Title: Catalyst

Author: neveraworsename

Rating: M

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.

Interlude, part one

Rachel had, of course, known Quinn since her very earliest memories. Not in the literal sense, but the people that were like what Quinn would become; brave but unsure, half hoping someone would take their lives into their hands to stop them from making decisions, but unwilling to give up their freedom. She knew it in the same way she knew that she was going to be a star someday, that her fathers loved her, that sunsets would always happen, burning the sky orange and red and yellow, and then lightning until the gradual navy blue took over, and night had settled; that night would always come. She knew Quinn, somehow, without ever exchanging more than five words with her in the third grade, most of their interaction smiles and gestures, in the half wild way of children, before the world tamed them. Quinn was a girl with sad eyes, had always been, and sometimes Rachel lightened the sadness, but most times, she did not.

Even now, when so many different things were going on – high school! Pregnancy! Glee club! – Quinn was busy, and she knew because Rachel was busy, but she also remained sad. Maybe Quinn was just one of those people that were all sadness, that were born with melancholia in their bones, and were not depressed, no, but a constant sort of ache surrounded them and perforated everything they did.

Having sex with Quinn that night had been sad, somehow. It was not making love, because she knew that Quinn did not want her, not really, but wanted someone to stay, and she herself had been too drunk and stupid and love-drunk, even, thinking of the beautiful girl who kissed her that once then terrorized her, trying to exorcise her demons in the best way she knew how, and had somehow thought that being with Quinn would help her, would stretch the sadness until it became a thin film, not quite an ache anymore. But her memories of that night were – hazy, indistinct, half remembered sensations of skin on skin and the burning feel when she first entered Quinn and Quinn's fingers had dug into her shoulder blades while her mouth bit at Rachel's bottom lip until she drew blood and the whole time, was aware of Quinn's twisting legs, unwilling to let go but feeling pain at the sensation. She had waited long minutes for Quinn to adjust, for Quinn to thrust her hips and grunt, "Move, stupid."

And move she had. There was the dragging sensation and the fascination of Quinn's exposed breasts, and Quinn seemed self-conscious of that, at the least, would let Rachel touch her below, because there was hair and it was dark, but just barely let her see her bright, rosy nipples, hard in her arousal to match her wetness. For a few, brief moments, she'd given Quinn pleasure, had let herself stop feeling the sense that it was up to her to keep Quinn happy, to make Quinn happy, to make sure that Quinn knew that someone liked her and knew her and perhaps, one day, could even love her. That afternoon in the choir room also meant a lot to her because Quinn was sober and wanting and had touched her first, had seen her and continued to want her. It was an affirmation. Sectionals was also an imperative day, watching Quinn lick her cum off and moan lowly at the taste. It was more than just an emotional connection, but they had physical chemistry as well.

Of course, they were paying for that brief moment of pleasure with nine to ten months of pain. She wondered if Quinn thought it was worth it, but instead turned onto her side and stared at the long, sleeping eyelashes of the woman lying next to her. She counted the freckles of her nose and marveled at the healthy glow to her pale skin, making her almost radiant. Their baby was in Quinn, she thought, and the thought was still not permanent to her. She was stupid, probably, to not only be this invested in something that wasn't born yet or even sure of anything, on Quinn's part. Their half-baked plans were the same as many teenagers, even if the situation was a little more on the unusual side of things, but the swell to her stomach and the dresses stretching across her abdomen and breasts lent reality to this thing, this change.

They were going to graduate high school, they were going to get out of Lima, they were going to raise the baby together to the best of their abilities. Perhaps even beyond that. They'd read the books, they'd go to the meetings, they'd talk to their son or daughter or bi-gendered or no-gendered child and learn what they were interested in and would not feed that child a dream they'd made up before he or she or zim or it could even talk yet.

