N/A: This is my first Glee fanfic ever. Like, I've never written anything Glee-related until three days ago. I completely blame the Faberry fandom. I was over Glee, I really was, but then I relapsed spectacularly, started having all these ideas for Quinn, and here I am. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Disclaimer: Glee, obviously, doesn't belong to me. I don't know if that makes me happy because I'm not responsible for the trainwreck, or if I'm sad because I can't change it.

1. i rebuild when i break down

When I break pattern, I break ground
I rebuild when I break down
I wake up more awake
Than I've ever been before

Pluto - Sleeping at Last

Dear Quinn,
Every single time I fantasized about leaving Lima, I never thought I would have written a yearbook message to Quinn Fabray. Ever. But I'm so, so glad that my fantasies are the complete opposite of the reality. From all the people I have met during my formative years, you are one of whom I'll miss the most ‒ not for long, though. You may certainly expect me visiting New Haven next term, and I'll likewise be happy to have you in New York!
You have a brilliant future ahead of you, Quinn; as brilliant as you are. I'm so proud of being your friend, and I can't wait to witness you shine even more.
Love,
Rachel ✩

Quinn puts her yearbook down with a sigh and looks at her bedroom ceiling with disinterest. She should really stop reading that same page over and over again (was it, what, the fiftieth time that week?), but it's not like she has much else to do, right? The paper filled with neat writing and the picture of a smiling Rachel Berry is already smeared by her fingerprints ‒ and, yes, some tears ‒, even though she has had the book for less than a month. It would be really hard to explain if, say, Santana decides to pry through her stuff and finds out she is obsessing over a message from Berry, of all people.

And those would be Santana's words, obviously, because Quinn isn't obsessing; she is touched. Rachel Berry said that she is brilliant. The future Broadway star and the most talented person Quinn knows thinks she is more than a pretty face. Even when Quinn was at her worst ‒ and there were more "worst" moments in her high school career than she ever thought possible to handle ‒, Rachel believed in her, despite all the horrible things Quinn had done.

For years, Quinn has found Rachel's inherent kindness absolutely unnerving; no one can possibly be that forgiving, especially of her. All Quinn has ever known was how to manipulate and hurt people to get her way through. She has hurt her own family, by stupidly getting pregnant at fifteen. Even though she would never forgive her father and sister for forsaking her, and in spite of her still rocky relationship with her mother, Quinn couldn't help blaming herself for tearing her family apart. She has also hurt Finn, Puck and Sam, with all the lying and cheating; Santana, when Quinn stomped her way back in the Cheerios last year; Mercedes, by pretending she hadn't been her only solace during the last months of her pregnancy; the rest of the glee club, every time she turned her back on them for some selfish reason; Rachel, whom she has repeatedly attacked morally, emotionally and, once, even physically, and none of them for an acceptable reason. Quinn has even hurt Shelby, whose life she actively tried to ruin to get Beth back.

Beth. The person Quinn has hurt the most, and the only one who wouldn't even remember it ‒ remember her. Quinn's perfect thing, her beautiful daughter, whom she has failed extraordinarily. All because she was desperate to find anything in her life that she had done right. She couldn't keep a boyfriend, win any competition, have a functional family or simply, honestly be loved. Then Beth came back in her life like a beacon, and it was suddenly all she could see. There she was, the one mistake that turned into something ‒ someone ‒ so flawless; Quinn immediately felt the uncontrollable impulse to take her back. She is glad, now, that she ultimately gave up on her plans, even if it means she'll never get to see her daughter again. She could have never been able to provide a good life to Beth, either at fifteen or seventeen, and Quinn finally understood that Shelby was right: being a mother is really about giving up a part of herself, and to Quinn, it meant giving up Beth. Keeping her would have only shattered both their lives, not to mention Puck's. They would have been stuck in Lima, full of bitterness and resentment over every crushed possibility.

