A.N. Edited some parts. Kindly notify me for mistakes I missed (If you have the time, of course.)
Chapter 10
It's been almost thirty minutes after Rachel and Santana took off, but Quinn's heart is still beating dangerously fast so she pulls Frankie even closer to her chest. She can't stop shaking no matter how much she tries to calm herself. Inside her head, she knows she shouldn't deserve to calm down. She's messed up – she's messed up so bad. And now she's put her mother's life in danger. Her mama could die because of her. The thought makes her heart burn even worse and the tears fall down her cheeks faster.
She shivers uncontrollably. What if father learns about it somehow? If he knows that she let her bruises be seen, there'll be severe consequences. He promised her that and he always keeps his promises. She's scared that he'll beat her to pieces – sure – but she's downright terrified that he'll kill her mama. That's what he said would be her punishment if she ever let her bruises be discovered. That's what he tells her always.
She doesn't want that to happen. Her mama can't die. She can't. She's a good person whose only mistake is become Quinn's mother. Judy's really nice to her. She always tells father to stop beating her even he shouldn't. She takes care of her when she's too sick to do anything. She's the only one Quinn has should Brittany get tired of her, too. Which may be anytime soon.
Mama's her only hope of being maybe, possibly loved.
She prays that father would believe her when she says she tried her best to hide her bruises. She really did. If only he would lessen her punishment and just beat her up instead of kill her mama. But she also knows he wouldn't believe her because she screwed up so much in the past. Why would he believe her now? Quinn barely believes herself.
She whimpers against her pillow, desperately wanting time to stop. Would that be impossible? She's terrified of tomorrow. What would Rachel and Santana think of her now? They say they're sorry – and Quinn's not even sure if they're sincere – but she'll be more of a freak in their eyes once they know she's a failure at home, too. She'd be an even bigger joke at school once everyone knows how her father sees her. How she sees herself.
What if they tell Brittany? Quinn's eyes go wide and her breath quickens even more. Will the kind blonde – who for some reason can actually stand her – be disgusted with her, too? Her chest feels impossibly heavy at that thought so she takes a few puffs from her inhaler.
She forces herself to be calmer – asthma only adds to the hurt. She closes her eyes lightly and tries to think of other things – anything that could distract her from her bad life. She tries to conjure White Rabbit in her mind and Mad Hatter and the Good Queen, the tea party and the huge chess board and the magic mushrooms – and they'd work for a while. She'd actually feel lighter.
But eventually – like always – her mind would go back to her reality and she'd find herself hurting again.
She has so many fears tonight, but on top of that is Brittany. What would she do now? If Frannie's here, she can tell Quinn what to do. But Frannie's not here – and she never will.
Then she remembers something: maybe if she finishes her drawing, Brittany can give her a leeway. She's not even that good of an artist but she knows she has to give Brittany something before their friendship – just like everything else in her life – ends. She hopes her drawing would somehow be enough for the nice blonde to consider Quinn's bad sides.
Hopefully Brittany would always want to be her friend even if the truth about her is told is all she thinks about as she approaches her table once more.
/
"What should we do now," Santana asks as they near Rachel's house. They have been uncharacteristically silent as they walk, both fearing to voice out their fears. "I mean, about Quinn. Do you think we should report what we saw? Like in child system or services or whatever the heck it's called?"
The shorter brunette takes a deep breath. She's been counting possibilities in her head, and right now there's just too many of them.
"Do you? Cause I don't know. We don't even know where that bruise is from. Or who's hurting her in the first place," Rachel answers. "Or if somebody really did hurt her. Or if it's happening regularly, which I really, really pray isn't."
And Rachel really does. Quinn's been through enough at school. Judging by how Quinn looked when they saw the bruise, though, Rachel couldn't be sure.
She shakes her head and tries to rid herself of terrible thoughts. Quinn is OK; Quinn would be OK. They're just being paranoid. A part of her really hates herself for leaving Quinn like that, but she doesn't discount the possibility that they could be thinking too much, too, out of guilt.
"Should we interrogate her parents? Maybe I can force that idiot father of hers to spill. I have a nagging feeling it's him," Santana says resolutely. "Like I wanted to punch him in the face when I first met him."
"No," Rachel answers with a slight shake of her head. "I mean, we can't ask her parents. If one of them really is hurting her, and they know that we somehow know, we will be putting Quinn in graver danger. We have to get the facts from people who we can be sure aren't hurting her."
"Like who," Santana asks. "Except Brittany, I don't know anyone who's close to her."
Rachel sighs, regret covering her features. "We could have been that if we did not screw it up. But we can still be. We should get her trust first. Or in my case, get her trust again. I want to help her, but I want to do it right. She's terrified about…something. I just don't know how we can get her to speak up without her flipping out on us."
"Yeah, me too," Santana answers.
"Maybe we can ask Brittany to ask her?"
Santana's immediately worried. "Yes, but I better not. If our suspicions are true then I don't want Brittany to get involved."
Rachel seems to understand what she's talking about. Brittany's not like anyone else. She sees all the good in the world and putting her in such a sensitive situation – should there be any – wouldn't be acceptable.
"Could it be anyone from school? Like some jocks, maybe," Rachel asks. "It's not impossible."
Rachel watches Santana think about it. Now that she has mentioned it, it could be possible, too. Jocks sometimes are clueless idiots and they could be hurting anyone without even realizing it.
"I don't know," Santana answers. "Could be. I hope it's someone from school. It'd be easier to put them in their places."
"I hope it isn't anyone at all," Rachel says quietly, and Santana couldn't help but agree. "Anyway, I'd concentrate on getting her trust first. You should, too. She can be a part of us."
Santana can only nod. "Yes, she should."