They would raise the baby to be happy, they would raise the baby to be healthy, and the waves of contentment at her plan soothed her mind a little. She was constantly worried, now, that somehow she'd drop the baby and the baby would know as he or she or zim or it got older and resent the ever living Hell out of her, or that somehow, she'd be a dead beat parent and Quinn would hate her. That was worse because she knew Quinn and knew that Quinn had never hated her; had feared what she represented, yes. Had felt strong emotions that she played off as hate, yes. But actual hate for Rachel and everything she represented? Not on her life.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the canopy over the bed. Christmas would be here soon. They didn't celebrate Thanksgiving in the Berry household, but Christmas was going to be gaudy and bright and disturbing enough that Quinn would probably run shrieking in another direction, if her relatives didn't get there early enough. They were like her, but not; loud and boisterous and attention seeking, but so many of them, shouting over the other, it would probably make Quinn uncomfortable and, unlike her, they would not stop to let her regroup.

She snuggled down into her covers and breathed in the scent of her pillow and Quinn's hair until she drifted off to sleep again for a few hours.

The week leading up to Christmas kept Rachel and everyone busy. They unpacked the Christmas decorations from the basement, bought a tree, debated over where the tree went, only to find that Quinn was freaking allergic to pine needles and kept sneezing when someone crushed them underfoot, so they were constantly sweeping under the tree skirt and throwing them in the fire.

Papa had made the fire, big and constantly burning, turning their house into a soft, cozy place. At the end of Sectionals, he'd seen how they'd responded to one another, and his thought that Quinn was out to hurt her, had gotten herself intentionally pregnant in order to bind them together, the way some athlete's girlfriends did, his disappointment in both of them had faded into a muffled discontent and that was probably the best they were going to get. Papa was a father foremost and any indication that his child was having a relationship would probably have turned him cold, bitter. He looked eagerly at the ultrasound pictures, though, and printed a wallet sized version from the disc the clinic gave them to put next to one of her baby pictures.

The sadness in Quinn's eyes had almost become palpable with the picture, seeing the grey scale blob of Baby Fabray next to Rachel's own infant picture, fists balled up, hair swept back from her face and staring up with her large brown eyes. Rachel knew it was because her parents had not contacted her again, rather than her own melancholy. Most of Quinn was a mystery; her cruelness, her sweetness, her base emotions and thoughts, but her sadness and anger were always things that Rachel understood. There was no letter, no phone call, no sign of recognition that Quinn was alive at all if not for her surname. Abba-leh had asked if Quinn wanted to tell the school, in order for them to either take her back or give up custody of her, but Quinn was hesitant to do that. She'd explained, haltingly, that they were still her parents and she would honor their decision.

She was a good daughter, despite what Quinn thought, because Rachel knew if it had been her, Hell would have rained around her. She'd have called D.C.F., would have told the school, alerted the news, maybe even bruised herself so she could claim physical abuse if she thought it would help her case. The idea that it might be overkill never seemed to enter her mind, and the idea of saying something had only briefly entered Quinn's mind.

Rachel shuttled the thoughts away and crept out of the bed early in the morning, just after six. She often slept in Quinn's room, just for the closeness, and although her father's knew, she thought it best to keep up the pretense and tiptoed into her own room, shuffling the blankets so that they looked slept in, then wiggling her toes inside her socks with the cold. The cold front had been remarkably late, only sweeping in two days ago, and everyone was still staggering to adjust. Winter clothes were pulled out, new ones bought, fires lit like their own, Christmas trees bought now that the weather seemed to know what it was doing. There were rumors to be a dusting of snow and she couldn't wait. It was too cold for snow at the moment but everything water had frozen over. Not just to show off – because yes, showing off was a big part of the Rachel Berry Package, but was not the only aspect of the package – but just to frolic. In snow, she had her happiest memories, her clearest acoustics, her favorite time of year. Snow had marked the very day of her birth.

"You were born in a manger, with the animals surrounding you," Papa would say stoically and Rachel would look half afraid at Abba-leh, who shook his head.

