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Chapter Text

She felt it again. That euphoric feeling that meant she was alive. It was how she used to feel whenever she sang, losing herself in the emotions of the song. A humorless laugh escaped her lips as she thought of her naivety. She had thought she had a chance, that people would come to appreciate her talent. She had had a plan. She was going to take Broadway by storm, win a Tony here and there...She stared down at what she'd done, the razor in her right hand stained with the blood now bubbling from crisscrossing gashes in her left arm. She tilted her arm, inspecting the other scars splattered by the blood now dripping down her arm. They glare back at her, a constant reminder of the things she had gone through, the pain she had been forced to endure day after day. A tear slipped from her eye, but she wiped it away and fell back onto her bed, her eyes devoid of emotion as she stared at the ceiling. How had it come to this? How had she been reduced to this?

3 months ago

"We're over Rachel!" Finn shouted as he hurled open the door to the empty classroom she had dragged him into moments before. She followed close behind him, seizing his arm and whirling him around to face her, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest.

"You said you'd never break up with me!" Finn scoffed and rolled his eyes at her dramatics, oblivious to how hard she was fighting to stop the tears threatening to cascade down her face.

Rachel's lower lip trembled as she tried to find the right words to say, but the loathing in his eyes rendered her speechless. Finn shook his head in disgust and muttered so low that only she could hear. "I can't believe I ever wanted to date a slut like you."

He forcibly yanked his arm from her grip and stormed down the hallway, pushing people aside and not even bothering to look back at the girl who was still frozen in shock. His words hung in the air around Rachel like a poisonous fog, making it impossible for her to breathe. No. No this couldn't be happening. Everything had been going perfectly until she had told Finn about her and Puck. It had made sense to her, Finn had done it with Santana so she could do it with Puck. Surely Finn would understand. But everything had gone wrong. Panic overtook her as his words sank in, and next thing she knew she was fighting through the crowd desperately trying to reach the person who was towering above everyone else. Only one thing was processing in her mind. She knew she had to stop Finn, she had to make him understand.

"Finn!" she cried desperately, but her shout was drowned by the sound of students moving in the hallway.

Suddenly, she noticed a small gap in the crowd and she used her small build to her advantage, ducking under a pair of jocks and ignoring the insults thrown at her. She only had eyes for him, and now only a few people stood between them. Rachel reached out a hand, but she was so focused on Finn she didn't see the outstretched foot. She gasped with surprise as the hallway floor came up to meet her and she barely registered a sharp pain in her side as she landed awkwardly. The movement around her came to a standstill as students stared. Ignoring the snickers, she slowly sat up and raised her head to Finn who was looking murderous. His hands shook with anger as he gazed down at her.

"What do you want?" he growled, crossing his arms.

"P-please Finn can't we at least talk about th-this?" Tears poured down Rachel's face as she stared up at the cold look that had replaced the normal dopey grin Finn used to give her. She knew she looked pathetic, but she didn't care. All she wanted was for him to take her back.

"I'm done with you."

"N-no you don't mean that. We can still work this out." She reached pleadingly towards him, but he recoiled and turned away.

"Just stay the fuck away from me, Rachel! You're nothing but a whore and that's not gonna change."

The venom in his voice cut through the diva's heart, and she let her hand drop uselessly at her side as the boy she loves stormed away. A sob shook her frame and she didn't even bother to stand up, choosing instead to rest her head against the lockers behind her. She closed her eyes, trying her hardest to ignore the dull ache in her chest that had started the moment Finn had left the empty classroom.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the blonde Cheerio who had witnessed the whole confrontation. The girl's eyebrows were furrowed as she watched Finn disappear around the corner, and she was torn between chasing after him and helping Rachel. She made up her mind when she saw the brunette curled into a ball on the floor and quickly crossed the hallway to kneel by her, pulling her close for a hug.

"Come on Rachel you have to stand up."

The diva's eyes were distant and she was unresponsive to the girl beside her.

The blonde shook her gently, "Rach?"

Rachel whimpered and buried herself into the uniform, clutching at the only person who seemed to notice her pain. She felt arms tighten around her as the person started to stand up bringing Rachel with her. She stumbled, but her savior held onto her tightly.

