Author's Note: I'm not terribly happy with how this chapter came out, but I've redone it a few times and don't think of any other way it could really play out. Hopefully it doesn't suck too epically.
Also, it seems like the metaphorical shit has hit the fan in my life in a culmination of medical and insurance drama, which is why there was a big delay before I could post this chapter; it also means I have no clue how long it will or won't be till I can get anything else written. Hopefully not too long? I'll do what I can.
The next morning, Quinn slept through her alarm and woke to the sound of Rachel's elliptical whirring away across the hall, a subtle undercurrent to the sound of Shearwater from the automatic start on her iPod. Grumbling discontentedly—she usually was awake shortly before Rachel, enjoying an unrushed hour to wake up and drink her requisite three cups of coffee before they had to leave for school—she tossed the covers back and slid out of bed. She paused on her way to the bathroom, one hand frozen in the midst of pushing her hair back off her neck, when she caught sight of the calculus homework she hadn't finished the night before, on account of Rachel kissing her and the subsequent confusion it had caused.
Quinn stared at the unfinished set of math problems, thoughts racing through a sleepy haze to return once more to the night before. Unconsciously, her head tilted towards the hallway, a tiny smile dancing across her lips at the familiar sound of Rachel's elliptical and the same playlist she listened to every morning floating across into Quinn's room.
Quinn had never been blessed with an abundance of patience, nor any particular tolerance for indecision. It may have been a result of being reared in a household that was not only set in its beliefs, but so wholeheartedly so that there was no room for indecision; or it may have simply just been an inherent part of her character. Regardless of why she was as she was, though, she found her utter inability to come to a decision about how she felt about the previous night to be abundantly frustrating.
She would be lying to herself if she said she was wholly averse to the idea of kissing Rachel, or even going out on a date with her; the fact that Rachel's kiss had effectively silenced every coherent thought in her head told Quinn as much. Yet it would be similarly deceiving if she tried to say that the she had changed enough to not be bothered by the fact that Rachel happened to be very definitively female; Quinn's entire upbringing, for all that had been challenged repeatedly over the past year, was still yet to be overturned.
The sound of Rachel's elliptical practically pounded in her ears as she went through the motions of showering and dressing and perfecting her make-up, and followed her down the stairs as she yawned and waved sleepily to Rachel's fathers and ripped through four cups of coffee and the comics from the newspaper. Logically she knew, as she poured her fifth cup of coffee and unthinkingly put another pot on for Rachel's parents, that Rachel must have been off the elliptical by then and was probably almost done with her shower, but the whirring sound continued to echo in her head.
Glancing at the clock, Quinn made a split second decision and bolted up the stairs to gather her books and backpack. Carefully not looking towards Rachel's door, she flitted back down the stairs and into the kitchen grabbing her car keys out of the bowl by the door.
"I have to talk to my math teacher about the AP exam," she told Eric, who was still on only his third cup and a little bleary-eyed behind the newspaper. "Could you tell Rachel I had to go in early?"
"Sure," he mumbled through a yawn. "Aren't the AP exams like two months off?"
"Six weeks," Quinn said distractedly. She flashed a small grin and shrugged. "But it's never too early, right? Especially with calculus."
"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug and a good-natured smile. "I still don't get what you find so important about calculus, of all things. Math is stupid." It was a debate the two of them had gone through countless times since Quinn moved in—Eric, a political science professor, and Rachel always teamed up against Quinn and Rachel's other dad, Paul, who worked as a pediatrician but had a passion for economic theory.
Quinn smiled a little wider, shaking her head. She buttoned up her coat with nimble fingers, proud that she hesitated only the tiniest bit at how easily the coat—too small for her pregnant belly so recently—closed around her flattened and now barely-discolored stomach. Her smile slipped only minutely, and she hitched it back up before raising her head to bid Eric good-bye. As the door closed behind her, she heard the sound of light footsteps descending the stairs, and thought a silent prayer of thanks for her timing.
The parking lot was deserted at school, save for a few other cars that looked to have been there all weekend. Quinn felt a fleeting moment of idle triumph as she slid her car into one of the coveted spots closest to the main building, and wondered if not having to trek across the entire parking lot would be worth getting up half an hour earlier every day.
