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.

Notes: There is no reason to ever think that being in a relationship makes you better or whole. Being in a relationship means that you're happy with yourself and them, but not that you have met someone who will erase all the things you hate about yourself. Everything here is written from the perspective of lonely, lovestruck teenagers, and should not be taken as actual advice. SECOND: If one does want to see Angelo Page, he's the first image under a Google search of his name.

Chapter 13 –

The Glee kids came to Rachel's birthday party, mostly out of obligation. She'd saved their asses and it was the last they could do. Brittany, Santana, Puck, and Hannah came first, then that folk girl Quinn still didn't really like or know, then pretty much everyone else. Quinn was relieved to see Brittany pull Rachel into a hug. They hadn't had much interaction, either in Glee or outside of it, so the constant roil of her stomach calmed a little to see that Brittany was holding up to her bargain. Rachel's face was momentarily surprised, then she hugged her back, and led her to the snacks.

The folk girl came to every other meeting, sang irregularly with different genres, but wasn't typically engaged in other activities. She hadn't even gone to Sectionals, she'd had to have her tonsils removed or something. Still, Rachel vouched for her. Quinn just knew that the girl was lanky and had been Rachel's friend longer than she was comfortable with. The rest of the group showed up almost at once, and a couple of cousins helped bring Artie down the steps. Neither of their advisors came because it could be deemed inappropriate. The party was actually pretty fun. They played darts and pool, the uncles argued good naturedly over football. The little kids ran around, hopped up from the excitement, then collapsed on whatever lap was closest for dramatic events. Quinn ended up with a little boy, Woodrow, and he giggled hysterically when she started to tickle him. He was warm and his stomach was soft under her fingertips.

Rachel was damn near vibrating, she was so excited. Rachel was always in her element with people and it made her wonder if they would have met if they hadn't gone to the same high school. Would they have met in college, working together on a project? Would Rachel have been a barista, flirty but sweet and giving her a free drink? Would they have even been in the same town? Rachel lived for big cities, was obsessed with them to a degree. There was a shoebox filled with post cards depicting New York, Chicago, Beijing, LA, Miami, London; just about every major city in the world. She never saw Rachel look into the box, but knowing her, it just felt good to know that they were in the room with them. Just as Quinn was thinking it, Rachel descended and kissed the corner of her mouth, and they smiled at one another before Rachel flopped next to her, kicked her shoes off, and curled up next to her. The Glee kids were still around and while they were aware, it was weird to see their friends watch them kiss. Santana was probably anticipating it, really. Since she'd told Santana about Rachel, Santana had been a tiny bit nicer to them, but was curious about Rachel. Quinn figured it was strictly academic, otherwise she'd have approached Rachel already in order to see herself.

"Shelby hasn't gotten here yet," She murmured. Quinn looked at her and bit her bottom lip. She wasn't sure what to say. It was close to five, and beyond that wasn't really an appropriate time to show up. She looked at Rachel, the resigned dimness in her eyes, the bitten bottom lip, and said, "Give me your phone." Rachel did so without asking anything, and her eyes followed Quinn out of the living room and to the sliding door that led outside. Toto shuffled to her, pressed his nose to her knee, and they were both outside. Shelby was under Rachel's recent callers under "S. Corcoran" and she called her.

It took quite a few rings for Shelby to answer, and her voice was groggy, possibly hungover.

"Hello?"

Quinn's voice was shrill, "Where are you?"

"Excuse me?" Shelby asked, voice irritated, "Who the fuck is this?"

She scowled, "It's Quinn. It's almost five thirty, Rachel's party is going to finish soon, and you haven't even called her." The party really wasn't going to finish soon. Some of her cousins had just made a beer run, her coworkers were due to show up soon with God knew what, and she could see some of the men from here, firing up the grill.

She groaned, "Oh my God, I forgot. She gave me her address yesterday, I think I can be there in under half an hour."

"Hurry," Quinn said flatly and hung up.

She kept the phone in her hand as she went back to Rachel. Rachel had stretched out across the couch and was turned towards the crowd, not the sliding door. She was wearing little white socks that were tight around her ankles. It was the first time Quinn had really paid attention to her feet and her ankles were small, delicate, like her wrists. She put her hands on her ankles and squeezed. Rachel let out a squeak and drew her legs to her chest, grinning.