"Thank you," Rachel whispered, pulling herself out of the blonde's grip and wiping away the tracks the tears had left on her face.

"Do you need anything?" the Cheerio asked softly.

Rachel's lip trembled but she shook her head, "No, I - I just want to go home right now."

"But you'll miss glee," the blonde protested, "You never miss glee."

Rachel snorted and turned away, more tears blurring her vision. "No one wants me there. And I don't want to see him."

The girl beside her frowned, "But I want you there. I mean you're really bossy, but glee isn't the same without you."

"Thank you, Brittany, but I can't be there right now."

She started to walk away, but Brittany's words made her pause. "He was really mean to you, Rach. You don't deserve that."

"I do though." Rachel choked, "Everything he said was true."

"No it wasn't. I mean you're not a whore. San said whores are people who sleep around with everyone, but I'm special and I'm not one. She said she would beat someone up if they called me a whore. Do you want her to beat him up for you?"

A ghost of a smile flitted across Rachel's face before she shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think that would help. I'm sorry but I really should go." The blonde opened her mouth to protest, but Rachel hurried away before Brittany could stop her. She was grateful for the girl for helping her, but right now she just needed to be alone.

Chapter Text

Rachel slammed the front door behind her and hurried up the stairs to her room, not even bothering to plaster a fake smile on her face. Her dads were probably still working and wouldn't be home until later, so there was no need to pretend everything was okay. After the confrontation with Finn, she just wanted to curl up on her bed, but of course that was too much to ask. As she made her way to her bed, her eyes fell on a picture of her and Finn on her nightstand, laughing and smiling together. Her hands shook as she picked up the picture, taking in the familiar goofy grin on her now ex-boyfriend's face. An unbidden image of the sneer he had directed at her earlier flashed in her mind and next thing she knew, the picture was sailing from her hand and shattering against the opposite wall, bits of broken glass scattering on the floor. A sob escaped her lips and she instinctively brought her hand to the gold chain around her neck. Her fingers paused as they closed around the familiar small gold "F." Anger still coursing in her veins, she quickly unclasped the necklace and tossed it into the pile of broken glass. It glinted mockingly at her as she collapsed on top of her bed, too exhausted to cry anymore. She felt her eyes closing, and one thought reverberated in her mind before she drifted into unconsciousness. Now she had no one…

Too soon, her alarm was blaring loudly, and she was pushing herself out of bed. She refused to forego her elliptical routine, even though she had never felt so empty. There was no drive in her, no need to prove that she was destined for greatness. She cut her routine short and showered quickly, barely paying attention to what she was throwing on for school. It didn't matter anyway, she reasoned. She would probably be covered in slushy before 4th period. She gave her reflection a passing glance in her mirror, dabbing on concealer to hide the bags under her eyes. Once she was satisfied, she put on her best fake smile and headed downstairs, hoping to avoid her dads at all costs. Unfortunately, her dad was seated at the kitchen table.

"Good morning, Rachel," he said, glancing up briefly from the paper.

"Morning, Daddy." she smiled rushing past him to grab the keys to her car.

"I thought Finn was driving you to school today." He frowned.

Rachel's smile faltered momentarily as she felt her heart thud painfully in her chest. "He can't today. He texted me that he slept in."

"Oh. That's too bad, sweetie. Well have a good day at school." He mumbled distractedly, already absorbed in the paper again.

"Okay, Daddy." Rachel called out as she closed the door behind her. Too easy.

Her shoulders slumped as she trudged toward her car, her fake smile already fading from her lips. Minutes later, she was pulling into the school parking lot, avoiding the stares and whispers that followed her as she got out of her car. She clutched her books tighter to her chest, keeping her head down as she speed walked through the front doors of the school. Without her usual confident attitude, she felt completely vulnerable, and the whispers seemed to be burning a hole through the fragile shield keeping her from bursting into tears. She tried to salvage what little remained of her inner diva, attempting to march down the hallways like she had always done, but she found herself dragging her feet all the way to her locker. Finn had managed to do what the slushies and name calling couldn't. He had sucked the life out of her and she had let him. She had come to rely on him not only as her boyfriend, but as the one constant friend in her life. Now he wanted nothing to do with her. He had a right to be mad; she had cheated on him after all.

