A.N.: I feel like I haven't updated for centuries so I figured I owe you some replies for simply being amazing.
Wow, I think "Very Long Review" deserves a mention. Thank you for taking some time to write that. It was a very long review indeed. It was heartwarming, really, how you took an effort to do something like that for this story. The same goes to you Riza Hawkeye who did the same thing in Chapter 9. You're both awesome!
For the guest who mentioned Ava Lynn, yes, I read about her, too and what happened to her was just plain unacceptable. The people who did those things to her would get what's coming to them; that's for sure.
Nelly, yes, the MV for INTOO is nothing short of perfection. I don't think my story is comparable to that in terms of quality, though, but thank you so much still.
And to all those who were kind enough to follow, favorite and leave a review, thank you.
So here's the next chapter. I hope you like it. And I was legit crying while writing the last part so I think this serves as a fair warning to you all.
Shoutout to the best beta in the world, NaggingGargoyle and to who I consider my PM friends: Astarpen and Izabella G.D. And oh, if you haven't read their stories yet, it would be wise to do so now.
/
The lunch is just as awkward near its end as when Rachel first arrived. Quinn's sad mood seems to have persisted, broken only by Brittany's occasional cute comment, obviously meant to cheer her up.
However, even that – which served as Rachel's temporary leeway – ended soon as well, when Santana arrived and called Brittany to Sue's office. Apparently, Brittany was needed by their coach for some unknown reason.
It's only the two of them again now. Rachel taps her fingers on the table as she stealthily sneaks a few glances at Quinn, who is dipping a fry in ketchup. Even when eating, she looks sweet and shy and adorable, Rachel thinks. Quinn purses her lips before taking a bite, some of the ketchup remaining on her lip. She licks them shyly when she notices Rachel staring at them.
The innocent action – too innocent – is making Rachel feel something she can't quite put into words.
Momentarily distracted by that, Rachel inhales deeply and takes a bite off her own fry.
OK, what the heck was that?
The more pressing question at the moment, however, is 'What should I say now,' and so she foregoes the first question. For now, at least.
Then, suddenly, like she's in some movie, she hears Hiram's voice in her head.
She'll probably have a hard time believing you really want to be friends with her, but just be sincere. She'll feel it.
Inspired by that, she is about to tell Quinn that she thinks she's cute, but almost immediately decides that it would be devastatingly awkward. Sighing inwardly, she opts to let the rest of the meal pass in silence instead. It might be too early for blurting ridiculous things like that.
Well, silence is awkward too, but she figures it's better than freaking Quinn out and completely messing up the lunch.
Even after they finish eating, the awkward silence persists. Rachel watches as Quinn starts to gather her things and makes her move. She's vowed to protect this girl and she's sticking with it. This is the first and perhaps the biggest step. From now on, as much as can, she won't let Quinn be alone at school, no matter the cost.
"I'll walk with you," Rachel says, standing up swiftly when she sees Quinn start to stand. Quinn glances at her, looking conused. "Your room is along the way to mine so…yeah," Rachel ends clumsily.
"You know where my next class is?"
Oops. Now that I think of it, no, I don't. Nice thinking, Rachel.
"I mean it must be on the way to mine. Everything's on the way to, uhm, everything in this school," she says with a little wince that she hopes goes unnoticed.
Yeah, Berry. That was smooth.
With the puzzled look Quinn's giving her, she's not so sure Quinn didn't notice, though.
For a while, Quinn's face turns even more confused, but then she bites her lip, stares down at her shoes and whispers, "It's OK, Rachel. I don't want your f-friends to think..."
"I don't care about them," Rachel blurts out before Quinn can finish the sentence. She knows it would end with Quinn belittling herself once more and that's the last thing she wants. "They're…they're not my friends – at least not my real ones."
"I'm sure they like you. You're really nice," Quinn says with a shy smile.
Rachel feels her heart sink. From what, she doesn't know. Guilt, most probably. Self-hatred and knowing that she's undeserving, too. After all Rachel's done to her, Quinn still thinks she's nice. It would be easy to say that Quinn's just naïve – but something inside her tells her otherwise. More than Quinn's naivety, it's her pureness of heart that allows her to see only the best in people, and that's what kills Rachel the most.
I'm the farthest thing from nice, she wants to tell her, but at the last moment decides to keep it unsaid. Quinn wouldn't believe her anyway, and Rachel doesn't want to show her own insecurities in front of Quinn. She's more important to her than Rachel herself right now, and she doesn't need anything else weighing her down.
"But I don't want to be their friend. I want to be yours," she says instead, unable to keep that tinge of hopefulness out of her voice. Her eyes widen when she realizes what she's just said.
Darn! She's such an idiot! She can't ask that of Quinn after what happened!
Friendship should come naturally, but in their case, she knows it has to be earned.
"I mean, if you still want to be," she adds swiftly, trying to sound as smooth as she can. "I'd really understand if you didn't. I'd work my way to it. Brittany's told me you've set some conditions for me and Santana to follow and we'll abide by them the best we can to show you we're sincere."
Quinn looks at Rachel, her brows slightly furrowed. "Conditions?"
"Yeah, the ones –" Rachel stops midway through her explanation. Of course Quinn wouldn't have come up with the conditions. It must have been Brittany.
"I mean, Brittany made me promise some things. I made Santana promise, too. I know she'd been awful to you but believe it or not, she also wants the chance to be your friend."
"It's OK. She only did what was right. If she wants, we can be friends," Quinn says, rubbing her palms nervously.
"No, Quinn, nothing she did was right," Rachel counters. "You did not deserve that treatment. That is why it's us who will work hard to be your friends. I know it's hard to believe that we want to after what we did, but we really do."
/
Rachel has called Brittany again the night after both blondes went to the park. Brittany said she was finalizing Quinn's conditions and asked Rachel to call later.
"I'd do anything to prove to you that I'm sincere," Rachel says later when she calls Brittany again, sitting on her mostly pink bed. "Anything, Bee."
It's the first night she didn't receive any call from Jesse, and she doesn't feel a bit of unease. In fact, all she can think about is Quinn and how she has failed to keep her promise to her.
Maybe the breakup with him really was for the best. She can only hope that he's well tonight.
