Summary: It's senior for Quinn and she believes she finally got it right with her new punk persona. Rachel thinks otherwise.

Quinn licks her dry lips before taking another long drag from the cigarette placed delicately between her two fingers. Well aware of the consequences, she just doesn't have it in her to care. Besides, she thinks bitterly, it's a hard habit to break. And she is sure she'll always find the reason to never stop.

The blonde went to the porch to have a thought, only to regret the decision because she is having too many thoughts. She should have known better, should have known that in her thoughts are the reasons why Quinn sits on the steps of her porch, cigarette at hand and pink in hair and heavy eyeliner and clothes that will make a biker dad damn proud. Quinn coughs from inhaling too much at once. Regretfully, a tramp stamp of Ryan Seacrest takes its place on the pink-haired blonde's lower back to complete the whole persona of what Quinn aptly calls, the new her.

This is her, she reasons. This is who she really is, a bitter seventeen year old girl that has been pushed and pushed and pushed until her bubble of protection pops and finally rebels. This is her. At first "perfect", then pregnant at sixteen, homeless right after, a mother for that one perfect moment, and a backstabber the next. She flicks the cigarette and watches the flaming ashes scatter with Lima's autumn wind. A punk, a skank, all the potential truancy, detentions, and if she's lucky, suspensions in her future. She embraces the new her, welcomes it, surely she finally finds her true self. This is her.

"Quinn, honey, what are you-" Judy Fabray stands by the front door, her back straightens quickly with any dignity she still has left and her eyes narrows, "What are you doing? When did you start smoking?"

The younger Fabray ignores the question as she motions her hand up to take another drag and-

Judy snatches it from her grasp, drops it on the floor, and puts it out with a carefully chosen pair of heels. Quinn grumbles. That cigarette had a lot more left in it.

"Whatever this is Quinn, you have to tell me. Look at me when I'm talking to you!" She pleads, and only continues when Quinn, reluctantly, turns her head up towards the older women, "I was telling you the truth when I said I will try my best to be the mother I wasn't all those years. No, listen, don't roll your eyes at me. I tried to understand when you dyed your hair pink. I tried to understand when you came home with those god-awful clothes. Stop glaring, they really are awful. But smoking is what I don't get. Don't you understand what you're doing to your body? This isn't you Quinnie. This isn't you."

Quinn wets her dry lips again. She bows her head for a moment, Judy eyes her carefully, before the she stands up from the steps and turns towards her "mother". She flashes her well-practiced Fabray smile as she takes a step. And a step. And another. The closer she gets to Judy, the more her smile falters until finally, Quinn holds a straight face as she stops inches away from Judy. There she stands, wearing a worn out denim vest over a dark, loose shirt with one of the tightest, black jeans from the local mall.

Her jaw tightens before speaking quietly, but firmly, "This is me."

Judy stares at her daughter, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, before begrudgingly surrendering, "Are you at least going to school tomorrow? It is your final year you know."

"I'll think about it." She moves swiftly back into the house, the pompous, over-sized, lonely house, after the simple response.

xx

Tap tap tap

Quinn Fabray drums her fingers against the black leather steering wheel of her car, her midriff bare from the dark cropped shirt, the lengthy skirt barely hanging from her hips with the help of a loose studded belt. She's late, about midday already on the second day of school; it's amazing how the punk even made it to the student parking lot, her mother chastised her for missing yesterday so here she is. She checks herself over on the side view mirror before walking out the door.

She bursts the doors open, head high with confidence and nonchalance, which ironically would have made Sue Sylvester burst into tears with pride, and struts along McKinley High's hallway. Eyeing the gleeks along the way, she doesn't know whether to sneer or smirk. But one thing Quinn knows, she's never going back. It's senior year and she finally finds herself.

The conversation with Santana and Brittney seals the deal, leaving Quinn somewhat relieved. This is it. It's reality. No longer will anyone pressure her embody an image they wish to see her as. She will not be pushed to be the perfect daughter when Lucy just wanted to play with kids her age; be the perfect Head Bitch In Charge playing the role as hell raiser when Quinn just wanted to fit in; be the perfect Fabray. This punk persona is the result from all that pushing. She wants out.

And that's why she's holding a new cigarette between her fingers, leaned over as on of the Skanks light it up; they take shelter under the bleachers. She's with the Skanks because of acceptance. Acceptance of the new, real her. And that's all she ever wanted. To feel accepted unconditionally.

"Hey Quinn." A soft melodies voice calls, "Um, hello Skanks."

Quinn turns around to face diva-like Rachel Berry expectantly, she admits that she is surprised that the short singer did not confront her any sooner. Maybe she's not the only one changing things up a bit this year. Hazel eyes uses brief awkward silence to take in the short brunette.

