Summary: Continuation of One, Two, Three - Quinn reflects on how she feels about Rachel's life.
It's cool. Us sisters gotta stick together, right?
She had learned, throughout her sixteen years as a Fabray, that life was meant to be a careful map of actions, designed to get you from one point to another with the least amount of embarrassment possible.
A, B, C, one foot in front of the other, as if you were walking a line for a sobriety test, and the police officer was Russell Fabray. Quinn would have almost preferred a sobriety test; at least then if you failed you just got arrested.
But she'd failed the test of propriety, and had been thrown out of the only home she'd ever known.
Even then, she'd executed the plan of action perfectly.
A, B, C, one foot in front of the other.
Pick up the pieces of her shattered 16-year-old self, and return to life with your head held high.
No one had really come to her aid when she'd gotten pregnant, though Quinn suspected that that had been all her fault. It was rather hard to expect anyone to help, when she'd lied about who Beth's father was. She knew that she hadn't been good enough friends with anyone else for them to offer anything in the way of support. Finn had tried, after that farce of a dinner party at her house, and then Puck, when Quinn's world came crashing down with just a few punches to the mohawked boy's face.
Still, she kept absurdly wishing that someone besides two hormonal, immature boys would come to her aid. And Mercedes had stepped up, to offer her yet another home.
But it didn't stop Quinn from wishing, even more absurdly, that it would be Rachel Berry coming to her rescue like some knight in shining argyle.
Quinn told herself that it was because she was jealous of Rachel. Cheerio Quinn would have scoffed at that; pregnant Quinn, who was getting used to something like "softness," knew exactly why she was jealous.
What would it be like, to be Rachel Berry? Sure, Rachel didn't have friends and had been slushied nearly every day for the last four years of her life, but it never even fazed her.
Quinn hadn't ever seen Rachel cry, not even once.
Quinn told herself that she wished she could be Rachel Berry: to have the courage to tell the truth, no matter how much it might hurt her in the long run. Because when all was said and done, Rachel at least had her voice. She had that beautiful, angelic voice… and she had her dads. As many times as Rachel had been teased about having two gay dads, Quinn envied her. Surely parents who had been through what Rachel's had… well, they wouldn't kick their daughter out, if she got herself "in trouble," Quinn was pretty sure. They'd be supportive of any decision that Rachel would make, and… her dads would never stop loving her.
What would it be like, to have a father that wasn't governed by his bible and his gin, and a mother who knew more about her daughter than country club parties? Quinn wondered what it would be like to have parents who appreciated her, not because she towed the line and valued the family image, but… simply because she was their daughter.
Above all this, Quinn wondered what it would be like, to have Rachel appreciate her.
She knew that Rachel would never appreciate her the way she appreciated the most important thing in her life: music. She'd been Rachel's enemy for too long, and even though Quinn was pregnant now, and she'd made sure the slushies had stopped for Rachel, it wasn't because they were friends. No, they were just two outcasts, walking apart on the outskirts of the McKinley High School hierarchy, and if their eyes occasionally met from across a crowded hallway… it didn't mean anything.
It would never mean anything, because eventually Quinn would go back to being a Cheerio and Rachel would go back to being "man hands."
Untouchable.
But when she was lying in her bed late at night in Puck's house, listening to the oppressive stillness with tears running down her face, as she tried to parse together just how she had ended up like this, Quinn found herself wishing.
Wishing that Rachel could be her friend.
A friendship that wasn't based on their mutual roles, with Quinn at the top and Rachel always looking up at her with a kind of fearful resentment. A friendship that didn't jerk Quinn awake from a dream in the middle of the night with eyes widened, the baby heavy in her belly and realization heavy in her heart.
A friendship where the feel of nervous fingers tucking brown locks behind an ear wasn't so tempting.
A friendship where she could close her eyes in glee and not wonder what that voice would sound like singing a song just for her, the two of them alone in a darkened room.