"Of course," Brittany says, sounding pleased with herself.
"What are the conditions?"
"Right. Listen carefully, Rachel, because I'm only going to say everything once."
Rachel can't help being both impressed and – surprisingly – intimidated. Wow. Brittany sure is feisty when she wants to be.
"I'm listening," Rachel answers, staring at the feathered pen in her right hand and the notepad on her lap. She put them there for good measure – she's determined not to mess anything up this time.
"Good. Now listen closely because if you mess up even half of one of these rules, there'd be hell to pay. Number 1: the two of you shall work hard to earn Quinn's forgiveness," Brittany says and Rachel nods resolutely as she jots down 'earn forgiveness' in all caps. It's fair enough and well-deserved. "What you did was unforgivable, but Quinn needs you as friends – yes, even Santana – and I wouldn't deprive her of that. However, since she is an uber nice person who would surely forgive you at the first drop of tear, I shall help Quinn judge if you rightfully earned her forgiveness."
Again, Rachel nods from the other line. "Got it," she said. "You can count–"
"Let me finish," Brittany demands. "I'm not done yet."
"OK. I'm sorry," Rachel says, fighting the urge to swallow. Scary Santana's got nothing on extremely rare scary Brittany, no doubt about that. Even her choice of words changes. Perhaps this is why Santana's been hesitant to approach Brittany lately. Rachel actually shivers. She makes a mental note never to displease Brittany again. Ever.
(On the other line, Brittany winks at her mom, Julianne, who is sitting in front of her on Brittany's bed, excitedly watching as her daughter does what she taught her. Brittany knows it was a good idea to ask for her mom's help in writing the conditions. They sounded way more intimidating with her help.)
"Number 2: Once forgiven, you and Santana shall treat the two of us to a weekend getaway and spend for it. Quinn is not allowed to spend a cent on the trip. And you have to make sure that we enjoy it. If we don't, you'll have to bring us somewhere else and shall do it again and again until we are satisfied. Again, considering the type of person that Quinn is, I will help her judge if your treat was enjoyable."
Rachel nods on the other side of the line as she writes "spend for a weekend getaway". She knows better than to cut Brittany off.
"Number 3: I have learned that Quinn walks to and from home. She says she's OK with it but I'm not. And you shouldn't be, either. From now on, the two of you shall serve as her drivers. You shall arrange between yourselves who would fetch Quinn to and from home."
Rachel jots that down as well. That would be her pleasure.
"Number 4: No curse words shall be said in front of Quinn," Brittany continues. "This goes most especially to Santana. As our leader and someone who has a better sense of control than Santana, it is your responsibility to make sure she doesn't slip. If she slips, you slip, too."
Right. Rachel writes, "No curse words. Kill Santana (for real) if she slips up."
"Number 5: If you hurt Quinn or make her cry for the wrong reason even once, end of friendship, period," Brittany continues from the other end. "That's about it. For now."
"OK."
"You break any of these rules and you'll be declared persona non grata."
Rachel swears her pancreas just made a summersault. Persona non grata? Wow, where the hell did Brittany learn words like these?
"In non-legal terms, that means unwelcome," Brittany says. "It would suck to be one, right?"
/
Quinn doesn't give an answer to Rachel's heartfelt diatribe immediately. Looking down her shoes once more, she gently breathes an unsure, "Really?"
"Yes, Quinn."
Quinn sighs, seemingly having trouble meeting Rachel's eyes, staring instead at the point of her shoe. Rachel can tell she has something to say, though.
"Is there something you need to tell me?" she coaxes.
Rachel waits until Quinn gathers the courage to glance at her. It's endearing – how Quinn would take one glance at her when she's feeling especially shy, or when she has something she wants to say but has difficulty saying – but it's heartbreaking, too. Rachel feels something inside her chest shift when Quinn only lowers her head further.
She wonders why she feels so much when she's with Quinn.
"What is it, Quinn? It's OK, you can tell me."
Quinn shrugs. "I'm not – I'm not as, uhm, OK when you get to kn-know me," she whispers.
"I'm sorry?"
Quinn winces, like she doesn't really want to say what she's about to say next. "I'll m-make a mistake and disappoint you, like I did before. And then you'd regret spending time with me. R-regret is not a good thing."
"You did not disappoint me, Quinn. You never did."
Quinn doesn't answer her.
"I shouldn't have done what I did in the hallway the other day. You did not deserve it. So shall I walk with you?"
Quinn still looks unsure but she glances worriedly at Rachel. "If you really want to."
Rachel beams at her. Of course she does. Duh.
/
"So, uh, Quinn, who's your favorite musician?" Rachel smiles at her, trying to be her most charming self. A multitude of eyes – some confused, some irked – are directed at them as they walk down the hallway, making Quinn's own even more drawn to the floor, the rest of her closing in on herself.
Rachel lays a calming palm on her back and urges her to answer, completely ignoring everyone else around her. Soon enough, optimistically speaking, the taunting and bullying should die down. They'll understand that Quinn is Rachel's now.
"Uhm, I don't really know that many, but m-mama always listens to the Carpenters and I like them. And I, uhm," Quinn pauses, swallowing nervously, "I really like your voice when you perform with the Cheerios. So, uhm, you're my favorite, and then the Carpenters come second," she adds in a low voice, sending a quick, sweet, shy smile Rachel's way.
Rachel swears her heart just jumped out of her body. It's nice to know somebody genuinely loves her for her voice aside from her parents and friends.
"I love singing more than cheerleading," Rachel hears herself say before she knows what she's doing. It's amazing how she feels like she can be herself with Quinn despite all that's happened. For odd reasons, she feels connected to Quinn in a way she doesn't feel about anyone else – not even Santana and Brittany. Of course, she shares something special with her best friends, too, but Quinn manages to have this indescribable…pull. Maybe the fact that Quinn seems to be the least judgmental of all the people she's ever met so far helps.
"I love Celine Dion and Idina Menzel and Barbra Streisand. I also have a special affinity to The Beatles, Christina Aguilera and Mariah Carey. I can give you a comprehensive list of all the singers I love. I keep one at home," Rachel continues, beaming excitedly. She has never really told anyone about her greater love for singing because in this stupid town and school, the only talent that matters is cheerleading. But again, she's with Quinn, so she says, "I started singing at, like, age 1."