Quinn laughs sourly and presses the yearbook against her face. And to think being stuck in Lima was her life plan with Finn once upon a time. It seemed the only reasonable thing to do back then: her father refused to allow her access to her trust fund and her mother's job as an insurance clerk barely covered the bills, so a real college was out of her league. It irritated her to no end that Rachel, with all her talent and supportive parents, could even imagine that simpleton Finn was a right fit for her. No, never leaving that hellhole of a city was for screw-ups like Quinn Fabray. Rachel Berry had a real future within grasp, far away from Lima, and all Quinn could do was watch it happen from the sidelines, lonely ‒ because, yeah, not even Finn wanted her ‒ and perpetually punishing herself for her own mistakes.

But Rachel didn't agree with her in the least. She was the only person in Quinn's life to actually believe she had a future; the only person who could easily see someone in her not even Quinn herself was aware of being. Rachel gave her hope, and her unsettling compassion turned out to be one of Quinn's motivations. Rachel's words had stuck inside her head ‒ words about not having to be scared of the future, getting it right (the painful irony of it was never lost on her) and being an adult ‒, inspiring her to give up her crazy idea of taking Beth away from Shelby and apply to Yale. When she got the acceptance letter, she felt the happiest she had ever been in probably all her life. Quinn was so proud of herself for finally being able to see a concrete path ahead of her, and all she could think about was telling Rachel; seeing that proud smile would mean she had really got it right.

As everything in her life, though, her revelation didn't go as planned, and Quinn groans in exasperation when the memories seeps through her mind. She did get the smile, and a hug more honest and comfortable than any other she had ever got, but she was also met with the possibility of Rachel tying ‒ or tethering, she thinks bitterly ‒ herself to Finn for the rest of her life. Quinn didn't understand it, and what had frustrated her the previous year quickly turned into a desperate, flaming rage. Rachel Berry, with a voice that moved masses and an earth-quaking confidence that could take over the world, would settle for Finn Hudson, a sore loser who wasn't even sure of what he wanted to do with his own life ‒ apart from destroying Rachel's, of course.

Quinn felt lied to. Everything Rachel had ever told her, and everyone who would listen, about being a star and concentrating on her career, and all her fierce determination to never give up on her dreams ‒ it all crumbled down before one idiotic, rushed and unthought proposal. Quinn tried everything she could think of to talk Rachel out of marrying before she even graduated high school; but as she had been with the path to stardom she had once dreamed of, Rachel was adamant on her decision, to the point of severely damaging their tentative friendship.

It hurt; Quinn had never thought about it until that moment, but Rachel has always had the knack for stripping Quinn's emotions bare without even trying. It's like she can see every crack on the walls Quinn has carefully built to protect herself ‒ to protect the naïve, innocent Lucy inside her. Everything she feels regarding Rachel is unreasonably amplified; Quinn was used to the anger and the envy, her close companions during sophomore and junior years, but what really got to her were all those deep conversations and nerve-racking moments they kept having despite their rivalry. Quinn let her guard down too many times around her, but instead of digging the knife deeper (as Quinn had done many times in the past, whenever their positions were reversed), Rachel always presented herself as a soothing, healing force to all Quinn's wounds, and that created a whole new range of hyperbolic emotions she didn't (doesn't) know how to handle. Quinn hadn't realized she was fighting the chance of having a great friend in Rachel until she decided to consciously let her in.

Their tainted past notwitstanding, their friendship is pure and sincere, and Quinn has never felt so content around anyone before. Rachel is supportive, caring and even funny (in the quirkiest way possible, but Quinn has grown to appreciate it). So when that sheer contentment was endangered by their disagreement, Quinn felt her world spin too fast. Time was ticking away and she had to make things right ‒ she couldn't afford to lose the only friendship that wasn't all about stabbing each other's back, pointless conversations or talking endlessly about God. With that in mind, she overcame her pride and decided to support Rachel as she had supported Quinn, even if it meant dealing with the ever-brewing disgust at the pit of her stomach.