A friendship where a flash of hurt in deep brown eyes didn't have to fade away into manufactured arrogance, even as a soft, pink lower lip tucked firmly between teeth, to keep it from trembling.
Quinn wanted a friend. Someone she could confide in, to tell just how damn scared she was of the little baby inside her, how much she loved the tiny kicks even as she hated the hormones, the having to go to the bathroom every five minutes, the clothes that never seemed to fit right. She knew she'd never be able to tell that to Mercedes, who always looked slightly uncomfortable any time Quinn had brought up her baby girl.
Quinn wanted to laugh again. She wanted to have someone tell her jokes or watch stupid movies with her, curled up on the couch eating popcorn. She wanted to lie on the floor in a sleeping bag and talk about dreams – dreams of life beyond endless doctor's appointments and ultrasounds, prenatal vitamins and weighing herself every damn day.
A reason to get up in the morning and not feel the hopelessness of loss: loss of her parents, loss of her home, and, eventually, the loss of her little girl.
A reason to not have to rejoin the Cheerios, or if she did, a reason to not return to that person she had been: cruel and exacting.
A reason to not hide behind self-made power and the pressure to be the best.
Because in the end, Quinn knew she would never be good enough.
"We'll go and get your things packed up at Puck's, and then I'll help you get them moved into my brother's room," Mercedes said, bringing Quinn back to the present as they walked down the hall.
"Really, Mercedes, thank you so much, I still don't know what to say," Quinn murmured softly.
"Ain't gotta say nothing, sweetie. You know I've got your back."
Mercedes offered another fist bump, and Quinn smiled softly, meeting it with hers even as inwardly, she wanted to cry.
Another strange home, with strange people, strange smells, strange… everything.
They were walking past the bathroom, and Quinn suddenly wanted to be alone, if just for a moment. She stopped, and Mercedes did too, shooting her a worried look.
"I need to go."
Mercedes nodded. "It's cool. I'll go grab my books and then meet you at your locker?"
Quinn nodded in return. "Thanks."
Mercedes walked off and Quinn swung open the door, stepping inside before she realized she wouldn't be alone.
Rachel was standing at the sink in front of the mirror, clothes bunched in her hands and tears rolling down her cheeks.
The words were out of Quinn's mouth before she could stop them.
"What happened?"
Her hair was wet; little drops of water were still streaking in rivulets down her forehead and cheeks, melding with the tears. Her eyes were full and bright; she stared at Quinn in fear and Quinn felt like kicking herself.
Rachel was beautiful.
"Jesse. Jesse happened."
The Vocal Adrenaline bastard, who looked like Will Schuester and had the soul of Sue Sylvester.
Quinn hated him.
Her eyes glanced over Rachel, from her face to the clothes she held in her hands, and Quinn furrowed her brow, reaching out and picking off a fleck of white from the argyle sweater.
"Is that…"
"Egg shell?"
"He egged you?" Her voice came out stronger, angrier than she intended, and Quinn winced a little.
"They. Vocal Adrenaline. And Jesse."
"Jesus."
Rachel snorted. "I doubt he had anything to do with it."
"I swear, if I saw him right now—"
What would she do? There wasn't much that an 8-months pregnant teenager could do, even if… even if she wanted to kill him, to wipe that smirk off his face.
To put the smile back on Rachel's.
But all Rachel did was laugh, a dry sound absent of any joy.
Quinn had the sudden thought that this was what a heart sounded like, as it broke.
"Don't put your reputation on the line for me, Quinn. Not after all this time."
Reputation. When had her life been reduced to that, just a reputation? Something to uphold, first for her parents, then for the Cheerios, for friends who hadn't really been friends to begin with.
When had it meant hurting so many people?
"I don't have a reputation anymore, Rachel, remember?"
She leaned against the bathroom door, suddenly feeling old and very, very tired.