"Stop," She admonished her. Quinn smiled at her innocently, a long running practice from childhood, and Rachel's grin softened into something vaguely iridescent with her happiness.

She lifted Rachel's feet and sat on the couch, then placed them on her lap. Despite their size, Rachel had cute feet, with delicate little toes painted bronze. Jeremiah and Rachel painted their toes every two weeks together, as father/daughter time. Gerard tended to take Rachel on more physical ventures, such as comic books or vegan restaurants.

She rubbed Rachel's feet, pressing the balls of her thumbs into the arch of her feet and Rachel nearly became a boneless mass. She'd heard about feet fetishism before, but didn't think that this was it for either of them. Rather, Rachel was very tactile and Quinn enjoyed being with her. She knew that Rachel was stressing about the baby and Shelby and school, even if she put up a very brave, carefree front. Marcy approached them and handed Rachel a beer, saying, "My gift to you."

Rachel put it back on the table when he was out of sight and said, "I don't really like beer. The makings of it fascinates me, Papa took me to see a localized beer facility. It was surprisingly complex."

Quinn looked down at her, somewhat fondly, "I'll take your word for it."

"We should go," She said enthusiastically. "You'll really like it, I promise, it's like watching Food Network in real time, only with drinks. And there's this company on the side that makes pretzels and peanut butter."

The peanut butter was a tempting offer. It was weird, because she didn't have any particular attachment to it, actually found it somewhat gross as this weird gelatinous mass of something she knew to be solid, but she'd wanted it for a few weeks, and Rachel knew that, so it was practically blackmail.

"You're blackmailing me," Quinn said. Rachel grinned up at her, "It's really just coercion. Blackmailing is such a nasty word."

She rolled her eyes, even as Rachel pulled herself up and leaned forwards so that their noses were pressed together. Her eyes crossed trying to see Rachel, and she giggled at Quinn's face, then kissed her. Quinn found herself smiling into the kiss and kneaded her prominent hip bones until Rachel jerked away and huffed at her, a little sulky glare on display.

"You can't treat me this way," She pouted, "It's my birthday."

Quinn pointed out, "Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean you can get everything you want."

Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes watered, and immediately one of her aunts – Julie, she thought – came up to comfort her and coo at her. She winked at her from her aunt's shoulder and then nuzzled her neck.

Quinn rolled her eyes so hard she nearly strained something. Spoiled, the absolute worst. The baby was doomed. The door bell rang and she went to the door, and opened it. Three adults stood in front of her, one man with shaved sides and floppy, bleached hair, a Black woman with piercings in her bottom lip and an electric blue poof of hair and cheekbones she could hang off of, and what appeared to be a Latin-American man with curly, black hair with green streaks and a sweet smile. He was darker than Rachel, probably darker than Santana, as well. They came bearing bright gift bags and a huge cake.

"Hello," Said the woman. "We're here for Ray-Ray's birthday."

She backed away from the door, "Come on in. Go straight back and you'll see her on the couch, she's being cuddled."

They dropped the cake off in the kitchen and Quinn followed to make sure that they were going in the right direction. As soon as Rachel caught a glimpse of them, she was up, and her legs were suddenly wrapped around the curly haired guy's waist in a strong hug. He laughed as he spun her around, then put her down so she could hug and kiss her other coworkers. Quinn smiled at the sight, but was a little jealous. She'd noticed that, already, that she was always jealous of anyone who so much as got a smile out of Rachel. Considering Rachel was tickled by just about everything in the world, so the burning feeling happened a solid amount of time. She then found herself blushing as she was introduced to them; Lucas, Mia, and Eddie all said that Rachel talked about her incessantly and was "always smiling goofily." Lucas had a soft, gentle voice, Mia's was rather gravelly, and Eddie's voice was accented (He'd been born in Ecuador, he explained to one of the cousin's later on, and his mom was a Black Latin) and rather loud, if pleasant to listen to. Rachel kept their hands together and leaned against her as they sat on the couch, talking. She was lying completely on Quinn, stroking her side, when the doorbell sounded, faint over the sound, and one of the cousins – Kale, who was an adorable, short, and chubby twelve-year-old girl Quinn had nearly fallen in love with at the first sight of her crooked, gap-toothed grin– opened the door and immediately yelled, "Spencer!"