"Wow," Quinn exclaims.
"Yeah. And maybe even younger. My biological mom, like my fathers, is hugely musically-inclined," Rachel answers. She always tends to talk about her mother like she's just been there all along and like Rachel knows her, even though she's actually never seen her at all. She's heard bits and pieces about her from her parents and the more she hears about her, the more she longs to meet her – not that she'll ever tell them that. She really doesn't want to hurt her fathers' feelings – they'd been too good to her. "My fathers have been very supportive of my love for music and even turned our basement to a mini-concert hall. It's really cool and I'm quite certain you'd like it. And now that I've mentioned it, I'll have to show it to you when you have the chance to visit our house again."
Rachel doesn't even know why she hasn't shown Quinn the basement yet. Now, she's so excited. Giddy, even. She's pretty sure her eyes are shining at this point and she's probably freaking Quinn out but she's past the point of caring.
Quinn looks confused at that, but she nods silently at what Rachel said anyway.
"You should meet my fathers. They're really going to love you. I've only told them a teeny bit of information about you and they're stoked to finally be able to put a face to your name."
Quinn looks down and smiles shyly, before turning that hesitant but already blinding smile to Rachel. "Really?"
"Yes," Rachel exclaims, perhaps with more enthusiasm than is normal. "I think they're your fans. I can't wait to witness their reaction when they get to see how pretty and wonderful you are in person."
Quinn's cautiously optimistic expression turns a little gloomier at that. She looks down at her shoes once more, making Rachel's happy smile falter.
"Hey, Quinn, look at me," Rachel urges.
Quinn doesn't look at her.
Rachel sighs before saying, "No matter what you were made to believe, you're pretty and you're wonderful. My parents already love you and will love you even more when they meet you. OK?"
Quinn doesn't say anything in return so Rachel just wraps her in a warm one-arm hug and smiles encouragingly at her. It earns more intrigued and more irked stares but Rachel ignores them because Quinn has finally given her a small, closed smile.
/
His jaw clenched tightly, Jesse watches Rachel's back as she and that weirdo walk away. He doesn't understand why Rachel is willing to sacrifice everything for that psychotic nothing. She's going to lose everything for it. Everything. She's already put a foot in her grave and she could bring him down with her if he isn't quick and he isn't careful. The breakup could mean the end of the reign for both of them. But Jesse won't let it. He'll find a way to make sure that only that dwarf is going to experience downfall from her careless actions.
Just because Rachel is the head cheerleader doesn't mean the world would side with her in everything. In this school, Quinn – the weirdest weirdo of all – is hated considerably more than Rachel is loved and that's already minus points for her. It would be easy for him to put her down, and use her to exalt himself.
Now, he knows what to do. It would suck for Rachel but he can't feel sorry for her; she did it to herself. Besides, Rachel truly hurt him. The only girl he's considered sharing his life with has freaking hurt him.
And damn, is he still hurt. He's sure he'd felt something real for Rachel, who found it too easy to take his affections for granted. He's not going to let it go. For breaking his heart, Rachel is going to pay.
And the price wouldn't be cheap.
Jesse would make sure he's still the lead man, but he's going to find a new leading lady.
/
Santana coughs exaggeratedly once more as the devious dust from the rickety armchair make a trip to the insides of her perfectly-sculptured nose despite the handkerchief she's using as a makeshift mask. She looks at the rag she's holding, her face contorting in disgust as she notices how black the side she uses to wipe the chair is. Her best friend, who's presently wiping the piano, rolls her eyes – an action that Santana catches.
"You know what, I think the janitor is still alive. I saw him just this morning secretly snogging the canteen woman," Santana remarks, finding the perfect opportunity to make this situation more fun. Cleaning is dumb and boring. Though she's a little bit – just a little – helpful to her friends, Rachel can't expect her to do dumb and boring without finding an effective distraction. Duh?
"Yes he is, Santa-naggy. But no. We can't ask him to clean this unused room for personal reasons. Besides, this is important to me. I need you to be supportive – not to be your usual lazy self," Rachel answers.
"I'm not being lazy, Berry. I'm just being the hot and sane girl that I am," Santana said. "Besides, we're paying this school. They're not paying us. This is legit slavery. You, my best fucking friend, are enslaving me."
"This is a public school, San. It's not like we're paying more than a hundred dollars here. And I am the dramatic one – you are the snarky one. That is usurpation of character right there," Rachel says as she continues to wipe the instrument.
Santana snorts. Wow, usurpation. Deep word. Santana's pretty sure this is the first time she's heard that highfalutin shit.
"All I'm saying, Berry, is what we are doing is stupid and unnecessary," she says.
"If you haven't noticed, Lopez, we've been doing a lot stupid and unnecessary things lately. And what you said may be true to some extent, but at least what we're doing now is the kind of stupid and unnecessary that's right," Rachel says, the extreme exasperation on her face totally amusing Santana now.
Geez, I'm only playing with you, Berry. Where did your humor go to? You know my sexy ass is totally up to this, Santana thinks.
Of course, Santana knows how important what they're doing is. Of all the people – including her idiot of a best friend – Santana's the one with the smallest amount of right to complain. The two of them don't usually mind the dust here, but considering the fact that Quinn's asthmatic, cleaning would be the better choice. And Rachel believes bringing the blondes to their extreme hideout would show that Quinn is very much welcome in there circle.
Fact is, Santana would clean this room alone, plus the entire hallway (and even the school grounds) if that meant Brittany and Quinn would forgive her. She's already agreed to miss class – because who cares about that – just so she can help Rachel pull off this thing.
But still, it wouldn't hurt to irk the diva and make cleaning a little more fun, right?
"I just want this to be more personal, Santana," Rachel says with a deep breath, probably to add to the drama. "I just want Quinn to feel our sincerity. It would be easier to convince her that we care about her if we let her be a part of this place. Wouldn't you want that? Brittany would forgive you, too, if you can make Quinn happy."
Though slightly offended that Rachel seems to think she's only doing this to get Brittany's forgiveness and not Quinn's, Santana knows she can't blame her for thinking that.
