissing him.
There was no patchy stubble, no harsh jawline, no slobbering. He tasted strongly of whisky and smelt like fabric softener and vodka. It was much more refined than Finn's Axe spray and how he constantly tasted like something greasy. She gained pounds just breathing the same air as him. She touched the boy's hair, soft and thick. It felt really long, which meant McKinley was out. Maybe he went to Kennedy, or Jefferson, or even that private school St. Jerome. All their kids looked like hippies. It was lost in the shuffle of blank thoughts as she felt teeth on her lip and made a small sound. He drew back and whispered, "Sorry, did I bite you?"
And suddenly, there was light. Her head ached badly and she cracked her eyes open. Sunlight was just starting to enter the room, almost directly into her field of vision. She groaned lowly and then wished she hadn't. Her throat was sore and irritated, as if she had a bad cold and her skin was itching from the rough blanket, though not as much as the area between her legs. She lifted it slightly and squeaked, a noise she'd never heard herself make. She was completely naked except for a sock. There were little hickeys from her chest down to her thighs. Quinn let it drop out of frustration, rolled over, and screamed into the pillow until she thought her throat would bleed and her ears would pop. When she turned over, her throat was sore but workable and her ears worked the same.
The same thought kept going through her mind, bI've lost my virginity. Jesus Christ, forgive me./b And then, rather anti-climatically, bMy stomach hurts./b She'd never even been drunk before and the vegetarian shtick her mother was on wasn't conductive to soaking up alcohol.
The delicate gold chain around her neck felt like it was burning, even worse than what she was sure was the first case of a teenager with acid-reflux disease. She was a sinner. Quinn Lucille Fabray, who had tried so hard to do what her father and her Father said, who had made the life of the girl she had lusted for and who she wanted Hell. This was worse than her thoughts of Rachel, because she couldn't control her dreams and the kiss hadn't been very sinful. She bit her lip to keep from crying.
There was loud snoring next to her. She turned to find that Brittany and Santana were asleep next to her. For a moment, panic shot through her, straight from her veins to her heart, shutting down her internal organs. They were her best friends, how could she have slept with them? They were the best part of her life, and she'd ruined it. She might have had thoughts, but she'd have never acted on them. Then it eased out slowly, as she saw that they were in the same clothes as last night. She rolled out of the bed too fast, causing another spike of pain in her head.
There was a poster on the wall of a girl on a motorcycle, an XBOX controller lying on top of a pile of dirty laundry, and a picture of Puck and his little sister near the mirror. Football cleats reeked in a corner. Quinn groaned lowly but quickly went to find her clothes. She could worry about her betrayal of Finn and check her chances of having an STI later; right now she had to get dressed and get home. About five minutes later, she'd found all of her things except for her underwear. Considering the piles of female undergarments that decorated the room, she wasn't going to chance it. A glance at Brittany and Santana proved that they weren't going to be any use, so she headed downstairs.
About four teenagers lay asleep on the staircase and she walked carefully to keep from waking them. Her own headache was killing her and she felt like she was going to puke at any moment. Also, she knew for a fact that some of them had been at the party before her and had been drinking right from the start. When she reached the first floor, she huffed in irritation. Somewhere between twenty and forty teenagers had made the floor their home for the night. It was a lot harder to walk through them, but she managed, only stepping on Jewfro's hand and a younger Cheerio's foot.
Puck was in the kitchen, already, flirting with a girl she didn't recognize. He glanced at her and waved but otherwise gave no indication that she existed. The blonde swallowed dryly, shoulders slumping as she unlocked and left through the side door. Obviously, their night had meant little to him. How many other virgins had he had? She wondered. Quinn knew for a fact that he and Santana were each other's firsts, evidence as to why they kept breaking up and getting back together despite their shared infidelity. Sometimes, she'd heard, they even cheated with the same girl. And if he'd slept with Santana then he'd probably slept with Brittany too. They couldn't pee without the other following into the stall.
After almost a block of walking, Quinn found herself sweating. She unzipped her jacket but then had to zip it again because there were a multitude of rainbow stains that didn't look like she'd created them. They'd been impossible to see in Puck's room with its black sheets for curtains and the single dim lamp. Now, they were a sign of her sin.
She started to jog. If she was sweaty enough, her mother would just think she'd been out for a run and hadn't found her track pants, not that she'd never come home. Similar but not, she could also think Quinn was strung out on drugs. Quinn had only gone another block when she heard a horn. The cheerleader didn't turn around, despite being the only person on the block. Finn had honked when they first started dating and she'd made it a habit to wait until he finally got out and answered the door. It was also embarrassing to be seen with a guy whose car horn sounded like a bike horn. Whoever it was got the hint and she heard the creaky sound of bike wheels and the click of a card in the spokes. She slowed to a walk and bit her lip when she glanced and ended up staring. The bike was a little black one-seater, an older model, and RuPaul was walking it towards her. The brunette made a gesture for her to stay and came closer.