Rachel rolled her eyes, pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek, and nearly skipped to the door, and her smile was brilliant as her Papa went up behind her.

It was too loud to hear what was going on, but the door closed again and Jeremiah pushed her to go up the stairs before he called, "Gee!"

Rachel stomped over to her, threw herself on top of her so dramatically that she hit the couch, nearly fell off from the impact, before she landed on Quinn, and immediately Quinn ran her hands up and down her back to keep her calm.

Again, Jeremiah yelled, "Gee!"

Gerard came out, finally, and walked over to him. Jeremiah whispered in his ear, and they slipped out the door.

The party continued, even if Rachel was pouting, and she could see them come back in, accompanied by Shelby. Rachel got up using her forearms, which meant that their hips were pressed together so she could see. It also meant she was terribly off balance and Quinn – who still wasn't feeling very confident in Shelby, even if Rachel wanted to talk to her – pushed her off with a gentle nudge. Rachel landed on her ass, but the adults were able to leave without her breathing down their necks.

Tears sparkled in big brown eyes.

"Quinn," Rachel whined. "I was trying to see."

Quinn corrected her, "No, you were being nosy."

"Okay," Rachel affirmed, eyes dry, "I was being nosy. But I was entitled to it!"

She quirked an eyebrow. Rachel gave her a lopsided grin, "I missed the eyebrow. It's very sexy."

Quinn found herself snorting, then sat up on the couch and Rachel pulled her into a standing position. "Come on," She said, and tugged her into the kitchen, where her coworkers were talking with her cousins. Eddie immediately lit up when he saw her and pulled Rachel into another hug. She giggled but hugged him back, then laughed louder as he picked her up unceremoniously and she hung onto his neck like a little monkey. Mia rolled her eyes, "They're like the fucking wonder twins."

Rachel looked happy, so Quinn didn't feel very jealous, although she thought perhaps she should have. They were so playful, though, that it seemed more like a sibling relationship. And then she remembered that Rachel wrote incestuous fanfiction – there'd been a crash course on Supernatural, the relationship between Sam and Dean, and why Destiel was the horror of the universe, and she'd definitely caught Rachel writing when she was supposed to be asleep – and immediately quashed that thought. She was glad Rachel had other friends, though.

It was only now, being with other people, that she could see what affect her bullying had been on the brunette. Her shoulders weren't quite as straight, her eyes brighter; everything about her was lighter, freer, and none of it was due to Quinn. Self-loathing stabbed at her and she left the kitchen to sit on the couch, where Santana immediately flopped down next to her and put her arm on the back of the couch.

"What's with you, Thunder Thighs?" Santana asked, tilting her head so her mouth was near Quinn's ear.

"Nothing," She replied, then pushed Santana's head when it was pressed to her neck. "Get off."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." Santana was getting closer. Quinn wriggled, trying to get away, then sighed, "It's nothing."

"Q," Her voice was serious.

"It really isn't anything," She insisted.

Then Santana's voice went soft and gentle, like she was coaxing a skittish animal, "Quinn." She nudged her with her nose, murmured, "Quinn."

Quinn pursed her lips, then said, "Fine. It's just – I feel terrible for bullying Rachel. I – I don't think I ever apologized and she's in this with me and, I feel stupid, it's been months, I should have apologized the first day, but she doesn't even have any friends, it's just me and –"

"You're doubting her feelings for you?"

She shook her head, bit her lip, struggled to make her feelings into words. "No. I know Rachel, she – she cares for me. She cares for me a lot, probably more than she should. It's the validity of it, her experience – I, whether she's had any more friends."

Quinn closed her eyes, exhaled, and then managed to say, "Do I make her happy or do I just make her less sad?"

Santana was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Have you seen yourself lately?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, "I see myself in the mirror every day."

"That's not what I meant, Preggers. I meant that she probably thinks the same thing, because you were really sad before this. Like, seriously sad, and when you weren't sad, you were angry."