"No."
Rachel scoffs, quintessentially disgusted. "I can't believe you! Fine, get out of here. I can do this alone. I'd probably get sick tomorrow but, yeah, it wouldn't kill me to do this by myself!"
"Since it wouldn't kill you anyway, I guess I have to help," Santana replies.
"Just go," Rachel all but yells. "Apparently I am an inconvenience to you. I don't need to be that to another person that I love!"
"Geez. Fine. Calm your dwarf tits. I'm just playing with you," Santana says defensively, holding both hands up. Rachel must be near the end of her wits now – even mentioning something which is obviously about her mother.
"I'm serious! And I'm nervous! You don't make fun of me when I'm nervous!" Rachel shouts exasperatedly.
"Hey, hey," Santana says, holding Rachel's shoulders to calm her down. She didn't actually think her little drama would drive the crazy girl crazy for real.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she was only kidding. Please spare her friend.
She is about to spew ten-folds of apologies when Rachel started laughing hard. Crazy hard. She is almost doubling over in laughter. Santana's contemplating calling 911 when Rachel catches her breath and looks at Santana, legitimate amusement on her face.
Damn, she thinks as she gets it, pushing Rachel gently away from her. Crazy idiot.
"You think you're the only one who can make cleaning fun, huh?" Rachel asks, winking irritatingly at Santana before proceeding to clean the piano stool.
Damn hobbit.
/
Quinn fights the urge to cry as she walks to her locker. Her stomach hurts really bad again but that's the least of her worries right now (besides, she's kind of getting herself used to it). It's the green "B+" that's on the forefront of her mind – the same mark on the top right portion of her History test paper. She doesn't particularly like History but she hasn't gotten a "B" in the subject before. Mr. Hailen told her – while her head had rightfully hung low – that it's only because she's been sick and that she'll most likely make up for it next time, but Quinn knows that being sick is never a good enough excuse. She has been stupid – even more than usual – and now has every reason to dread going home.
Father would not be happy. It's her first "B," and a "B" would mean one of the harsher punishments.
Quinn's face pales even more when she sees someone leaning sideways against her locker – thoughts of her father being replaced by a more immediate cause for dread. The boy couldn't see her because he's facing the opposite direction. From the back, she can see that he has his hair cut weirdly – his head is shaved on both sides.
He looks…strange, for the lack of a better word. Is he weird like her, too? Would that make him easier to deal with?
Fiddling with the straps of her backpack nervously, Quinn thinks about it. Should she proceed to her locker or should she just forget it and head home? She left her homework inside – and cramming on it tomorrow might affect her grade – but approaching this guy could mean trouble.
And hurt.
She swallows hard and puts a palm against her heart to calm it down as she remembers the last incident involving her locker. She doesn't think she'll ever be able to forget it. What if it will never be over? What if she won't be as lucky next time?
She doesn't remember encountering this guy before though, nor does she remember him bullying her.
Gathering what little courage she has, Quinn decides to step forward. She'll need to present a well-done assignment to Father later if she wants to get a reprieve from her B+.
(She knows she won't, but hope is all she has. Maybe Father will realize that she did her best either way; that it was only because she got sick, like Mr. Hailen told her.)
Walking forward nervously, she can feel her heart beating louder than her footsteps.
"I'm s-sorry. Can you please move," she says shakily as she nears, hoping her voice is loud enough for the guy with the weird hair to hear.
The boy spins around fast. Too fast. The action startles Quinn, making her automatically step back, flinching. She's gotten so scared that her vision darkens for a bit.
Luckily, she's able to stop herself from tumbling backwards as her shaking hand manages to grab the handle of a nearby locker. Breathing deeply a few times, she tries to calm her thumping heart and concentrate on where she is right now.
You're not at home… He isn't here. You're OK…
"Hey, hey. Don't freak out! Rachel would skin me alive if I accidentally knocked you out. She just asked me to wait for you here and fetch you," the guy says, sounding quite apologetic and panicky, as Quinn tries to catch her breath.
Through the daze, Quinn manages to understand some of the words he said.
Rachel?
Quinn glances worriedly at her locker to check for slushy stains, then stares at the boy's nose. She doesn't take a step closer. "R-Rachel?"
"Yup. I'm Puck, her cousin. A hot one if you can't see it yet. She said she wants to see you and so I'm bringing you to her. Her exact words were that I have to 'escort you to safety'," he says.
Quinn's ears heat up as her mind goes into overdrive. Is Rachel planning something bad? Is Quinn getting punished?
"Did she say w-why," she asks, raising her head a little higher but still not making any eye contact.
"No. But I can tell that she means well. I mean, she's kinda crazy but I can actually read her most of the time."
Quinn swallows and lifts her head higher. Her hands are twisted in front of her in fear again, but she wants to see the boy's eyes. She's hoping – no, she's desperate to see sincerity in them. She doesn't think she can bear the thought of Rachel planning something bad for her.
With great difficulty, Quinn somehow manages to take a glance at his eyes. They're hazel green. Just like hers. They're clear too, and Quinn decides to believe him. If Rachel is planning to hurt her, then she deserves it anyway.
"O-OK. But can I please open my l-locker first?"
Sensing Quinn's concerned state, Puck immediately steps away from the locker. Rachel has briefed him about the girl – including the sucky locker incident last week.
"Of course, it's yours. I did not open it, or do anything else to it, I swear." He shoves one hand in his pocket and mimics a pledge sign with the other. "I just leaned my guns on it, which makes it extremely lucky."
Quinn purses her lips and nods anxiously, although she doesn't know what he means. He doesn't seem to have a gun.
"So, uhm, you can do your thing and I can bring you to Rachel."
Quinn bites her lip before nodding a little again. Father doesn't care if she goes home late. He seems not to mind if she walks alone in the dark. As long as Quinn arrives not later than 9 p.m., all is well. "OK."
Quinn cautiously moves in front of her locker to gather her things. Puck just watches at first, and only hesitantly says something after a few seconds.
"I kinda know Rachel did some really bad things, but I can tell that she truly cares about you. My cousin's an ass – well, not as big an ass as I am – but I hope you can forgive her," he says.