For a moment, Quinn thought about walking the fifteen blocks home when it was this hot in the early morning. Then her common sense kicked in and she walked towards the bike. Man Hands stayed still and let her climb onto the back and placed her hands on her slim shoulders. She was too tall to ride on the handlebars. The blonde could feel the tight muscles under the other girl's shoulders. The brunette was sweating, glistening really, and smelled a little like sweat and musk. Quinn's ears started to burn in embarrassment. Looked like Berry wasn't a virgin either.
"Can you give me your address?" The girl asked almost as soon as they ended the block.
"27 Dursley Avenue."
It was silent for a while, just the steady sound of the chain moving, before Yeti cleared her throat. She sounded a little breathless when she asked, "Are you hungry? I could stop at McDonalds or something." McDonalds was four blocks out of the way and they would end up passing right by her house.
The thought of food made her stomach roil anyways and she quickly replied, "No." She didn't add a thank you. It was quiet for another few minutes. Quinn had just started to recognize the area as the two blocks she'd ruled as a child before Berry asked, "Did you know you were my first kiss?"
Quinn looked down at her, eyes wide. The smaller girl was staring straight ahead and her face was the smooth mask just like outside of Miss Pillsbury's office. There was more sweat on her forehead and the hair hanging in front was plastered to the sides of her face and curling from the humidity. Her hands, though, were tight on the bike handles. She could see the knuckles turn white as she they leaned and turned onto the right street. Quinn swallowed, although she wasn't sure why. It felt a lot like what to do in that situation. The blonde took a deep breath, "No."
The bike slowed and coasted to a stop just outside of her house. She got off and closed her left hand into a fist. Did you know you were the first kiss that really mattered? She didn't ask.
The brunette continued, as if this was a normal, everyday conversation, as if they were talking about the weather or something, "Mmmm. Well, you were." She added, as if she was being prompted, "It was nice. Have a lovely day, Quinn."
She couldn't stop the words this time, "Thanks Berry."
RuPaul waited until she was at her door and it was opened before leaving. She leaned against the door frame, feeling exhausted for being up all of twenty minutes. She rubbed her eyes and headed up the stairs. It was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and appliances. It was so cool in the house that she shivered passing by a vent on the stairs. The blonde girl headed up the stairs to her room. She only paused briefly to dig out a pair of red pajamas and her towel to take with her to the bathroom. She turned the shower on and waited until the water was so hot that the mirror couldn't reflect anything but a vague blob. Quinn stripped her clothes off and gently prodded a red mark near her belly button. It stung a little. She went under the spray of the shower and started to scrub.
She was half way through her shower when she started to sob.
XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo
The first weird thing Quinn noticed was spotting. It wasn't unusual for her to spot two or three days before her period but it was more than a week away. The blonde figured it was the stress of the start of school. She had two classes with Finn and two classes with Tranny so it wasn't the easiest transition. Hearing Stubbles voice for the ninety minutes of English was pure Hell for two reasons: one, she had to pretend she hated the other girl and two, because she focused on her voice so much she didn't hear much else. Gym was a different layer of Hell as Figgins had convinced Coach Sylvester that her athletes would benefit from more exercise, so she'd been put in gym and was forced to run laps all the time and not much else. Under the argyle, sweaters, and Mary Jane's, Berry had a body even Ms. Sylvester couldn't find fault in and was one of the better normal students, the ones that weren't on any athletic team. Her stomach featured in Quinn's dreams for the rest of the month.
Finn also seemed to think 'girlfriend' meant the same thing as 'cheating partner' and expected her to hand over her tests and school work as soon as she was finished to him. More than that, he was hanging out with Puck more and was trying to move their relationship forward. She felt guilty enough for sleeping with his friend that she might have let him if he wasn't so pig-headed about it. She'd even attempted to give him a hand job but he'd released before her hand was even in his swim suit. He'd then gone on to pull the 'if you loved me, you'd let me touch you' card more times than she could count. For being the son of a single mother he wasn't very gentlemanly.
But even then, she felt more guilt because she cared for Finn, but she just couldn't put herself on the line for him. She could talk to him, she could understand him but it was difficult to share everything with him. There were a lot of fears she had, like the dark and her claustrophobia and terrorism that she had shared and so many more that she hadn't. Fears like her thought that she wouldn't get out of Lima or would end up like her parents or go the way of her Great-Aunt Gertrude and blow her brains out with the family rifle on her fiftieth birthday because she hadn't accomplished anything. She wasn't sure if he would understand, and she was more afraid of rejection than anything else.