"Hey, Rachel!" She flinched at the voice and turned to see Brittany beaming at her next to her locker.

"Oh, hello, Brittany."

"Here let me get those," the blonde chirped, taking the textbooks from Rachel and placing them in her locker.

"Thank you," she managed to stutter out as Brittany closed her locker.

"So do you want me to walk you to math?" the blonde asked, looking at the diva expectantly.

"No, I don't want you going out of your way for me."

Brittany's eyebrows furrowed, "But I want to."

Rachel sighed as she saw the disappointment in the blonde's eyes, "Well if you really want to - "

"Great!" Brittany grabbed Rachel's hand and led her down the hallway, half skipping in excitement while chattering about her cat. Rachel did her best to muster a smile for the blonde, but she was too busy wondering why the girl was paying so much attention to her. It must just be out of pity. Before she could come up with a better conclusion, she was in front of her class.

"I'll see you later, Rach," Brittany smiled, hugging the brunette before walking to her own class.

The rest of the day went the same way, with Brittany showing up after each of Rachel's classes to walk her to her next one. Rachel was grateful that everyone was steering clear of her, wary of bullying her with a Cheerio hanging around. Still, even Brittany couldn't keep Finn from shooting angry glares her way. Each time he did, Brittany would frown and steer her away, but it did nothing to stop the regret from welling up in her chest. He wasn't the only one who was angry with her. Santana seemed to be constantly lurking in the background, glowering at Rachel and eyeing the blonde cheerleader longingly. All of the attention she was getting had Rachel on edge, and she was relieved when Brittany said she had to leave for a Cheerios meeting during lunch.

Rachel assured the blonde she would be fine, and decided to go grab some sheet music from her car so that she could practice in the choir room. She had just reached her car when she felt a hand grab her shoulder and forcibly turn her around. Next thing she knew she was staring into the eyes of a very pissed off Santana Lopez.

"What are you doing, manhands?" she growled, anger burning in her eyes.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Santana." She murmured, fishing around for the keys in her pocket.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about. Why is Brittany hanging around with you?"

"It's none of your concern, and I honestly don't know."

"I don't care, treasure trail!" Santana tightened her grip on her shoulder, causing the smaller girl to shrink against her car, "Just stay the fuck away from her. Got it?"

"She's the one who came to me. I didn't ask her to." Rachel mumbled, too scared to meet her furious gaze head on.

"Who would willingly hang out with you? The only one who did was Finn, and even he wised up." Santana said, satisfied when she saw the girl visibly flinch at her words. "Face it Berry, no one wants anything to do with you."

"You think I don't know that?" Rachel's voice was barely above a whisper.

Santana frowned and shook the girl, "What did you say?"

Rachel raised her head to stare back at the Cheerio, eyes alight with pain. "You think I don't know exactly how everyone feels about me? I used to not care, since Finn was able to accept me for who I was in his own way. But now - " her voice cracked and she felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes, "now I'm just done. You're right, Santana, no one wants anything to do with me, and I'm too tired to keep pretending I don't care."

The Cheerio shrugged and let go of the singer, putting on her best bitch face while Rachel smoothed out her sweater. "Whatever. I'm not interested in your emo crap. I just want you to stay away from Britt."

Rachel slumped against her car. Of course Santana Lopez wouldn't care how messed up she felt. She was just concerned about her dragging Brittany down to the bottom of the social ladder.

"Okay," she muttered, turning to open the door to her car. "I'll tell Brittany to leave me alone."

"Good, I'm glad we understand each other." Santana smirked, whirling around in a swirl of of red and white, not even bothering to give the girl a second glance as she headed back towards the school.

Quinn Fabray strode through the halls of William McKinley, hardly paying attention to the students scrambling to get out of her way. By the way they were acting, you would have never known that the same person they were terrified of had been the pregnant girl a year before. She was almost to her locker when she noticed Santana standing beside it, looking if possible bitchier than usual. Quinn raised her eyebrows at this. Things between her and Santana were still a little tense after the blonde had taken back her old title of Head Cheerio, and she hadn't exactly been talking to her.