She wandered the empty halls without thinking, pausing only to put her history textbook into her locker, and eventually found herself standing awkwardly alone in the middle of the rehearsal room. Arms hugging her books tightly to her chest, she stared at an unspecific spot on the floor just to the right of one of the chairs, unbidden memories floating into her consciousness. That was where they had all performed their mash-ups, when Finn had been so jittery he couldn't hold still and Rachel had talked like a hummingbird on steroids. Just in front of her was where she and Finn had sat while the rest of the club sang their support to them, and she had felt for the first time that she might make it through her pregnancy scandal—Babygate '09, as Santana had dubbed it—and be okay. To the left was where things had completely unraveled and Finn had pummeled Puck when the truth came out.
And there was where the keyboard had sat, six chairs and four music stands marking the distance between Quinn and Rachel, when Rachel had cornered her for an apology and the shaky foundations of a friendship had been born; the keyboard was packed away in the storage closet now, the piano finally back in the room after being sent out for repairs.
Quinn smiled faintly, thinking back to Rachel's insistent comparison of their relationship to Wicked, and finally moved from her spot in the center of the floor. She dropped her books into one of the spare chairs and made her way over to where the piano sat, sliding onto the bench and sliding her fingers over the keys. The ivory was cool and familiar under her fingers, and she experimentally ran out a few scales.
Resituating herself on the bench, pushing her shoulders back to correct her posture, Quinn let her eyes slip shut and her fingers start to move on the keys, biting down on her lower lip as she struggled to remember the music she had played so often when she was younger. Her brow furrowed as she picked her way through the piece, wincing visibly when she made a mistake, and she sank into the rhythm and the music. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed playing the piano, how effectively it had always calmed her heart and silenced her thoughts. Singing in glee came close, but to date, only the adrenaline rush of exercise that had pushed her into gymnastics and cheerleading had quieted her mind like the piano had.
And, Quinn thought suddenly, her mind breaking free from the comforting lull of melody and muscle memory, Rachel's kiss. The sudden thought broke through the calm that had started to form as she played, and her hands faltered in the middle of an arpeggio, the sound that had filled the room cutting off abruptly.
"I didn't know you played." Mr. Scheu's voice was gentle, pushing through Quinn's mild panic; she started, unaware that she had had an audience. He stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets and head cocked to one side slightly.
"What was that?" he asked. "I've never heard it before."
"Alexander Scriabin," Quinn said quietly. Her voice bordered on fragile, hanging in the air delicately. "Piano concerto."
Mr. Scheu only nodded, staying silent. He moved into the room, halving the distance between the door and the piano. Quinn folded her hands in her lap, her eyes staying on the piano keys.
"Are you okay, Quinn?" he asked. They both pretended not to notice the hesitance in his voice. She hadn't had a real interaction with Mr. Scheu since that one awkward time in his and his wife's apartment, when she had hugged him through her tears and thanked God that at least her child would have a good father.
"I'm okay," she said automatically.
"You know--" He faltered slightly. "It's okay if you're not."
"I'm okay," she said again.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes?"
"Right," he said, nodding slowly. "Absolutely believable."
Quinn laughed softly in spite of herself, shaking her head sadly. She took a slow, deep breath, squaring her shoulders and forcing herself to meet his eyes.
"I'm managing," she said firmly. "I'm not great, but I'm getting better."
"Have you moved back home?"
"No," she whispered. "Not yet."
"But you might?"
"I've thought about it," Quinn said evasively. She refrained from adding that she had been up half the night trying to consider every possible scenario for how things might play out with Rachel, that she had somehow found herself almost as uncomfortable with the idea of starting to date someone who she already shared a bathroom with as she was by the whole Rachel-being-a-girl facet of the situation; that was probably more than Mr. Scheu wanted to deal with before first period. "I don't think I'm ready yet."
He nodded once more, seeming to search for words. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and they both jumped when Rachel cleared her throat from the doorway.
"Mr. Scheu," she said cordially. "May I please speak to Quinn for a minute?"
