Finn managed a full week before he snapped. For six days after he first pummeled Puck on the choir room floor, he didn't say a single word to Quinn. She still slept in the small guest room at his house; his mother still spoke to her, and had been surprisingly kind about the entire situation; he still came to glee and practiced and sang and laughed with Kurt and Mercedes and Artie and Rachel (who, Quinn noted interestedly, always looked torn between Finn's smiles and the other side of the room where Puck and Quinn stood in their exile, with the surprising company of Santana and Brittany).
He never said a word to Quinn, but rather averted his eyes every time she tried to speak to him, and glared poisonously at her on the few occasions she spoke directly to Puck, even if it was just to ask him to move out of the way.
It was the Saturday after sectionals that he broke the silence, and Quinn found herself immediately wishing it had never been touched. She was in the basement, doing the laundry as a meager way to earn some of her keep, and he clattered down the stairs and leaned against the wall behind her. His brow was furrowed, arms crossed defensively over his chest, the troubled look so common on his features recently doubled, and he told her bluntly that he thought she should leave. He could wait for her to find somewhere else to stay, but he couldn't have her in his home anymore.
Behind him, at the top of the stairs, his mother stood wringing her hands. Quinn was surprised to see that she looked as torn then as Rachel did every time she found herself in the no-man's land of glee club between Finn and Quinn.
Quinn held onto the tiniest remaining shards of her pride and for once, since the test had first turned pink, didn't cry. She kept her back straight and shoulders from slumping as she packed her things, and thanked his mother three times, before she lugged her suitcase out of the house. The cold wind whipped around her, her ears immediately stinging, and she paused on the sidewalk to pull her coat tighter around herself. A few tears finally leaked out, tracing down towards her chin; the dampness felt like ice on her cheeks.
Numbly, she wondered if she was actually surprised to see Rachel's little blue hybrid sitting on the street in front of Finn's house, engine running. She stood unmoving, suitcase at her feet, absently debating her surprise as Rachel got out of the car and moved in front of her.
"He called me," she said. Her normally-strong voice was almost lost in the wind. "I already talked to Noah and Brittany, and both of them said you could stay with them if you want. I can give you a ride to wherever you want to go."
Quinn shook her head without meaning to, frustrated at the feel of more tears leaking out of her eyes. The world felt like it was spinning, her feet glued to a cyclical juggernaut and her sense of balance destroyed.
"Why?" she managed to force out.
"Why not?" Rachel said with a small smile. "Because you're our teammate. Because he's the father, and even if he wasn't, he cares about you. Because Brittany's perfectly nice when she's not following Sue or Santana. And," she added hesitantly. "Because you're our friend."
"I'm not anyone's friend," Quinn said. The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she felt a pang of self-loathing at how pathetic she sounded.
"That's not true," Rachel said. She reached out, gloved fingers wrapping around Quinn's elbow. "Come on, get in the car. You'll freeze out here."
With a gentleness that Quinn would never have imagined possible from someone so pushy, Rachel guided her into the passenger seat of the car, then got into her own seat. She tapped her gloved fingers on the steering wheel almost silently, as she waited for Quinn to make a decision.
Quinn stared at her hands, clenched tightly atop her knees. Even though she had only been outside for a minute at most, the unprotected skin over her fingers was bright red from the wind, her fingertips numb.
"Quinn," Rachel said finally. Quinn met her eyes slowly. "Where do you want to go?"
"I… don't know," Quinn mumbled. The thought of falling into the strength of Puck's arms was appealing beyond all belief, but laced with a feeling of continued betrayal of Finn; even if she had already broken his trust and his heart, she felt that maybe going to the place and person that felt most comfortable was more than she deserved after what she had done to him. Brittany really was sweet, as Rachel had said, but a constant reminder of who Quinn used to be; the idea of sleeping in the same house as the girl who Quinn was meant to be filled her with dread and she couldn't find it in her to put herself in that situation, even out of the misguided loyalty to Finn that was keeping her from Puck.
