Still not mine.
She sits on the porch swing in front of Rachel's house, wondering how her life got so out of control so quickly. With clinical detachment, she goes over the events of the last several months in her head.
Finn starting to pull away a little. Feeling fat after Cheerio weigh-ins because I gained half a pound. Finn being distracted by Rachel Berry and joining Glee club. Seeking comfort in Puck. Finding out I'm pregnant. Joining Glee club myself. Getting kicked off the Cheerios and out of my own home. Moving between friends' houses for weeks. Everyone finding out that Puck is the father. Finn dumping me. Moving in with Rachel Berry. Actually becoming friends, close friends, with Rachel Berry.
The miscarriage.
She examines it all dispassionately, allowing the numbness to seep through her. It is the only thing she can allow herself to feel right now. If any emotion escapes from where she has it all bottled up, she will have a complete meltdown. She is sure of it.
She hears the door open behind her, and the sound of someone scuffing their feet as they approach.
"Quinn?"
"Puck."
"Are you, you know, okay?"
She laughs humourlessly. Am I okay? Is it okay to feel torn in half because of having a miscarriage? Is it okay to feel like my world is crashing down because I lost a child I never wanted? Is it okay to be relieved at having a miscarriage because my life can start to go back to normal? "As okay as can be expected, I guess."
"Is there anything. . . I mean, can I. . . do you. . ." he trails off, and although she never turns to face him, she can hear the raw grief in his voice.
"No," she says quietly. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but can you just leave me alone for a few hours? I don't think I can be near you right now. Go back in to Rachel, I know she's worried about you, and you need her."
He sighs, but acquiesces. "Okay. We're right inside if you need anything."
She hears the door clicking shut, and wearily closes her eyes, listening to the sounds around her for a few seconds. A few birds are chirping, and she can hear the occasional car passing by, but otherwise it is quiet. She opens her eyes again, and stares off into the distance.
A few minutes pass, then she sees a familiar blue Chevy pull into the Berrys' driveway. She watches the lanky boy in the letterman jacket get out of the car and walk towards her. She scoots over wordlessly to give him more room on the swing. He sits next to her, but doesn't say anything.
She is the one who finally breaks the silence. "Why. . .?"
He shrugs. "Puck. He called, said you really needed me."
"He did?" Her voice cracks.
"Yeah." He glances over, taking note of the way she shivers slightly. "Here," he says, pulling off his jacket to drape it over her.
She gives him a strange, questioning look. "Finn?"
A bitter, crooked smile crosses his face. "I'm supposed to give my jacket to my girl when she's cold, right?"
"Your girl," she whispers sadly, feeling a tear fall down her cheek. Suddenly, her carefully constructed walls are crumbling, and she is sobbing for the first time since it happened.
He gathers her carefully into his arms, not indifferent to the twist of fate that the broken, shuddering girl who is crying into his shoulder is the same girl who broke him in the first place.