"Sometimes I wonder which is worse: having had a reputation and then losing it… or not ever having it at all."
Rachel lifted one shoulder. "I wouldn't know. I've only ever had the one side."
"I'm sorry."
She meant it, but it didn't matter. They were in the same room, in the same school, but they would forever be too far apart.
"I heard you and Mercedes," Rachel said carefully. "You're going to live with her?"
Quinn nodded.
"I'm glad you're getting out of Puck's house."
"Oh?" It surprised her, and Quinn raised an eyebrow.
"As much as I think a mother needs the support of the father of her child, I do feel that Puck has failed, woefully, where supporting you is concerned. Giving the mother of his child a place to stay is one thing. Actually providing emotional support is an altogether different requirement, and I fear that Puck is… well, let's face it, he's got the maturity of a puppy chewing on a shoe."
During Rachel's rant, Quinn had the urge to only half-listen, which is what most people did when Rachel spoke. But as always, she heard every word Rachel Berry said. Her eyes had stayed locked on Rachel's and she felt herself begin to smile a little.
"You really care about me, don't you, Berry? After everything I've done to you, you still care about me. Why?"
She watched as Rachel seemed to be deep in thought, fingers still picking eggshell off her sweater.
"We're teammates," she said finally. "And though your voice could probably vastly improve with some pitch lessons… glee wouldn't be the same without you."
I wouldn't be the same without Glee, Quinn thought. Without you.
"Besides, no matter what's happened in the past, you don't deserve to be treated the way I have."
Quinn cringed. She wondered when, and if, her forgiveness would ever come.
She wondered if she'd ever deserve it.
Rachel sighed and shook her head. She smiled, but it was empty.
"I'm just glad you have a friend like Mercedes."
A friend like Mercedes. Maybe it would be nice? Maybe they could have some girl talk, if Quinn could get Mercedes away from Kurt long enough. Maybe she could talk to Mercedes' mom about how scared she was, about how uncertain she was that giving up Beth would be the right thing.
Rachel wanted Quinn… to have a friend.
She wasn't quite sure why that hurt so much.
"Me, too," Quinn said quietly. "I need to go grab my books; I think she's waiting on me."
Rachel nodded and just turned back to the mirror, busying herself with checking to make sure there were no more remnants of her egging.
Quinn closed her eyes, briefly, noting how quickly she had been shut out of the bubble they'd wrapped themselves in. She turned to go, and her fingers had just made it around the handle of the bathroom door when Rachel's words cut into the silence.
"You know, Quinn, I wish I had had the courage… to ask you to live with me."
Quinn stopped, staring over her shoulder at Rachel. The smaller girl wasn't looking at her, was still looking into the mirror, but her hands trembled as she clutched her ruined clothes in her hands.
Quinn swallowed hard and crossed the floor again, moving to stand behind Rachel, so close that she could feel the girl's back against her stomach. She felt Rachel stiffen, and Quinn's heart fell.
Slowly, she leaned forward until their cheeks met, Quinn's against Rachel's, softness against warmth.
She couldn't go any further, wouldn't let herself sink any deeper into how much she wanted it, how much she wished for it, how much she needed it.
Be my friend.
Love me.
"I wouldn't have had the courage to say yes."
Rachel smelled fresh and sweet and Quinn wanted to drink it in, to be lost in it…
Instead, she lingered for a mere instant and then pulled away, quick strides to the bathroom door, leaving Rachel alone.
The door closed softly behind her, and Quinn took a deep breath. She smoothed her hands over her clothes, over her belly; Beth kicked and she managed a tiny smile.
She touched her hand to the cheek that was still warm with the feel of Rachel, and willed herself to move.
A, B, C. One foot in front of the other.
Pick up the pieces of your shattered 16-year-old self with a smile, and return to life with your head held high.
And if Quinn's shoulders shook a little as she walked towards her locker, where Mercedes was waiting?
It was okay.
Rachel would never know.