She swallowed, "I wasn't angry." She wouldn't lie and say she wasn't sad, because she knew that she was sad, it was just a different kind of sad than now.

Santana scoffed, "You think you weren't angry. You were so angry and you didn't even know it."

Quinn thought of the time before she and Rachel had first started whatever it was that they were, and recalled her resignation, her determination that Rachel not be her downfall. She didn't think she'd been angry, though, but said nothing.

"Am I better now?" She asked, thinking of Rachel's soft hands, the slope of her mouth, the ever present want that resided in her eyes.

"Yeah," Santana said, "You're a lot better."

The moment was immediately broken by the sound of breaking glass. They jumped up, even as one Rachel's relatives yelled, "What happened?" but made no move towards the kitchen.

Rachel called, "We're okay, I just dropped something."

They quieted, but Santana and Quinn continued to see Rachel sweeping up glass. They looked like heavy dinner plates, and Kurt was with her, high spots of color on his pale cheeks, with her friends moving furniture out the way so that she could continue sweeping.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked her, cautious in walking in only her socks.

Rachel flashed her a quick smile, "Yeah, I'm fine. Things just got a little heated."

"Heated," She repeated and looked down at the floor. There were more than one plate; heated seemed a small word for it

Kurt's face was milk white, except for the high, bright spots of his cheeks, "I'm sorry."

Rachel frowned, "Kurt, stop. We'll talk about it later."

He repeated, "I- I just, maybe Mercedes isn't sorry, but I am, I'm so sorry, and I just –"

"Kurt," Rachel said firmly. He shut his mouth, squeezed his eyes shut. She put the dustbin and broom down, walked to him, and captured his face between her hands. "Kurt," She repeated. His eyes opened and he stared at her. "We'll talk later."

Slowly, he nodded, and hugged her lightly. Rachel giggled even as Kurt let go. Quinn wondered if seeing only Rachel's relatives at her birthday party had impacted him as much as it had her. It brought reality to that situation. The door bell rang again, and someone answered it. Within a minute, probably less, Dave Karofsky was in her field of vision. He was carrying a box with him, wrapped in what was probably old wrapping paper; it was blue with sports paraphernalia on it, and was very neat. She could see the ragged corners, where the tape had pulled, and saw that he'd obviously been practicing.

Karofsky was wearing khaki pants and a white button-down shirt, stretched a little too wide at his shoulders, with boat shoes, and he held the gift out to her with a brusque, "Here."

She took it from him and beamed, "Thank you, David."

He grunted, and patted her back when she pulled him into a hug.

"Can I open it?" She asked, enthused.

Karofsky shrugged even as Quinn took it from her and said, sternly, "No."

Rachel pouted again, but Quinn had already turned around to put the present on the crowded table. She could hear a loud conversation going on in the living room and by craning her neck, she could see that most of Rachel's slightly older cousins were drinking and making fun of each other.

"Hey," Someone yelled, "I'm gone drop this subject right the fuck now! All I gotta say is short people are the real thugs! You gotta be a real thug to get shit off the top shelf with nobody else around!"

There was a loud shout of, "Yo!" From the gathered crowd of short people. Quinn rolled her eyes, but laughed. God, no wonder Rachel was the way she was. Even now, she could see Rachel in the fray, laughing and then suddenly squeaking at being picked up and carried to where the presents and cakes were, in the den.

There were two cakes, one a large sheet cake, and the second a small, round cake, which was vegan and gluten-free. The larger cake didn't have very many decorations on it besides the standard piping around the edges and was the type that anyone could pick up at the local supermarket, but the small cake was hand-made, evident by the sloppy but heartfelt writing of Rachel's name by some of her younger cousins. Rachel was enthused as all Hell, hopping up and down. Quinn smiled, and then looked around. Most of the family was in the room, some leaking out into the living room, and she could see the kids from school and Karofsky somewhat nearby. Shelby was also at the doorway, looking on the scene with soft eyes, and Quinn turned back to look at Rachel blow out her candles.

Rachel grinned at her, face slightly obscured from the smoke, and narrowed her eyes through the smoke. Her happy face faded a little, before she put her smile back on. Quinn turned around.

Shelby was gone.