Quinn places her homework, among other things, inside her backpack and turns to face Puck. She avoids eye contact once more, though. "I-I'm not mad at her," she says, shaking her head a little. "D-does she think I am?"
"I don't think so. But she knows you should be mad."
Quinn's brows furrow in confusion. That's probably not true. It's the other way around, she's certain – Rachel should be mad at her.
"I've bullied people, too," Puck starts. "But only those that truly suck and do bad shit. Not people like you, because I don't see any reason why you should be bullied."
Quinn chooses to stay quiet. She does see and know and lot. But she shouldn't correct him; he could get mad.
"So, are you ready? Should we go now? They're waiting for us," Puck says.
"OK."
/
She must be dying. Yep, that's it. That's the only explanation to the extreme pounding in Rachel's chest. It could be mild heart attack. Or severe. She might not have the time to find out.
She fans herself, feeling uncomfortably hot as she paces around the room.
"Oh, please, tall girl, stop looking like the world is about to collapse. You look like you've just had a very, very serious conversation with Nostradamus," Santana, who's sitting on top of the newly clean piano, says.
Rachel shoots her evilest (given her predicament) glare at Santana, who, although acting like a badass as usual, looks just as nervous as she is, if not more.
Rachel motions to answer back but legitimately jumps high instead when the door swings suddenly opens, revealing a bored Puck, an apprehensive Quinn and a suspicious Brittany.
The door opening startled Santana as well – enough to make her jump and fall down from the piano like a total dork. Rachel would have had laughed at (or felt sorry for) her if she wasn't too busy being nervous herself.
Santana manages to stand back up and regain her dignity in lightning speed.
"What's this? I saw this douchebag walking to me with Quinn behind him. I swear if you were planning something bad, I will unfriend you forever," Brittany says first. Beside her, Puck rolls his eyes, the little amount of patience he has apparently draining swiftly.
"I'll leave all you hot girls here. She wouldn't listen to me and it's not really my job to explain to her, so as our shitty Spanish teacher Mr. Schue would say, adios chicas," he says, turning around. "We're cool, right?" he asks Quinn sneakily before walking away, earning himself an apprehensive nod.
"It's OK, Brit. He was really supposed to fetch you after he fetches Quinn," Rachel explains once Puck is out. He made sure to lock the door as he'd been instructed. "I asked him to bring you both here because Santana and I have a few things to say to you and Quinn."
Brittany and Quinn unanimously glance at each other in confusion.
"If you may, please sit down in those chairs," she says, pointing at the two empty ones in front or Rachel.
Brittany and Quinn – still suspicious and apprehensive, respectively – decide to comply. Brittany takes Quinn's hand as they take their seats.
Rachel glances at Santana, who's now sitting beside the piano. She remembers Santana falling epically from the piano and has to bite the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from laughing. This is a serious moment; she needs to focus.
Swallowing once to brace herself, she turns her head back to Quinn and Brittany. Quinn's anxious face easily brings her back to what she is doing in the first place.
"I made so many mistakes in my life," Rachel starts, a little nervous still. "And they sucked and made me hate myself for a while, or even a while longer than a while. It depends – they're all different."
One who's not hesitant to make grand gestures for people she loves, Rachel hopes this wouldn't prove too much for the shy blonde. The speech may be unnecessary and overdramatic, but she knows that nobody in this room would judge her for it. And she knows Quinn deserves something like this – maybe even more.
She pauses and stares directly at Quinn, who openly looks back at her from her seat. She looks tenderly lost and confused, and maybe a little uneasy, but Brittany's beside her and Rachel knows she can count on her friend to be exactly who Quinn needs right now.
So she goes on.
"But there's that one type of mistake – the kind that sucks and makes me hate myself too, but also makes me want to change above all. Makes me want to be better," she whispers the last part, keeping eye contact, wanting nothing more than to convey her sincerity.
She can tell that Quinn's eyes are starting to water and all she wants is to comfort her but Brittany's right beside Quinn and she knows she's enough.
Rachel, on the other hand, needs to do this.
"I made that mistake when I broke my promise to you, Quinn. And it's the mistake that has made the deepest impression on me."
A ding of the piano sounds, and it distracts her for a second. Irritated, she gives Santana an irked look. Trust her best friend to ruin a dramatic scene.
Santana can only breathe a guilty "I'm sorry" from behind the piano. Rachel decides not to attack her then; she can't blame her – she knows she's dead anxious, too. If Rachel sucks at apologizing, Santana sucks way, way more. This is just as unnerving to her friend as it is to her.
Clearing her throat once more, she turns back to Quinn. Rachel slightly jumps on her toes once – a nervous habit – before continuing. "I'm not a good person, Quinn, and I wouldn't even pretend that I am. But I'm trying to be because you make me want to. I know a billion songs are not enough to make up for the horrible person that I was to you and if you demanded that from me, I wouldn't even get mad. We'll have the rest of our lives for that, but for now, I just hope this song would be a start and would show you how I truly feel about what I did. And about you."
She gives her a gentle smile and then motions at Santana to start the opening tunes on the instrument.
Rachel's not really a fan of One Direction but they seem to be genuinely nice boys and almost all of their songs make sense. One of them had been reminding her of Quinn all along. She made last minute arrangements on it and hopes that Quinn would love the slowed down, mellowed version of the piece, as well as a few revised lyrics.
Rachel may mess up with her words at times, but she never goes wrong with her music. Singing would make how she feels true – that's a fact.
Drawing strength for her voice from her abdomen like she'd been taught, and drawing her message from her heart, Rachel meets Quinn's sad eyes – speaking directly to them – as she softly starts singing the first part.
The front pages are your pictures
They make you look so small
How could someone not like you at all?
The haunted yet hopeful look in Quinn's eyes and the way she's nervously fiddling with her fingers leaves this lump in Rachel's throat, but it does nothing but add to the emotion in her voice. Despite the apparent apprehension, Quinn is looking straight at her – she's willing to listen, and that's more than Rachel can ask for after what she did.
I never would mistreat you
No, I'm here to have your back
I speak a different language
But I still hear you call
Santana joins her in melody for the chorus. Both of Rachel's best friends are well-endowed in the singing department as well and they'd usually back her up during Cheerios practice.