/
Walking towards school when she hasn't eaten is the worst part about walking – that much Quinn knows. Her hands are on her stomach, trying to ease the severe pain she feels there. The pain's made worse by the two fresh punches she has rightfully received from Father earlier. During breakfast, she was so lost in thought about what happened last night that she did not hear her father call her to the table.
Of course, Russel was furious for being ignored and punished her again. She winces as she remembers Father's angry face, but she shakes her head, controls her shaking hands and walks on, swallowing her hurt.
She deserved the punishment. There's no question to that. She shouldn't feel bad for herself. She's hurting, but her parents are hurting more because of her.
Quinn slows her walk when she realizes that she's in front of the house she passes by every morning and her heartbeat speeds up. She wills away thoughts about her father, as she's faced with another dilemma. She looks everywhere with rapt attention, trying to see if the owner is around and angry. When she sees that it's not so, she breathes out, relieved.
Although she knows in her heart that she can't stay and watch the dogs anymore, her steps become slower in their own accord. She's feeling so torn. She wants to just walk ahead to avoid being seen again but she also misses the puppies. So, so much. And she's really feeling heartbroken about last night and this morning. Seeing the cute puppies makes her feel a lot better all the time.
And she wants to feel better even if it's admittedly the last thing she deserves. Swallowing her anxiety, she quietly gets nearer the fence.
She's a bit late today though, and she's pretty sure the owner has already walked the dogs. Though her heart breaks even more at the thought, she tries to accept that there'll be no puppies again today. After about five more minutes of waiting, she decides to go ahead. She'd be late at school.
But as she turns her head to leave, her eyes spot a folded piece of paper at one of the gaps. Quinn gets near it, curious. She wonders if it's for her. She looks around her then decides she should open it. It could be important.
Hands shaking, she takes the paper, opens it slowly and reads the contents.
To the girl who looks through this gap every morning,
Hi. My name is Dani.
I have always noticed you peeking through this hole. Every day. At first I thought I was imagining things – yet again – but when I saw you again the next day, I knew I wasn't.
I guess that should scare me, but oddly enough, it doesn't. What's odder is that I think it's the other way around – I think it's me who scared you even if it's you who's sneaking up on me or whatever it is that you're doing.
Well, I'm kind of new here, and I could really use a friend or two. And I know this seems odder than everything else I've written here, but if you want to, maybe you can be one? You're not some serial killer, right?
P.S. Please put your response in the back. Don't worry, I would check this note every time I'm done walking my dogs so I will be able to read your reply if you ever would. If you don't have a pen, I hid one under the large leaf just below this letter.
Dani
Quinn's breathing in and out deeply as she finishes reading. She takes her own pen from her bag in lightning speed. Dani deserves a reply from her. She's nice enough to talk to Quinn – although in quite an unconventional way. And if she doesn't screw up in her reply, she might actually be allowed to watch the dogs every day.
Dani,
Hi.
My name is Quinn. I'm not a serial killer. I'm just a student. Don't be scared of me. I have a pen so I didn't use yours. I hope that's OK. I didn't touch it, too, so I think it's still under the leaf like you said.
Please allow me to peek here every morning. I promise I don't mean you harm. I just like watching your dogs; they're really cute. I have always wanted one but my parents won't allow me. I want to know about them. What are their names? What do they like? How do they sleep? Do they eat three times a day, too, like human beings?
I have more questions but it's OK if you won't answer them. I understand that you have more important things to do. Do you go to school, too? I do. I go to William McKinley High School but even if you go there, too, you probably don't know me. Or do you?
I'm very, very sorry for sneakily watching. Please don't be mad at me. I promise I'll be quiet and stay hidden the next time.
Thank you.
Quinn Fabray
Her hands are shaking slightly as she folds the letter carefully and puts it back between the gap, praying the words she used sounded nice and friendly and that she did not write anything that may upset Dani.
/
Rachel finally sees the blonde she's been eagerly looking for before third period that morning. Quinn is walking a few meters ahead of her, in that same meek and defensive way of hers. Rachel hastens her steps to keep up with her. The way the other students make way for the head cheerleader makes keeping up easier, but her legs are too short to be of any real help.
Quinn's walking fast – probably the way she does every day to save herself from other students' bullying – so Rachel has no choice but to do one thing that she knows will get everyone's attention and most probably kill her reputation. But she's decided last night that from now on, she wouldn't care a bit about her reputation. Or at least try to. Deep down, she knows it's not, and never will be, easy, but she plows on no matter what its results would be.
After all, everything would be fine in the end, right?
"Quinn," she calls loudly but gently, too scared to freak her out. She is too focused on Quinn's back to notice if she has just attracted every pair of eyes in the hallway.
To Rachel's dismay, the dorky girl jumps at her voice. She visibly shies away from her, refusing to acknowledge the head cheerleader as she walks faster towards her next class, books held tightly to her chest, head bent.
Rachel halts her steps, feeling like she's about to cry. She knows she deserves Quinn's snubbing, but it does not mean it hurt any less. She's desperate to talk to the blonde, but maybe now's really not the right time. She won't have time to talk to her anyway as their next class is approaching.
Only when Quinn has disappeared towards the corner does she feel that every eye's on her, and she can almost feel the emotions – surprised, shocked, freaked out even – surging through. She keeps her head up as she swivels and goes ahead, desperately willing herself not to care.
/
Jesse corners Rachel right after the morning's last period. She has ignored Jesse when she saw him earlier this morning. Her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend did not bother to initiate a conversation with her either.
She's more than fine with that. If she could just erase Jesse in her life then she'll be fine with that, too. But that's not possible, so she braces herself for this long overdue talk.
Whether she likes this or not, this has to happen.