She could see that the enthusiasm that Rachel had previously had for the party had dissipated neatly, like ether.

Quinn sighed, feeling her distaste for Shelby grow. Shelby didn't come back even with Christmas or when Rachel had her solo at their Lutheran church, and her family filled up at least the front half of the church. She met Rachel's Grammy and blushed pinkly when Rachel introduced her as her girlfriend and her co-parent. Grammy hugged her and treated her just like any of the other grandkids, same as their doddering Bubbe, and Quinn couldn't help but think that Rachel's family was so much more accepting than her own. She was happy for the quiet house when the holidays left, but it almost felt like she was trapped in a cocoon of harsh feelings when she and Rachel were outside of the house, with all the disapproving looks people gave them. Rachel was, as always, unconcerned for herself, but more than conciliatory on Quinn's behalf.

Quinn could tell that her tiny brunette was having trouble with Shelby leaving her again, even if she said nothing. She spent more time curled around Quinn's slightly protruding belly, pressing her face to the hard bump so that it was almost like they were fused. She'd already known, vaguely, that Rachel had trouble with the idea of motherhood and how she fit into the baby's life, but now it was cemented in Shelby's return and subsequent leaving. The fifteen years Rachel's fathers had dedicated into telling her she was not any different from anyone else, just as loveable and as great as any heterosexual couple. Selby had practically destroyed it in two days, with her story of love and want and caring, then leaving before Rachel could even say hello.

They'd gone to school for three weeks, and Rachel had been at work for two, when she came back from work smiling.

"What's up?" Jeremiah asked over dinner. Rachel had just stepped in and had only taken her skinny tie off. It was 'Formal Friday', which Quinn found an interesting concept because Rachel wearing her slender suits – she considered them more formal than her skirts and a better look – was absolutely delicious. "You seem in a good mood."

Rachel grinned, "I had the best costumer."

Gerard smirked and winked at Quinn, "Were they cute?"

Quinn had come to terms with the fact that although she was primarily attracted to Rachel and a male model named Angelo Page, which was more a fascination with his cheekbones, Rachel's interests and attractions were more varied and sometimes just plain bizarre. Not that she would say anything to Quinn about it, but she was observant and Rachel tended to look at people and there was sometimes a look of – not exactly interest, but fascination. And for some reason she enjoyed looking at Matt Smith, who she thought was just the weirdest looking individual ever. She was still a little insecure, but Rachel never looked at anyone else with that bright look to her eyes, so she was okay with it.

Rachel had a puzzled look on her face, "Yes, but I think that's because he looked a lot like Quinn. I was actually rather confused, because he wasn't exactly feminine."

Quinn's eyebrows quirked upwards, "Are you calling me a man?"

"Never," Rachel answered sincerely. "I mean, I would never misgender someone intentionally."

Sometimes, she forgot how frighteningly candid Rachel could be.

"But he was cute?" Jeremiah asked.

"Yes," She answered. "He brought his guitar, and we sang together on my break. He's very good."

Of course it would be music that made her so happy.

Gerard smiled at her, "That's good."

The next day, Rachel was a little distracted, constantly texting on her phone, but Quinn didn't really care because Rachel finished her schoolwork first, held her hand in the hall, and kissed her until she was dizzy at lunch. Santana saw her at some point and made a vee with her fingers, then mimed licking in between them. It took her a moment to understand what she was doing, then flushed and she walked away at a faster pace. It was closer to waddling at this point, but that wasn't the point.

Rachel was texting him again the next day and mentioned the boy at dinner again.

"He's very funny and clever," Rachel said to them. "You know, he's seen all of Supernatural so far?"

Gerard snorted, "You made friends with a fan boy. Hope he's not a brony."

"He's not," Rachel insisted. Then she grimaced, "He enjoys Castiel, however."

Jeremiah said blandly, "Oh, the horror."

"Yeah, but I suppose we can't all be perfect," Rachel sighed.

Gerard turned to Jeremiah, "You think we raised her with too much confidence?"

"I told you that when she was four and insisted that purple and green matched. She looked like Barney for six months."

Rachel sniffed, "I'm so glad I have a large amount of self-confidence. Your comments would make a lesser person shrink."

