Catalyst

by neveraworsename

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

7. Chapter 7

Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: T for first two, M later on

Fandom: Glee

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

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 7 –

In the month since their last date, Quinn had somehow forgotten how boring dating Finn was. She knew his mother didn't go out much, and that no one had taught him to be adventurous besides movies, but she was certain there was more in a RomCom than taking his date out to the nearest restaurant, ordering something heavy and onion-filled for himself and giving her his puppy-dog eyes when it came to dessert. Her lack of response to most of his conversation should have alerted him that she was bored. Whatever. It was better than being by herself on a Friday night.

After dinner, he drove them about fifteen minutes out of town to one of the corn fields, where it was empty of people and the sky was heavily studded with stars. All she could see were the corn fields, showing up almost black with the lack of sunlight and a single pale yellow light from a small house. The sky wasn't pitch black, like they always said in movies, but a deep midnight blue and the stars were silver and blue pin-pricks. He helped her out and onto the hood of the car before climbing up after her. They stared upwards for a while, just breathing in the humid air of the last hints of summer before he said, "You know the Lion King taught me that stars are just souls looking down on us."

She nibbled at the skin on the inside of her cheek, not wanting to really say anything to him. "Uh-huh. That's cool."

"Yeah, I remember when Puck first let me watch it with him. I mean, the part where Simba's dad dies is really sad, but I think it's awesome when he like, brings back awesomeness to the pride."

She glanced at the earnest look on his face and wondered what it felt like for two little boys to find out that their dads weren't the only ones missing. Or even Rachel, having one too many dads according to Lima, and missing a mother, seeing that people had one mom and one dad, even according to animals. Damn, she was never letting her kid see that movie. Mulan all the way.

"That's nice, Finn." Quinn hated to break up the moment and said, "You know, the stars are actually elements and other things pushed together, not souls, right?"

He blinked in surprise, and then frowned. "I told Puck I was right."

She blinked as well. "What?"

"I told Puck that stars were elements and rock and other junk all mixed up, not souls, but he didn't believe me. People are always saying he's smarter, so I believed him."

Great. Finn was the smart one in that friendship. Maybe raising a baby with him would be the smart thing to do, if Puck was going to be a part of raising a baby with Rachel. Then again, they were best friends. It was probably smart to just become used to him, then.

"Who taught you that?" She asked, and then winced. It was easy for her to lose control of her decorum around Finn because he let her get away with it. It was one thing for her to soften and be truthful, like with Rachel, but another entirely when all she did was belittle and act cruel to him and for him to never call her out on it.

He chose not to call her out again and said, "There was this kid in my elementary school that taught me. He was short with a ton of hair, like really curly and messy, and he had huge eyes. He was always wearing these weird clothes, like flower sweaters and dress shoes and stuff." He laughed, "He looked like a hippie deer."

Quinn's eyes widened. "Are you serious? That was Rachel."

He laughed again, louder, "Nice one Quinn. That was a boy, he had this weird name. Something from the city, I think. Samuel, Steven, Sebastian-"

She interrupted, "Spencer?"

He nodded, "Yeah that was it. How'd you know?"

"That's Rachel's first name."

He shook his head, "Her first name is Barbra. No, wait that's her surname." Finn paused, "That's the one in the middle one, right? The surname, because there's an 's' in the middle."

"The one in the middle is your middle name. The surname is your last name."

"Oh." He frowned. "That's dumb. They should have a class on this stuff instead of math."

The class was called a book with less pictures then words. She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from saying that.

Then he grinned. "You know, that explains why he came in a dress one day and my mom had to explain transsexuals. I mean, I still don't really get it, because like, who'd want to be a girl all the time but I don't think it's that big a deal. Do you?"

Quinn didn't have a response for him ready. She'd never had to think about another person beside herself, really, and it was proving to be difficult, to imagine herself in that position. But his face was trusting, and she thought of Rachel's big eyes, trusting her, so she said, without really thinking, "I don't care, so long as he or she is happy and healthy."

He grinned, "Good." Then, very gently, he reached out and placed one of his hands on her shoulder before pulling her closer for a kiss. His mouth was overwhelming and she wished that she could have given him a tic-tac or two before this. She counted to seventy in her head before parting from him, taking fresh air in as delicately as possible while still rejoicing in it. He pulled her back again, and they kissed like that, for what felt like forever. She preferred kissing Rachel, even if they'd only kissed a handful of times. She knew, at least, that kissing wasn't just holding your breath forever.

She parted for the last time because her mouth was starting to go numb, and not in a good way. Four months of dating should have taught him something at the least.

He moved his hand to the nape of her neck and shifted his head to kiss her neck. She pressed against his chest to stop him and said, "That's enough, Finn."

Finn pouted, "Quinn, c'mon. We haven't been out in a long time and we, like, never kiss or go out anymore."

She said firmly, "Stop. I'm tired, take me home."

His shoulders slumped and he jumped off the car, showing that there was a dark stain on the back of his yellow hoodie. She took a deep breath and held it as she climbed down and looked at the back of her yellow cardigan. Sure enough, there was a dark stain on it as well. Apparently, he didn't have the foresight to wash the car before letting her get on it.

When the tall boy pulled up to her house, she kissed his cheek briefly and said, "I had a good time tonight, Finn." It was only sort of a lie.

He beamed, gave her a short kiss on the mouth and said, "Me too."

She climbed out and then walked to her front door. Finn pulled off as she entered her house. PBS was on TV, playing jazz music, and her parents were both asleep on the couch. The gin bottle didn't appear to be too empty, Quinn saw as she kissed them both on their foreheads as she headed upstairs.

Quinn took a shower, washed her hair, changed into her pajamas and sighed, softly, as she got underneath the covers. Her body thrummed with energy, fast-paced and bold, but she wanted to sleep, wanted to just shut her mind off and head to sleep. It felt like the night was moving slowly around her so she took her phone and then hesitated. Texting Finn so soon seemed like a chore, she was sure that Rachel had gone to work today, and she was unsure who else to bother.

She put her phone back down, put it on the charger, and curled onto her side, cradling her lower belly. That was something she could, do, she realized, and got up for her laptop. She booted it up and immediately started looking up stuff about fetuses. Turned out she wasn't at the fetus stage yet, but an embryo. It was a nicer name anyways. Fetus just sounded… alien.

She came away an hour later, body calmer but she felt like her baby was a little more defined now. He or she was the size of the tip of a pen, was going to develop organs soon, was a living being connected to her. And Rachel, she reminded herself. And possibly Finn. Finn was Carole's life; she would be disappointed, but would ultimately let her stay there with them, would take care of her and the baby. But Rachel was the baby's… other parent. Rachel was the one quitting her after school activities to work, was risking alienating her parents with this. And no one would even believe them about this, not really. They'd think they were kids playing house, not women determined to have this baby.

"You are not a mistake," She murmured lowly. "You are a wonderful little being."

She turned her laptop off and got underneath her covers, and curled around her most abused, softest pillow. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, evening them out slowly so that when she did go to sleep, she didn't even notice. If she dreamed, she didn't remember, and it felt like she'd blinked so that suddenly it was early Saturday morning. She reached for her phone, first off, and saw a new message from Rachel.

You can come over anytime you want. Before eleven, and you get the full Berry family breakfast.

Quinn smiled softly and disentangled herself from her sheets. It was only nine or so, so she killed some time by cleaning her room then picking out the appropriate outfit for meeting two men she was likely to be living with in two or three months. She'd picked out a summer dress because it wasn't too cold out this early in the morning, a white cardigan, and then decided on a pair of ballet flats rather than her wedges because it was only breakfast. She set them up by her computer chair and texted Rachel, I'll be there soon.

Her parents had moved from the couch, so she wrote them a short note and taped it to the fridge on her way out. Quinn knew the general direction but she'd forgotten, mostly, distracted by the sight of Rachel's hair and the tip of her tongue and the bike with the bent spokes. The paper was still in the front of her book bag, so she texted Rachel when she stopped at the closest stop sign. Where's your house again?

68 Grant Road. Go straight down Ashmont, turn left at Gardens Court, right onto Queens Blvd. and it's the second street to the left.

Okay, thanks.

You're welcome.

The next text came almost immediately afterwards.

Please tell me you aren't texting and driving, Quinn.

I'm not texting and driving.

Good. Now tell me the truth.

I'm at a stop sign and texting.

Stop. I'll see you soon. You're in for a surprise.

Quinn smiled a little before navigating through the town to Rachel's house. It only took maybe a ten minute drive to pull up to the house. Without the girl here to distract her, she really could see that it was a lovely home. There were some nice shrubs in the front of the well-manicured lawn, white shutters and the door was white as well. The house was a soft, muted grey so that it looked soothing. The drive way was empty, but she still parked on the curb just in case and texted Rachel again. I'm outside.

The door opened before she was even on the pathway. Surprisingly, it was Puck standing in the door way, big and burly as always, wearing a pair of shorts and one of his tank-tops. "Hurry the Hell up, Fabray!" He called out. "Rach won't let me eat until you get in."

Quinn deliberately slowed her steps and watched his irritation grow until they were face to face. Then he smirked, "'Sup MILF? Down to fuck?"

She pushed him as he laughed and stepped inside. She was immediately aware of what smelt like heaven; heated fruits, and something that smelled almost like pancakes. It was a unique scent, citrusy, but very pleasant. That must be her surprise. He closed the door behind them and said, "Ray's in the kitchen with my little sister." Seeing her look around he rolled his eyes, "Down the hall, to the right."

She followed his instructions and felt herself blush at the first sight. Rachel was wearing a pair of black booty shorts that rode upwards and she could see pretty much all of her rear. The only thing that tempered the sight was of a little brown-haired girl covering her eyes, balanced precariously on a stool. Her hair was in a pony tail and she was saying, over and over again, "Ew!"

Quinn averted her eyes, cleared her throat at the floor, then focused on the child as she said, "Morning."

The little girl turned to her with big brown eyes, similar in size and shade to Puck's before she waved, "Hi!"

Rachel turned, showing that she had on what appeared to be an overly large Starbucks apron and a tray of muffins that were rapidly deflating. Quinn could see a red t-shirt underneath it. She beamed at Quinn, "Good morning to you as well, Quinn." Her hair was a fantastic mess, just long and curled like all she'd done that morning after getting out of bed was muss it up. Some of the strands were wet, so she knew that she'd taken a shower this morning.

Quinn smiled back shyly and took a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

"Quinn, this is Noah's younger sister Hannah. Hannah, this is my fried Quinn."

Hannah gave her a big, dopey grin and Quinn grinned back at her, then they both turned to watch Rachel slide the little deflated muffin thingies onto plates, two for each of them. They'd turned into cups, really, and there were what appeared to be apples, raspberries, and cinnamon in the center. Hannah's was already cut. Rachel, apparently, worked fast.

