A/N: Thank you guys for sticking with this story through the long break I took for finals. :) This chapter is a little short, but I wanted to update again as soon as I could. I'll have the next chapter up shortly. Enjoy!
Quinn's car was parked in the street outside the apartment building that held the address Jason had given her over the phone. Again, he had directed her to a part of town that she had never seen before, several blocks east and south of the theatre, on the far edge of downtown. She stared at the chain link fence surrounding the parking lot, wondering if she would be living like a nomad on other people's couches for the rest of her high school career. Mercedes' house hadn't been too far from her own, in a nice neighborhood that was familiar to her, in a large home that greatly resembled her own in the way that many subdivision houses do. This apartment building was grungy, to put it lightly, and although Quinn didn't like to think of herself as any particular snob, the most lower-class home she had ever been in had been Finn's, or Puck's, and theirs were decidedly middle class compared to Jason's arrangements. Still, Quinn felt a rush of gratitude as Jason came into view, trotting down the cement stairs toward her car. Quinn climbed out as he approached.
"Are you okay?" Jason hugged her tightly, and she found it was exactly what she needed. She put her arms around him and squeezed back, unable to find the words to answer his question. He pulled back to look at her.
"I know," he said, rubbing her upper arms, "I've been where you are, believe me. Come inside, my brother is at his girlfriend's place for the night."
Jason grabbed the two larger, hastily-packed suitcases from her backseat. Quinn had had the foresight to bring luggage this time, and packing had been easier the second time, knowing what she had missed and what she hadn't needed the last time. She grabbed her purse and backpack from the passenger seat and followed Jason up the stairs, shaking her head as she realized she'd been kicked out of her home twice before her seventeenth birthday. This seemed the sort of thing to happen to a girl in a Lifetime movie about misguided teens, not to Quinn Fabray, former cheerleading captain, straight A student, daughter of Russell and Judy. Her life a year ago now seemed like someone else's life, and as she watched Jason push open the door to his apartment she felt in transition, on the verge of something new. It was clear that things would never go back to the way they were before she had gotten pregnant, and she knew that she couldn't remain in limbo like this. Was Beth a part of that? Was her need to see her more about clinging to this in between place, avoiding moving forward?
"Quinn?" Quinn realized she'd been standing on the threshold of Jason's apartment for several long minutes, staring at the mottled gray carpet. She blinked, shook her head, and stepped inside, unable to keep herself from attaching a symbolic stride out of her "limbo" to the movement. She almost laughed at her inward dramatics. This is something Rachel would do, she thought, and then grew sober at the thought of the brunette with Finn's arm around her. She looked up at Jason, who was looking very concerned.
"I'm sorry," she said, putting her backpack on the floor beside her, "I'm just distracted after everything that happened today." She swallowed, took a breath, and then smiled at him. "Thank you so much for letting me stay here."
Jason led her to the sagging couch, which stood across from an ancient TV set. Quinn took a moment to survey the apartment, the kitchen tucked into a back corner and sectioned off by the breakfast bar that lacked the stools to make it functional, the sparse living room, and a small hallway that branched off to either side, with a door in the middle. Everything was painted an inoffensive white, and neither Jason nor his brother Paul had bothered to hang anything on the walls.
"I'd give you a tour, but you can pretty much see everything already. That door," he gestured to the middle door in the hallway, "is the bathroom, and my room is to the left. Paul's is to the right. You can sleep right here." He patted the couch. "It's actually pretty comfortable. And you're welcome here as long as you need, okay?"
She nodded, thanking him again, then ran her hand through her hair, leaning back against the sofa, which was surprisingly fluffy and soft.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Jason asked, watching her. She almost shook her head, her reflexive response to that particular question, but this time she paused, recalling her conversation with Jason on the day they had eaten lunch in the deli and he had asked her to work on the show. Annie told my parents I was gay and they kicked me out, he had said, Some people are gay and they don't even realize it. Quinn thought about her dramatic step into this apartment, her movement out of purgatory, her choice to be in control of her life.
"They didn't kick me out," she said, "I left. I don't know if it was just because of my dad, or everything else that happened today. I wasn't going to leave like that, at first. I left the house because I needed to get out, to process what had been going on between my parents for the past couple of months. And I wanted to talk to Rachel," Jason nodded knowingly, and Quinn paused before going on, "but she's angry with me, and so I went to Finn's house because I had nowhere else to go, and she was there," Quinn heard her voice catch and realized there were tears streaming down her face. "She hates me," she whispered miserably.
Jason put his arm around her. "Oh, honey," he said softly, "she does not hate you. She's just frustrated with you, but that's unfair; this is confusing for you."
Quinn was silent as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, angry with herself for being so emotional. This was very confusing for her, but to agree with him seemed to be admitting to something she'd been trying to deny for ages. Instead, she focused on her guilt.
"I've been so horrible to her since the day we met, and she's always…" Quinn struggled for words, thinking of all the times that Rachel had been kind or supportive. Even when she had done something that had hurt Quinn, she had apologized, even though they weren't friends and there was truly nothing between them to repair.
"She's always cared about you." Jason finished. Quinn nodded.
"I'm sure she was miserable when she found out that I was working on the show, that I was intruding on her safe place and real friends. I know that she hates me." Quinn said again, looking down at her hands. Jason's sigh was almost exasperated as he shifted on the couch so that he was turned to face her.
"I wasn't supposed to tell you this," he said, and Quinn looked up, "but I am so sick of both of you feeling so sorry for yourselves. Rachel asked me to bring you onto the project. I'm not going to lie, I wasn't thrilled with the idea after having dealt with the drama your sister put me through, but she practically begged me to convince you to do it. She said she was worried about how depressed you were and that she wanted the chance to get to know you better." Quinn was staring at him, several things in her mind clicking into place. "Yeah, I can see I don't need to explain to you what that means."
Quinn realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it. Jason's tone returned to comforting as he placed a hand on her shoulder, "I'm so sorry about your dad, and about seeing Rachel with Finn. But I promise you, that doesn't mean what you seem to think it does, and I promise that she doesn't hate you. I'll leave you alone now, I'm going to bed." He disappeared into his bedroom and returned shortly with a pillow and blanket that were worn, but clean. Quinn sat on the couch for several minutes, reviewing the many realizations that had just come to her. Then she stood, pushed her bags into a corner of the living room and lay down to go to sleep in her jeans and t-shirt. She pulled her phone charger out of her backpack, found an outlet near the couch, and plugged her phone in, setting it on the floor next to her. She lay there on the couch for a few moments before picking up the phone again, opening it, closing it, putting it back, picking it up again. She scrolled to Rachel's name and rested her thumb on the call button, but couldn't bring herself to do press it. Instead she put the phone back down and stared at the ceiling, missing the red numbers of her alarm clock that usually accompanied her sleepless nights.