Disclaimer: Don't own shiz

Author's Note: Spoilers for season 1 finale.

This is set during the scene in the hospital where Puck asks Quinn if she wants to keep Bethany. Title is from the Foo Fighters' song 'Let It Die'.

I have no idea why I wrote this in the second person so it feels awkward please tell me. Enjoy =D

Her answer is quick. Decisive. Quinn has already decided this baby thing is not going to work out.

"Do you?"

She is looking at you now. There is a defensive, slightly mocking edge to her tone, but you can tell she is genuinely curious.

You want to say yes: you took one look at that little bundle and fell in love. She was all gooey and wrinkly, but you thought she was the most beautiful thing in the whole wide world. Quinn thinks so too. She is trying hard not to get attached, but you can tell by the way she stares down at her wonder that she is just as enchanted by Beth as you are.

The birth was kind of disgusting; you never thought you would see the day when you looked between a girl's legs and didn't like what you saw. At times you were tempted to run out the room: she was screaming and hurling all kinds of insults at you, cursing Eve for eating that goddamn apple and declaring she would never have sex again.

But it was worth it. You told yourself you wouldn't get all emotional, but when that shriek cut through the air you felt a lump in your throat. At that moment you were glad everyone's attention was on Quinn and the baby: it gave you a few seconds to take some deep breaths and wipe away the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. You thought you had gotten away with it, but when you looked up Mercedes was smiling at you and giving your hand a squeeze – you knew then that your reputation was fucked, but oddly enough, you couldn't care less.

Bethany.

You want to say it out loud, but Quinn is looking at you now, waiting for an answer and looking a little confused by your silence. She has already made her mind up. Quinn doesn't want to be a Lima loser, and nothing says Lima loser like a teenage pregnancy.

In ten years time she sees herself in the big city, living the independent lifestyle. There are no suburbs or football games in her future. She'll have a fancy apartment and a highflying job. She doesn't see the future like you do. You know she envisions you leaving her after a year, a dead end job for the both of you and a pissy teenager who can't get over that fact that she's a bastard child.

You have been thinking about the future a lot recently. You'll never tell anyone about the number of times you have considered Bethany's life. You've seen everything, from her first steps and first day of school, to her graduation and her wedding day. God, you've even seen grandchildren.

You have favourites. Certain occasions you like to play out in your head during Chemistry or when Schuester starts talking about moral lessons. You haven't really dedicated that much time to them or anything, but you're favourite is her first day of school.

The scenario never changes.

She is nervous. She doesn't really know any other kids her own age. Your friends haven't even begun to consider children and the few cousins she has are older and reluctant to let her play with them.

When it's time for you and Quinn to say goodbye she leaps into your arms and won't let go. She buries her head in your chest and begins to cry. Not that grating scream you've come to associate with her tantrums, but that soft whimper, the one she uses when she is the most upset.

"Please daddy," she mumbles into your neck, "don't leave me here."

She knows not to try this shit with Quinn. If anyone knows how to manipulate others it's Quinn Fabray.

It works on you though. The kid has you wrapped around her little finger and you both know it. That doll she saw on the TV that morning? A little pouting outside the toyshop and it's hers. Doesn't quite feel like going to bed just yet? A drawn out "pleeeeeease" has her curled up in your lap as you play Xbox. Would rather eat what's on your plate than hers? Before you know it you're dinner's gone and you're left with miniature, carefully cut portions of those chops you were really looking forward to.

She locks her arms around your neck, leaving tearstains on your shoulder. Quinn looks sceptical and keeps looking at the clock, but you can see in her eyes that this display is tugging on her heartstrings too. There is a chance that this is all an act. You have yet to master the skill of distinguishing between Beth's real and carefully crafted tears and you never will. A final wail of "pleeeease" seals the deal.

You find yourself squatting at the play dough table making weird little action figures and assisting Beth's ambitious attempts to make a house. After ten minutes Beth has made friends, but when you try and sneak out she begins wailing again.

She does all she can to keep you there and you find yourself dragged from activity to activity. At one point she decides she wants to be a shopkeeper. The other kids are interested in her impressive range of stock, but she has already decided you're the only customer she needs. By the end of the morning she's bonded with another little girl and set up a restaurant. You grumble about little girls and the power of the word 'daddy' with the other girl's father as you politely nibble the dishes they constantly thrust into your face.

You don't make it to work that day.

You think it'll get better when she's a teenager, but it gets worse. She's more independent now: she eats her own dinner and she can't wait for you to leave her alone, but the demands are the same.