Hannah dug into hers eagerly but Quinn was fascinated by the sight. "What are they?" She asked.

"It's a German pancake, which is like thin regular pancake batter baked in the oven, but the huge ones tend to go to waste, so I make them in the muffin tins," Rachel explained. She sliced Quinn's into pieces absent-mindedly and then speared one with a chunk of a red-gold apple and two raspberries before holding it in front of her, "Say 'ahh'."

Quinn opened up and then made a little noise at the flavors. The fruits were perfectly tart and the pancake thing had a light, sweet taste. Rachel grinned again and Quinn saw that she had a smudge of flour on the bridge of her nose and another by her eyebrow. Quinn licked her thumb and wiped them both off, Rachel's nose wrinkling when she felt what she was doing.

The blonde chewed and swallowed and asked, "Where are your dads?"

Rachel took a bite of Quinn's breakfast, pushed it into one cheek, and then said, "Abba-leh's store is open, so he's there, and papa should be down soon."

Quinn saw there was a little dimple by the bottom of her mouth, near her chin, then pulled her plate closer, took the fork from Rachel and watched Hannah fit a whole forkful into her mouth. Rachel took the apron off, revealing the Superman logo on the front, and then took the seat by Quinn. Their legs brushed underneath and Quinn's ears reddened when she suddenly realized they were having what seemed like an increasingly intimate breakfast.

Rachel's mouth quirked upwards a little and Quinn turned to Hannah, starting to feel like a bumbling idiot, "What grade are you in, Hannah?"

The brunette swallowed, "First grade."

Quinn nodded sagely, "That's a good grade."

"The best, I'd say," Rachel added solemnly.

Hannah made an agreeing sound before asking, "Rachel, can – I mean, may I have some orange juice?"

Rachel got up and went to the cabinet. She stood on the very tips of her toes but didn't seem able to reach the smaller glasses most people normally used for orange juice. Quinn snuffled out a laugh then got up and reached behind her to get four of them down, two in each hand. Rachel huffed but Quinn saw the very edge of a smile on her face as she poured the juice in the glass.

Hannah gulped some of her juice as Puck entered the room in front of what appeared to be a young bear who barked as soon as it entered. It looked huge, with a gigantic mouth full of teeth. There was a light brown mask across his face, ending at his muzzle. Quinn may or may not have squeaked and hidden behind Rachel. Rachel didn't even look concerned, just said calmly, "Toto, heel."

He immediately sat down and started to pant. He still looked larger than Hannah.

"After we eat, I'll introduce you to Toto," Rachel said, reclaiming her seat. Puck sat on the other side and Quinn took her seat again.

"Introduce us?" Quinn asked.

Rachel stuffed one cheek again and said, "Yes, he's very protective and well-trained. I've had him since I was ten and one of the things I taught him was a proper introduction. If you haven't been introduced he'll bark and be generally irate in your presence."

Quinn nodded. That seemed like something that Rachel would do.

Toto sniffed at her and lifted his lips before going to sit underneath Rachel's seat. She winked at Quinn before scratching Toto behind his ear with one foot. Her toes were painted gold, the blonde noticed absentmindedly before continuing to eat. She was just finished when she heard a man's voice say, "G'morning."

Quinn turned to see that a tall, African-American man stood in the kitchen doorway. He was scratching his stomach through his shirt and came to the group to kiss Rachel's forehead and ruffled Puck's Mohawk before blinking in surprise at seeing Quinn.

"Oh. Good morning, young lady."

Rachel swallowed some of her orange juice and said, "Papa, this is my friend Quinn. Quinn, this is my dad, Dr. Gerard Way."

He grinned, "I know it's hard to believe, but I am older than him. This one keeps me youthful." He ruffled Rachel's curly head. "Besides, I don't have a young, tattooed hunk in my bed, just an old one."

Quinn laughed. "I believe you, sir."

He blinked then smiled impishly. She could see where Rachel got it from.

He stroked the bristles of his beard, "Sir. I like that one. Everyone, call me sir from now on. But you, Miss Quinn, can call me Gerard." He looked at Rachel, "You did good with this one."

Rachel nodded then looked at Quinn with very soft eyes, "I think so too."

Gerard turned to the counter and poured a cup of hot coffee, pulled out three of the German pancake muffins onto a plate, and covered them with the fruit sauce. He took the plate with him into the living room, pausing only to kiss Hannah's head and said, "I'm going to watch the news, alright kids. Toto, come." The dog stood and toddled after him.

Quinn heard the chatter of a news network just before Puck said, "Dude, how'd you get Quinn to come?"

Rachel's fork was still for a moment, "What are you referring to, Noah?"

He rolled his eyes, "Babe, Fabray was totally uninterested in you when I talked to her a little while ago."

She shrugged carefully, sipping at her juice, "Ask her."

"Fabray?"

Quinn said coolly, "Puckerman?"

"What're you doing here, MILF?"

Hannah asked, "What's a MILF?"

Rachel glared at Puck then said, "Nothing to be concerned about. Would you like another one?"

Hannah stared at her plate for a long moment, and then said very seriously, "No."

"Anyway, Fabray, what's up? You invading on my broseph?"

Quinn shook her head, "Rachel invited me, so I came."

He snorted, "Rachel would invite Patches if he took a bath."

"Patches is a highly valued member of our society," Rachel sniffed. "I happen to think he's a very charming individual."

"He pisses in the street," Puck said dryly.

"The library no longer allows him in."

"Because he pissed on the books. And he smells like Hell."

Rachel's mouth tightened, "I'm sure if someone took the time, he'd be doing very well. And some of his stories are very interesting."

Quinn blinked, "Wait, you talk to homeless people?"

Rachel replied, "Why, yes. They're still people Quinn, homeless or not."

"Whatever," Puck interrupted. "So, Fabray, gonna answer me?"

Quinn frowned at him, "What's it matter? I can't change my mind?"

"Not that fast. What, did she go down on you or fuck you or something for that to change?"

Quinn's entire face burned and she stared at her plate. She wasn't sure what Rachel did but it was probably something similar because he said, almost breathlessly, "No fucking way. Rachel, seriously?"

"What?" She snapped.

He snapped back, "What nothing! You fucked Fabray!" He paused, as if it had just hit him, "You fucked her again!"

"What I do with my body is my business, Noah."

"Dude, she's the enemy! At first I tried to be nice to her because she's pregnant with a little Jew, but she's still a raging bitch! Remember the name-calling, the drawings, the slushies, or did they all just magically disappear because she let you get it in?"

Rachel put her fork and knife down carefully, and tucked her hands into fists. "Hannah, please go out front with Uncle Gerard."

The girl did, gingerly getting down and then waiting for Quinn to give her the plate before carefully walking out.

Rachel's voice was soft, but terse, and somehow it was scarier than if she'd have yelled. "Noah, I will not argue with you about this. What I do with Quinn is my fucking business, do you understand that? If I want to have sexual relations with her, I will. If I want to be another parent to this baby, I will. If I choose to forgive her for her actions, I will fucking do it. She is the mother of my child, and I will not abandon her like that."

Quinn wished she wasn't in the room when he replied, whisper soft, "Fuck that! No one's saying you have to abandon shit. I'm the worst person to say this but stop thinking with your dick, alright! You can fucking be a parent and not be involved with her! And you can stop leading her on, Fabray. What is she the backup plan if things with Finn don't work out?"

Quinn blinked hard, "No. She's not. I like Rachel, and she's stepping up to being a parent, even helping Finn to step up."

"But Finn's not the daddy, and you need to tell him. That's not right for either of them."

"One of 'them' is sitting right here and can speak for herself, Noah!" Rachel snarled.

"Alright, then tell me what the fuck you think you're doing? You think she's gonna be there for you forever? You think she's gonna stay with you when something prettier comes along, a little more conventional? You're gonna be the one that goes and does the late night runs to the store, and rubs her feet, and gives her baths, and gives her dick when she wants it, but you're also gonna be the one that she leaves at the first sign of trouble."

Rachel looked at her then looked at him, the coldest look on her face.

"Maybe I like her and want to help, Noah. Maybe I love her, Noah."

"Bullshit. When has love ever gotten anybody anything besides a fucking broken heart and a full ballsac?"

Rachel bit her lip so hard that it paled underneath her perfect front teeth and her arms were shaking. "I think you should leave, Noah. We will have this discussion at a different time when hurtful things will not be said so freely."

He clenched his jaw and nodded, "Fine. See you on Monday, Rachel. Fuck off, Fabray."

Her throat felt like it was closed, but she managed to get out, "Go die in a fire, Puckerman."

He mumbled, "Better than being with you." Louder, he practically yelled, "Hannah! C'mon!"

The girl took a few minutes to come in, stepping carefully again before giving him the dishes. He put them next to Quinn, grabbed Hannah's hand, and said, "See you, Uncle Gerard!"

Rachel's papa's response was inaudible.

Quinn propped her head up on one hand as she watched Rachel gather the plates, rinse them in the sink and wash them, shoulders tense and straight. It took several minutes for them to loosen and all she said was, "Noah meant well, I imagine. Please don't take any of it to heart."

Quinn swallowed again, "I won't." Even if some of it had struck a chord with her, she wouldn't say anything at all because he was not the main person in this relationship. It would be her and Rachel, in the end, and that was all that mattered. Besides, it was all very domestic, in a sick way, in a Lifetime way; them against the world. She couldn't help but imagine them older, living somewhere that wasn't Lima, the sounds of a toddler singing to Barney on T.V. She bit her lip when she realized just what, exactly, she was imagining. She was imagining a future with Rachel, a future with their child and outside of Lima. It was a nice dream, but what did Rachel want?

"Where do you imagine yourself in ten years?" Quinn asked her.

Rachel's brows furrowed and she raised one hand to push a curl behind her ear. Slowly, she said, "That's a hard decision. Ideally, I'll be on Broadway, in love, and successful. However, I would not be opposed to just having a career in the musical field and seeing or hearing our son or daughter every day."

Quinn shook her head. "No, not like that. Just, close your eyes and pretend you're ten years in the future. What are you doing?"

Rachel obediently closed her eyes and said, softly, "Tired, but it's a good tired, and there's a deep buzz in my body from performing. I go to my room and I'm washing off the sweat and grime from a hard performance when my cell phone rings. I answer it and our son or daughter says, 'I'm going to bed now, I just wanted to tell you about my day.' So I listen to them talk, I tell them goodnight, I make kissy noises and then you get on. We talk as I change into my regular clothes. We only stop talking because there's a meet-and-greet and you say, just before I get off, 'I'm so proud of you.'"

The brunette opened her eyes and licked her lips. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Quinn blinked hard. "I don't know. I just –" She paused, and took a deep breath, "It doesn't feel right to be planning things without finding out how you feel about everything. So, we both agree that we're taking care of the baby together?"