Diana, let me be the one to
Light a fire inside those eyes
You've been lonely, you don't even know me
But I can feel you calling
Diana, let me the one to
Lift your hand and save your life
I don't think you even realize
Baby you'll be saving mine
Rachel's eyes are slightly damp now, her chest constricting more than she thought it would. Quinn has always reminded her of Diana in the song – so broken yet so beyond beautiful – and she thought she had readied herself for the emotion that she was sure would fill her. Performing usually brings her emotions to whole new levels but there's nothing that could compare to what she's feeling now.
Again, she's left wondering where all these strong emotions for Quinn are coming from.
Santana sings the next three lines from behind the piano, her eyes jumping between Quinn and Brittany nervously. Her usually sultry voice seems even sultrier. Like Rachel, Santana has secretly taken to music as her outlet. Brittany, on the other hand, is more inclined to dancing.
It's only been few months but
You've fallin' down so far
How could someone mislead you at all?
Rachel sees Quinn's lips shake slightly and the tears that started flowing down her cheeks shakily. She is fiddling with her bracelet once more. Rachel sends a quick thanks to her god for Brittany when she wraps Quinn protectively in a loose, one-arm hug.
Santana's part allows Rachel a few moments to gather herself – a thing she's thankful for as she begins the next verse.
I wanna reach out for you
I wanna break these walls
I speak a different language
But I still hear you call
Diana, let me be the one to
Light a fire inside those eyes
You've been lonely, you don't even know me
But I can feel you calling
Diana, let me the one to
Lift your hand and save your life
I don't think you even realize
Baby you'll be saving mine
Rachel sings in Quinn's direction, all the while meeting her eyes. She stands in front of Quinn, her face naturally displaying her guilt and apology, and sings,
We all need something
These can't be over now
If I could hold you
Swear I'd never put you down
She sings the last chorus:
Diana, let me be the one to
Light a fire inside those eyes
You've been lonely, you don't even know me
But I can feel you calling
Diana, let me the one to
Lift your hand and save your life
Rachel kneels down in front of Quinn and gently wipes the tears on her cheeks. They shouldn't be there.
I don't think you even realize
Baby you'll be saving mine
Santana ends the piano accompaniment smoothly. Rachel smiles at the sweet girl in front of her, still cupping her cheek.
"Stop crying now, please. I want to see you smile."
Quinn, eyes still heavy from the crying, only whispers, "Nobody's ever done something like this for me before."
Rachel nods sadly before pulling Quinn in for a hug. Quinn hugs back timidly. "And now I'd do it for you every day if you want me to. And Santana as well," Rachel says with a smile as she pulls away.
"Yes," an apologetic Santana seconds, approaching them. She doesn't dare touch Quinn lest she overwhelm her. "I apologize for everything I did, Quinn. Everything I said to you was as awful as Rachel's old outfits. When you see them, you'll understand the extent of my regret, but since you haven't, let's just say I feel like the world's just fallen down on me," Santana says. "And I won't even ask for your forgiveness now because I shouldn't yet."
"It's OK, S-Santana," Quinn reassures her weakly.
"No it's not, Quinn," Brittany says, gently taking Quinn's hand in hers again while giving Santana a warning look.
Brittany is still so disappointed in Santana. She's contemplating forgiving Rachel, but Santana's a different story. Santana's the only one who never lied to her when everyone else did. Everyone thinks Brittany can't handle the truth except her and it hurt too much to know that Santana can lie to her, too.
"Santana's telling the truth. I'll explain later, but she knows she'll have to work harder than play and fall down the piano to make up for what she did to you. And Rachel as well. I have to earn your forgiveness in some ways, too."
Seeing Quinn's guilty face, Brittany adds, "Don't feel bad, we're not being bad to them, we're merely being fair to you. Right?" she says, addressing the question to her two friends.
Both brunettes nod and when Brittany looks at Quinn encouragingly once more, Quinn nods back.
/
Quinn's had a relatively nice day and Rachel even volunteered to bring her home. Luckily, Judy was outside when they arrived, and she helped Quinn sneak in and asked Rachel to go home. However, Quinn's evening went to hell right after dinner – when Russel inspected her test papers and inevitably noticed the History result. The rest, she remembers in almost a blur.
She remembers her father's furious eyes but otherwise calm face stare at her like she's the biggest embarrassment in the world. She remembers him tug at his long sleeves before making his way to her. She remembers pleading desperately for her Father to understand why she got the B. She remembers how, as was expected, her pleading went unheard.
And before she knows it, he's already holding her by the back of her shirt and dragging her towards a room upstairs.
Quinn whimpers softly at the doorway, almost choking on her own fears. A few steps away is the one thing she's dreading even more than her little space in the basement.
The closet.
She tears up as Russel continues to drag her to the large wooden thing that contains most of her past and present nightmares.
The door to the large closet makes an eerie screeching sound as Russel yanks it open. He clumsily shoves Quinn inside. She immediately turns her body back to her father and draws her legs close to her chest.
She can already feel her heart pounding. Her chest is getting tight.
"You're not allowed to sleep tonight," Russel orders, throwing her inhaler right to Quinn's face. It hits her forehead quite hard before cluttering somewhere beside her. Quinn whimpers in terror, trembling even more as she braces herself for a punch or a kick that would surely follow.
Thankfully, Russel doesn't do any of that. He merely states, "You don't deserve rest for being an idiot. Is that clear?"
"Y-yes, s-sir," Quinn answers, nodding weakly and unconsciously rubbing at her forehead. She's already dreading the sleepless night. Even if she's tired and so, so scared, she knows she has to do what father asks. She isn't sure if she has the strength to do what he wants and stay awake but she'll try her best.
She has to.
Russel smirks at her as he puts both arms against the divided doors. Quinn's eyes widen, already feeling the world closing in on her even with the doors still open. Russel smirking at her like that only makes the suffocating feeling worsen.
"Good. Now be a good girl while you're in there," he says, watching her terror-filled face amusedly. "You know the consequences. If I ever catch you sleeping, you'll never see your mother again."