She can spend hours trailing the shops, and you find yourself thrusting money at her just so you don't have to go. Somehow she discovers she needs something new every other weekend. Quinn sees right through it, but that "daddy" has you wearily reaching for your wallet.

She's failed her driving test so many times it has become obvious she just isn't suited for the road. That makes you her personal chauffer. You try to be strict with curfews, but she's a good negotiator. You find yourself sitting in your car at 3 AM parked outside a house you are thankful isn't yours. She has promised a multitude of things to get you here at this ungodly hour, but by the end of the week you realise she hasn't done a single one of them.

The first boyfriend is a total dick. You hate him instantly, though Quinn swears he's a decent kid. He's awkward and nervous and can never look you in the eye. Quinn finds it endearing; you think it's pathetic. He seems to be a permanent fixture in your house. You wouldn't mind but it would be nice once in a while to wake up and not have a love note written in magnetic letters on your fridge. It's creepy to think he's wandering around your house when no one is home or asleep and just reminds you that Beth's window is conveniently situated next to a large tree.

You know you should be glad she's not dating someone like you, but it doesn't make things any better.

Beth never tells you the details of the break up. Quinn protests ignorance but it's clear she knows something. For the first time in your life you find yourself seriously reflecting on the way you treated girls in the past, and with the help of some horror films, you come up with literally 101 ways to kill the kid.

The only good thing about the break up is that you've become the number one man in her life. Suddenly she's accompanying you to the record shop, even though she's not too keen on your old school tastes. The pair of you watch DVDs till the early hours of the morning. Quinn always rolls her eyes and marches upstairs when you suggest a DVD, knowing she has lost all hopes of watching television for the night. You find yourself buying box sets just so you can watch more marathons. Quinn always tuts when you present your new purchase, but the look on Beth's face makes it totally worth it.

Quinn is still waiting for an answer.

You swallow nervously as you realise your silence has already said too much.

Fuck it.

For all you know she could want Beth just as much as you do. The longer you keep quiet, the more you can feel that perfect future slipping through your fingers. You steel yourself for your answer and the potential awkwardness or tender moment it may bring.

Then the vocal adrenaline coach shows up.

Social services don't notify you when your child gets adopted. You're not too sure why you ever thought they would until Quinn reveals she asked for a closed adoption.

You've been spending a lot of time at the hospital. Sometimes you just watch her, standing by the pane of glass that separates you for hours at a time, only moving to get food, use the bathroom, and make room for others who want to see their own child. Sometimes you hold her. The midwives are friendly, and always offer to let you hold her.

The day you find Beth's cot empty you almost have a heart attack. Panic seizes you and for a moment you can't move. You find yourself running through the halls searching for a midwife. Everyone you find points you to the front desk, a little less alarmed than you'd like about the fact that your baby is missing.

When you get to reception a woman is holding a baby and signing paperwork. It takes you a moment to realise that it is Shelby, Rachel's mother, and the baby in her arms is Bethany. You watch as she coos over your child and are flooded with an odd combination of worry, despair, jealousy and relief. It's nice to know Bethany isn't going to grow up in a children's home, but the idea of her being brought up by the woman who spawned Rachel Berry makes you feel uncomfortable. When she smiles down at Bethany there is no evidence of the merciless, dictatorial coach you have heard so much about, but she looks so much like Rachel you're finding it hard to appreciate her seemingly maternal nature.

It is only when you overhear her whisper "hey Bethany" you begin to feel marginally better. You watch as Shelby pulls Bethany close to her, the look in her eyes reminding you too much of Rachel post-sectionals win.

As you watch them you suddenly notice a short blonde trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. You want to laugh that her idea of discreet is a baseball cap and oversized shades, but there is nothing funny about today. Instead you move to stand beside her. After a few seconds she grabs your hand.

You stand silently, hand in hand, as the woman leaves with your child. Nine months ago you were wishing Quinn would stop being so religious and get an abortion. Now you would give anything to be the one taking Bethany home.

"You think she's gonna turn out like Rachel?" you ask, breaking the silence. The corners of Quinn's mouth twitch.

"Not with our genes."

"She's… she's gonna be fucking awesome."

Quinn's cool demeanour is shattered by a proud grin, "damn right she will."

She is suddenly serious again, "if things were different-" she begins, but you cut her off with a simple "don't".

She's desperate to talk about this. Even with the sunglasses on you can tell she is studying you, willing you to talk.

"It's for the best," Quinn says quietly, but even now you can hear the regret, that she doesn't believe a word of what she is saying. You nod slowly and when you speak your tone echoes hers.

"I know."