"Where's Brit?"

"How the hell should I know, Q?" she snarled.

"Not having a good day, Santana?" The brunette scowled and crossed her arms, and Quinn sensed the hurt the girl was trying to hide.

"Brittany's been ditching me all day for manhands since Finnocence broke up with her."

Quinn's eyebrows furrowed, "They actually split up?"

Santana snorted in disbelief, "You missed that? People have been talking about it all day. Finn went all crazy on the hobbit's ass and broke up with her. Oh and then destroyed the guy's locker room."

Quinn frowned as she grabbed her Spanish book and slammed her locker. "But why did they break up?" It didn't make sense that Finn would just dump Rachel for no reason. She must have done something to upset him.

"Finn probably got tired of her bugging him about our hookup," Santana shrugged, "I really don't give a - okay that's it," Santana's growl snapped the blonde out of her thoughts and she looked in the direction that Santana was glaring in. At first all she saw was the usual mass of students flooding the hallway until she spotted Brittany heading toward the locker of one Rachel Berry.

"I told manhands to stay away from her." Quinn frowned as she watched Brittany wave enthusiastically at the diva. "San, don't you think you're overreacting just a little bit? I mean just because she's your girlfr - "

"Shut it, Fabray! Brit and I are not dating!" Santana snarled and marched over to Brittany, with Quinn following not too far behind.

She didn't want to get involved, but she was still curious about how this was going to turn out.

"Hey, dwarf!" Rachel's head whipped around toward Santana, fear plastered across her face. Quinn was more than a little surprised at that. If there was one person who didn't quake in fear when facing the wrath of Santana, it was Berry.

"Yes, Santana?" Rachel asked, hugging her binder closer to herself in a vain attempt to put up some defense.

"I thought I told you to stay the hell away from her." Rachel shot a terrified look at Brittany, pleading with her silently to stop Santana from murdering her.

Brittany seemed to get the message as she slung her arm around best friend's shoulder, "What are you talking about, S?"

Santana's scowl softened marginally at the blonde's touch, and she snaked her arm around the girl's waist. Quinn rolled her eyes at the obvious display of affection. Santana was seriously in denial.

"I don't want you hanging around her, okay B?"

Quinn waited for the rant that Rachel would undoubtedly unleash at Santana, telling her that she couldn't tell her what to do before storming off in classic Berry style. Instead, the brunette's shoulders slumped and she hurried away from Santana, who was still staring daggers at her retreating form. As Rachel passed by Quinn, she turned slightly to glance at the cheerleader before heading in the direction of the choir room. The look she gave her sent shivers down Quinn's spine. The confidence that normally exuded from the girl was gone. Those brown eyes were empty, devoid of the liveliness that normally gave Quinn the inexplicable urge to strangle her.

Shaking off feelings of uneasiness, she glanced back at her friends, one of whom was stopping the other from chasing after Rachel. She bit her lip and looked in the opposite direction, just in time to catch a glimpse of argyle whip around the corner. It didn't make sense. Quinn had been making Rachel's life hell for years, and she had never seen the girl look like that. Behind her, the argument between Santana and Brittany was getting louder.

"I can spend time with Rachel if I want to, San."

"But she's so annoying! Why would you want to hang out with her when you have me?"

 "She needs me."

Santana scoffed and threw her hands up, "since when did she 'need' you? Finn's broken up with her before and she was fine then."

"It's different this time. Rachel's sad. Like really sad."

Santana rolled her eyes, "She'll get over it, and I really don't care how treasure trail feels."

Brittany crossed her arms resolutely, "I do. So does Quinn."

Quinn froze as she felt Santana's glare shift to her, and she braced herself for the incoming storm.

"Is that true?"

Quinn schooled her features into her best disgusted look, "Of course not. You know I don't give a damn about Berry."

Santana smirked in approval, "I thought so."

Quinn rolled her eyes, but she couldn't completely ignore the disappointment on Brittany's face, or the guilt she was trying to push away.