"Sure," he said slowly, eyes darting back and forth between Quinn sitting at the piano and Rachel standing in the doorway with her chin determinedly raised and arms clutching her books to her chest. "I'll see you guys in class."
"Thank you," Rachel said, ever polite. She moved to the side to allow him to pass before stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. "Good morning," she said to Quinn.
"Morning," Quinn mumbled. Her eyes dropped back to the piano keys.
"You should have just said that you needed some space," Rachel said abruptly. "Instead of lying to my father and hiding in the music room to avoid me."
"I'm not avoiding you," Quinn said automatically.
"Right. You came to school almost an hour early because you wanted to talk to a teacher who never shows up before second period anyways. And that's completely ignoring the fact that you aren't, in fact, in the calculus room, but instead are in the music room playing Chopin."
"Scriabin," Quinn corrected without thinking. Her brow furrowed. "How long were you out there?"
"Since before Mr. Scheu showed up," Rachel said with a shrug. "Don't try to change the subject, Quinn."
"I… okay, fine," Quinn said with a sigh. She glanced up to where Rachel stood with an unreadable expression in her eyes, and felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry." Her sleepless night caught up to her, and a wave of fatigue swept through her body.
Rachel's eyes softened immeasurably, and she sat down next to Quinn, concern masked across her features. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.
"I'm just tired," Quinn said. "I didn't sleep well."
"Because of me?"
"No," Quinn responded quickly. "Well…kind of? But mostly me."
"What?"
Quinn sighed. "I'm confused," she admitted. Briefly, she wondered where her infamous stubbornness had run away to. The girl who had blackmailed a full yearbook page from Sue Sylvester certainly never would have caved so easily. Perhaps she could blame her current lack of a spine on fatigue and leave it at that; it scared her far too much to consider the possibility that she gave in simply because she had come to trust Rachel almost unconditionally. "And I thought that I was done with being confused about things for a while, after—after the hospital and things starting to blow over with Puck and Finn and my parents. And I really thought I was done being confused about you."
"Oh," Rachel said. She fell silent, still staring openly at Quinn. "I'm sorry."
Quinn didn't respond; she ran her fingers over the keys and felt her shoulders droop slowly. Her head followed suit, her neck bowing and chin dropping towards her chest, followed by her eyes starting to drift shut. She had no idea how she was going to manage through an entire day of school and glee practice feeling like this.
The first bell rang. Quinn wondered when it had gotten to be time for first period, and groaned. As she dropped her hands to the bench and prepared to push herself up, she felt a flurry of movement as Rachel leapt to her feet, set her books atop the piano, and reached out a solid hand to Quinn's shoulder to keep her seated, all in one smooth movement.
"I have to go to class," Quinn said slowly, confusion evident in her voice.
"No, you don't," Rachel said. "You need to get some sleep."
"I'll be fine," Quinn said. She moved to push herself to her feet again, but Rachel's hand remained heavy on her shoulder."
"Quinn, you look terrible," Rachel said bluntly. "I mean, you look beautiful, but you also look completely exhausted. I'm sorry, but you need to go home and get some rest. I know you haven't really slept well since you came home from the hospital, and apparently far less so last night. You really need to catch up on your rest." Fixing a determined glare at Quinn, Rachel pointed a stern finger at her. "Stay." She finally removed her hand, locating her cell phone from her bag and punching in a few numbers.
"I'm not a dog," Quinn muttered, but she remained seated. She truly was exhausted, and it took far more energy to argue with Rachel than she was capable of conjuring. She finally gave in to the fatigue, and folded her arms atop the piano, resting her head on her arms and letting her eyes drift shut once more.
She didn't open her eyes until she felt Rachel sit next to her again; she sat back tiredly and leaned against Rachel without thinking about it. Rachel's arm slid comfortingly around her waist, secure and gentle. "Brittany's going to drive you home," Rachel murmured into Quinn's hair. "She has a math quiz first period, and Beck's got a doctor's appointment, so she wants to wait until she has someone she can copy off of."
Quinn snorted sleepily. "Fitting." She paused, and then asked without really meaning to, "You can't…?"
"I have a quiz in math, too," Rachel said. "But I'll fake sick and come home after second period."