Rachel nodded, "Yeah. I intend to be a part of our child's life." She glanced at the door, then took Quinn's hand, and said, "C'mon, let's go upstairs."

Once they were in the hall, Rachel said, "Toto." The dog pattered out and Quinn blanched, seeing that his head almost reached Rachel's waist, and Rachel had a lot of leg to get through. They headed upstairs and Quinn smiled at the little gold star plate on Rachel's door. The actual inside of her room was a lot less bold then she was expecting. She expected bright pink walls, Barbra Streisand on every wall. What she got was soft yellow painted walls, a bed with a sheer red canopy, a shelf with a few stuffed animals, and a book case filled top to bottom with books. There wasn't a dog bed, but Toto immediately went to a group of pillows and laid down with a small grunt. She gravitated towards the book shelf first and was surprised at the amount of classics that Rachel owned. There were at least a hundred books besides those, and she asked, "Have you read all of these?"

Rachel padded over and nodded, "Yes. I acquired most of these during middle school, and it was a very…" She paused, nibbling on the corner of her mouth, a little frown on her face, "It was a very trying time. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

Quinn was fairly certain that her middle school experience was different then the daughter of two gay men but didn't say anything.

Instead, she took her cardigan off and slid her shoes off before crawling onto Rachel's bed, through the canopy. Rachel climbed in behind her and wrapped her arms around Quinn from behind, pressing her nose against the nape of her neck, nuzzling gently. Quinn could feel where her forehead naturally fell just above her shoulder blades when she could feel Rachel's toes against the heel of her own feet. She laughed, "You're short."

Rachel made a small sound then pinched at her through her dress, getting mostly fabric, "So? As you might attest, inside this small body lies the spirit of someone at least seven feet in height."

Quinn laughed again, "So you admit to having a Napoleon complex and a seven foot ego?"

"Hardyhar." Rachel let go and Quinn rolled onto her back before sitting up. Rachel sat up and said, "Oh! I almost forgot! Toto, here."

Toto obediently stood up and, at least to Quinn, stepped onto the bed. He didn't really look at Quinn, and instead curled up next to Rachel. She rubbed his ears and said, "Quinn, please place your hand in front of Toto's face."

Quinn did, eyeing his bared mouth.

"Toto, this is my friend. Be nice." His mouth closed and he snuffled his cold nose against her hand. He observed her again, and then licked her hand.

Rachel smiled, "That's it. He's actually very friendly." Toto seemed to agree and rolled onto his back, showing his chest and stomach. Rachel began to rub his chest in broad circles, making him rumble his enjoyment.

Quinn hesitated before petting his head. His fur was thick and coarse, and felt more like hair then the silky fur she was used to. He blinked his big dark eyes slowly, reminding her acutely of a shell-shocked Rachel, like that day in the nurse's office. She looked up to see the girl in question pushing her curls back with both hands. She saw Quinn looking and smiled at her. She blushed a little and said, almost too fast, "Do you still want to go to the mall with me?"

Rachel's face froze, momentarily, and Quinn felt her heart sink. of course Rachel wouldn't go out with her, wouldn't want to be seen with the bully and the girl who'd taken her virginity, or the girl who'd teased her relentlessly with the knowledge that she had the power to let Rachel in the life of their child. God, she was terrible.

She was terrible, but she felt like a blind man seeing the sky for the first time as her face split into a grin. "I'd love to!" She nearly fell from Rachel wrapping her arms around her in such an enthusiastic hug if they'd been standing, Rachel would have likely wrapped her legs around her waist. Quinn smiled back at her, a little more sedate, and Rachel's grin softened until the sweetest smile was being given to her. Quinn's ears heated up as she placed one hand on top of Rachel's and then leaned forwards. Rachel met her halfway and they shared a barely there, chaste kiss. Toto huffed between them and lumbered off the bed, pressing one heavy back paw against Quinn's thigh. She hissed a little, and then squeaked as Rachel bit her ear playfully, nearly on her lap.

Rachel laughed then licked her cheek. Quinn squealed again and rubbed the spit off before throwing herself against the bed, Rachel nearly climbing on top of her. Quinn watched Toto return to his bed of pillows and asked, "What kind of dog is he?"

Rachel slid off of her and then the bed before she replied, "Pyrenean Mastiff mixed with Great Pyrenees. He was destined to be a big ball of egotistic fluff." Seeing her look, Rachel said, "The first is from Spain and the second the border between Spain and France." Quinn laughed.

That explained his dignified approach, and she said so. Rachel's laugh was muffled by her sweater, this one a light blue with little splatters of colors. It went below her waist, covering the barely there skimpy shorts. Her hair was even worse when she pulled her head through, along with a dusting of pink on her cheeks and forehead. Quinn laid on her side, one eye open, and then both opened wide as Rachel took off her shorts and revealed she wasn't wearing underwear.

She bit at the inside of her mouth to keep from saying or doing something, anything that would push Rachel down on the bed and… inconvenience them. Her ears burned more and she turned away for a few seconds before looking again. Much too tempting to ignore, she found. Her behind was a little less tempting when she pulled on a pair of underwear, patterned with the Pokémon from the original show. There went a piece of her childhood. It was further taken by Rachel turning and winking at her before asking, "Jeans or a skirt? I'm undecided today."

Quinn swallowed. "Um." She took a deep breath, and then said, "Jeans. I think you in a skirt might be a little too much for me today."

Rachel smiled at her, a little different from her normal one and headed to her closet. She closed it behind her and Quinn sat up, swinging her legs down. She wished she was lying down again when Rachel stepped out in gray skinny jeans.

The combination of her sweater and jeans should not have gone over well, but she found it did. Or maybe she was just distracted by how endless Rachel's legs looked. The brunette fluffed her hair and said, "I'm going to put on a headband, I really don't feel like doing anything to my hair." She pulled open her closet door a little more to reveal a floor to ceiling mirror.

Quinn barely hid a grimace. Some of her headbands were worse than the sweaters. Rachel opened a drawer and riffled through them before saying, "Ah-ha!" and hauling one out the same color as her sweater. It was ridiculously cute.

She moved to stand in front of her mirror and adjusted it on her head before playing with her curls and taking a tube of ChapStick out of her pocket. Quinn bit her lip and giggled. Rachel finished applying it and said, "I will admit to having a larger than normal mouth. I will also admit to taking extensive care of said mouth. There is nothing worse than a large mouthed individual with chapped lips."

Quinn shook her head. All that talk about mouths made her think of Rachel's on her own so she said, "C'mere." Rachel walked over and just when she was within arm reach, Quinn wrapped her legs around the back of her thighs, fisted one hand into the front of her sweater, and kissed her strongly. Rachel made a small sound and tilted her head for a better angle, placing one hand on the nape of her neck and the other around her waist, pulling her even closer. She wanted to get closer, and she wiggled a little before licking at the seam of her mouth and biting at her bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth. The ChapStick didn't even taste weird. Rachel made a soft sound, almost needy in a way, and opened up.

Quinn was fairly certain their mouths were supposed to taste the same; they'd eaten the same things this morning. Rachel's mouth tasted sweeter, though, richer in a way. She ran her tongue along the insides of her cheeks and felt rough spots where she'd likely bitten them. She didn't care so long as she could keep kissing Rachel.

Their only warning before Gerard entered the room was that Toto barked three times in a row. Quinn would have ignored it, but Rachel stepped back quickly, unwound her legs, wiped both their mouths with the palm of her hand and sat next to Quinn on the bed, closer to the door, sitting cross legged, nearly on top of the canopy.

Quinn blinked at her, wondering what the Hell was happening, when Rachel said, "And that's why Barbra is better than any actress out there!"

The door opened and Gerard rolled his eyes, "Spencer, please don't bother her about that. I actually like this friend."

Rachel pouted theatrically, "But she doesn't know about Barbra's magnificence!"

"Yes," Her father said. "But look at her face! You've clearly bowled her over since she stepped in this room."

All Quinn could really think was that Rachel was a genius. Not even just a genius, a goddamned genius. This acting deserved an Emmy. She forced herself to nod, "I think you can tell me more later."

The other girl pouted further then said, "Fine. Did you need something Papa?"

Gerard nodded, "Yes." He held up a pair of worn black and white Converse. "These need to be thrown away. I know your abba-leh is absent-minded and just leaving them in the laundry room is enough to keep him happy, but they're falling apart."

Rachel shot to her feet and fought to get out of the netting. "They are not! They're perfectly usable and I love them."

"They're green."

Rachel stuck her lip out, "But I love them. I've had them since my feet stopped growing."

He rolled his eyes, "You mean last year? You're fourteen, not forty."

Quinn asked, curious, "What size are your feet?"

Rachel didn't even glance at her, "A nine and a half or roughly twenty five and a half centimeters."

Seeing Quinn's face, Gerard grinned, "She gets it from me. The height, however-"

Rachel crossed her arms and stomped her foot, which was apparently larger than her actual size, "I will not be talked about!"

"Too bad! I brought you into this world, I can talk shit about you all I want."

The brunette visibly sulked, then muttered, "No respect."

Gerard tossed the sneakers into the room, where they landed near the closet, and crossed his arms as well. "Just for that, I'm dressing Toto up again and putting the pictures on Facebook." The dog in question whined and covered his head with his paws.

Rachel looked exasperated, "How many times do I have to say it? Toto is not a toy! He will not dance at your command."

At the word 'dance' the dog visibly perked up before moving to the middle of the room, pushing himself onto his back paws, and stumbled around, forepaws wind-milling in the air for almost a minute before yawning and letting himself back onto all four of his feet.

Gerard quirked an eyebrow, looked at the dog, then at his daughter and said dryly, "I think you've got it covered, Spence."

Quinn laughed so hard at Rachel's indignant face that she snorted, and hastily covered her mouth, still laughing. Rachel huffed audibly and reached for her shoes. "I see how it is," She pouted. "However, I refuse to let a future enemy conspire with my current enemy, so I am beseeching you, father dearest, to allow us at the mall."

He stroked his chin and asked seriously, "Will there be a hot pretzel for me in this venture?"

Rachel looked thoughtful, "I suppose those terms are agreeable if vegan lasagna is tonight's dish."

He held out one hand, "Deal. Temporary truce." Rachel shook his hand, her own palm getting lost in his hand.

Quinn stood up and let herself out of the canopy. Gerard turned to her and saluted, "You will be my eyes and ears out there, Private Quinn. Please ensure the target does not get out of sight."

She mock saluted back, much to his laughter, and then put on her shoes and sweater. Rachel dragged her out of the room, wrapping one of her arms around one of Quinn's. When they were down the stairs and it didn't seem as if her father was behind them, Quinn took her arm back, then gave Rachel her hand. Rachel glanced at her and Quinn looked back, seeing there was a pleased look on her face, but a different emotion in her eyes, not hesitance or pleasure or confusion, just something that likely couldn't be identified. Maybe if she saw it again, she'd be able to identify it.