That also, obviously, because that's just how Quinn's life works, went astray from the plans. She delicately places the book on her bedside table and gets up to walk over to the mirror on the other side of her room just because she can. Just because a few weeks ago she still couldn't. It took only ten seconds and one stupid decision of taking her eyes off the road for her world to turn literally upside down. Her memories are still hazy and she isn't sure she wants to remember, anyway; all that ever comes to her mind are periods of complete numbness followed by excruciating pain, her mother's hand softly holding hers for weeks, bleary words about broken bones and punctured organs and spinal injury from the doctors, a lot of crying faces she couldn't really make out, more surgeries than she could count, and, above all, an overwhelming sensation of failure that she just couldn't fathom.

During those ungodly days she spent bound to a hospital bed, Quinn couldn't help the single-minded feeling of failing Rachel by not showing up at the wedding. She had failed to be there for the only person who really cared about her. She tries not to think about what she would have actually done at the wedding; if she would really be able to stand watching her moron of an ex-boyfriend ruin her friend's future. That line of thought raises questions about the lengths she was willing to go to protect Rachel from maiming her own life ‒ lengths she had never crossed for anyone but herself. It makes Quinn feel vulnerable and confused, and she doesn't do either of those feelings. She doesn't do uncertainty.

Ultimately, Quinn did (unintentionally) stop the wedding, and the facts are always more important than 'what ifs'. But while she felt an immense relief knowing Rachel still had a chance to retrace her destiny, Quinn had more pressing matters to deal with. She traces her fingers over her jumper on the places she knows the fabric veils the scars. The accident had left her legs temporarily disabled, not to mention her torso full of cracked bones and shattered glass. Quinn would think that God had already put her through everything to pay for her mistakes, but she was still being tested. So, all alone in her dark room, she started to pray; for herself, for her mother, for her friends, for Beth. Her faith provided her some kind of assuagement, and she decided to try making peace with her past. Easier said than done, but if God had given her one more chance in life, she was going to make it count. She would get up on her feet yet again.

Quinn called Artie to get some pointers on being on a wheelchair; she didn't want to go back to school like a charity case who needed to be wheeled everywhere. It was nice having someone who understood her needs, and she really found a good friend in Artie, but she drew the line when it became clear he wished her condition to be permanent so he wouldn't feel all alone. She really felt for him, but it wasn't her situation and she couldn't afford to be put down any lower. Likewise, Rachel was a lovely company as always, but Quinn kept catching glimpses of guilt in her eyes ‒ like it was her fault that Quinn had been so stupendously irresponsible ‒, and it hurt too much to see Rachel Berry taking pity on her, so she started to avoid her until she could feel comfortable in her new skin. All the other glee kids (including the God Squad) didn't know exactly how to deal with her either, and it was starting to really frustrate Quinn, even though she never let it show.

Except for Joe; he was a godsend, almost literally. A cute, Christian guy with a huge heart, who helped her through her physiotherapy without missing a beat. However, his hesitancy in acting on their mutual attraction made Quinn feel unsettled. She was Quinn Fabray; guys didn't hesitate with her (on the contrary, they got her pregnant). But then she was Quinn Fabray on a wheelchair ‒ an invisible, gross cripple. She had tried to mask her hurt with nonchalance, but that idea tortured her for a couple of days until Joe voiced his real concerns. The reprieve she felt with his kind words gave her such a rush, but they also instantly made her think. There stood yet another boy, ready and willing to do anything for her. Yes, the feeling of control was amazing, and it really boosted her confidence sky high, but Joe was disposed to give up on his faith for her. It was something big. Also, Quinn would be going to Yale in a few months, and while she liked Joe, it was more in the sense of how he made her feel than anything she felt for him. It wouldn't be fair to lead him on just so she could feel good about herself. Quinn grins at her reflection before going back to her bed. Now, that Quinn Fabray is a far cry from her younger self.