Chapter Text

Rachel opened her eyes as her alarm blared again. She groaned and turned it off, feeling if possible worse than she had the day before. Going to school was definitely not on the top of her priority list. Still, she didn't have the heart to skip, so she dragged herself over to her elliptical to start her morning routine.

An hour later, she was trudging down the stairs in her usual sweater and skirt combo. As she went to grab a bowl of cereal, she saw a post-it on the fridge. She sighed, already knowing what was coming as she took it off the fridge.

Dad had to go to the hospital early this morning and I decided to go to the office early as well. We will see you tonight.

Love,

Daddy

Rachel felt the familiar rush of frustration. This had been happening a lot lately, not that she had minded before. It wasn't as if she told her dads about what happened school. In fact, they hardly talked about anything at all that didn't involve their work or her dream of being on Broadway. She crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash, deciding that she wasn't hungry anymore, before heading to her car.

Rachel would never admit it to herself, but she felt a small pang of disappointment when she didn't see Brittany at her locker. The blonde had actually made yesterday somewhat bearable, but she wasn't about to risk Santana's wrath by looking for Brittany. She hadn't needed friends before, so she could get used to it again, right? She lingered by her locker anyway, checking the hallway one more time, before finally giving up and heading to math. Without Brittany, she knew today was going to be a lot worse. As she had expected people were whispering the moment she stepped through the door, eyeing her suspiciously as she wove her way through the desks to the back row. The teacher gave her an odd look, surprised that she wasn't sitting in the front, but chose not to say anything. Rachel zoned out the moment the teacher started talking about the unit circle, staring at the clock ticking off the minutes until the end of class. When the bell finally rang, she hurried from the room, not even staying to hear what the assignment was for that night. The moment she stepped into the hallway, a wave of cold slushy hit her square in the face. The laughter echoed in her eardrums as she wiped the red ice from her eyes, recognizing one laugh in particular. Her heart plummeted as she saw him, leaning casually against the wall opposite her with mirth glinting in his eyes.

"No little blonde protecting you today, loser!"

She wrenched her eyes away from Finn's to stare at Karofsky, who was sneering, an empty cup clenched in his hand.

Rachel narrowed her eyes and tried to save what little dignity she had by ignoring him and walking towards the nearest bathroom.

"Hey I'm not done talking to you!" Karofsky shouted, and she stopped mid-step, turning back around slowly to face her tormentor.

Before she knew it, another slushy, this time purple, was being thrown in her face. As if that wasn't enough, she felt the cup bounce off of her shoulder.

"Oh that was a special delivery from someone, but the first one was from me."

Rachel stood frozen in place, eyes shut tight and mouth agape as bits of ice dripped down her face. Blinking furiously, she opened her eyes just in time to see Karofsky high five Azimio before shouldering past her.

"Cya later, slut!"

A tiny sob escaped her mouth, and she couldn't help glancing at Finn, secretly hoping he would have it in him to put aside their fight and help her. Instead, the quarterback shook his head in disgust before shouldering his backpack and walking away.

Quinn never thought the day would come where she would actually feel sorry for Rachel Berry, but as the girl in question stood in the middle of the hallway, drenched in a mixture of red and purple slushy with a broken expression on her face, she felt a twinge of pity. For some reason, watching Finn walk away from the singer when she had been silently pleading for help from him had given her the sudden urge to kick him. It must be because he was such an idiot in general. This was just the last straw. Beside her, Brittany sadly watched Rachel rush towards the nearest bathroom.

"You need to help her."

Quinn rolled her eyes and gave the other blonde an incredulous look, "Why would I want to help treasure trail?"

Brittany sighed, crossing her arms in annoyance as she turned to her friend, "Why are you calling her names? San isn't around so you can just call her Rachel."

Quinn's eyes widened in surprise. Sometimes she forgot how perceptive Brittany could be, but she had no intention of letting the girl know she was right.

"I'll call her what I want. So explain why I should help her."

Brittany sighed, but before she could respond, her phone lit up in her skirt pocket. She flipped it open and read the text.