"We need to talk," Jesse says.
"Yes, we do," she says just as determinedly.
Now or never.
"I'm not mad at you," Jesse starts self-righteously. "I know I should after what you've done, but I'm not. You should know that."
Rachel seethes immediately. The nerve of this guy. Like he has the right to be mad here. "Good to know," she says, her voice laced with sarcasm. "But I am mad at you, and you should know that, too."
Jesse makes a ridiculous expression, as if Rachel's being totally irrational. "Why?"
Rachel laughs humorlessly, asking all Jewish gods to grant her patience. "Are you seriously asking me that?"
"Is it because–? God, I don't understand you, Rachel. You're my girlfriend, and I just care about you. What's so wrong with that," Jesse says, his acting so well-executed that Rachel might believe him if she doesn't know better yet.
But she knows better now, although she had been too stupidly infatuated to see clearly before.
"Yes, it's wrong. Because you're lying. You don't really care about me. All you care about is yourself," she says. Swallowing bravely, she braces herself for what she says next, "And I'm not your anything."
It takes a few seconds for it to click inside Jesse's head. "What does that mean," he growls lowly, bewildered. He looks from side to side, trying to see if anyone heard what Rachel just said. Rachel can see the muscles in his neck tensing, but she refuses to let that intimidate her.
She doesn't break eye contact when she says, "What I mean is I'm done with this idiocy called 'being with you'. Let's break this- this- whatever-we-have between us because I'm pretty sure it's not love."
He gets close to her face. "You can't do that," he whispers threateningly. "You can't."
"Yes, I can. Especially since I know now that you never really love me. Thanks for proving to me that my decisions aren't yours, too. Because that's true love when you can't accept what the other one thinks about the world, isn't it?"
Jesse gapes at her. "Are you going insane? What are you talking about? You're actually doubting my love for you?"
"What's there to doubt? I'm not doubting your love me because it was inexistent. Now I know for a fact that you didn't. And I'm not up for this anymore, Jesse. I'm tired of pretending feeling special, of pretending that you make me feel special when I'm with you."
Rachel feels her eyes start to dampen. It's frustrating – the fact that her need to feel special is what propelled her to be with Jesse in the first place. And that need wasn't even truly fulfilled. That's probably what made her felt so empty before – because she has spent the past few months convincing herself that Jesse is exactly who she needs.
"But you were happy with me. We're the best couple here," Jesse answers, his face looking truly sad now. It's slowly sinking in his head. They're breaking up. And Rachel suddenly realizes that she doesn't want to hurt him. Jesse may be a douche at times but there are moments when his heart gets the better of his ambitions. They're very much alike – she's realizing that they're both lost in some ways – and that's what makes this all the more heartbreaking.
But she has to do this and she knows that.
"I seemed so happy because I was convincing myself that I was," she whispers. "We're not really in love, Jesse. We just loved what we are when we were together. We were just blinded by the idea that we love each other because of what we got from it."
"Bullshit," Jesse says, although he's more hurt that angered. He just let a few seconds of vulnerability show, though, because after a while, his eyes harden again. "Do you not understand what you're doing? You're throwing away everything," he says.
"I'm just doing the right thing," Rachel answers. "One of these days you'd understand why. When you realize and accept that it's not really me, you'll find the right one for you."
Jesse refuses to believe her. "Just don't make fucking excuses. You just can't accept that I can't accept that you're being friends with that stupid freaking weirdo who wouldn't be of any help for your rep. You can't accept that I'm right. You've gone crazy!"
All the sympathy he feels at Jesse disappears in an instant and she remembers why she's breaking up with him in the first place. "Listen to yourself! Is that how a normal person thinks? If there's somebody here who's crazy, it's definitely not me. And there's only two of us, so do the math. Quinn isn't some weirdo. Why is it so hard for everyone to see that!?"
"Because she is! And that's what everyone will see because that's what she is."
"She's not! You don't know her at all!"
"Who is she then?"
It takes a while for Rachel to answer. She feels herself backtrack. After last night, she realizes she doesn't really know the girl at all.
She's sure about one thing, though.
"She's somebody better than all of us combined," she tells him decisively.
Jesse laughs, truly amused. "Good Lord. Fine. Go be friends with that freak. Good riddance. You've made your choice," he says. "And I can't wait for you to regret it."
"I'm pretty sure I won't," Rachel says. Quinn is worth this, she repeats in her mind over and over again.
Freeing my conscience from this guilt would be worth it.
"Yeah, convince yourself that," Jesse answers. "And keep doing so until you grow old alone. You're hallucinating if you're thinking you can find somebody who would ever love you just for who you are. Truth be told, you're not really that pretty and your nose is awful. You're not as special as you seem. If you weren't head cheerleader, I wouldn't have a tiny bit of interest in you."
Rachel braces herself; controlling her emotions. Jesse's just hurt. He doesn't mean it.
"Maybe it's about time you lose that position, by the way," Jesse adds as Rachel remained uncharacteristically speechless. "Frankly speaking, you don't really look the part."
"And you better watch your back. Without me beside you, it might not take long."
With that and a satisfied smirk, he walks away.
Only when he has rounded the corner does Rachel let the tears fall. She can't believe she let him off the hook without saying anything back.
Whatever. Screw you, Jesse, she says in her mind even if she knows some of what he said about her is true.
/
Quinn sees Brittany as soon as she reaches the intersection. Her heart beats in not-so-positive anticipation. She's not sure how yesterday went. Brittany's so nice, but she still thinks she did something wrong. She had slept on Brittany when the other girl was so happy to be in the park. She must have had been so disappointed. And she did not play that funny bird game when Brittany asked her to. Maybe that's enough to get her mad?