"Your friend stinks like soap, Quinn," Ronnie states, to which the blonde rolls her eyes. Contrary to what everyone is assuming, she still does take a shower. She's a punk, not a hobo.

The pink-haired blonde eyes the shorter teen as Rachel nervously fumbles with her bag strap, before the brunette speaks, "We were friends once. Okay... Maybe when you cut off your hair last year I thought it would stop all your problems, I should have spoken up."

Quinn swallows a tight knot in her throat and lets out a shaky breath.

"Maybe when you dropped out of society this summer and started dating that 40 year old skateboarder, I should've said-"

The taller teenager clears her throat awkwardly and mumbles, "That was a rumor, Berry."

Rachel clamps her mouth shut immediately, her childish brown eyes wide from the news, before nodding slowly, "Oh. Well, that's great. It would have been dangerous and pose a threat to your life, not that I oppose a great age difference between two people because I'm sure the number doesn't nearly matter if they love each other enough." She pauses,"but I wanted to talk about-"

Quinn shuts her up again, "And I'm still not coming back to Glee club. I know why you're here." She takes a drag from the lit stick and leans her head to the side, "I'm actually surprised, and dare I say, proud that you didn't try to convince me sooner."

The brunette straightens her posture with renewed confidence and takes a sure step forward, "We need you." Her eyes sparkle with that ambitious glint of hers, "We need your tremulous alto and your Blinda Carlisle glamour."

She pauses and Quinn raises her hand up to Mack to stop her from interrupting, "I'm sorry you're so sad Quinn." The former-Cheerio scoffs and mumbles a disagreement to that statement. "A-And maybe you're not gonna believe me because we were never really close but I'm so sad when I'm not seeing you in the choir room. And we've all been through SO much together, we're a family and this is our year to get it right."

Quinn crosses an arm across her chest and looks aside away from the brunette, like a child being scolded by a parent with the unwanted truth.

"We would love to have you back in Glee Club," Rachel stares up at her intently, determined as always. "Whenever you're ready."

xx

The newly delinquent confesses that it was her doing that began the food war in the cafeteria, it was her food first the soared across that landed on an unknowing proud brunette. Old habit dies hard, she guesses. It's not for no reason of course; Quinn believes her sadistic action was justified by the fact Rachel fucking Berry threw her off once again. She lets out a frustrated sigh. The vertically-troubled teen almost always makes Quinn's resolves waver with every grand pity speech that leaves her lips. Rachel remains cordial with her and merely brushes every jab Quinn delivers during their first two years in high school. When her tormentor falls off the social ladder with teen pregnancy tagged onto her existence, Rachel sits right down and offers her hand of friendship. And then finally, with the creation of her punk persona, Rachel walks up to her, always shyly at first, to let her know that she is still welcomed, and very much missed, in Glee. Quinn is frustrated by the fact that the very Rachel Berry goes against the strict social nature put out for all of them. So Quinn does what she knows best. She reacts.

She's only slightly guilty when she lit the purple piano after the Glee's second attempt to capture potential recruits' interests. Pianos are such magnificent instruments but Quinn soothes herself by saying that she ended the piano's affiliation with the misfits and that is certainly a way to go in her mind. Maybe she isn't merely reacting, but reacting out of spite.

"So me and the girls were thinking of ditching and hanging by McDonald's, you in Pinky?" Ronnie asks when the bell rings for class.

Quinn licks her lips and gives them a sharp nod, "Let me just freshen up and have a smoke at the restroom, I'll catch up with you guys."

The Skanks shrugs and walks out of school with ease. This school does not a give a fuck about any of their students.

She walks along the now empty hallway and pushes the restroom door open. She paces across the room and is pleased that it's just her. Quinn checks herself in the mirror and simply ruffles her dyed locks into a messy do before propping herself up to sit on one of the sinks. Digging through her small satchel, she snatches her almost empty Marlbolo pack and takes a fresh stick between her lips. She takes a slow drag and settles her head against the tiled wall with a content smile and closed eyes.

And Quinn just stays for minutes as she leisurely inhales and exhales the smoke, casually practicing to create smoke rings from time to time. She's been secluded in McKinley's restroom for one, two, three, four, five minutes and Quinn enjoys the relaxing atmosphere. The distinguished cigarette butt lies on top of the sink, but the teen continues to sits where she is and just bask in the mood she helped set.

A sudden break of silence from the sound of a door swinging open and softly shut breaks Quinn's tranquil trance and shatters most, if not all, her short-term good mood. She turns to glower at the intruder and her eyes darken even more when she faces the person.

"Berry," she sneers.

Rachel looks up and visibly jumps in surprise but recovers quickly and nods at her politely, "Quinn. I'm surprised to see you here, I was sure you went with the Skanks."