They came up to her car and she released Rachel's hand before finding her keys in her purse and unlocking the door. For a moment she thought they'd do this awkward thing where Rachel went to open her door and she went to open Rachel's, but instead Rachel moved to her own and said, "I believe this is your car. It would be prudent for you to actually get in."

She stuck her tongue out at her but got in and started up her car.

"Which mall do you normally go to?" Quinn asked. She had half a tank of gas, so that was plenty to go down to Dayton or up to Toledo and back, at least today. What she didn't expect was for Rachel to actually say the mall in Lima. Most people didn't actually regard it as a mall at all. There were about sixty stalls that they called stores on one floor, and four larger stores, and she'd stepped into three her entire life; the Sears with her grandmother, the J. C. Penney's when she needed a tie for her father – they were basically the same damn store – and Macy's for stuff her mom didn't feel like leaving town for.

"Seriously? That's where you go?" She glanced at Rachel to see if she was joking and nearly swallowed her tongue, she felt so bad. Rachel was slumped in her seat, head angled to face the window and downwards. It wasn't a fake pout because otherwise she'd have stayed facing forwards to make Quinn cave. Even her shoulders were bowed a little, and Quinn had never seen her spine falter at all. The blonde felt like a jerk. Not even a jerk, a world-class prick. Shit, she felt like Santana, that's how low she felt.

"Hey," Quinn said softly. "I'm sorry. I, um, I didn't mean to make fun of you."

Rachel shook her head but didn't say anything, slumping further into the seat. Quinn bit at her bottom lip and they drove silently towards the mall. It was pretty empty, in the parking lot, and Rachel spoke gently, "I understand. I know that most people that we know that are our ages do not like to go to this one, but I find myself much less ridiculed here."

Quinn reached out and took her hand and received a very small smile in response. She leaned over and kissed her mouth gently. Rachel was still, and Quinn thought she would reject her, but then she responded with a little sigh into her mouth. She wrapped her free arm around Rachel's waist and tightened her hand. Rachel squeezed back and when they separated her smile was a little more genuine. They kept their hands together.

The mall was sparsely occupied this early in the day of everyone but old people. Rachel greeted a few of them politely, receiving smiles back. She seemed to know exactly where to go, and led to a little shop just a few doors down from the Old Navy. "Sweaters and You" it proclaimed; the name made Quinn grimace. Rachel dragged her in and immediately set off for what appeared to be the Aran knit section. Quinn shook her head, glad for her freedom. There were only so many sweaters she could see at once. There was a small stack of cardigans, in plain colors, from the corner that caught her eye, and she picked one up, feeling the fabric between her fingers. It wasn't too thick or thin, but the perfect kind. She plucked at the buttons and smiled, seeing they were fastened securely.

"Do you need any help?" A voice said from behind her.

Quinn jumped and turned around. A young, slightly chubby man, maybe in his upper teens or early twenties, was behind her. He wore thick, Buddy Holly glasses, had a half-grown Afro, and a vividly green sweater with a sweater on the side.

She shook her head and said, "No, thank you. I'm just browsing."

He nodded, sucked on his lower lip then said, "Yeah. Figured."

She blushed and they stood awkwardly in front of one another. He stuck his hand out and said, "I'm Dale."

She didn't take his hand, "Quinn."

He shifted, moved a little closer and she put the cardigan down, fingers tight in the fabric. "So, um. How old are you, Quinn?"

Before she could say anything around the vein of 'leave me the hell alone' Rachel called, voice cool and collected, "I'm ready at the register."

He jumped, "Yes! Of course."

Rachel huffed a little and said, "Dale."

He turned around and grinned, "Oh, hey, Spencer. New sweater already?"

She nodded, "Yes." Then, she softened a little, "How's Aunt Clara?"

Dale hopped over the counter in one smooth leap and took the green Aran pullover from her. "Still bugging me, so I guess she's doing great. Uncle Gerry's having a barbecue next week, right?"

"Yeah, if dad will let him. You know how terrible he is at that thing, right?"

He gave her a sunny grin, "That's half the fun of the barbecues, Spencey."

She chuckled, turned a little and said, "Quinn, did you want it?"

Quinn looked at the tightly balled up sweater in her hands and nearly threw it away from her. She shook her head, "No, I was just – just looking."

Rachel frowned a little, "Are you sure? I don't mind getting you one."

Quinn shook her head then said, "Hey! I'm supposed to be treating you."

She approached the register, where Dale rolled his eyes, and took out her wallet. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of a debit card. There was a little post-it that said, in her father's cramped writing 'There's $250 in there. The code is 4526 and its debit.' She swallowed and then swiped and punched in the code. He printed off a little receipt, and she placed it in her wallet as well.

Rachel took the bag and then said, "I'll tell Papa you said 'hi', alright, Dale?"

He gave her a double thumbs up, "Yeah, see you, Rachel!"

The two of them headed out the store and Rachel asked, "Would you like to go somewhere else?"

Quinn thought, "We could kill some time at Macy's or something. I know we still have to get Mr. Way – I mean, Gerard's hot pretzel."

Rachel ducked her head and looked up at her through her long lashes, "I don't mind being seen with you."

Quinn knew what she was saying, without saying it in so many words. I am glad to be with you. I won't mind when you are fat and grumpy and a general disgrace to your community. Even if no one else does, I think you are a wonderful person. Why won't you pick me over him?

She smiled back, "I wouldn't mind being seen with you either."

Rachel beamed at her and they headed to Macy's. Macy's was large enough that it felt only like them and a few of the sales representatives in the entire store. Occasionally, at one of the little walkways, they would pass an older person, but that was it. Somehow, they ended up near the back, at the men's section, and Quinn watched Rachel browse through it casually.

It felt a lot, really, like watching her father go shopping. Her father was fairly tall, so that part wasn't similar, but this part, where she picked up ties that interested her, bright colors and patterns, holding them up to plain shirts, sometimes a soft, somber color, and other times more jovial; this part was her childhood remade. Her WASP, 6'2'' father had been replaced with the likely multi-racial, 5'1'' Jewish girl that she was somewhat but not really dating. Girls looked for their fathers in partners, was the saying. She watched her somewhat partner abandon the men's section and head towards the sweaters like she had a radar for them, and smiled again.

The smile vanished when she passed an aisle and nearly bumped into Hummel.

He blinked down at her, "Oh. I didn't know you came here, Quinn."

She shook her head, "Normally, I don't. I just thought I'd be up for a change of pace."

Hummel quirked an eyebrow in question, "A change of pace in the junior's section?"

Quinn shrugged and walked away from him. Now was not the time to be bothered with Hummel. Rachel was a little ahead of her, almost lost between two rows, and Quinn wrapped an arm around her shoulders, glancing back to see if Hummel was behind them. He wasn't; he was busy holding up the tie and shirt that Rachel had placed together before she left. They exited the Macy's like that and headed for the food court. Quinn bought herself a Sprite, waiting on Rachel to bring the esteemed hot pretzel.

When she did see her, she laughed. Rachel was tossing the pretzel from hand to hand, blowing on each hand before throwing it back over, the bag with her sweater swinging wildly. She looked silly and clownish until she snatched a handful of napkins at the closest vendor and wrapped it up carefully. She held her pink fingers ahead of her, whining a little. Quinn laughed and kissed her left hand, then held the pretzel and kissed her right palm.

Rachel ducked her head a little and they headed for her car. They drove back to Rachel's house. Rachel told her, "You can park in the driveway."

Quinn parked as she was told and they left at the same time. Gerard was on the couch again, they saw, and Rachel dropped it onto his chest, "Here, Papa."

He grinned, "I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

"Yeah, totally," Rachel said sarcastically.

Gerard reached up and tilted her head down before he licked his thumb and wiped under her eye roughly.

She jerked back, "Eww, Papa!" She wiped his spit away harshly and backed away from the couch. He gave a full bodied laugh and said, "Wait, you have to see Toto."

At his name, the dog trotted down the stairs, wearing a pink tutu that looked like it'd been stretched to accommodate his backside and a small tiara on his head. Quinn choked down a laugh at the sight. Toto gave her a baleful look then, huffing, tossed his head so his tiara clattered to the ground. He moved to try to bite off his tutu. Rachel sighed the sigh of the long-suffering and crouched down to help her dog, placing the bag with her sweater by her feet. He whined and licked her cheek. She rubbed his head soothingly, "I know, boy, I know." She pulled it off of his hips and he stepped out, as if they did it all the time. Watching Gerald reach under the couch for a laptop, she figured that they did.

Rachel shook her head at him, "I'm rescuing my dog."

He replied blithely, "Have fun!"

Quinn followed Rachel up the stairs to her room. Toto immediately went to his stack of pillows. Rachel took her pullover off and draped it over her desk chair and took her headband on before putting it back into the drawer from earlier.

She stretched, rocking onto the tips of her toes so Quinn could see her flat, brown stomach. Rachel smiled at her, "Do you still want to watch those Barbra Streisand movies with me?"

Quinn nodded as she took off her cardigan and shoes before getting into the bed. "Which one do you want to watch first?"

Rachel nibbled at her bottom lip briefly, "I think 'The Way We Were' is a good choice. It's a little emotional, I must warn you."

Quinn scoffed, "I'm not a big ball of hormones just yet. I'll be fine, Rachel."

Rachel shrugged and placed the DVD into the player. "If you insist."

Quinn wasn't saying that almost two hours later, sobbing into Rachel's hair as the brunette rubbed her back soothingly.

"I know, I know," Rachel said lowly to her.

"But-but," Quinn sputtered. "But she was the only one that saw him for what he was! He loved her! They were in love! And now they're not!"

Rachel chuckled softly, "I know, baby." They both stilled at the endearment before Rachel started to stutter apologies. "Oh jeez, I'm – I mean, I'm sorry." Rachel shut her eyes, like she was going to get hit.

Quinn took a deep breath but didn't say anything. She wasn't used to nicknames, unless she counted her mother's Quinnie and Quinnie the Pooh'ing. She normally didn't see what the big deal was, but she knew that for a lot of people, names like that meant something. This, though, made her swallow down her excitement. It felt deeply personal, at least to her and she replied, haltingly, "I wouldn't be opposed to being called 'baby' by you. Just, y'know, in private." The first time Rachel said that in public, everyone would know how she felt about Quinn.

She winced. Rachel wouldn't take that lying down. She would rant and rave and be right the entire time. Rachel was the kind of girl who wanted public declarations of love, not the pithy little 'give me times,' wanted the kisses in the hallway, not in empty rooms, public handholding.