She chooses to stay where she is and wait until Brittany sees her. It'd be less embarrassing if the blonde decides to dismiss her then. She moves closer to the lockers, tries to look small and clamps her hands together to lessen their shaking.
"Hi Quinn," Brittany chirps as soon as she notices her. Smiling giddily, she power walks towards the other blonde.
Quinn feels her heart soar as she watches Brittany gets closer. She's so relieved that the kind girl is still so accepting of her. It must mean she did not screw up yesterday. And Rachel and Santana hasn't told her anything yet.
Still, she fights the urge to step back. The memory of the early morning encounter with her father is still getting the best of her.
Quinn tries to smile back at Brittany but she's too nervous to do so. Her lips are quivering, and she can't form a smile, so she settles with giving her a shaky wave.
Her face turning a little worried, the taller blonde opens her arms invitingly and pulls Quinn closer to her like a real friend would. Though it does not completely surprise Quinn, it overwhelms her a little so she whimpers quietly as Brittany's arms envelop her. Her stomach still hurts, and it hurts more with the tight hug, but Brittany feels so safe and comforting that she sinks into it nonetheless.
"Are you okay," Brittany asks worriedly as she pulls back. "Are you scared again? Did someone do something to you?"
Quinn shakes her head, catching Brittany's eyes. She tries to read Brittany's face, looking for any sign of anger – or of insincerity. She feels more stupid for not being able to trust the blonde but something inside tells her to not keep her hopes afloat. To try not to be hurt.
"I-I'm fine," she answers.
It earns a relieved smile from Brittany. This time, though a little nervous still, Quinn manages to smile back. Brittany really doesn't seem angry or disappointed. "Good, then," she tells her. "You'll be fine with me, Quinn. Don't worry."
Brittany is watching her closely, worriedly and Quinn starts to feel self-conscious. "Your eyes look really tired, though," the taller blonde adds. "Didn't you sleep well?"
"I-I did. I mean, I s-slept OK," Quinn lies. "H-how about you?"
"Not really. I was actually thinking about you," Brittany says with a gentle smile. Quinn's initial reaction is to be guilty. Not being able to sleep well at night leads to tired mornings, that much she knows.
Thankfully, Brittany continues, "I'm just so happy that you're my friend now. Let's have lunch?"
Quinn nods with a slight blush, feeling a little overwhelmed, but a little giddy, too. She really likes Brittany. The last time with her was the happiest of her school days so far and she wishes she could be with Brittany always. Her friend.
They're going to the cafeteria again, and although she's still apprehensive of the place, Quinn doesn't feel as scared now. Brittany will protect her, just like the last time.
"Is it OK if we invite Rachel for lunch? Would you mind? I'm still mad at her but I think she's pretty sad today," Brittany asks as they walk.
Quinn feels worry replace the happy feeling in her heart again, her face paling. Rachel's sad? Is it because of her again? Is it because she did not turn back when she called her earlier?
Quinn twists her hands together, feeling her eyes burn slightly. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The regret she feels from earlier triples.
"S-she's sad?"
Brittany nods, pouting lightly. "I heard her and Jesse fighting earlier. I'm good at hiding, though, so they didn't see me. They broke up and Jesse said mean things to her. I think she'd feel better if we let her eat with us. She texted me this morning but I haven't replied yet. I want to know what you think."
"O-of course, it's OK," Quinn answers, her heart hurting for Rachel. She wishes she'd be OK.
/
Santana is a determined sexy lioness. She just came from harassing football's Finn Hudson and hockey's Rick the Stick, asking them if they have physically manhandled any girl. Rick said only the guys who were being more of an idiot than him (which probably means Azimio and JewFro, and probably Puck). Finn – who's really not intimidating at all – said no. Hard as it may seem to fathom, Santana thinks she actually believes them.
She has also asked them to unleash their inner men and interrogate people from their team about the beating.
And now she's here to interrogate Puck, who she sees French kissing a cheerleader in the bleachers. She stands in front of them, staring unmoving, until the girl finally feels self-conscious and leaves.
"Hey HIV," she greets him once What's-Her-Face is gone.
"Santana," the idiot greets back with that he-thinks-is-sexy-but-is-actually-idiotic smirk of his. He doesn't seem at all bothered that the girl left him cold. He sits a little straighter, and urges her to sit next to him.
"Don't Santana me," she snaps at him, staying where she's at. She's not here to make out with him.
"Ohhhhh. PMS-ing again," he says, wiggling his eyebrows meaningfully. PMS for the idiot means 'Puckerman missed sexually.' "Need me to cure that again?"
She rolls her eyes. "Cure your own stupidity first."
"Geez. You're even harder to understand today," he tells her. "What's the problem?"
She cuts it to the chase because that's how things work between them. "My problem is I think somebody at this school's hurting a girl and I think it could be you."
Puck's tilts his head back incredulously. "What?"
The offended look on his face almost makes Santana feel bad. Puck rarely gets truly offended.
But only almost.
"We're in the same pack, Puckerman – shenanigans who probably wouldn't go anywhere. But if I know that you're hurting another girl physically then I'd leave our pack and kill your entire clan."
"Geez. I may be a dead beat but I don't beat on girls," Puck says, a little defensively. She must have really hurt his feelings, making her feel almost bad. "You of all people should know that. You're offending me right now. I'm telling you straight to the face that I haven't beaten any woman. Unlike my dad, I respect my mom and sister."
Santana stares at him fiercely. Puck returns the stare, seemingly unfazed. The stare-down lasts a few seconds, but Santana look away first. She relents; she can call Puck anything, but he's not a liar.