Puck was another problem. The classes she didn't share with RuPaul and Finn she had with him. He'd given her lustful looks before and she'd thought he'd stop now that they'd had drunken sex. Apparently, he didn't remember either and was skirt chasing more than ever now that Santana had dumped him because of his credit score, which really meant Brittany wasn't putting out until she was single. Every time he looked at her it reminded her of the night she didn't remember and had lost the single most precious thing to her.
Later that week, she overheard someone mention fried Oreo's at lunch and got nauseous almost instantly. It came so suddenly that she missed the toilet when she rushed to the girls' bathroom. It was over within ten minutes but she felt shaken and scared. That had never happened to her before and she wondered what was going on. Maybe Ms. Sylvester really had planted those monitors in them to monitor their calorie intake like she'd claimed. Quinn stood, wiped her mouth with a bit of toilet paper and left the stall. Rachel stood on the other side, her eyes wide and worried. The worry didn't fade when she saw Quinn. In the mirror, she could see that she was still slightly pasty looking and she'd missed a spot by her chin.
She summoned as much attitude as she could and said, swallowing the bitter aftertaste of vomit, "Not a word, Man Hands."
Quinn turned to the mirror and wiped the last traces of her puke off before rinsing her mouth with the tap water. It was almost as bad as the vomit, really. She was sure she saw red flakes of rust lying in it. The blonde wiped her mouth with a paper towel and left the restroom. Miss Pillsbury smiled as they passed but Quinn kept her face blank. If she didn't, she had the feeling she would cry.
Brittany looked a little concerned but perked up when Quinn gave her the last of her pita chips and the juice box she'd bought just for her. She didn't think she could eat. Santana's eyes were more wary, as they always were, and when they walked to class she murmured, "You alright? I don't need my white girl to go any more Hannibal Lector on me."
Quinn laughed, mostly to keep from crying again. Hannibal Lector was her favorite villain and she'd said once, probably back in the fifth or sixth grade, that if she ever grew up to be an evil heathen, she'd model herself after him. She barely even remembered that conversation, but Santana's memory was just creepy, with all the things she remembered people saying. Santana could be a bitch but she was her friend, her best friend most of the time. And sometimes she thought she could throttle Santana and other times, like this, she just wanted to hug her and never let go. And she'd cheated on her with her boyfriend. Granted, Santana treated Puck like shit, but it was very mutual. So, instead of answering, she asked, "I thought B was your white girl?"
She shrugged, "A Latin mama'sgotta get her mack on." She looked at Quinn from the corner of her eye and continued, tone deliberately casual, "But you alright?"
Quinn took a deep breath. The truth was supposed to be a good thing, right? But then she looked around at the crush of people and their staring eyes, watching her mouth and face and eyes for any sign of weakness, for any sign to knock her off her throne and said, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a tough week, you know."
As they turned to walk down the history corridor, Santana rolled her shoulders and then her eyes, "Yeah, I know. Couch Sylvester's one perraloca. I wouldn't be surprised if she really did get her uterus removed, though."
Quinn shuddered, "Yeah, imagine if there were a bunch of little her's around."
They shuddered again and Santana nudged her with her shoulder, "They'd probably be like Berry."
And there she was again, Santana the bitch, the one searching for the cracks in her castle. Quinn gave a laugh, "Yeah, but not much worse. Hard to go lower than lowest." Her secret place ached. It'd been so long since she felt it that she'd nearly forgotten it existed.
Brittany, who had been counting the lockers with scratches and dents suddenly said, "Are unicorns like cave men?"
They both looked at her but she wasn't paying them any attention, still focused on the lockers. Quinn looked at Santana who shrugged. Her face was affectionate though, in that her eyes weren't their normal dark pits of Hellfire, but actually something like sweetness in them, and she walked behind Quinn to Brittany, where she linked their pinkies. Brittany smiled at her and kissed her cheek. She looked away feeling a little uncomfortable with the intimacy they showed so casually. Her parents didn't hug or kiss unless they were trying to appear happy and she was only hugged on occasion, when something really needed a tactile enforcement, like the high-fives Frannie used to give her for really hard moves. Finn had to learn the hard way when they first started dating that she didn't do casual touching.
Mr. Backs put the PowerPoint presentation on just as they entered. He gave them a look, probably for being almost late, and they took their seats in the back. Since Mr. Backs was going on about crono-magnum or whatever and her parents had complained fifteen times in the first week about her learning that, she was exempt from the test and had plenty of time for herself. After twenty minutes dedicated to defacing Berry's face in her notebook and erasing the little hearts that had somehow come into existence, she pulled her phone out and decided to see what diseases the internet would claim she had. Last time her cold had been lymphoma.
The first thing that popped up was menopause and she bit her lip to stop from smiling. The second made her snicker, just loud enough for Brittany to glance at her. The third made her pale and lift her hand for the bathroom pass because she was sure she was going to throw up again. Mr. Backs seemed to understand and, when he handed it to her, told her to take all the time that she needed.
