after all; judy fabray, quinn fabray; pg-13
Title: after all
Author: yesssirrr
Characters/Pairings: Judy Fabray; Quinn Fabray; implied Quinn/Rachel
Rating: pg-13
Length: 1604
Spoilers: Quinn is pregnant and that's what this is about.
Disclaimer: These characters are NOT mine.
Summary: Judy Fabray visits Quinn at the Berry's.
Author's Note: I posted a prompt somewhere along these lines at the glee_angst_meme but then decided to write for it, instead. It's unbeta-ed, so all mistakes are mine, don't take them.
;;
Judy Fabray wishes she was not sober for this.
Maybe then it would make this a lot easier. But she knows she has to do this right if there’s any chance that her own daughter would ever consider taking her back.
She parks her Porche outside of the Berry household and clenches her jaw shut. She never thought that she would ever have to do this, to stand outside of two gay men’s house vying for her daughter’s understanding and consideration. But here she is, aware that those two gay men inside and their daughter has taken her child in, has been a better family to her than she and her husband have been, after all.
She wishes more than anything she was not sober right now.
It takes a little while, but she eventually knocks on the door. As she waits, she straightens her dress because even in a situation like this, looking proper and presentable is still essential.
A half balding man with glasses and a kind smile opens the door. The smile falters a little bit and she notices it, but doesn’t show it. She does, after all, know how to keep up appearances.
“May I help you?” he asks her.
“I was wondering if Quinn Fabray is around?” It’s a strange feeling to hear her daughter’s name out loud, the one that has been forbidden to be spoken aloud in her house since Russell kicked her out.
“Who’s asking?” he says, even she’s pretty sure they both already know. Quinn is her spitting image, after all.
“I’m her mo-Judy Fabray.” She chokes on the word mother and knows she hasn’t been deserving of the title in the last few months. He hesitates for a moment but keeps his smile intact.
“I’m sorry, but she and Rachel are out right now. But if you want to leave a message, I’d be more than happy to pass it on to her.” She shakes her head and smiles in understanding. She steps back.
“No, that’s all right. I’m sorry. I want, uh-thank you anyway. Have a good day.” She quickly turns herself around and is halfway across the pathway when she hears him.
“Mrs. Fabray!” She turns around slowly not sure what to do, not really anticipating this particular event.
“You can come back tomorrow at five-thirty if you want.”
She nods and keeps eye contact before turning back around and getting into her car. There’s a movement from the corner of her eye and she looks up just as she’s putting her seatbelt on. Her daughter is looking at her intently from the window and she freezes, doesn’t know what to do. So she doesn’t do anything but drive away.
She gets back to her house and rushes to the kitchen where there are bottles upon bottles of alcohol that she can drown herself in. Except when she gets there and pours herself a drink, she feels sick to her stomach. So sick that she ends up running to the bathroom and puking out the fat free chicken salad she had at lunch earlier.
For the first time in a long time, it’s not the alcohol that’s affected her like this.
--
Right on the dot, Judy Fabray tries again at five thirty the next day. It’s the same man that opened the door for her yesterday.
“Hello,” she says politely but he’s already pulling the door wider with a tight smile and gesturing for her to come in. She blinks her confusion away and puts a smile on her face before entering in.
The place is nothing she’s ever imagined it to be. It’s warm and inviting and completely different from her own home. No, house. Her own house.
“Quinn is in the living room just to your right. We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.” He doesn’t wait for an answer and she doesn’t offer any. She watches him retreat to what she expects is the kitchen. She inhales a lungful of air and makes her way to the living room. She doesn’t know what to expect, but then again, it hasn’t been all too smart to expect so much.
When she turns the corner, she sees her daughter idly playing with her stomach, looking out the window. In another time, she knows she would have been doting at her very pregnant daughter and making sure she had everything she needed. But this isn’t that time, and it will probably never be that time. It hurts her heart a lot more than she thought it should.
“Quinn,” she exhales in a low whisper, rooted at the threshold of the room.
“Do you remember when I was nine years old, you and Daddy took me shopping for a new church dress?” Quinn doesn’t look at her when she’s talking. She doesn’t expect her to.
“I found this blue dress I really wanted to wear because I thought it was beautiful, but Daddy took my hand and told me that I looked much better in the yellow sun dress and that more people would compliment me in that because the blue one wasn’t really all that pretty. So I said okay and sure enough, he was right. Everyone at church the next day told me how beautiful it was.”
She doesn’t know what to do so she crosses her arms and stands tall, pretends to be more than what she feels right now as she listens to her daughter.
“But when we got back home and Daddy was out with Uncle Harry and Uncle Jim, you took my hand and smiled at me, told me you had a surprise for me waiting in my room. So I ran up there and saw the box. I pulled it open and there was the blue dress that I wanted. I gave you a hug and you told me you’d always take care of me. Do you remember?”
It’s the first time Quinn looks at her and she doesn’t do anything but nod.
“I wore that dress until I couldn’t fit in it anymore. It was my favorite.”
“Quinn I-”
“I needed my mom. I needed her to understand and I needed her to love me regardless, to take my hand and tell me that she’d always take care of me.”
She dabs at her face and tries to maintain her composure even as her daughter’s eyes are streaked with tears. There’s nothing she can say.
Quinn lifts herself from the couch and closes the distance between mother and daughter.
“What do you want?” Forgiveness is at the tip of her tongue, but she keeps that to herself. She knows how to keep up appearances, after all, she is a stranger to her daughter now.
“I came by to apologize.” She sees Quinn’s eyes narrow.
“Does he know you’re here?”
“No. I came here of my own accord.”
“I’m fine without you. There are people here that love me and support me and have been good to me.”
“I still love you, Quinn! I’m your mother!” she says, taking a tentative step forward, one met with a hasty retreat back.
“You stopped being my mother when you let him kick me out. When you didn’t do anything to take care of me! When I needed you!”
“I’m sorry Quinn! But there was nothing I could do. Your father’s word is law at home.”
“What home?!” she barks at her. “Our house hasn’t been a home in a long time. I’ve been more at home here than with you and him.”
The two of them are quiet again until she hears sobbing. It amazes her to know that it’s from her.
“Quinn…” she tries to step forward but thinks better of it.
“I don’t have anything else to say to you. I suggest you leave now.”
In the back of her mind, she knows she deserves this. But the sting of being dismissed by her own daughter is painful in her chest. It doesn’t help that it feels all too familiar, the dismissal, because her own husband has been dismissing her for as long as she can recall.
This time, she tries to stand up for herself and to be stronger than what she was. But she knows the mistake is hers when she stands up to the wrong person.
“I’m sorry, Quinn.”
The young woman in front of her shakes her head ruefully.
“We all are.”
--
It’s not a week later that she hears the news that Quinn has the baby.
She doesn’t think twice about making a phone call to the hospital and dealing with certain finances.
--
She’s not sure if it’s a start. But she’ll take whatever she can get.
It comes in one of her magazine subscriptions that Russell never goes near. It’s a smart move. She appreciates it.
It falls out like a subscription card. She almost throws it out when she sees blonde hair.
It’s a picture of Quinn looking tired, but happy. She’s sitting behind a girl, presumably Rachel Berry, her head propped on the brunette’s shoulder, her arm around the other girl as she holds onto the baby’s hand. Rachel Berry is holding onto the baby with a smile that matches the one on Quinn’s face.
She turns the picture over and there’s a note scribbled in Quinn’s handwriting.
I know it was you. I don’t approve of what you did but I am not above anybody to not be thankful for it. After all, someone did teach me manners.
Her name’s Isabelle Fabray.
Judy Fabray is more than glad she’s sober for this.