"Fine. But you're muscular ass better not be lying. If I learn that you have, in any way, hurt any girl, I'm going to beat you up with my boob. That's a promise."
"Cool," Puck answers, eyes momentarily glancing towards Santana's boobs. It looks like he might actually like the arrangement. The offended look on his face disappears in an instant. He winks at her.
Santana rolls her eyes.
Hesitantly she adds, "And, uhm, can I ask you a favor? I'm sure your cousin would appreciate it if you help."
"Cool. Anything for Jew-sis," Puck tells her.
Santana nods. "Good. This may sound weird, even for your pea-sized mind, but can you keep an extra eye on Quinn Fabray?"
Puck looks more confused than he usually is, and Santana isn't surprised. "Quinn Fabray?"
"Yes, Quinn Fabray. I'm pretty sure you know her. Well, Rachel and I are watching her back from now on, and would it be cool if you do the same?"
Puck thinks about that shortly. Santana waits.
"Of course. Again, anything for Jew-sis. But why the sudden change of heart? I thought you hated the girl – who's hot though weird by the way – with all your heart and all that shit."
"I don't have time to explain, Noah Puckerman. People change. Deal with it."
She turns on her heel and leaves, leaving a very confused Puck behind.
/
Quinn looks at the food in front of her and smiles a little. It's better than most days. The nice lunch lady smiled at her and gave her a sandwich along with the banana she always buys. Brittany bought a slice of cake for her, too, and a burger.
She discreetly looks at her f-friend beside her. The blonde is tapping at her phone, her face looking a little unhappy. Quinn feels her heart immediately skip a beat at the sight. She feels the back of her neck grow hot, a nervous pang rising in her stomach.
What did she do wrong just now? Is she losing Brittany?
Her hand trembles slightly again. What's happening? Is Brittany texting Rachel and Santana? Did they tell her about Quinn's bruise? Does Brittany know her very bad side now?
Too lost in her head, she doesn't notice Brittany turn to her.
"Quinn," Brittany calls suddenly, making Quinn jump slightly. She tries to control her shaking hands but to no avail. She wishes Brittany doesn't notice as she hides them under the table.
"Y-yes," she asks, hating how her voice sounded a tad too shaky. She tries to meet Brittany's eyes, her own already watering a little. She waits for the disappointment. The anger. The pain.
Nothing comes.
"Is it OK if Santana would be here, too," the taller blonde asks uncertainly. "Don't worry I promise not to let her touch you."
Quinn feels the hot feeling on her neck sizzle a little – but only very slightly.
"S-Santana?"
Brittany nods. "Yeah."
Quinn doesn't have to think about what to say to that. She's actually embarrassed that she's here and Brittany's two friends aren't. Sure, Santana really scares her, but she's Brittany's friend before she happened, and she can't ruin their friendship even more than she already did. She doesn't even deserve it in the first place.
"O-OK, Brittany. It's fine with m-me," she answers. "W-whatever you want."
"Thanks, Quinn," Brittany says, squeezing her hand shortly. Quinn smiles a little at the action then watches silently as Brittany text someone.
"I uhm- I did something…for you, Brittany," Quinn blurts out suddenly, then blushes, fumbling for more words to properly express what she wants to say. "Because…uhm…y-you've been so nice to me."
Brittany's face light up instantly. "Really? What is it," she asks excitedly.
The giddiness in Brittany's face makes Quinn a lot less apprehensive. "I uhm…It's not really m-much but I w-was thinking of y-you as I did it," Quinn says shakily as she pulls something from her backpack. She gets an old folder out of her bag, but then hesitates once she gets it out.
Brittany watches Quinn's adorably nervous expression. "Is that it? Can I have it now?"
Quinn nods almost unperceptively then hands the folder really fast to Brittany. Like she might not actually have the courage to hand it over if she doesn't do so quickly. Brittany squeezes her hand over the table to assuage her fears before opening the folder.
"Wow," Brittany exclaims, widened eyes moving from her portrait to a now deeply blushing Quinn. "Unbelievable. Did you do this?"
Quinn bites her lips and nods, glancing at Brittany for a very short time. Very short. She diverts her eyes to her plate with lightning speed.
"This is really, really, really, really, really beautiful, Quinn. Thank you. I'm going to hug you right now," Brittany says, moving to hug the smaller girl. Quinn accepts the hug shyly.
"I don't remember posing for you or giving you any photo, though," Brittany voices out thoughtfully as she sinks back on her seat.
"I can draw by m-memory," Quinn says softly, shyly. She's still red in the face and can't look at Brittany directly.
"Wow. You're even more talented than I thought," Brittany chirps. "You should do something like this more and have them displayed in a museum or somewhere like a museum. The world needs to know how wonderful you truly are."
Quinn lowers her head again. "T-thank you for l-liking it. You're very nice. I-I'm not t-that great though."
"Nonsense, Quinn. Like I said, you're awesomazing," she validates with a wink.
Quinn, who is blushing profusely for a rare compliment, can only think of drawing something for Brittany again.
/
Ms. Sylvester called Santana to her office for an unknown reason, so Rachel has to join Brittany and Quinn for lunch alone. It would be a whole lot easier if Santana's with her especially since she still can't think straight after what transpired between her and Jesse. She wants to smack the cheerleading coach for being the queen of wrong timing. But Brittany asking her to have lunch with her and Quinn is a miracle, and she'd be crazy to let it pass. Besides, she really can't smack Sue. Despite the whole gay federation backing up her fathers and her by extension, Sue has the United States Army behind her.
No kidding.
She feels her heart rate pick up as she nears the entrance to the cafeteria. Her knees are even shaking, darn it. She has conditioned herself for the past few hours that Quinn and Brittany's worth all the possible repercussions of these all, and she's still the head cheerleader so screw them all, but it doesn't mean she's any less terrified. With Jesse working against her now, there'd be a bigger wall to break, more antagonists to fight.