His last words make Quinn's heart beat impoosibly faster. She blindly reaches for her inhaler while trying her best to keep her eyes locked with Father's.
"Y-yes, Sir," Quinn answers, swallowing slightly. She tightens into a smaller ball as Russel finally closes the closet door. She closes her eyes, imagines herself somewhere else, and takes two puffs from her inhaler when her chest starts to feel heavier.
Distantly, she hears the door of her room being closed, the lock outside it clanking, and she lets out a shaky sob. Eyes clenched shut, she buries her head against her legs and desperately imagines herself somewhere else. Anywhere but here.
But it's not working. Despite her efforts to make things seem and feel otherwise, she still feels everything – all the visions – close in on her…
…And they're coming faster than they ever did before…
She can see a belt coming her way…can almost feel how it snaps against her back… Her legs… Her arms…
The belt turns into a wooden stick and Quinn actually lets out a whimper as she feels it snap against her forearm even if it's not really there.
Quinn lets out sobs that are a little too loud. Everything hurts too much.
"Help," she whispers hoarsely.
"Count to 10," she hears Russel snarl.
She continues to cry in the dark, expecting pain even if she is somehow aware that she's in the closet, alone.
The voices continue to rain on her and she closes her eyes tighter.
"You stupid little pest."
"Don't you dare call me daddy!"
"Fuckin' trash!"
She covers her ears desperately, wishing the voices would go away. But instead of quieting down, they only grow louder.
They only grow worse…
"Who would want you? You're nothing. I'd throw you out but I feel sorry for those who'd find you!"
"You're a freak. Go back to your mom's womb. You missed the memo that only normal people deserve to be in school, loser."
"I feel so sorry for your family. It must be so hard for them to put up with you. Gosh."
"I'm sorry Quinnie… I wish I could stop him but I can't… You know that…"
And worse…
"I'd kill your mother if you don't shut that ugly mouth!"
"Frannie's not coming back! She's gone because of you!"
"I love you, you're my sister and I promise I won't leave you."
"She's gone! You killed her!"
Quinn's cries get louder. She has so many faults. She's a screw up. She deserves to hurt. And maybe worse. Definitely worse. Frannie loved her but she messed that up. No wonder she left her, too.
"F-f-f-rannie," she says shakily, desperately. "S-s-s-sorry, s-s-sorry…"
"She'll never forgive you for killing her! That's all she'll remember of you!"
"Your mama would hate you too when she dies because of you."
Quinn's cries turn to breathless struggling. She takes her hands from her head and places her sweaty palms against the door, willing it to open.
All she wants is for it to open and for the voices to stop.
She wants them to stop so much that she doesn't realize how harsh her sobs have become.
"H-h-help," she pleads hoarsely, even if it has been made clear to her that she doesn't deserve it. "H-h-help… M-m-mama… P-please…"
She is unaware of how panicked she's become. Or how, as her desperation overcomes fear, she has started to slam her small, shaking fists against the closet door.
Everything's so dark.
"B-Brittany… R-Rachel," she calls even if it's impossible for them to get here. Help, anyone. "S-Santana... P-please... Anyone… H-help me… I-I'm sorry…"
She doesn't know how long she has been screaming. She isn't even aware that she is screaming.
Suddenly, the closet door opens. Quinn falls forward, but a hand takes hold of her hair. She feels herself being suspended in the air before being pushed to the ground. Through her daze, she manages to break her fall with her arms. They get the brunt of it. She lets the rest her body sag to the floor as she continues to cry and shake.
"You worthless animal! Can't even stand a proper punishment," Russell yells behind her. Quinn desperately covers the back of her head with her hands.
Disappointment. Stupid. Garbage. Worthless.
"R-R-Russel… Pl-please d-don't punish her now… S-she's not O-OK…"
Her mother's voice propels Quinn to find the strength to look up weakly and search for her. Mama. She needs her mama. Please. She desperately wishes for her mama to hold her even if she doesn't deserve her.
Just like Frannie.
/
Judy was staring at Russel pleadingly, but her gaze moves to Quinn when she notices her daughter's head move up. Quinn is looking at her, everything about her even more broken than ever, and Judy's heart hurts the way it never did before.
Quinn's face is pale and bathed in tears. Her nose is bleeding – it doesn't look broken but that doesn't make the fact that it's bleeding any less scary. Her lips are trembling. Her whole body – slumped on the ground – is shaking, too.
But it's her empty eyes that desperately plead for help that move Judy's legs forward, naturally, like an invisible tether was pulling her to Quinn.
To her daughter.
She kneels down in front of her broken baby and caresses her tear- and blood-stained face. Quinn sobs excruciatingly the moment Judy's palm touches her cheek. Judy wills herself not to sob, too. Her daughter needs her now, badly. Quinn has seemed stronger before – she's afraid her daughter has reached the end of her rope.
She pulls her daughter up and closer to her. But as she's dreaded, something breaks the moment.
"FUCK, JUDY! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER," Russel screams, once again yanking at Quinn's hair and pulling her away from her mother. Quinn is forced to sit up while Judy scrambles to get to them. She holds Russel's arm and tries to force it away from Quinn's hair but she's not strong enough. It won't budge.
Judy feels like her head is exploding when Russel's palm hits the side of it, effectively sending her to the floor. For a few moments, she forgets what's happening. Her head is pounding; it's the worst hit she's gotten from him so far.
Her head still feels like it's bursting but she sees Russel walking towards a withdrawn Quinn again and she forgets about the pain. She lets out a strangled cry as she watches Russel deliver a quick kick to Quinn's side. The pained cough Quinn releases at that seems to gather all the strength she has in her body and propel her to throw herself between them. And she doesn't know what specifically caused her to do it – especially since her head's still throbbing – but before she knows it, she is doing what she hasn't done in the past nine years – she's hugging her daughter.
But Quinn clings to her naturally, desperately, and that plus the intensity of her shaking only adds pressure to Judy's chest. She's terrified – no – she's so fucking terrified that the feeling has become indescribable, but she can't even begin to imagine the terror her daughter is feeling at this point.