Rachel said softly, "You are extremely lucky that I find the forbidden lovers literary trope tremendously romantic." Quinn blinked hard, and then licked her lips. "I know. I promise, it won't be long just, I just need this for now."

Rachel nodded, "I won't deny you that Quinn. You deserve all the happiness you can have."

She pulled her closer, nuzzling underneath her ear, almost to her jaw line. Quinn yawned, feeling herself relax, and didn't even notice when she drifted off into a nap.

Quinn jerked awake and scrambled off the bed at the sound of her cell phone ringtone. She went to her purse and dug through it quickly before answering, voice gravelly, "Hello?"

Her mother's voice was strident, "Where are you?"

She wiped her mouth, "I'm at Brittany's. I wrote a note, it's on the fridge."

"That was this morning! It's almost two o'clock in the afternoon, Quinn Lucille Fabray. Get home, now! First you come home late from a party, then you – you get sick all the time, and now you're out all day without so much as a 'leaving, ma' to your mother."

Quinn sucked in a breath, then let it out soundlessly, "I'm sorry, mom. I'll come home now."

"If you take longer than fifteen minutes, I'll tell your father." Judy hung up and Quinn rubbed the bridge of her nose before she turned around to see that Rachel was sleeping peacefully still. She tip-toed over and kissed her forehead gently. Rachel's long eyelashes fluttered a little before partially opening and she sighed a little, before murmuring, "Are you leaving?"

She smiled at her sleepy face, "Yeah, baby. My mom wants me home."

Rachel's eyes were starting to close, "Kay." Quinn kissed her on her pliant mouth, receiving a soft response, and then backed out from under the canopy. She put on her cardigan, slipped on her shoes again, and took her purse before going downstairs. Gerard wasn't in the living room, or the kitchen, but in a room two doors down, with an open door. It appeared to be his study, with a thick, wooden desk, heavily laden book shelves, some pictures spread around and the same laptop computer open.

He was wearing big, black headphones while he typed and she knocked on the door frame once lightly, then again a little heavier. He pushed his headphones down and smiled at her, "Leaving, Quinn?"

She nodded, "Yes, sir. I just came to say thank you for letting me come over today."

He waved a hand casually, "Oh, don't worry. You're welcome over any time for anything. I mean, even if Spencer's not here, we can listen to some Bruce Springsteen and I can teach you about real music."

She smiled at him, "I'll take you up on that someday, Dr. Way. Well, good bye."

He nodded at her and said, "The door locks automatically, so don't worry about it."

She didn't bother to ask why they had an automatic lock; the answer should have been obvious, "Okay."

She exited the house and moved to her car. Quinn drove home, worried about what, exactly, her mother knew. Judy had called her sick, which, she supposed, would seem true to her, if her daughter was vomiting at any and all hours of the day, and when she wasn't upchucking, was sleeping. She took a deep, fortifying breath when she parked and then left her car. The front door was unlocked and she closed and locked it behind her before calling out, "Mom?"

Her mother raised her head above the couch, "Come here, Quinn."

Quinn approached cautiously and took a seat on the opposite side of the couch, "Yes, mom?"

Her mother's hands were folded tightly on her lap as she asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"I wrote a note."

"Yes, and that note wasn't accurate. I went by Brittany's house and they said they hadn't seen you all day."

Quinn bit the inside of her lip. "I was hanging out with another friend. I – I didn't think it'd matter much."

Judy took a deep breath, then let it ease out as she reached for Quinn's hands, "Quinn, I know you're growing up, but you still need to tell me when you're coming and going. You've been," She hesitated a moment, "sick a lot, and in your…delicate condition, you need to tell me."

Quinn's eyes widened, "Mom, did you-"

Judy spoke over her, "You're sick, Quinn, but it's temporary. I know there are quite a few clinics that can help."

For a moment, Quinn thought she would either pass out or choke her mother for what she was implying, but instead shook her head. "No, mom. I – I'd rather do this the natural way."

Her mother shook her head mutely and Quinn said, "Mom." She tried again, "Mom, I'm not doing – that. I want this b– "

"Quinn, you're sick. It's okay that you're sick. Just," She swallowed hard, even as a sort of vulnerability gathered in her eyes. "I don't mind, mommy loves you, mommy would help. But your father – your father won't feel the same way."

There was a brief moment when the words didn't seem real, didn't feel comprehensive to Quinn. "Wha-" She started, then they smacked into her chest like a well-thrown brick.

She blinked and stared into glassy, green eyes. Her mother had long eyelashes, vividly dark against her pale skin. Like fresh bruises, almost.

Quinn was afraid if she opened her mouth, she would sob or scream so instead she nodded and turned to the stairs. Her room felt like it was a million miles away and when she finally made it, she collapsed into tears at the door. Her father was going to reject her and her mother would let him. This had only confirmed her fears, what she'd said to Rachel that day in the nurses' office, and she sobbed brokenly into her sweater sleeves. They smelled vaguely of Rachel, which made it even harsher. She wanted someone, she wanted Rachel, but all she had were her tear marks and a puffy face.

She was still sniffling piteously when her phone rang with a text message. At first, Quinn didn't move but the longer it stayed there, the more pathetic she felt. She might have been pathetic but she didn't have to act like it.

The text was from Santana and read U were w/ Bry 2day?

She wiped her face again and responded Yes.

The reply was a rapid-fire Y?

She swallowed the abrupt urge to tell Santana it was her damned business, but instead texted I felt like it. She's not that bad.

Did u hit ur head? Bry sks. Bry's sked since elem. skool.

She gritted her teeth. I felt like it. She can be sweet. She reread her response, and then erased the second sentence. After a moment, she erased the first and typed She's ok.

w.e. just dont let midge bring u dwn.

She knew, quickly, that Santana was not referring to her mental state. She took a deep breath, like that would help her, and responded I'm quitting.

Quinn stared down at her phone as she got up and sat on the edge of her bed. Maybe thirty seconds later, Santana's name appeared on her phone. She answered but before she could even say hello, Santana burst out, "What the fuck is wrong with you? How the fuck do you just – just quit? This is our year you fucking cunt, you asshole, you puta egoísta!"

Quinn responded quietly, "I'm pregnant."

Santana was quiet for a long time before she said, "Shit."

She was quiet, and then repeated, "Shit! I know, Quinn. I was just hoping it was a rumor or one of those hysterical ones those crazy bitches have."

She blinked slowly, "How?"

"Everyone does. The little gay kid, the one that joined for that one game, said he saw you in the baby section of Macy's today, too."

"Juniors," She whispered. "It was the juniors section."

"Are you fucking serious? I'll beat his rumor telling ass until he chokes up rainbows."

She asked softly, "How did you know?"

Santana sucked in a breath. "It's pretty obvious. You're running out of every class fifteen minutes in, you're pissing all the time; you missed a move in practice – both of them. I mean, shit, Schue loves his twirls but not enough to miss them. You haven't bullied anyone into tears lately either."

Quinn shook her head. "How many people know?"

"Me, B, the mouth breathers, maybe some of the Cheerios. Some of the teachers. Did you tell Pyramid Nipples?"

She huffed a little, knowing that Santana had a wide amount of offensive nicknames for just about everyone. "Yes, I did."

"Ok, so Puck and like all the football players."

That was a lot more people then she felt comfortable knowing. She knew, logically, that people would know eventually, and she wasn't very subtle, but things were moving fast, they were so out of her control that she just knew this would blow up in her face. Someone on the football team would eventually ask Finn how many times they'd had sex, he'd tell them the lie she'd bullshitted him, and they'd either laugh in his face or feel sorry enough to him that they'd say the truth.

"Is that why you're hanging out with Berry? To get a feel for how the losers live?"

She nodded, feelings sick to her stomach, "Yeah, actually. I mean, she's the lowest there is, so if I can get used to her I can get used to anyone."

Santana laughed a little before Quinn heard some background noise. The brunette said, "Hey, B's here, so I'm going to have to go. Just, y'know, call us if something happens."

"Thanks, Santana. I know."

There was a very quiet moment before Santana said, "Keep your chin up, Hannibal."

Before Quinn could say anything, she hung up. She rubbed at her eyes with the flats of her palms. She didn't call anyone else, just texted Rachel home and took a nice, long shower. She put on her pajamas, despite the early hour, and curled up in her bed for a nap.

Several hours later, her mother knocked on her door with a tray of food. Quinn yawned and sat up, allowing her mother to place the tray on her lap. "Thanks, mom," She said lowly. Judy kissed her forehead shortly before leaving. Quinn picked at her rice and chicken but forced herself to eat, then pushed it to the side. She checked her phone and Rachel had responded Ok. How are you?

I'm okay. Found out my dad wnt lt me sty when he fnds out.

Want to talk about it?

No. I just want to be by myself.

She reread her sentence and nearly hit herself. Like that wasn't misleading. She wanted to be by herself physically, but it felt really good to know that Rachel was with about her emotionally.

Of course. I'll be here when you need me.

Quinn swallowed and reread the line. Of course. For a lot of people, that could mean different things. It could mean 'of course that's what you want from me.' Or 'of course that's all I'm good for.' Or even 'of course, that's how you feel about me and I'll take that.' But for Rachel, all it meant was 'of course, I understand you must feel that way. I'll still be here.'

Quinn told herself to stop over analyzing and to just swoon like a normal girl when the girl they liked more or less said, 'I'll wait for you.' Damn that gorgeous girl, really; she was spoiling her for others. She looked to her side and found that her tray and bowl were still there. She got up and took them downstairs. Her mother wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, so she didn't go looking for her, just put the dishes in the sink, and then headed back to her room. She'd managed to formulate a reply, so she hurriedly typed before Rachel could think she was deliberately ignoring her.

I don't really want to talk face to face, but I want communication. Is that okay?

There was a five minute pause that felt like eternity before Quinn's phone beeped with her incoming text. That is perfectly understandable. I, too, find the anomaly of texting and the internet comforting. It gives one time to think without being potentially offensive or hurtful. Would this be a nice time to segue into the weather?

Quinn laughed softly. Yes. Feels like an Indian summer.

Haven't felt one quite this warm since '78.

You weren't born in 1978.

I can, however, imagine.

lol of course you can

An active imagination is part of a healthy childhood and part of my career.

Is that all you think about?

Nope. I think about you, too.

Think about me how?

There was another pause before the next one came in and Quinn nearly tripped out of her bed, scrambling to sit upright. Is this going to be one of those phone sex things? Because I have some material already present in the event of this.

Quinn read the previous texts, trying to see how Rachel had gotten to that point, and laughed at it. They were innocuous, of course, but she still couldn't help laughing. No. Just go to sleep, dirty girl.

If you insist. I forgot to mention earlier, though, that I get paid next week and I'm sure Finn does too. We can pool together so you can have an appointment next week.