Swallowing visibly, she enters the cafeteria. Several Cheerios notice her immediately. Rachel tries to ignore them as she looks for the two blondes who rightfully need her apology. She sees them at the corner-most table to the left. They're sitting side and by side, and her heart warms when she sees Quinn smile shyly at something Brittany has said.
Gosh, her smile's precious.
Shaking her head, Rachel wonders why her mind goes to that and she awkwardly shuffles towards the arrays of food instead. The blondes haven't seen her yet, and she buys as much time as she can to strengthen her resolve.
When she finishes ordering, she lets her feet carry her to the table Brit and Quinn are occupying. She can feel some eyes on her, but she lifts her chin up and walks on.
Now or never.
Wow, that really is her new mantra.
When Brittany sees her coming, she acknowledges her with a polite nod, and gestures that she sits in the seat in front of Quinn. There's no smile. Or a Brittany hug. Like the usual. And it sucks that she knows she doesn't warrant them for now.
She sits awkwardly on the seat Brittany pointed to, her eyes worriedly studying Quinn. The dorky girl has her head down and her hands are shaking slightly, but Rachel can tell that she's making an effort to meet Rachel's eyes, if her lip-biting is any indication.
Rachel hears a few gasps and whispers around her, but she tries her best to ignore them. She glances at the next table, and sees Melissa with her fellow Cheerios looking like they might explode – both in shock and anger. Rachel mans up and glares at them, making them all look away effectively.
She smirks internally as she turns her eyes to a nervous Quinn again. Though she swears she can hear Melissa and her minions talking about her, she doesn't care. She's still intimidating them and that's something. Also, for some reason, her eyes keep bouncing back to the blonde, even if Quinn never looks back at her in return.
"Hi, Quinn," she says as nicely as she can once she sits down fully.
"H-hi," Quinn answers hoarsely, lifting her head a little, although she doesn't really meet Rachel's eyes. Brittany squeezes Quinn's hand comfortingly, silently telling her that it's OK. Quinn offers the taller blonde a shaky smile before glancing at Rachel shortly.
Rachel smiles kindly at her. Her heart soars when Quinn manages a shaky smile back at her, before her eyes are drawn to her plate again.
Brittany asks her where Santana is and she tells her about Sue's emergency discussion. Brittany nods and tells her to start eating and she follows the order like a puppy does to a master it just bit.
Rachel thinks that analogy's not that bad at all.
/
The silence as they eat is deafening. Brittany has excused herself to the bathroom a few seconds ago. It's only her and Quinn now, and Rachel busies herself by stuffing anything into her mouth, only glancing at Quinn from time to time. She wants to talk to the blonde, tell her she's very sorry again, but she really doesn't know where to start.
To her surprise, it's Quinn who speaks first.
"I j-just fell," Quinn unexpectedly whispers in front of her. Rachel turns her head towards the blonde, a little confused at first. Quinn has her eyes and shoulders down, looking scared and shaking a little. The sight makes Rachel's heart drop once more. "L-last night what y-you saw… The br-bruise… It was- I was- I just fell."
Rachel's brow furrows, gauging Quinn's stance. "Are you sure," she asks softly. Everything has to be done softly with the fragile girl, she feels. It doesn't take long for her to get worked up. As she spends more time with the blonde, her concern does nothing but grow.
"Yes. I wasn't w-watching the stairs," Quinn whispers again, moving her head towards Rachel and catching her eyes shortly to try to assure her that she's telling the truth. The sadness in them almost makes the truthfulness of her answer imperceptible, but to assuage the blonde's nervous look, Rachel decides to let it go for now.
"If you say so, Quinn," she says reassuringly. Still, "Are you okay though? The bruise looked nasty. We need to put something on it to fasten its healing. We can go to the clinic, or you can come with me at home after class. We have an array of effective medicines for every type of injury and illness."
Quinn keeps her eyes cast downward as she shakes her head subtly. "No, please. M-mama already put s-something on it. Th-this morning," she answers.
"That's good, then," Rachel says. She doesn't miss Quinn's slight wince along with her agreement. Was it because the blonde had been lying? Should Rachel keep asking? Or would that pull Quinn away?
It sucks not knowing what to do. She only wants to help; she's desperate to do so.
She looks at a sad, guarded Quinn again, then sighs internally. Maybe just safe, easy questions for now.
"Uhm, is it working? I mean, whatever your mom put?"
Quinn nods a little. "I th-think so. It feels b-better now."
"Was the fall bad? Were you hurt somewhere else?"
Quinn shakes her head, making Rachel sigh internally again. Quinn wouldn't tell her anything today. If she didn't screw their friendship up, it would be easier to get the blonde to talk. She makes an internal promise to never, ever screw up again.
"Don't hesitate to tell any of us if you're hurting, OK?"
Quinn stares back at Rachel then, sad hazel eyes meeting concerned brown ones. Rachel wonders if Quinn's eyes were always a little bit teary like that. "OK, Rachel."
Rachel looks briefly down her plate, before looking at Quinn as she remembers something.
"How's Frankie," she asks with a small smile, deciding being dorky around the blonde wouldn't hurt. It's wrong to use an innocent stuffed lamb to get closer to Quinn, but she really is a little curious about the toy the blonde seems to love so much. It earns a small, albeit still sad, smile from the other girl. Rachel's heart skips a beat at how pretty that smile is.
Yep, being dorky really wouldn't hurt.
"He's OK," Quinn answers. "He's here. You, uhm, maybe want to see him," she asks innocently. Then her eyes widen in surprise at her own words. "Or n-not. I mean, if you… I'm s-sorry," she said.