"I…could I…" she paused, ducking her eyes. She took a deep breath and forced herself to raise her head, to meet Rachel's inquisitive eyes from across the car. "You said a while ago that I could stay with you if I needed to. Could I maybe…?"
Rachel was silent, averting her eyes from Quinn's. For what felt like the longest time, Quinn sat with her breath caught in her throat, convinced that Rachel was going to rescind the offer.
"Sure," Rachel said eventually. "I'm sure my dads won't mind."
"Would you mind?" Quinn asked. Rachel's approval suddenly felt more important than anything else in Quinn's world. All the math tutoring in the world could barely make up for how horrible Quinn had been to Rachel until glee and pregnancy and Quinn's fall from her pedestal, and she was sure that even if she turned Rachel into an astrophysicist, she could never have done enough for Rachel to be okay with Quinn staying at her house.
"Not at all," Rachel said, a warm smile gracing her lips. "It'll be like having a live-in tutor. I'm sure to ace pre-cal now."
Quinn tried to laugh, but the sound died in her throat; she instead managed a small smile and a murmured thanks to Rachel as they drove away.
Quinn sat silently the entire drive to Rachel's house, hands trembling in her lap. She was unable to formulate a single coherent word of thanks to Rachel's parents as they showed her the guest room and told her to make herself at home; she was similarly silent the rest of the day, as she lay curled up on the bed and watched the flakes of the first snow tumble down outside, desperately wanting to sleep and entirely unable to will herself into unconsciousness.
When Rachel came to check on her near dinner time, Quinn couldn't summon the energy to move. It wasn't until Rachel reappeared with a bowl of soup and a box of Triscuits that she could make herself sit up; even then, she only made it through half of the bowl.
"I won't stay here too long," she said suddenly. Her voice was hoarse from disuse. Rachel, not moving from her seat at the foot of the bed, shook her head. "And I'll find a way to get your parents rent money."
"Don't worry about it," she said. "Really. No one's ever in this room, and my dads really understand something about what you're going through. They won't ever ask you to leave. And there's no way they'll accept any money from you."
"It's not about that," Quinn said. "I told Puck I was going to do this on my own, and I am. I've hurt enough people already. I don't need to put anyone else out."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. You're not hurting anyone by staying here."
"I need to learn how to take care of things on my own," Quinn said stubbornly. "It's time I figure it out alone. Before the baby is born."
Rachel scoffed, but made her way over to the door, half-empty tray in hand. She paused, eyeing Quinn levelly. "You say you've hurt enough people already. That you need to do this yourself. Like that will make up for the hurt you've caused." She shook her head. "Why aren't you including yourself in the list of people you need to fix things with?"
Quinn felt a dozen protests rise to her lips, but they all died before they could be voiced. As strong as she wanted to be, she'd be lying if she said that she didn't want to forgive herself, even if the cross burning into her chest made her feel like she'd never deserve such forgiveness. She dropped her gaze to somewhere around Rachel's elbow, unable to manage Rachel's even gaze.
"Get some sleep, Quinn," Rachel said eventually. "You've got circles the size of a planet under your eyes."
Quinn's head shot up at the joking insult, a small blaze of infuriation blooming in her stomach, but it dissipated and shrank away at the small smile Rachel offered her. "Good night," Rachel said. "I'm down the hall if you need anything."
Quinn nodded. The pregnancy hormones made the shift from anger to overwhelming gratefulness far more dramatic than it should have been; her brief moment of rage swung suddenly into a thick feeling of gratitude, tears springing to her eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Rachel was silent, offering only a reassuring nod and another small smile; she nudged the dimmer to the overhead light with her elbow until it was dark in the room and pulled the door shut behind her with her foot. Quinn sat in the dark, unmoving, and stared at the spot in the dark where Rachel had been standing. After a few seconds, she lay back down on the bed, pulling the thick comforter up over her shoulders. Lying on her side, she stared out the window once more at the snow, and drifted off to sleep within minutes.