The next text came in rapidly. If that's what you'd like.

Quinn looked down at her tummy, licked her lips, and typed That's fine. Thank you.

You don't ever have to thank me for anything, Quinn. I'm just doing what is right.

She smiled softly and typed, Go to bed, Rachel.

I resent the implication that my bed time is 8:30.

Quinn laughed again. lol Then when is it?

Honestly?

Rachel really had one? Quinn smiled fondly. Yes.

9:00pm on weeknights, 10:00 on weekends. I cheat by texting you.

She'd had sex with someone who had a bed time. Something in that sentence was wrong, it seemed to her. She decided to ignore it for now. When does your job close, then?

I'm on the second to last shift, so for me it's 8, plenty of time to get home. It closes at 12, however.

You work at a café, right?

Yes. Sorry, Quinn, it is family movie night. I believe this one is The Fast and the Furious.

Quinn smirked. isn't that kind of extreme for someone with a bedtime?

Rachel only texted back Hardyharhar.

Quinn smiled softly to herself. For a Saturday, it wasn't so bad.

Sunday was, as always, about church. It would have passed unremarkably, really, if Pastor Kenneth did not go into homosexuality. Most of the time, he only included them in the extensive list of sinners that made up the material world. Today, they were the main focus of his sermon.

He stood up from behind his pulpit, bowed his head and said, "May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts together be always acceptable in your sight, O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen." They murmured amen after him. His glasses gleamed in the light as he lifted his head again. "My brothers and sisters, today, I'm going to speak to you on the recent homosexual agenda."

There was a gentle murmur from the congregation, and Quinn swallowed dryly. Surprisingly, she hadn't really thought about her sexuality. Somehow, the precedence had been making sure that no one knew she was pregnant and ensuring that she had a way for paying for the medical bills and that her child had a second parent. Her own soul had, besides her nightly prayers, taken a bit of a backseat.

"Let's have a quick survey. How many of you know a homosexual? Personally? How many of you have interacted with these sinners, these lost children of God?"

More than half the congregation raised their hands. Quinn, hesitantly, raised her hand as well, once she saw both her parents raise them.

He nodded, "I thought so. Well then, how many of us can claim we'd thought they weren't so bad, that they were just a little misguided, that all they needed was a helping hand?"

They raised their hands again, Quinn a little less hesitantly this time.

"How many of you know that you cannot save them by yourself?"

Everyone raised their hands.

Rev. Kenneth nodded, "Good. Now, one more question. This one is rhetorical, no need to raise your hands. Is homosexuality genetic or an evil force that plays mind games with people?"

The church was still, quiet, and he repeated himself, louder and more sure, "Is homosexuality genetic or an evil force that plays mind games with people?"

He took the mic off the stand, shook his robe out a little and said, "I am well aware that this subject is charged and controversial - and it has become so even in Christian circles. I have not sought support for my thoughts from the Word of God. Rather, the Word of God has given me the thoughts I will present here today. I will bring up the subject of homosexuality, but also the relationship to Christian homosexuals."

Rev. Kenneth stared at them, then stepped around the podium and asked, "For many of us, the question is - Is it a sign of the times and can you be delivered from it?"

He shook his head, "From the beginning God created humans as man and woman. We begin in Genesis 1:27-28: "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them. And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth."

Rev. Kenneth expounded his points, carefully and with a soft voice, gathering the occasional amen. She knew some reverends used emotions, but Rev. Kenneth always used this method instead; he always used logic that no one could argue with, or wanted to argue with him over.

"Legalizing domestic partnerships between men and men, between woman and woman, it will simply create disasters - beyond comparison!"

He took a deep breath.

"We are already seeing the results of this. We see it through the spread of AIDS. Certainly," He added, "Not all AIDS-infected individuals are homosexuals, but it came into existence because of this in the past. For that matter, innocent people can become infected with this disease, without having had anything to do with what lies behind it, as far as homosexuality is concerned. Nevertheless it will create a big disaster, and the authorities and the social services are already experiencing that you cannot control this. They experience the difficulty of it. However, not only that: TV recently reported about the increasing number of men and women infected with various venereal diseases. It is increasingly spreading because they are not living as God has intended them to live together with each other. And that is because humans are slipping into clearly unbiblical and clearly inhuman relations. It is not a private matter or a right to live in a sexual manner other than what the Bible dictates."

He moved back to the podium and flipped through the Bible before saying, "Hebrews 13:4: 'Marriage is honorable in all, and the bed undefiled: but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge.' Regardless of how society views this, God will judge both society and those who commit sexual immorality. Remember that. Both society or the city, or the place, God will judge because of those who commit sexual immorality."

He waved the thick book at them, "Sexual immorality, sexual immorality, people. These homosexuals, these people that tempt our children, these people who claim to live in healthy relationships. These people say that? They are lying. They are lying to you, and you, and you. God ranks these people, who claim to live in healthy and supportive relationships, on the same level as adulterers, abusers, pedophiles, child molesters."

"God tells Abraham in Genesis 18:20: "And the LORD said, Because the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great, and because their sin is very grievous." Thus says the Lord. So grievous! The outcry from Sodom and Gomorrah it is great and the sin is great. Openly, unabashedly, that is how we perceive men kissing each other, and women kissing each other. However, it is also done in front of TV-cameras - which they can do. They do it also in front of movie cameras, but not only that, it is done openly in the street and at our public places. That is the way it is done in our country today. What does God say? He says it is very grievous. It is very grievous when it comes to our country, just as it was for Sodom and those cities."

Quinn saw her parents nod and murmur their agreements with him, and swallowed. She wasn't sure, exactly, why she was nervous. She wasn't gay, had never been sexually attracted to anyone for any length of time except for Rachel. And Rachel wasn't all female anyways, as her pregnancy could attest. Which - no, that was inaccurate as well. She thought about Rachel's soft room, softer eyes, and gentle mouth and couldn't imagine her as any more or less of a woman. She couldn't imagine Rachel in Hell for being attracted to her.

It wasn't simple denial so much that she really couldn't imagine Rachel - who volunteered at the rec center, participated in a ton of clubs, had never gotten into trouble at school, was in advanced classes, who smiled so sweetly sometimes that Quinn couldn't help but smile back – that she would go to Hell for being with Quinn, unofficially.

She looked at her parents, who were nodding along to the sermon, and placed one hand on her cross, the left one that had first touched Rachel. She could believe and understand that the baby, Finn, and Rachel were part of a test, was part of God's plan.

But her feelings for Rachel? They had to be real. They were more intense than anything she had ever experienced.

Rev. Kenneth was still going strong, "Satan preys on these feelings; these feelings of inadequacy, of hate, of loneliness! He sends the agent to fix that, be it alcohol, drugs, sex, that boy or girl, that man or woman, who says they know just how to make you feel better! Satan has sent them, Satan is here! Satan is in our classrooms, on our radio and television, in our homes! God is the answer! God is here! God will save you from depression, from loneliness, from alcohol and sex!" He mopped his brow.

One of the older women said, "Preach, reverend!"

He laughed lightly, took a sip of water.

"God did not design the world for homosexuals, did not allow humans free will so they could ruin his message! He does not believe in homosexuality, transsexuals, bastard children! He believes in a man and a woman, in a mother and father! Domestic partnerships, Boston marriages, roommates! They are all the same thing! They, you, are so concerned with worldly matters, in the pleasures of the flesh, in fornication, that they, you have forgotten about Him."

Rev. Kenneth blinked the sweat out of his eyes and said, softly, "He is in you, He is in me. It's just that sometimes; it takes a little more time to find Him for some. God loves us all, especially his sinners. But our choices," He repeated himself, swaying a little, "our choices, ladies and gentlemen. They put us on the route to Hell."

The congregation clapped and stomped loudly, rising to their feet. Quinn continued to touch her cross, staring down at her lap. The reverend had mentioned bastard children but God would protect and love her baby, wouldn't he? Jesus had said to give him the little children, hadn't he?

Quinn was pulled out of her thought by her mother taking her hand. She took her left hand off the cross and looked to her left, as she gave whomever her hand. It was a young boy with short, blond hair and he gave her a sunny smile.

She smiled back and then everyone bowed their heads in prayer.

The drive home was quiet. "That was a good sermon," Judy eventually said.

Russell hummed in agreement, "I liked it. Quinnie? What did you think?"

She swallowed, then managed to rasp out, "It was informative."

Her mother nodded, shifting in her seat, "I heard something similar by John Haggerty on Day Star. I think our reverend did a better job, though."

Russell smiled, "Of course he did." Quinn swallowed down resentment. That's what he was proud of. He was proud of a grown man, older then he was, had just told about five percent of the world's population that they were going to Hell. His daughter getting straight A's, being captain on the nation's top high school cheerleading squad, dating the quarterback; none of that was anywhere close.

The silence of the car pressed down on them, before Russell said, "Do you mind making some snacks or something for Monday? The Welterweight boxing match is tomorrow."

Judy sighed, just a little, "That's fine, Russell. I wished you could tell me these things earlier."

Russell ignored her complaint, "I can't wait to see McNalley win."

Quinn pretended to have some interest, "Who is he fighting against?"

"Trevor Jones; he's from some big city, Phoenix or whatever."

"Oh."

It got quiet again, and Quinn wished she'd brought her MP3 player, at least for the ride. For Christmas, she was supposed to get either a larger one or an iPod, but now she'd have to wait until after the baby was born to see if there was any extra money between Rachel and Finn's jobs. She had no doubt that her parents would have kicked her out by then.

Her father glanced back at her through the rear-view mirror, and she thought of Gretchen saying she had her father's eyes. His eyes were nicer, more amber then brown, flecks of darker brown in them. Her eyes were more a murky green. Swamp eyes, she finally decided, thinking of her Grandma Miller's postcards from Louisiana. Grandma Miller was really a great-aunt, but she'd raised her mother after her real grandmother had died. She was better than her father's parents, though.

Colonel Fabray was cold and impersonal, occasionally gifting her with a pat on the head when she was smaller, and now the occasional remark that she'd grown up nicely. Her Gram-Gram was a nervous, borderline alcoholic mess who'd given her a very full flask on her twelfth birthday. It was only in the last year or so that the Colonel and Gram-Gram had retired to Oregon, with her Uncle Paul and his wife. They had their own house, what had been their summer house before their retirement, and it was fully paid for. Gram-Gram had invited her multiple times to visit whenever she wanted, but she'd always managed to get out of it. They visited on Thanksgiving and hand wrote letters for Christmas. Well, Gram-Gram did, and the Colonel signed his name beside hers.