Quinn had just barely made it to the restroom when she started crying. It seemed empty again, thankfully, and she locked the door behind her. She leaned against the sink and then sunk down, face in her hands. The room echoed her sobs and made her feel pathetic and little. This was different from the smallness of her church, where she felt God most strongly and was sure He was looking out for her. This little made her feel like an ant in a long line of worker ants. She was crying because of shock, but how could she be shocked when the facts had been there.
She'd had sex with a boy, who she assumed was Noah Puckerman, and was unsure if they used protection. She hadn't taken Plan B contraceptive because she didn't want anyone to find out and for the most part thought it was a load of crap. She also hadn't gone to the free clinic, but that was because she wasn't allowed to drive anywhere unless her mother or father was there. It was two weeks later and she had until next Thursday for her period to show up. Her crying jag lasted five minutes, mostly because any longer than that and she started to feel uncomfortable and self-pitying, before she stood to wash her face.
Her eyes were red and shiny, but not remarkably so. Anyone who saw her would just think she'd gotten dust in her eyes or something. Her ears were ringing and she tried to pop them, but that hurt more. But it also helped to focus her.
She was part of a pragmatic family, who normally self-medicated with alcohol, but was known on occasion to get up and move towards their goals. That was why her father was a womanizer and a borderline alcoholic but was a deacon at the church and her mother could ignore everything wrong in the world and not break dishes just to let some of her feelings out, even when she was so drunk she could only lay on the couch, watching Billie Mays' infomercials and the only way her sister could leave Lima was to marry a bald guy who was almost thirty, was divorced, and had two kids he didn't pay child support.
Quinn deleted the history on her phone and then exited the web browser. The clock on the device read just after one. She still had an hour or so of school but she wasn't sure she could sit in class feeling like a spinning top, slowly dancing towards the gutter while everyone else learned useless facts on salt or whatever. She unlocked the door and headed towards the biggest room in the school that didn't smell, as Santana claimed and was scarily accurate, like Cheetos and ass; the auditorium.
When she entered the auditorium the stage lights were off and the stage was empty. The curtains were pulled. There were only a few windows, set high and the casual, side lights on.
She called out, "Hello?" There was only the sound of her voice. It was deserted.
Her footsteps were loud as she approached the middle seats and she imagined it was like stepping back into the womb. Then she grimaced and, hesitantly, touched her stomach with the tips of her fingers, over the shirt. It didn't feel like there was much there, underneath the cotton and skin. She only felt the hard line of muscles she struggled to maintain while Finn lounged around and ate chips and played Halo and still managed to have a six pack and a nice complexion.
Quinn's hand dropped and she flopped into the seat next to her. She'd completely forgotten about Finn; what was she going to say to him? "Hey, sorry, I got drunk at a party and fucked your friend. Also, I might be pregnant. Hope you get over it." Finn deserved more than that. Finn deserved more than all the lies he'd been fed because he was trusting and thought better of people.
The blonde rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. There was only the whine of the air conditioner and the occasional scuffle of feet in the hall to interrupt the quiet. She pulled her phone out again to look up how soon she could take a pregnancy test and felt nerves settle in her chest at the fact that she had to wait another week or so for it to be more accurate. Quinn tucked the phone away again, through with it.
She was nearly asleep when she heard the creak of the door opening and closing and the quiet snick of the lock, which was probably a fire hazard waiting to happen. A lot of students came to the auditorium because it was a peaceful place and the 'civilians' as Ms. Sylvester dubbed them tended to leave each other alone. It was only the Cheerios and jocks who stood out in their need to be seen as a collective and not as an individual. She sunk further into the seat so her bright hair wouldn't be seen. For once, she wished her uniform wasn't so distinctive.
The footsteps kept going, until they were on the stage and whoever was there didn't seem to care if there was an audience of one, even if it was unseen. Slowly, the curtains pulled back until the out of tune piano was able to be seen. The single spot light came on and Rachel Berry stood in the middle of it. She called, like the blonde did, "Hello? Anyone out there?" Her voice cracked a little, and she sniffled.
Quinn decided then and there that her day couldn't get any worse; not from finding out she could be pregnant from the school manwhore. At least, until RuPaul started to practice her scales. She stayed where she was, watching her strut around the stage, play the piano a little, all in the spotlight. She really did seem to belong there, in a way that no one else did, and Quinn felt a pang in her abdomen at the thought of her staying in Lima, working some meaningless job at Sheets 'n Things or DiMico Auto Shop or something. Rachel even seemed to belong when she sat on the edge of the stage, long legs dangling. At least, until she laid on her back and pulled her skirt and underwear down. No one could really blame Quinn for screaming, now could they?