Quinn felt like she should argue—it honestly didn't feel like she'd be much of a friend if she didn't at least try to convince Rachel not to skip school—but she had to admit that last night had proven that she couldn't yet sleep alone, and Rachel had proven time and again to be the best sleep aid around. "Okay." She relaxed against Rachel, the feel of Rachel's fingers in her hair lulling her towards sleep.
After a few short minutes, Rachel slid her arm from Quinn's waist and slowly stood. "Come on, Brittany will be here in a minute."
Quinn grumbled discontentedly, not wanting to move. "Come on, Q," Rachel said. "Don't make me drag you up."
"Threats are unnecessary," Quinn shot back at her. Her voice was, unsurprisingly, entirely free of either malice or agitation. She allowed Rachel to pull her to her feet, yawning all the way. She wondered how it was that she had managed to drive into school that morning at all; she could hardly imagine getting behind the wheel of a car when she was this exhausted.
"Quinn," Rachel said softly.
"Hmm?"
Instead of speaking, Rachel stood up on her toes and kissed Quinn gently. Quinn's eyes, formerly half closed, flew open abruptly, and then slid back shut; after a slight hesitation—in her fatigue, it was harder to quash the paternalistic voice in her head that swore that God was about to smite her—she returned the kiss chastely.
"I'm sorry," Rachel said as she broke away. "For stressing you out about all of this."
"It's okay," Quinn said. She noticed that her hand was hanging limply in Rachel's, and through her weariness squeezed Rachel's fingers gently. "I'm okay. Really. I just… am having a harder time processing it than I'd like."
"Take your time," Rachel said immediately. "As long as you need."
"Thanks," Quinn whispered. She squeezed Rachel's hand, her breath hitching in her throat momentarily as Rachel's thumb traced over her knuckles briefly before releasing.
The door opened noisily, and Brittany walked in. "Hey," she said brightly. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah," Quinn said slowly. "Thank you."
"It's no problem," Brittany said. "Rachel said you weren't feeling good, and you totally look it. And I don't want to go to class."
"Thanks, B," Quinn mumbled crossly, even though she could hardly ever really find it in herself to get upset with Brittany.
"I'll see you at home," Rachel said. She handed Quinn her backpack. "Sleep, okay?"
"Yes ma'am," Quinn said. She made a face at Rachel, who only smiled good-naturedly and waved, watching as Quinn followed Brittany out of the room.
Quinn was silent on the drive to the Berry's house, listening to Brittany talk cheerfully about glee Regionals and the national competition for the Cheerios that was coming up. The other blonde eventually fell silent when she seemed to realize that Quinn wasn't listening; she only spoke when they got to the house and she took Quinn's bag from her.
"Do you need anything?" she asked once Quinn was sitting on her bed in her pajamas.
"No," Quinn said softly. She forced a smile for her friend. "Thanks for getting me home, B."
"Anytime," Brittany said. She half-skipped around the room, tugging the blinds shut and fluffing Quinn's pillow and making sure the alarm was turned off on her iPod dock. "Now go to sleep. Rachel will kill me if you're awake when she gets here."
"She'd just lecture you," Quinn said sleepily. She pulled the blanket up over her legs; her hands hovered hesitantly over her stomach for a moment—since the miscarriage, it was quickly returning to the flat plane it had been before she had gotten pregnant, and the tank top she had unthinkingly slipped into clung to her body snugly—before she forced herself to pull the blanket up the rest of the way and lay down.
"S would say that it's the same thing," Brittany said. She shrugged, still smiling, and flipped the light switch. "Call us if you need anything."
"Okay," Quinn whispered. She watched as Brittany shut the door, and finally let herself succumb to her exhaustion. Eyes sliding shut in the welcome darkness and Vienna Teng wafting from the speakers on her laptop, Quinn drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
When she woke three hours later, trembling from something between a dream and a nightmare of a picnic in the park with Sarah Noelle Puckerman and Rachel Berry that was interrupted by an ominous preacher and congregation staring them down, Rachel was sitting next to her in the bed with sympathetic eyes. She brushed Quinn's hair back from her forehead and rubbed soft circles into her back until the blonde fell back into a calmer sleep.