She still had an Achilles' heel, though. Her mother's eyes had sparkled at the news of Quinn being selected Prom Queen candidate, and suddenly Quinn felt fifteen again, struggling to make her family proud. Only this time it was more because of how hard her mother worked to pay her medical bills along with everything else than some warped sense of family perfection. She needed to be Prom Queen so she could give her mom a little happiness in all that chaos that their lives had turned into ‒ and yes, of course, she wanted to feel on top again. The problem was that, whenever Quinn was on a mission, she didn't give morals a lot of thought; it was all about winning. So she recruited Finn ‒ without disclosing this to Rachel, because she knew very well where that conversation would lead to ‒ to campaign with her, and wasn't above using her physical condition to earn votes, even though she was almost walking without support. It wasn't like she enjoyed dramatizing it; Quinn wasn't one to victimize herself for anything. But all she could think about was her mother's daily sagged shoulders after extenuating working hours, and all those crowns she still kept so carefully safe inside her room. Judy Fabray was a fighter, and so was her daughter. She would win that crown.

And she did. Barely, by one vote, and almost having it ruined by Finn's public bout of violence, but she did. However, Quinn wasn't thinking about her mother or ruling the school anymore. Her mind was once again filled with Rachel's words about friendship and accomplishments. Quinn felt sick with the notion that Rachel had lost everything she had ever dreamed of while she was obsessing over something as insignificant as a plastic crown. Finn was right; she had been a really crappy friend, stealing Rachel's boyfriend away (although she had made her intentions with him very clear ‒ her friendship with Rachel mattered more than fake-liking Finn Hudson again to earn votes) so he would do her bidding and completely abandoning Rachel when she needed support the most. Quinn looks at her bedside table, where a picture of her, Rachel, Santana and Brittany at the Prom sits in a nice, silver frame. Rachel's smile is so big it's almost blinding, and she's supporting a barely standing Quinn with Santana's help. Yeah, Quinn doesn't regret rigging that election in the least.

God seemed to finally decide her high school career of struggling had been enough a punishment, because the last weeks at McKinley were the best she had ever had. Quinn not only started walking again, but was able to sing and dance to help winning Nationals, and ended up being nominated Valedictorian for graduation, thanks to her Yale acceptance, her more than fine GPA and, mostly, all the struggle she went through without dropping the ball. She also gave Puck a little push (that may have been totally a suggestion from Rachel, but it was ultimately Quinn's decision) into finding himself again, and even if the kiss they shared didn't mean anything in particular to her, it felt good to see him graduating. He was the father of her daughter, and she would always love him a bit because of that, but she most definitely wasn't in love with him. Also, Quinn had meant it when she said she wouldn't drag her past into her future, and Noah Puckerman had one big "past" label all over his mohawk.

The rigged prom encouraged Rachel to pick up her confidence and stalk Madam Tibideaux into her NYADA acceptance. Quinn felt so incredibly proud of her (and, secretly, of Santana and herself) that she started to feel sad they wouldn't see each other all the time anymore. Their friendship was really inspiring, and once that Quinn had that taste of what having a real friend was like, she wouldn't give it up that easily. So she bought them train tickets, just so Rachel wouldn't forget not only where her future stood, but that Quinn would be only a couple of hours away for whenever she wanted to see her. In addition to that, a few days later Finn told Quinn and the rest of the glee club about this decision to set Rachel free to go to New York without him, and as much as Quinn felt like thanking Finn for making an adult decision once in his life, she knew Rachel wouldn't take this very well ‒ mostly because she was still thinking they would get married back then. Rachel would need all the support she could get, and Quinn would be ready to be there for her, either in New Haven or New York.