"You were born in a hospital," He respond gently.

Papa would speak louder, "I pulled you out myself. You were a gross baby. Cute, but gross. Covered in blood and squealing, it was like holding a pig."

Abba-leh would have no objections and she was almost ten before she realized that Papa could never have helped give birth. Papa could hardly ever make a sandwich when he was nervous, he'd have dropped her the moment he realized what was going on. Still, it had been a nice story. A couple of days before her birthday, she told Quinn the story and Quinn smiled a little.

"My mom was in labor with me for fifteen hours," Quinn only said. "They never said where my – Russell was."

Rachel tried to imagine it. Fifteen hours of squeezing something the size of a football out of one of the tubes she peed through – she had two bladders, each hooked up to a urethra, but only one set of kidneys, which was why she only drank water – was nothing short of painful to consider. Her respect for Quinn only rose.

Her idea, now, though, was to shower. She pulled out her clothes and then headed to the bathroom. Most of the time, Rachel found that paying attention to her outfits was like playing Russian Roulette with patterns and textures. For the most part, she was often more fascinated with the characters or patterns than what the outfit looked like once the ensemble was completed. It resulted in her being asked at least twice a week if she was colorblind.

She looked at herself in the mirror and stared. Every morning, she did this, just to prepare herself for what was coming from the outside world. Her best features were her eyes and mouth; both were big, and her eyes were shadowed by her long eyelashes, making them somewhat ambiguous. Her lips was full and her mouth itself was wide, so it was proportional, rather than taking up occupation of her whole lower face. Her nose did enough of that, really, and she touched the bridge of it, remembering Quinn's fascination with her nose in the drawings. She would have picked out more flaws, but it was cold in the bathroom, so she quickly stripped, turned the shower onto as hot as it would go, and dived into the shower. She scrubbed herself clean within minutes, then sat around as the heat drove the chill out of her bones. Rachel turned the water off, but dried off in the shower still, the residual heat keeping her from shivering. They had heated floors, but they hadn't gotten them in the bathroom.

She pulled on her clothes, and was halfway down the stairs when she heard something that didn't belong. Her acute hearing, or as Puck called it her 'Jedi powers', was often her first and only sign that something was different. It was a Saturday, the first day in a two week vacation, and her fathers were asleep. There should not have been the scrape of utensils on plates or slightly loud breathing. Rachel crept down the stairs silently, then reached around the bannister and pulled the baseball bat out of its hiding place. She hauled it up like they'd taught her in soft ball when she was younger, gripping the cool metal tightly, and walked on the balls of her feet, evenly distributing her weight, every step soundless. Rachel could admit to being overly dramatic, but even she was not prepared for the scene in front of her.

Four of her cousins and her uncle sat at the breakfast nook, and the bat fell with a clatter. All of them looked up and Uncle Jessup rolled his eyes, before saying in his deep drawl, "Lawd, girl, if we were burglars we sure wouldn't be in this kitchen. Nobody wants some 'spresso maker you can hardly work."

Rachel felt her mouth stretch into a grin and she launched herself at her uncle. He was Papa's brother, southern as the day was long, and he hugged her tight to him before pressing a whiskery kiss to her cheek. His dark eyes were just as friendly and sweet as ever, and she was suddenly surrounded by her cousins. Darren and Jess were fraternal twins, but still very similar in looks, taking after her Aunt Darcy's Mongolian features. Raylan and Saran resembled Uncle Jessup more, but they were all very close in age and attitude. They were all larger than her and she was nearly buried in their collective warmth. She stayed still for a little while, soaking up the familiarity, then grumbled, "Alright, alright, let me up."

They released her, but she couldn't help smiling at all four of them. She saw the triplets more, normally during the summer, but she couldn't help the fact that this was her family and she loved and missed them, especially now that they were all in college.

She took a seat at the breakfast nook and Uncle Jessup sipped from his thermos. He must have remembered the contraption that was the coffee maker that Abba-leh had bought a couple of years ago that no one could work. "How've you been, honey bee?"