Quinn couldn't help glancing at the phone in the blonde's hand, "Is that S?"

Brittany nodded, brows furrowed as she hurriedly typed a response before flipping her phone shut. "She's still mad at me for helping Rachel yesterday, so I told her I'm hanging out with you until she stops being a jerk."

"She's not going to like that at all."

"I know, but she can't do anything about it. She'll apologize soon anyway since she can't stay mad at me," Brittany smiled softly before glancing at the door of the girl's bathroom.

Quinn followed her gaze, shifting uncomfortably when the faint sound of sobbing reached her ears.

"She needs someone," Brittany said matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean, Brit?" Quinn asked.

Brittany bit her lip, turning to meet Quinn's gaze, "You need to help her. She needs someone, like how San needs me."

As if on cue, Brittany's phone lit up again, and she flipped it open.

"Well, why don't you just help her or whatever?" Quinn suggested, desperate to get out of talking to the small brunette.

Brittany shook her head, distracted as she replied to the text, "I can't. San will get mad and blame Rachel again, and she'll be even sadder."

Quinn scoffed as Britany snapped her phone shut, "And you think I care if she's sad or not?"

"Yeah you do. I said you did yesterday but you lied," the blonde said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"I didn't lie," Quinn insisted, "I really don't care."

Brittany shrugged, giving the bathroom door one last look,"Okay, if you say so."

She started to walk away, but Quinn grabbed her arm, causing her to come to a stop.

"What?" Brittany snapped, uncharacteristically cold.

Quinn shrank back at her tone, before taking a deep breath, "Why do you keep saying I care about Ra-Berry?" She cursed internally at her near slip up.

"Because you do. You should have seen your face when Karofsky slushied her."

Quinn's eyes widened as she stuttered, "I was just upset because he was being a douchebag. That's all."

"He was. So does this mean you'll check on Rachel?"

Quinn sighed and shook her head slowly, "I don't think that's a good idea, Brit."

Brittany nodded sadly, "Okay, but promise you will eventually? I think you two would make really good friends."

Quinn couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at the certainty in her friend's voice, "Whatever you say."

After the morning slushy incident, Rachel managed to keep a low profile for the rest of the day. When the final bell rang, she made her way to the choir room, dreading seeing her fellow glee clubbers after her break up with Finn. The moment she took a seat in the back row, Brittany and Quinn walked in. Brittany gave her an apologetic smile before sitting in the front row while Quinn stared at her briefly before sitting down next to Brittany. It was a little strange, but Rachel thought it was better than the Head Cheerio's usual cold glares. As the rest of the glee club trickled in, she could feel their curious stares on her, but she slumped lower in her chair, staring resolutely at the floor. Luckily, Mr. Schue chose that moment to burst into the room with a smile on his face.

"Alright guys, since we just had Sectionals, we can take a bit of a break before gearing up for Regionals. So does anyone have a song they would like to sing for us?"

He glanced expectantly at Rachel, and was surprised when she didn't volunteer immediately.

"Rachel?"

"I don't have anything prepared," she mumbled.

Mr. Schue looked surprised but chose not to comment. " Anyone else?"

"Actually, Mr. Schue, I have a song I want to sing." Finn said, exchanging a look with Puck.

Mr. Schue grinned, "Great! Go ahead Finn."

Rachel lifted her eyes from the floor and watched her ex-boyfriend stride to the center of the room. She glanced over at Puck who looked at her a little guiltily before Finn started to talk.

"So this song pretty sums up how I'm feeling right now. So uh yeah."

Finn signaled the band to start playing, and started to sing, staring right at Rachel.

Situations will arise i n our lives
But you got to be smart about it
Celebrations with the guys I sacrificed
'Cause I knew you could not sleep without it
Meanwhile I -
I loved you
You were my girl
You see I t hought the world of you
But you're still leavin' baby

Rachel was paralyzed. She couldn't believe what he was doing, as he pointed a finger at her.

You don't have to call
It's okay girl
'Cause I'm gonna be alright tonight

The rest of the glee club was starting to bob their heads to the song, but all Rachel wanted to do was run from the room.