They pulled into the drive-way and she stretched her arms above her head. It was balmy for October, even if it was early. Last year, it'd been fall in full sweep, and it would have frosted over in the first two weeks. She went to her room and immediately hung her clothes up, before tucking her shoes into their box in the closet. It was still early, so she put on longue pants and a tank top. She didn't have any calls from Rachel or anyone else, so she picked up Interview with the Vampire, seeing that she had never finished it, and continued reading.

By the time her mother came to get her for dinner, she'd started on The Vampire Lestat. She blinked hard at the sight of her mother in the door way.

She put the book down gently and said, "Hi, mom."

Her mother smiled, "Hi, dear. Dinner's ready."

Quinn stretched. "Okay, I'll be right down."

Dinner was always early on Sunday's, and they were relaxed enough that she felt like she could bring up quitting the Cheerios to him.

She cleared her throat, "Dad, how would you feel if I quit the Cheerios?"

His answer was immediate, even as he cut into some of his steak, "Disappointed. Why do you ask?"

She swallowed dryly, then took a sip from her glass of water before she said, "I want to quit the Cheerios."

His hands stilled, then curled them tightly around his utensils, "Why do you want to quit? The squad is very good for you. It keeps you focused, energized, you're the best in the country, there are colleges looking at you already, Quinn. Why would you want to mess that up?"

She stared down at her plate, "I'm not doing so well in school. I got a B in my science class, dad." That was an exaggeration; she'd gotten a very low A, almost a B. "I – just for this quarter, then I'll get right back on it, swear." By the next quarter, she wouldn't have to worry about it.

He took a deep breath, "I'll think about it."

She slumped in her seat, exhausted somehow, just from that quick conversation. She was always tired after fighting her father, no matter how short it was. She drank more of her water, and cut her steak into tiny pieces. She was half-way through it when she felt like she couldn't' eat anymore, and pushed her plate away.

"May I be excused?"

Her father glanced down at her plate, "Yes."

She walked up the stairs calmly, and then threw herself onto her bed. The edge of her pillow smelled like lavender, and she tried not to go to sleep. Emotional exhaustion was even worse than the physical kind, in her experience, but it was still early in the evening. Going to sleep now still seemed like a good idea, though. Morning sickness would probably wake her up, she finally decided, and went to search for a clean pair of pajamas.

She decided th at a bath would do her more good than a shower, and filled the tub most of the way, sprinkling a little of her body wash to give it foam. She stripped and climbed into the tub. There was a moment where it was too hot, but then she sighed and slumped back into it contently. Her eyes fluttered a little, as she looked up at her ceiling. Tension she hadn't known had settled into her back and shoulders, and the stress melted away. She slumped further down so her mouth was below the water, and she blew bubbles into it, feeling silly.

The two thoughts hit her, suddenly, one after the other. One was of her and Rachel in the grass and she was blowing raspberries on her stomach just like this, watching her toss her head and laugh. The other was of doing this to a small, chubby baby with soft white-gold ringlets and who gave her a stunning, dimpled grin while kicking his feet. She blinked hard and, even though she was alone, pretended it was the steam.

She wondered if that was what she eventually had to look forwards to, and the future didn't seem so bleak. Rachel would carry the baby around like her life depended on it, probably, and support her besides. Quinn didn't really want her to, though. Rachel deserved more than some minimum wage job, and Lima. She deserved cities with bright lights that would fulfill her big dreams.

Quinn shook her head to that train of thought and let her legs buoy up to entertain herself briefly before she got down to the real business of bathing and washing her hair. She blow-dried her hair, brushed her teeth, and put her pajamas on. She laid in bed but couldn't sleep. She turned over onto her side, and felt a little pathetic when she wished that Rachel was there, which led her back to thinking of what Judy had said on Saturday. She'd be kicked out in a matter of weeks, really, if not a week, so she got out of bed, looked in her closet for a duffle bag, and filled it with the immediate necessities, things that would still fit when her pregnancy started to show.

Underwear, her warmer clothes, socks, and sneakers. The stuff she used everyday would have to wait until the day-of, but she packed her baby blanket in there, 'Crush,' and 'The Grapes of Wrath.' A little more thought led to the books Franny had bought her over the summer, a Maya Angelou set, 'Fire to Fire' by Mark Doty, and 'Sense and Sensibility.' She could fit more, no doubt, but those were things that wouldn't be missed. Quinn rubbed her gritty eyes, forced the bag into the back of the closet, and flopped onto her bed before flicking off the light.

The next morning, dressed sensibly in a baby doll dress and flats, and with two changes of clothes, Quinn waited until her father was gone to come downstairs. Quinn poured herself a bowl of cereal and took an apple out of the bowl before she ate. She was running out of time, so she only rinsed the bowl and spoon before putting them in the little-used dishwasher. Her mother pursed her mouth at first, and then seemingly deflated to kiss Quinn's cheek and presented her with her lunch.

"Have a good day," Judy said.

Quinn smiled briefly at her, and headed to her car. Half-way to the school she saw that her hands were shaking on the steering wheel. She took a deep breath and told herself to calm down. The worst they could do was throw a slushy at her, and she had clothes for that. It was the emotional aspect of it, really, that would get her. She parked near the front, by the handicapped spots, and took a deep breath. She nearly screamed when there was a sharp knock on her window. Santana's smirking face appeared and she flipped her off before getting out of the car.

"What up, bitch?" Santana said. Quinn rolled her eyes, deciding not to answer, and reached in the backseat for the garment bag holding the Cheerio uniform as well as her book bag and lunch bag.

Santana eyed the garment bag before asking, "So, you're really doing it?"

Quinn nodded, "I have to."

Santana bit her lip briefly before nodding as well. Quinn was surprised to feel an arm wrap around her shoulders and looked up to see Brittany's smiling face. "I'll walk you in," She said. Quinn knew it was a strategy. Dousing Brittany in slushy was a truly terrible idea, and Santana shadowed them most of the way.

Ms. Sylvester was reading a file when she came in and sat at the chair across from her. She fiddled with the ends of her sweater, crumpled the paper bag, and scratched at a design on her book bag before finally clearing her throat.

The older woman looked up at her and gave her a shark-like smile.

"Q. What can I do for you?"

She swallowed and croaked out, "I'd like to turn in my uniform."

"Did you lose that weight I told you about?"

Quinn took a deep breath and said, as peacefully as she could, "I'd like to quit for personal reasons."

Ms. Sylvester said, calmly, "You can't quit."

Quinn stood up, "Ms. Sylvester, this is not an option. I am resigning immediately. I would like to be cordial, though."

"This had better be because of your spawn and nothing else."

She froze.

Ms. Sylvester looked at her blankly, "Listen, Fabray. You can't quit. Know why? It's because I'm kicking you off the squad. You aren't dropping a sprog on my field, you understand me?"

She didn't wait for a response before returning to the file. "Now, get out."

Quinn took a few more moments to breathe before she left quietly, gripping both of her bags tightly to her. Brittany and Santana stood by her locker, a frustrated look on Santana's face, and a much sadder one on Brittany's face; she looked on the verge of tears.

When she stood between them, she saw why. Between them was her ruined locker. 'Whore' was spray painted across it sloppily in red, paint bleeding onto the ones to the left, right, and south of it.

They stood for a while in front of it, before Quinn unlocked and opened it. They sighed in relief. All of her things were safe, clean, just a band of red on her history book about an inch across. Santana raised an eyebrow at Theodore Berry and she plucked at his sweater.

"This looks like a Berry voodoo doll." Thinking about what she'd just said, she perked up, "Are you doing voodoo on Berry?"

Quinn was confused, "What? No!"

Santana's shoulders slumped, "Oh. Damn. That would have a little less, y'know, lame."

Quinn rolled her eyes and moved to take her books, as Brittany took a few more, and Santana pulled the pictures and magnets down, then took Theodore gingerly, and they moved to Brittany's locker a few rows down. She rarely used it, so for the time being, it was Quinn's. The duo walked her down to her class. She'd come to school early to talk with Ms. Sylvester, assuming it would take longer, so although the door was unlocked, the classroom was empty.

She took her normal seat near the back before Puck sauntered in and sat on the edge of her desk and produced a Lima Bean cup. Seeing the look on her face, he hastily spoke, "It's not coffee, I'm not that dumb. Just a, y'know, peace offering. I didn't mean to be so pig-headed and stupid on Saturday. I hurt your feelings, and messed with your decisions, and with Rachel's head. It's not my business, you and Rachel know what you're doing."

She smiled weakly at him, "Thanks, Puck. I – um, I'm sorry too. Mostly for middle school, when I called you a Lima Loser." Being called a Lima Loser was the dirtiest, foulest thing you could ever call another kid, in Lima.

He scoffed, "Please. Everyone's a bitch in middle school." He smirked, "If we're going to apologize, I'm sorry for calling you BraceFace, thunder thighs, Pepper-Anne, and Juicy Caboosey. I mean, damn, that ass has always been fine."

Quinn scowled, "Shut up. I get it."

His smirk faded into an embarrassed look as he mumbled, "Not done. I'm sorry for the faulty condom."

She blinked, "What?" In all honesty, she just thought that between her vow of chastity and Rachel's unique body, they just hadn't had a condom between them. Now, she recalled that they'd been in Puck's room and if anyone had a long-standing stock investment in Trojan, it was him.

He explained, seeing her face, "During the party, I gave her a couple of my older ones, like a week out the box. They're supposedly good, but apparently not. Just, write a letter to Durex, maybe they'll pay the doctors bills."

The muscular teenager clapped her on her shoulder and said, "Drink that before it gets cold. I got you earl gray."

"Thanks."

He took his seat just before students started to come in. They were sleepy-eyed but their mouths moved with new gossip. One word was repeated, over and over again. Pregnant.

No one approached her, and she didn't talk to any one. She started on the science assignment and took a sip of the tea. Quinn nearly gagged; it tasted like pulverized tree, nothing subtle about it at all. The irony that she was in biology class wouldn't hit her until she was already in Spanish class and looked at their notes on the reproductive system. The book didn't detail the human pregnancy, but did see fit to mention that the ideal weight to gain was something between twenty-five to thirty-five pounds. Great. She hadn't noticed anything yet, but in two or three weeks it would be really apparent that she was gaining weight. No matter what, her parents couldn't find out until the very last possible moment.

Quinn knew there was a God when Finn sat next to her and asked, "Can we tell your parents on Saturday?" It just seemed as if he didn't like her much.

She took a deep breath. "No. My parents are going to either kill me or kick me out. Maybe both."

His shoulders slumped, "Oh. Can we tell my mom, then? I don't like keeping stuff form her."

Finn had known for about two weeks. She'd kept a secret for five years. Rachel had kept one her whole life. She was comparing them again, and she didn't want to but it was very hard when he kept saying stupid stuff like that.

She wanted to roll her eyes, but Carole was a sweet woman that would help out. And, quite possibly, figure out that Finn wasn't the father. Why did life have to be so complicated?