Rachel tried to decide what to say. Should she say she was doing fine or that she was a little worried or that she'd impregnated a strict, Christian girl who was sleeping the floor above them?

Finally, she decided on something neutral. "Busy," She finally said. "Very busy."

He hummed but Jess laughed, "And what've you got to be busy with?" His drawl was less pronounced, evening out with his residency in California, going to UC Merced. Saran's was probably deeper, living in the heart of Texas at Baylor University, but she didn't say anything.

"I have a job now, in addition to my volunteer work and school," She replied, and received claps and ooh's from her cousins while her uncle rolled his eyes.

"Saving up for college?" Raylan asked her, brushing her bangs from her eyes. She had beautiful eyes that seemed to have come out of nowhere, as no one else in either family had them; they were large, green eyes, framed by long eyelashes with flecks of blue in them. She and Saran were nearly identical besides that and Saran's sharper, more defined features.

Rachel shrugged, and then hunched her shoulders. She wasn't sure if she should talk to them about it, was unsure if it would be well received and her very posture spoke of it. As much as she wanted to be an actress, hiding her insecurities was her hardest part, especially around people she was close to. She'd been rather good at hiding her interest and attraction and even her resentment of Quinn until they'd gotten closer and by then the resentment had faded. It was hard for her to hold grudges.

Uncle Jessup propped his head up with the palm of his hand, "Y'all go in the living room. Lemme talk to my niece."

They left without asking why and Darren kissed the top of her head gently.

He waited for the sound of the television to turn on and asked her, "What's wrong, honey bee?"

Rachel bit her lip, then, haltingly, explained the situation and in simple words, it sounded like something trivial, insignificant, not her life or Quinn's life or the developing life of their child.

The sun rose slowly as she talked, until pink light entered the kitchen from the window and stained the floor. It made Uncle Jessup hard to see, and she finally stopped, looking down at the countertop.

He was quiet for a while.

"Well," Jessup exhaled, "sounds like you in a whole heap of trouble."

She didn't respond.

Rachel felt his eyes on her and there was the scrape of the canister against the counter, a short silence, then a thud as it was placed on the counter again. Finally, he asked, "You like this girl? This Quinn?"

Her mouth opened and she was, for a moment, perplexed. She liked Quinn, yes, was attracted to her, was willing to help her and take care of the baby and liked learning about Quinn, thinking about Quinn, but did she like Quinn as a person? Quinn could be petty and rude and sometimes just plain mean, but she could also be sweet and lovely and when she was not insecure or sad, fun and she liked Rachel which was just as important to her as anything else. She did not tell him about the plans or how they'd known each other before or the bullying or anything, really, but the bare facts and how she'd felt, but there were just so many that the story dragged on.

"I think I do," She finally said, still looking at her hands. "And even if I didn't, I'd still help because it's half of my fault as well."

"You're getting to be an adult," He smiled a little, thin lips lifting at the edges.

She shook her head and said, "I'm just trying to do what I need to do."

After a minute, he patted her shoulder and stood up. He was tanned and rangy, all long limbs and she could see the fair hair on the nape of his neck. Papa was adopted, and there'd been strong controversy in their tiny town, a Black boy living with "decent White folk" but they'd persevered.

She stood as well and felt hungry for the first time since she woke up. She made herself toast, then glanced at the time, and made a second batch of toast for Quinn. Her nausea had abated, but she had very little taste and Rachel had caught her drinking the condensed, sweetened milk that Papa normally used for his baking experiments. Rachel made eggs as well, the soy based product, considering that Quinn really couldn't tell the difference. She put the plate on the table just as Quinn stumbled in, blinking, and whispered, "Who are they?"

She smiled, "Those are my relatives. The older man is Uncle Jessup, and his wife couldn't come. The boys are Darren and Jess, Darren is the taller of the two. The girls are Raylan and Saran and Raylan is the one with the green eyes."