"Russel, please," she pleads once more, ignoring the voice in her head that says it wouldn't work on him. She dreads getting hit again but she has to say something. Anything. "Please. She can't take any more hits tonight! Not now, pl-please… H-have sympathy…"
It pains her to say what she's going to say next but she can't think of anything else that would not piss off Russel more. "A-another time, please," she adds, hugging Quinn tighter and stroking her hair when she feels her shake harder and hears her whimper. I'm sorry, baby. "Just-just not now…"
The veins in Russel's neck practically grow more discernible from intense anger but even he seems to realize that Quinn has gone into some sort of trance.
"Fucking worthless garbage," he mutters in frustration. Judy's heart almost jumps out of her chest when he takes a step closer. Suddenly, he slaps the back of Quinn's head hard. Quinn cries out in pain again, and Russel turns around before he is propelled to hit her again. Judy rubs the back of Quinn's head gently and protectively and finally lets out a sob when Russel closes the door.
The loud banging of the door makes Quinn jump and her eyes – still focused unseeingly to the floor – widen. She's breathing heavily as she clings to her mother. But she's completely still and silent – and it's the scariest part of this all. Judy hugs her tighter and tries to coax her daughter to look up at her.
"Quinn," Judy prods gently, carefully touching Quinn's cheek. Her daughter, showing no sign of having heard her at all, doesn't move her eyes to her. In fact, she doesn't move them at all; she's just blinking blindly at a spot on the floor.
Judy's fear escalates. She feels her heart being twisted by a tight grip. She can't lose Quinn like this. She just can't. Not when she's so close to finding a way to start again – to get out of here. "Quinnie…You're OK now. He's gone. Mama's here. I'm just here."
It seemed like hours of coaxing and encouraging and just plain pleading, but finally a weak and shaky "m-mama?" is uttered from Quinn's lips.
Judy sobs – the relief encompassing every other feeling she has right now – dread, uncertainty, pain. All of these are forgotten with the realization that maybe – just maybe – her Quinn's still here.
"Yes, I'm here, Quinnie. Mama's here," she whispers against Quinn's head. Perhaps, there's nothing else she needs to know now more than that.
"I-I'm sorry, m-mama," Quinn says, the pleading mixed with pained guilt in her voice crushing Judy's chest once more. Of all things, that has to be the one to come out of her daughter's mouth. It's all wrong. Quinn has nothing to be sorry for.
"No, baby. I'm sorry. This shouldn't be happening to you," she says reassuringly, kissing Quinn's slightly damp forehead for good measure. "You were good. You did nothing wrong."
"I d-didn't mean to get a B. I promise I did my b-best. I'm just n-not smart. Tell d-da-," Quinn's voice is cut by a strangled sob as she fearfully realizes the wrong thing she said, her head slightly moving around to check if Russel is close. "T-tell F-father I'm sorry, p-please."
"There's no need, Quinn. You have nothing to be sorry for."
"D-did he say if h-he'd still forgive me or not? I d-didn't hear him say, m-mama."
Quinn seems to have zero plans of breaking free from Judy's hug so she lets her stay there for a while.
Hang on, baby. Just a little bit more. I'll get us out of here, she thinks.
"He'll forgive, you, Quinnie, even if you did nothing wrong. Getting a B is not a wrong thing, baby. Your father just has to realize that like all the other fathers."
Quinn remains silent. Judy knows doesn't believe her again.
"I hardly got an A in high school," Judy quips with a sad laugh. "You're doing way better than me, Quinnie, and I am so proud of you."
Quinn hugs her even tighter, as if offering comfort for her high school confession, but shakes her head for the last part of Judy's statement. She has trouble accepting compliments even if they're true – a thing Judy loathes – making her hug her daughter back tightly.
"Can I – Can I please sleep, m-mama?" Quinn quietly asks after a few seconds of comfortable silence, her voice slightly wavering. "Daddy says I shouldn't but I'm so t-tired now. Can y-you ask him to l-let me sl-sleep? Tell h-him he can p-punish me next time."
"Yes, Quinn, you can sleep," Judy answers. "I'd tell him not to punish you for it."
Quinn whimpers in relief and Judy panics when she feels her daughter sag against her almost immediately. When she meant yes, she didn't mean here and now.
"D-don't leave, p-please," Quinn whispers breathily, squeezing weakly at her mother's clothes.
"You can't sleep here, baby. Let me help you to your room," she urges.
But another weak whimper of protest is the only reply she gets before she hears Quinn's soft snoring. The position they are in is slightly uncomfortable for her but she'll stay like this with her daughter if that's what she wants. Her brows furrowed in worry, she glances at the only door of the room. She has no idea if Russel bolted it from the outside or not. It doesn't matter. Judy has decided she'll be staying here. She just hopes Russel would understand why she can't sleep with him tonight.
She carefully moves both of them closer to the wall so she can lean on it instead. Once she's able to do so, she positions Quinn carefully so her head would be on Judy's lap. She plays with her daughter's hair for a while, rubbing especially gently at the spot Russel hit earlier. She frowns as she spots a few remaining blood stains below Quinn's nose and uses her skirt to wipe them. The bleeding seemed to have stopped earlier and most of the blood had been transferred to Judy's nightgown when they hugged.
A few minutes later and realizing that she needs some pillow and blanket for Quinn, she moves to lift Quinn's head so she can search for them – or anything like them – for a moment. The tiniest movement, however, causes Quinn to grip at her skirt, her forehead scrunched with the subconscious thought of her mother leaving her.
Judy's heart breaks at the realization that even in her sleep, her daughter is drowning in fear. She cups Quinn's cheeks when she hears her let out a whimper.
"Sh, it's OK. I'm not leaving," she reassures her. Perhaps this is how they'll spend the night, but Judy has no right to complain.
She stares at her daughter – how drained she seems even when she's sleeping – and thinks about her plan. She needs time to set it in motion. It's not grand, and she doesn't even think she can pull it off, but she knows she should at least try. That Rachel girl seems genuinely interested in befriending her daughter, and maybe she can tag her to help lessen Quinn's pain while she gathers everything she needs to save both of them.
/
So that's it for now. Please let me know what you think. I'm also open to suggestions and constructive criticisms.
As for Rachel's version of "Diana," just imagine how Boyce Avenue would have had sung it. :-)
Also, please check out my new story, Breathe.