She asked that question again as she entered the cafeteria and some hockey player threw a slushy in her face. She'd closed her eyes at the last moment, so her eyes didn't sting too badly, but the utter humiliation hit her with twice the speed and double the force of a freight train. And then there was a second wave of sensation, wet and cold and sticky. Double slushed. Who knew it could happen to her? There was a shocked silence for a moment, and then the cafeteria burst into laughter. She wiped her eyes and went to the restroom to wash up, keeping her eyes down so she didn't have to see what color it was, or how terrible she looked. Tina and Brittany were there, and seeing her, Tina's mouth formed an 'o' and Brittany immediately wet some napkins to wipe her face. The napkin came away a mix of purple and red. She could only stand it for a few moments before she took them from her and said, "I can do it myself."

They left her in the bathroom, and she didn't cry at all as she cleaned herself off. The slushy had only breached the first layer of clothing, so she took off her sweater and skirt, and proceeded to rinse her hair out with an empty water bottle. It was slow going, but eventually her hair didn't have any trace of red or purple. She washed her face, neck, and forearms to keep from feeling sticky before she changed into her spare clothes, putting the dirty ones into a plastic bag, and leaving for the auditorium. She had a feeling it would either be empty or sparsely occupied.

Sparsely occupied was an understatement. It was empty, but after her small lunch, she was restless and needed to keep from thinking about everything so she went to explore the rooms behind the stage. There were two large dressing rooms, one for boys, and the other for girls, which were unlocked and empty. There was an orchestra pit, dusty from disuse, and two storage rooms. The first storage room was props and scenery. The second was costumes and fabric, and, after looking around, she stumbled upon Rachel, napping on top of what looked like a really thick, comfortable blanket. She nudged her with a foot, then sunk to her knees and shook her awake. Bleary brown eyes opened, and she covered her mouth before yawning. She blinked a little before her eyes focused on Quinn and she squeaked, and then covered her mouth again after realizing she had squeaked and scrambled to stand up. Quinn laughed at her and pinched her cheeks. Rachel swatted her hands away and asked, "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged, "A slushy was thrown at me in the cafeteria, so I cleaned up and came here."

Rachel touched her chin and asked, softness dripping from her every pore, "Are you alright? Want me to beat them up for you?"

She didn't think Rachel could beat up anything besides a teddy bear and win, but it was so very Rachel that she smiled and shook her head, "No thanks, Rocky. I just want this day to be over."

Rachel nodded, her hand sliding up to hold Quinn's cheek, "I can understand that. There have been plenty of days that I wanted things to just hurry up and move on."

Quinn raised her eyebrows, "You?"

It was hard to imagine Rachel fed up with anything but a lack of attention. She really was one of those sweet, genuine people who liked what they liked and were not above admitting it, and didn't let people bring her down. Quinn had tried plenty of times because when she was miserable or upset, the whole world had to be miserable or upset with her, starting with the happy people.

"Yes, me." She raised her eyebrow, probably just to show that she could do it too, the show-off. "No one's born hopelessly romantic and endlessly optimistic, Quinn. That takes years of denial and training."

Quinn laughed at her and bent her head a little to kiss her cheeks, giving them a rosy glow. Rachel beamed at her so that her nose crinkled up and her dimples were on display again. The bell rang above them, and Rachel rubbed at her gritty eyes briefly before she said, "Class time." They were at the actual seats of the auditorium when Rachel announced, "I can go to Glee today; I work from Tuesday to Saturday, three to eight."

Quinn felt a little happy stir in her stomach, "That's great. I miss your singing."

Rachel winked, "Doesn't everybody?"

Apparently, they did, because Mr. Schue announced another new member, this one a stick-thin blonde woman with a flask almost glued onto her hand. "April Rhodes will be our new member," He said enthusiastically. They clapped half-heartedly, and then she got up and sang. She saw that several of the other members looked blown away, and it was obvious how jealous Rachel was, but she didn't see the big appeal. No matter how well she sang, she was still an alcoholic, high school dropout who squatted in houses. Two out of the three were fine, but all three just seemed plain irresponsible. Besides, it had been at least ten years since her class had graduated. Her life should have been, like, 70% okay.

Hummel wiped tears from his eyes, and then jumped when Santana kicked the back of his chair.

"Santana," Mr. Schue chided.

She gave him a blank look. "What? I had a cramp." She kicked it again, harder, and said with no inflection, "Ow."

Mr. Schue ignored her this time, "So, is everyone in agreement? We have two new members, April Rhodes and Casey Richards?"

They murmured agreements, except for Rachel who seemed intent on staring ahead, and Puck, who was giving April Rhodes his sexiest look.

Mr. Sche clapped his hands, "Great! Now, onto Invit – yes, Rachel?"

Santana rolled her eyes, but it was Mercedes who said, "Aw, damn, here we go."

Rachel didn't stand, but said promptly, "Invitationals are not required to compete in any show choir competitions, and if we are the host school, we cannot compete anyways. It'd be best if we simply saved the material for later on, when we are a tighter, more cohesive group. Moreover, we are the only registered show choir in Lima, so it would quite literally be a group of one."

Mr. Schue nodded, looking thoughtful, and Finn asked, "What's that mean, then?"

Rachel turned around, "That means we have a few more weeks to do choreography, who has the lead and who sings backup, harmonies, and – " Seeing that it was going over his head, she stated simply, "We've got more time to practice."

At that, everyone cheered enthusiastically.

Mr. Schue raised his hands and said, "Hold it in, guys. I think having an invitational would still be good. We can invite a school or two from around the county."

Rachel persevered, "Or, we can go to a couple of the sectional competitions and check them out there; if they accept our invitation, they're already competing, so we can save time like that."

He shook his head, "Nice try, but nope. I want you guys to have the same experience I had as a high school student, when Glee was really the big thing."

The teacher blathered on for so long that the other adult in the room said, "Now, Will, I think that's enough. It's not that bad of an idea that R – Riley?"

Rachel said coolly, "Rachel."

"Right, not that bad an idea that Raven had. Maybe the kids can decide? I'm just here for the ride."

The two argued for a while before Puck spoke.

"Broseph, want to go get a burger after this? Ma's working late and Hannah's got aftercare."

Rachel nodded, "That sounds nice." Then, she turned to them and asked, politely, "Would anyone else like to go procure something to eat?"

Most of them hurriedly said no, but Artie looked thoughtful then said, "Sure. Is the car wheelchair accessible, or do I need my mom to come get me?"

Puck smirked, "Dude, you're good. I'll put the chair in back and you can sit in the middle between me and Rachel."

Artie grinned, "Thanks. I'll just tell my mom." The small teenager pulled out his cell-phone and texted a short message.

He looked around, "Is that it?"

Quinn wanted to agree to go, but then realized that she'd have to talk to her parents about being out, despite doing almost exactly the opposite of what her father had told her. Rachel tried not to look too eager but it failed; her eyes too bright, her mouth too readily curved, hands clenched on her lap. She shook her head as Santana scoffed, "Bitches, please, I've got better things to do."

"I'll go," Finn said, and he gave Rachel a dopey grin. The light in her eyes faded and she notched her smile up to make up for it, although Quinn could tell it was mostly fake. She had liked Finn, she reminded herself, she just happened to like Quinn more.

The arguing had morphed into Ms. Rhodes touching his arm gently and Mr. Schue was babbling about something, probably his crazy-ass wife or the similarities between him and Finn, so they left without so much as a word. Rachel glanced back at her in the parking lot, but then Finn blocked her view. Quinn got into her car and gently tapped her head against her steering wheel. The last damn thing she needed was a concussion on top of everything else.

She sighed softly and prepared for the Inquisition once her father came home. Her mother would understand, but be silent the whole time. The status-quo of her childhood bothered her now. How could she have ever accepted things like this; her father's word as absolute law, her mother's lies and denial when things were absolutely perfect, the Sunday's preaching against a whole group of people, from people who claimed that they were not racist, were not idiots, but could also say, "You people are not welcome here because of who you love."

Quinn tucked her car into the drive-way and entered the house. She smelled tomato sauce and headed into the kitchen. Her mother was reading "The Bell Jar" at the kitchen table; her glasses balanced on the end of her nose that made her eyes seem bigger.

"Hi, mom," She said. Her mother jumped, placed one hand over her heart and blinked hard until her eyes focused on Quinn. "Oh, Quinnie," She exhaled, "You scared me. It's not two thirty already, is it?"

"Three thirty," Quinn replied. "I had Glee."

Judy's eyes widened comically wide behind her glasses and she repeated herself, "Oh."

She placed a napkin between the pages as a book mark and turned to the oven. "I'll get that spaghetti finished up soon then."

Quinn walked over and kissed her mother's cheek swiftly. Judy laughed a little, then sniffed her where she was still close to her. She frowned, "You smell sweet. Did you spill a soda on yourself?"

Quinn took the out easily, "Yeah, a Coke at lunch."

Her mother's frown deepened, "Do we need to have a talk about nutrition? In your –" She floundered for a word, "condition – it's best to eat healthy. No one likes splotches."

The blonde wondered how messed up her family was that her mother found it easier to refer to her pregnancy as a disease and she lived in so much fear that her father would find out that she'd probably hide it until she gave birth on his shoes, if she could.

"It wasn't mine," She explained. The fictitious Coke was about to bury her even deeper in the well of lies at this rate. What, would she want the name of the student who spilled it next?

"Well, who spilled it all over you? It's a very strong smell, Quinn."

"I don't know, just some kid I passed on the way."

Her mother replied sulkily, "Well, fine, don't tell me."

Quinn rolled her eyes so hard, it was a wonder she didn't hurt anything.

Judy had moved to the fridge and pulled out two bellpeppers and a tomato out by the time Quinn left. The teenager sprawled across her bed for a few brief moments, and then rolled over to start on her homework.

"Stupid geometry," She mumbled. "Stupid history. I'm just going to be a real estate agent anyways." All the girls who got pregnant in high school were real estate agents eventually, and she couldn't imagine herself as some famous inspiration to all the girls out there, just like her. She supposed she should have hopes for herself like that, but she couldn't really think of herself in that position, up on stage next to Rachel, beaming into cameras. She'd rather be at home with a book, that late, smelling like baby powder and soap and sneaking peeks at the muted TV, Rachel in HD.

She slammed her books down and then slammed them open. "Stupid thoughts," She muttered to herself. "Like that would ever happen."

Her cell phone chirped and then chirped again. She turned to it and saw a picture message and a normal text message. The picture was from Finn, a picture of a sinful looking bacon cheeseburger with perfect, golden curly fries. The text message was from Rachel.

I wish you were here, this stuff is calling my name and I'm vegan.

Quinn blinked hard and pretended that neither of the messages were there. She'd had to pretend a lot, lately, and it was getting easier each day.