Rachel feels her heart drop at how more careful Quinn seems to be around her. So much for screwing up. But she manages to smile to calm Quinn down. "Yes, please, Quinn. I really want to see him. He's been missed."
The blonde nods and smiles again before moving to get the lamb out of her bag. She hands him to Rachel shyly, biting her lip. For some reason, Rachel's heart beats faster at the sight. She bets she couldn't find anything else in the world that's sweeter than Quinn.
"You can c-cuddle him," Quinn informs her.
Rachel smiles again, petting the lamb on the ears. "He's really cute. How old is he?"
"He is," Quinn answers. Her eyes are now at Frankie. She looks so happy for and proud of his friend. "I don't know how old he is. But it's been nine years since he was given to me."
"He doesn't look nine to me," Rachel comments. "Eight years and three hundred and sixty-four days, maybe," she adds. It earns a low giggle from Quinn. The giggle surprises Rachel.
The joke's as old as time, she thinks with a fond smile on her face. Santana would have had announced in Facebook that Rachel even joked that in the first place just to embarrass her.
Rachel stops petting Frankie for a while, then stares at Quinn as she remembers another thing. "Quinn, can I ask you a personal question?"
The blonde looks at her then, surprisingly maintaining eye contact. Rachel makes a mental fist-pump. Her toy-involving tactic and century-old joke worked. "W-what is it, Rachel?"
"When you were at our house, you told me your sister gave Frankie to you," she asks carefully, watching Quinn closely. She sees sorrow creep once more to hazel eyes. They look close to gold now, with the sunlight hitting them in the right places. They're beautiful; Rachel can't help but be awed.
But the blonde lowers her head sadly, hiding them again from the world, and Rachel feels her own voice falter as she asks, "How is she? Is she still in Lima?"
Quinn shakes her head, starting to play with her fingers. Her breaths get shaky and Rachel wants to beat herself up for whatever it is that she did wrong.
Then realization dawns on her, making her heart thud. Is it her sister that's hurting her? Is that why Quinn suddenly seemed sad?
"I-it's OK if you don't want to tell me about her, Quinn," Rachel says concernedly, clearing her throat. "I understand if you don't trust me right now. I'm sorry."
Quinn shakes her head. "Don't be s-sorry. Frannie, m-my sister, she's…uhm…she's g-gone now," she whispers, voice faltering. "She's n-now in heaven."
Rachel immediately regrets ever asking that question – or thinking about Quinn's sister being the one to hurt her. She never really had a sibling and she can but imagine the pain Quinn must have had felt when she lost Frannie. It must have had stung so much; no wonder Quinn seems really, really sad. She wishes she can hug Quinn now but after what happened between them, but she isn't sure how Quinn will take it.
Quinn isn't crying, but she looks so small and sorrowful then, and Rachel, for the nth time that day, doesn't know what to do. Should she stay in her seat or should she swallow her uncertainty and offer comfort? Would her comfort be welcome, or, like last night, would that only make things worse?
She's saved by Brittany, who just came back from the lavatory. She immediately notices Quinn's distressed state.
"Hey," Brittany says, sliding next to Quinn as fast as she can and automatically pulling the smaller blonde into a comforting hug. Quinn quietly sinks into it, burying her face against Brittany's neck.
Brittany looks at Rachel with foreign judgment in her eyes – but it's more protective than anything – and the brunette feels her cheeks burn and heart grow cold. She's screwing up again, even if she doesn't mean to. It's a bad feeling, and Rachel's heart hurts more that Quinn's told her she felt this way before, too.
"I'm sorry, I-I just asked the wrong question. I swear I didn't mean to upset her. I promise that."
Brittany turns her head to the silent blonde then asks, "What's wrong, Quinnie? Had Rachel been mean to you? Don't be scared to tell me if she did. I'm bigger than her."
Quinn shakes her head, but doesn't get out of the hug. "No, s-she didn't d-do anything, Brittany."
"Then why do you look so down?"
"N-nothing," she whispers back.
"Are you sure?"
Quinn nods a little before breaking herself out of the hug, keeping her eyes cast downward. Brittany rubs her back a few times and glances at Rachel sadly.
But Quinn continues eating quietly after a while, and the two other girls do so, too, though a bit more reluctantly.
/
"Frannie?"
"Hmmmm?"
"Can I open my eyes now," little Quinn asks once more. She's sitting on the big root on their hill as Frannie prepares her surprise. The older Fabray glances at her, then smiles. Quinn's still sitting there, totally well-behaved. Frankie is cradled safely in her chest. Quinn's slightly bouncing knees are the only indication that she's dead stoked to know what her older sister is planning on her birthday.
Frannie doesn't have to put a blindfold over Quinn's eyes to make sure she wouldn't peek, probably out of all the kids in the world. She knows Quinn's terribly excited, but she's outstandingly patient and obedient, too.
"Not yet, Baby Girl," she answers. "Give me just a minute."
"OK," her sister says as she places her chin on Frankie's head. "Can I have a clue on what you're doing, though?"
"No."
Frannie hears Quinn exhale disappointedly, making her smirk. "OK," Quinn says.
The younger Fabray is silent for a while, until she eventually gets bored just sitting there so she starts humming their song. Smiling fondly at her sister's slightly out-of-breath yet melodic and sweet humming, Frannie prepares her surprise a little slower so she could listen to it longer. Quinn doesn't really sing a lot – she's shy and doesn't know a lot of songs – so Frannie treasures every moment she does so.
"Are you done yet," Quinn asks after a minute. Almost exactly. Frannie's sure she counted in her mind.