Quinn nodded, blinking hard. "Oh," She replied, and then said, puzzled, "It's not Christmas yet."

She smiled, "I know. Most of my family arrives here beforehand."

"Oh," Quinn repeated herself, and sat at the table. Rachel slid the plate over and chewed on her piece of toast. She didn't watch Quinn eat because that would have been creepy. She was kind of creepy, she finally thought, especially considering she sometimes woke up early and watched Quinn sleep. And it wasn't like she was attracted to Quinn sleeping, because there was nothing attractive about someone lying prone and unable to respond, but rather she liked seeing that Quinn was relaxed and calm, it just so happened that it normally only happened when she was asleep.

Somehow, after her uncle came, it seemed that the floodgates opened. Before the day was out, her aunts Julie and Cameron had come in from New Hampshire and Boston with their brood, her Uncle Rodney had flown in from California with his three kids, and Aunt Jan handled Bubbe on the flight from Florida. Bubbe didn't believe that Christmas was Christmas without snow, and this year, Papa's family was coming as well. She was excited, was practically in her element, but already Quinn had retreated to her room, overwhelmed by the noise and play fighting. Aunt Clara brought Grammy to the Christmas party as well and by then it was time for dinner. There were so many people that going to a restaurant seemed redundant, since they would take up the entire venue, but cooking would require batches and personal taste mattered.

They finally came to an agreement to leave and eat in small groups so everyone could eat what they wanted. Rachel brought Quinn downstairs and was immediately put in a car with two of the triplets, Dylan and Tommy, and Aunt Julie's stepdaughter, Saddler. Tommy drove and Rachel could tell Quinn was more at ease with the small group than she was with the many relatives. At the least, no one had made any comments on her pregnancy, even now that they were all together in the car.

The group couldn't decide what to eat so eventually decided on the mall in Dayton. No one was expecting them back any time soon, at the least, and the drive gave them time to get reacquainted. Being relatives didn't make a good relationship, it just helped speed the process of forced companionship along. They spent most of the drive getting Quinn to speak. Rachel could have told them that directly asking her wouldn't help them, but let them bash their heads against her wall instead of giving them the lengthy responses they wanted.

The mall was a mess of noise and smells, and everyone was almost immediately separated. She was close to Dylan when she turned to see if Quinn liked the boots on display but Quinn was not hovering at her elbow, as she had since she'd first been introduced to everyone. She forced herself not to worry and walked around with Dylan until they ended up in a small boutique for children.

Dylan rubbed his arms, muttering, "This place is creepy. Aren't kids supposed to get dirty or something? Why's everything expensive as shit?"

Rachel gave him a blank look, "I have no clue. I've never stepped into one before. I assumed it'd be somewhat in my price range." She looked at a tag on a bodysuit and gave up. "I might be able to afford a pacifier from here, but I'm hoping it's made of human flesh for this amount."

"You're buying some clothes for your friend's baby?" He asked.

"Girlfriend," She corrected him, "And he or she or it or zim is my baby as well."

Dylan's jaw dropped, "You're like twelve! I ought to spank your hand, you're way too young for that."

"I'm fourteen," She protested. "And I turn fifteen tomorrow."

He was sputtering, blindsided by the revelation, and Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically, turning around to see if there was anything that caught her eye. Something did catch her eye and she couldn't resist her smile at the sight of Quinn's long blond hair, flipped out of her coat, and very pale in comparison to the black winter jacket she was wearing. She walked over jauntily, intent on standing near Quinn and kissing her cheek and watching her smile, when she saw who was standing in front of Quinn and felt herself pale.

She had no clue who this woman was, had never met her before, but she honestly couldn't help the gasp that she released.

It was not that she was ugly or handicapped or anything with a negative connotation at all.

It was the simple fact that looking at this woman's face was very much like looking into a mirror that showed the future.