"Your ego is very healthy," Quinn said sarcastically. Rachel knew her head was the same size as the house, there was no use pretending with her for more than posterity.

Rachel sulked – which was obnoxiously attractive at the worst of times; slumped shoulders, furrowed brow, lower lip protruding, her always careful shoulders hunching in the slender suit jacket, the tapping of her dress shoes and the brush of her leg against Quinn's - at her tone and picked at her dinner until she forgot she was sulking and ate her tofu quesadilla ravenously.

The arrival of her fellow geeky friend who was apparently perfect – his only faults were his love of Castiel and Spider-Man, who Rachel found a supremely boring superhero and an "insectoid copy of the beloved Captain America archetype of awkward but persistent teenager ends up adored super human beset by tragedy"– did not completely wipe Shelby from her mind. Rachel called her phone daily, and if Quinn ever looked at her recent caller list, it showed fifteen or twenty second calls to her, just long enough to hear her voice mail and hang up. The least amount Quinn saw was twice and the most twenty-one.

It wasn't exactly desperation, because Quinn knew for a fact that Rachel would have babbled until the voicemail ran out of space if it had been, but it did make Quinn sad to see Rachel so lost. Not knowing Shelby was a lot easier on everybody. Even her fathers didn't acknowledge the fact that Shelby had talked to them and left, but touched Rachel more, showed her that they cared and loved her.

They went to the official OB/GYN as a family the day after Jeremiah's birthday, January 22nd, which was nowhere as big as Rachel's birthday party or disappointing for anyone. Rather, it was just them, some cake, and presents. Their OB/GYN was a somewhat intimidating man who was nevertheless careful and explanatory.

He'd explained how to tell if the fetus was a boy or girl or of indeterminate sex already – all fetuses had what could be either a penis or a clitoris, and the clitoris was pointed downwards while the penis was at a 45 degree angle, and an indeterminate sexual organ fell in between – but the baby's hand was between their legs.

"What's it doing?" Rachel asked curiously, peering closely.

"Masturbating, in all likelihood," Dr. Yemen said cheerfully. "Fetuses at this age do it because they do feel pleasure, babies and toddlers do as well. It's a very healthy part of development."

Quinn flushed because she had only done it a handful of times but Rachel didn't seem embarrassed at all. That probably explained the baby oil that was constantly in Rachel's top drawer. Now she felt stupid that she hadn't figured it out on her own.

The two were alone in Rachel's room, door cracked slightly, cuddling when Quinn felt the urge to ask and know for sure.

"Do you masturbate?" She asked, voice cracking on the word.

Rachel licked her lips, "Yes. Why do you ask?"

Quinn buried her face into Rachel's neck. "Curious," She murmured against her soft, sweet smelling skin. "I never thought of you doing –" Her blush crept up her neck, "that."

Rachel asked, "Don't you?"

Quinn's ears hurt from being so hot, "Um."

Her voice was shocked, "You don't?!"

All her blood was in her upper body. Had to be. "No," She murmured. "When I get – like that, I just come to you."

Rachel grinned and nuzzled Quinn's hair, "I like that."

Quinn smiled.

"But you should probably still learn to masturbate."

Her grin dropped in mortification.

Rachel hurriedly explained, "It's just – well, you're pregnant. I'm not around all the time, as much as I'd like to be, so you should learn and it'll help you learn what you do and don't like."

Quinn could understand what she meant but couldn't help but think of it as embarrassing. She'd always associated sexual pleasure with sex, which she knew was a little backwards, but she couldn't imagine touching herself just to touch herself.

"Maybe later."

Rachel waggled her eyebrows, "I could teach you, make it a little less scary."

Gerard appeared in the doorway, Toto behind him, scowling, "You'd better be teaching her how to take that ass to sleep. I told y'all half an hour ago, I'm not gone say it again. Quinn, go to your room."

Quinn left, even as Rachel made a little protesting noise, and kissed her nose, then received a kiss from Gerard to soften his earlier comment.

Quinn's dream that night was of having sex with Rachel, but whatever arousal she had was immediately quenched by the baby kicking against her bladder at four fifteen in the morning.

Damn whatever those magazine and Internet articles said, there was nothing sexy about being pregnant.