"OK. I'm all done now," she finally says, to which Quinn gasps in excitement. "But don't open your eyes yet," she adds seriously before her sister does so. Quinn nods eagerly and tries to keeps her bouncing hands still in front of her.
Frannie surveys her surprise one last time to make sure she did not forget anything before walking towards her sister and guiding her in front of her surprise. She keeps her hands on her sister's thin shoulders.
"OK. Open your eyes now."
Quinn takes two deep breaths – steeling herself – then does what her sister asks. Frannie, who's watching her reaction, feels her heart swell as she sees Quinn's face come alight with pure joy as she sees the surprise.
Frannie feels her cheeks heat up. It's nothing special, really, and she's not just being modest. It's just a simple picnic set with four hamburgers (her favorite) and four bacon burgers (Quinn's favorite), chocolate cake ('with a Happy birthday, My Lucy' on top), iced tea, gummy bear jars and cookies. There are two party hats, a horn and a popper. There's a tiny version of food set for Frankie, too, because he's real in Quinn's eyes. Apart from that, there's nothing more.
Frannie doesn't expect Quinn to be that happy. But she is, and all Frannie could think about is that she's so proud of herself for doing this.
Her sister looks up at her then – precious happiness bubbling from her innocent eyes – and Frannie couldn't resist pulling her sister in for a tight hug. For some bizarre reason, she feels clingy for the past few days, especially to Quinn.
"Thank you, Frannie," Quinn says as she hugs her. "Thank you one trillion times."
"Always for you, Quinn," she answers, willing herself not to cry. "Always."
Once they break away from the hug, the younger blonde hurriedly takes her shoes off so she could sit inside the picnic cloth. To her apparent dismay, Frannie stops her. "Not too fast, kiddo. We can't party yet. We're not in our proper attires," she says.
Quinn, who stops in the middle of pulling her right shoe out, looks up at her confusedly, then down her dress. When she looks at Frannie again, the older sister notices anxiety build up fast in her eyes. She's wondering what's wrong with her dress. But she also know that that's only what's in the surface; Quinn may be worrying about something more. Frannie wishes she knows everything her sister is thinking.
Sighing, Frannie ruffles her hair. "Don't worry. It's just an intro to my second surprise." She winks at Quinn. "I brought party attires for the both of us."
Quinn looks confused, so Frannie smiles at her reassuringly.
"Stay here," Frannie says, proceeding to where she left a paper bag. She pulls out two shirts from it, then gets back to Quinn.
"And here, kiddo, are our party attires," she says, showing Quinn the shirts with a nervous grin. She hopes Quinn will appreciate the "Bestest little sister" and "Bestest big sister" shirts she had had made.
They're both pink because it's Quinn's favorite color, and Quinn deserves to have all of her favorites today, and more.
She carefully looks at her sister. Tears are falling graciously from her eyes now and Frannie hopes it's out of overwhelming happiness. She can't afford to make her precious angel sad on her birthday. She wipes at Quinn's cheeks gently, smiling warmly as she then helps her sister put the shirt over her dress.
The older Fabray gives the cue to start the party and they both giggle as they sit inside the picnic cloth. Quinn also positions Frankie in front of his food. They are having the time of their lives.
Frannie has just stealthily put icing on Quinn's right cheek when her phone vibrates. Quinn is still oblivious to the cake stain as Frannie gets the phone from her pocket.
"Your order's here, ma'am. You may get it anytime." It was from the Lima Super Mall manager.
The text makes Frannie's day all the more perfect. She stares at her happily oblivious sister, who still has the cake stain on her cheek. Frannie wipes it off fondly. Quinn doesn't seem to have any idea about the stain that has come and gone as she continues to concentrate on her cake.
Quinn said she wants a stuffed pink elephant with grey polka dots for her birthday, and that's what she's going to get. She deserves nothing less than what she wants. Frannie has practically begged the store manager to get something like that done, and Frannie must have had looked so desperate then that the manager eventually said she'll see what she can do.
"Sure thing. Thank you. You've saved this day, superwoman," she replies before looking at her sister. "I just received my cue. You stay here, OK? I have to go."
"Where are you going, Frannie," Quinn asks worriedly, a heartbroken look crossing her face as she pauses from eating her cake for the first time.
Although Quinn always wears that sad, worried look, Frannie thinks she will never be capable of getting used to it. She places her hands on both of her sister's cheeks and stretches them upward so her Quinn's mouth would form a smile instead. "There, that looks better," she says, earning a real giggle from her sister. "No worries. I'd just be lost for, like, ten minutes to get your other present."
Quinn's mouth and eyes widen slightly in surprise. "I still have another one?"
"Yes, Quinn. Heard it right."
"But these are so much already, Frannie," Quinn says, gesturing at the picnic set. Her eyes are as sincere as ever.
"Pfff. No, Quinnie. Nothing's too much for you. Especially today. A nice little princess deserves to get what her heart desires during her birthday. And you're a nice little princess; there's no question to it."
Quinn looks down her lap shyly and blushes, although Frannie can tell that she isn't really convinced with that.
"Wait for me here, Little Princess. OK? I won't take long. If I take longer than 30 minutes, you can eat all my burgers," she says, making a very serious face at Quinn.
She knows that Quinn knows she's serious when she puts her burgers on the line.
Quinn still looks a little apprehensive, but she nods at Frannie anyway. "OK. Be back fast."
"Will do. Be good and brave while I'm gone," Frannie says, kissing Quinn in the forehead then standing up.
"Of course, Frannie," Quinn answers. "As good and brave as you are." She then smiles and offers her sister a cute little wave. Frannie smiles and waves back.
She has no idea that that farewell is a signal of something more. If she has, she would have had hugged Quinn longer and never left.