Quinn merely shrugs and goes back to leaning against the wall without looking at her. Rachel combs her fingers through her brown hair in front of the sink beside Quinn's before smoothing out her dress, almost imagining that she's also calming her nerves. Quinn's presence is always a strong force that affects Rachel in one way or another. It's at that moment that the cigarette on the sink next to hers catches Rachel's attention and she frowns deeply.

"I didn't want to mention before because I was focused with my own personal agenda, and also partly for fear of agitating the Skanks which could lead to a broken nose. But..." Rachel eyes Quinn warily with concern, "I'm sure you are already aware of the effects smoking can do to your health, as well as your voice. I wish to simply voice my worries out loud. I can look for a 1-800 number that deals with these harmful addictions and will gladly give it to you. And your voice Quinn!"

Quinn simply rolls her eyes, "Can't you just shut up." She covers her face with her hands and tries to ignore the vocal brunette.

The room becomes silent. Completely silent actually. The punk peeks through parted fingers and sees Rachel Berry still standing there, with her hands curled around the sink with a nervous grip. Quinn clenches her jaw tensely, waiting patiently and knowingly for what will happen next, frustrated that it's actually going to happen despite her efforts to avoid it.

"I..." Rachel uncharacteristically trails off into silence and Quinn watches with cautious eyes as the brunette nibbles on her lip with unease. "Adequate time has passed for us to finally discuss the... issue if you will, during what has transpired during the summer. I understand wholeheartedly if you wish not to speak but if you'd let me just to put my thoughts out there, that would be more than satisfactory. Quinn?"

The singer takes the other's lack of response as permission to continue, "I'm not here to put shame on you or voice regret, I accept full responsibility for my... behavior."

Quinn groans in frustration because Rachel's avoidance to actually call the 'issue' what is really is making this talk much more annoying than she would like, "It's okay to say it, Berry. We fucked."

The room grew thick in tension from Quinn's blunt confession. If circumstances were different, preferably when Quinn wasn't involved, seeing Rachel fluster in embarrassment and stammering to say coherent sentence the pink-haired teen would find it amusing to watch.

Rachel takes a deep breath to compose herself, "Yes we have had a sexual encounter. It was my first time. Admittedly, it was hurried and clumsy, but you were perfect despite the unexpected circumstances." The brunette gazes intensely at the other girl after her confession, feeling slightly offended when Quinn was looking the other way. "I mean, I'm getting ahead of myself. I wanted to apologize for what happened because-"

"First you compliment on my bedding skills and now you're apologizing. What do you really want to say? Cause it just seems like you're rambling and have no idea what to really say," Quinn speaks softly, never turning to face the brunette.

The short singer lets out a troubled sigh, "I shouldn't have done that. You needed a friend. You were drunk and possibly were on something, and please don't confirm that statement! I was sober, you weren't. I took advantage of you. If-" Rachel hesitates, "If I had known that you would come to school like this then I would've-"

Quinn quickly cuts her off, her voice raising as this conversation continues to play out, "Would've what, Berry? Fucked me a little harder to shove my sadness away with an amazing orgasm? And what do you mean if I would come to school like 'this'? You know what, get over it because this is who I am now." Her spot on top of the sink forgotten as Quinn takes a stand in front of the other teenager. She glares when Rachel shakes her head adamantly.

"Please do calm I'm only worried for you," Rachel maintains eye contact with her. "Did you know that a woman releases a special hormone after a sexual interaction or when breast-feeding her child that makes her emotionally connected to the person forever? We had sex, I accept that it happened, but I also can't forget it because we're - I feel like I'm personally involved in your well-being. When I heard of that skateboarder rumor, I felt slightly wounded. But... But that's besides the point. This," She gestures to all of Quinn. "This isn't you."

Fingers comb through a mess of pink and blonde locks as the said person limply leans against a sink, tired from all the stress induced from this conversation, before speaking darkly, "What makes you sound so sure that this isn't me, hm? And here I thought I finally found my true self."

"This is just a reaction," Rachel starts. "An angry reaction to everything you've been through, the hardships you had to endure. It's what you do best. You react."

The two just stand there, the awkward air prevalent in the room. Everything is set back in motion when the bell rings again, both flinching from the sudden sound. Rachel composes herself first and sends a small smile towards Quinn.

"My friendship is always up for offer, Quinn," she nods at the former-Cheerio as she steps back towards the door. "Whenever you're ready."

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

And that's that. I have a history of never updating so I made sure this one could be left as is as an open-ended oneshot with the potential to be explored much further if inspiration strikes me. I guess this is my way of interpreting Punk!Quinn because I felt like it was severely downplayed in the series. Oh yeah, I used to be NicNicBbycakes but I feel that's sort of an embarrassing username so I just changed it to AppleSundays.

Story inspired of The World At Large by Modest Mouse.

Thank you for reading.