That wouldn't be happening so soon, though. It's still mid-July, and there's still a whole month before Quinn has to go to Yale. Her dorm room is secured thanks to the trust fund she and her mom finally wrestled away from her father to pay for the tuition, so she doesn't have to worry about fishing for a place to live. She's basically bored out of her mind, hence the whole yearbook rereading drill. Quinn rolls on her back and picks up her phone on her bedside table. She doesn't like the little shiver that goes down her spine whenever she feels the device between her fingers, but she figures she'll have to deal with it and act like a normal human being. It took her almost a month to finally buy a new phone after the accident, and it had been only because her mom had nagged on and on about Quinn isolating herself from her friends. Which was her intention, but she decided to placate her mother and just bought the damn thing. Grimacing at the bright screen, Quinn reads the time: 11:46 in the morning, also known as too early to call anyone to hang out. Mercedes is at work in a retail shop at the Lima Mall, Santana (and Brittany, probably together) must be sleeping like a rock, Sam is babysitting his siblings, Joe is out of town in a Christian Camp since last month, and Rachel is in New York, of course.

As if on cue, her phone buzzes against her palm and Quinn almost drops it with a gasp. Then she reads the name Rachel and feels a smile creeping up on her face ‒ speaking of the devil. She hasn't talked to Rachel properly since before she went to New York two weeks ago, apart from a few text messages here and there. Quinn lets the third ring play out before answering ‒ Rachel doesn't need to know how desperate she is to have someone to talk to.

"Hey, Rach," she calls out good-naturedly, already expecting the over-effusive response. The nickname is spontaneous by now; Rachel really seems to appreciate it, so Quinn tends to favor it over her full name.

"Good morning, Quinn! I hope I'm not waking you up or interrupting anything," Rachel replied chipperly, and Quinn can nearly envision the Broadway smile on her face on the other side of the line. The thought of it makes her chuckle.

"No, I woke up ages ago. I'm just contemplating the vastness of my boredom right now, so I'm actually glad you called. How are you?" she asks, grinning at the giggle she gets as a reaction.

"I'm wonderful, thank you for asking. And how are you, apart from your obvious lethargy?" Rachel inquires in an amused tone, and there is the idiosyncratic humor Quinn became rather fond of.

"I'm fine. You know, same old. How's the Big Apple?"

"Oh, it's marvelous, as usual, but I got back to Lima last night, so I can empathize with the monotony," Rachel's speech is mostly on the matter-of-fact side, but there's an edge of something Quinn can't decipher. She doesn't dwell on it, though, because the idea of having her friend back in Lima to free her from her uneventful days brings a full-blown smile to her face.

"You're back already? I thought you'd spend more time in New York with your dads or something," she asks, recalling their text exchanges. Not once have Rachel mentioned coming back so soon.

"They needed to get back to work, so we all came back. I'll have plenty of New York very soon, and I- I never got the chance to- to really say goodbye to Lima, so now that everything is set with my housing at NYADA, I decided to spend my last month here," she explains quietly with a breaking voice, and Quinn almost punches herself in reprimand. Of course Rachel wanted to come back; Finn had put her in a train without even giving her a chance to come to terms about leaving Lima or him.

The glee kids threw him a small farewell party at Puck's house last week. Nobody mentioned Rachel or New York the whole night, and on the next morning he was gone to Georgia for his basic training. Quinn bites her lip and holds out a sigh before answering.

"Oh, that's nice. Welcome back, Rach," she manages, trying not to sound too solemn.

"Thank you, Quinn. I'm happy to be back," Rachel answers in a shy timbre, and there's a somewhat nervous pause before she resumes her talking. "I-I was wondering if- if you'd like to meet me at the Lima Bean later."

Quinn barks out a laugh, relieved both for the opportunity of hanging out and for Rachel dismissing the touchy subject so quickly.

"Yes, please! I'm dying to get out of this house. You're my savior," she replies quickly, not even bothered by how needy she sounded. She really needed to get out.

"Well, I'm glad to be of help," Rachel says in a delighted voice. "Is 2 PM appropriate?"

"Perfect. I'll see you there," Quinn responds, already getting up to have a quick shower.

"See you, Quinn," are Rachel's last words before the call ends.

Quinn places her phone on her vanity, checks herself again on the mirror beside it and smiles; one phone call and her day has already taken a full turn for the better.