Aw girl
Your face is sayin' why
Tears in eyes
Should've been more smart about it
Should've cherished me
Listenin' to friends, now it's the end a nd again
No story can end without it
Damn right I loved you
You were my girl
You see I...
Thought the world of you
But you're still leavin' baby

Finn was smirking as he strutted around the room, his eyes never leaving her face. Rachel felt her heart breaking all over again. Each word that Finn sang was like a slap to the face, and she could feel her nails digging into her arm as she tried not to let the tears fall.

You don't have to call
It's okay girl
I'm gonna be alright tonight

As the last notes faded, Rachel could distantly hear cheering while Finn stood looking pleased with himself. She felt numb as Sam slapped Finn on the back before sending a glare in her direction that screamed Finn's pain was her fault. As if Finn had been the one who spent the past two days crying and barely holding himself together instead of sending death glares at her whenever he could. She couldn't take it anymore. She was shaking, whether with anger or sadness, she didn't know. None of them cared. Without warning, she stood up and practically ran, not caring if they saw a few tears slipping from her eyes as she wrenched open the choir room door and let it slam shut behind her.

"What the hell was that, Finn?"

Everyone turned in surprise to look at Quinn who was standing up, eyes flashing dangerously, looking as if she wanted to punch the quarterback.

"Woah, calm down, Quinn. It was just a song." Sam said, trying to pull his girlfriend back into her seat.

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down," Quinn hissed, shaking her arm from Sam's grasp.

She turned her attention back to Finn, who was looking confused at her outburst.

"You have the nerve to stand up there and act like you're the victim, when just hours ago you were only too happy to laugh as the girl you supposedly loved got slushied! Twice!"

Quinn had never felt this angry. She was literally shaking with rage. While everyone else had been watching Finn, she had been watching Rachel turn paler as the song had gone on. The look from the day before was back, but it was even more painful to see, since she now realized who had reduced her to a shell of her former self.

"She cheated on me," Finn growled indignantly, "she deserved to be slushied, and I'm glad Karofsky agreed to do it."

Quinn swore she felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. "What did you say?" Her voice came out low and dangerous. Only Brittany seemed to recognize the danger as she hastily moved away from her.

"I paid him ten bucks to slushy her for me. She broke my heart, and she doesn't even seem to be sorry about it," the tall boy replied, a wounded expression on his face.

"You are a complete asshole, Finn Hudson!" Quinn advanced toward Finn who backpedaled furiously.

Before she could do some serious damage to his face, Puck lunged toward her and held her back, wincing as she drove an elbow into his chest.

"Get the hell off of me, Puckerman!"

"I can't do that, baby mama," he grunted, "Finn's still my bro even if he is an asshole."

"You stay out of this, Puck! You're the one who started this mess!" Finn shouted, moving as far away as possible from the raging cheerleader in Puck's arms.

"Dude, we didn't even have sex! We barely even made out because she freaked and said she couldn't do that to you." Puck growled.

"That's still cheating!" Finn insisted.

Still struggling against Puck's grip, Quinn let out a derisive laugh, "And you think you're blameless? I know you cheated on me with Rachel when we were still together."

Finn spluttered, before pointing a finger accusingly in her face, "Since when did you care how Rachel feels? You used to insult her and slushy her, so it's the same thing!"

"Yeah, I did! But I owned up to it, unlike you. Rachel felt guilty about cheating on you and tells you about it and you thank her by throwing a slushy in her face?"

"I didn't throw it!" Finn roared, "Karofsky did."

Quinn finally stopped struggling, and Puck cautiously let her go, but stayed close by just in case she made a lunge for Finn again.

"You told him to, which is the same thing as if you threw it yourself, but you're too much of a coward to actually do it. I don't like Rachel, but even she doesn't deserve what you did to her."

Sam snorted and Quinn whipped around to look at him, "What's so funny?"

He ran his hand through his hair and put on a puppy dog look that under normal circumstances she might have found slightly adorable, "Rachel's a loser, babe. Anyway, she shouldn't have cheated on her boyfriend, so I agree with Finn."

"And you think she deserved to be slushied for that?"

Sam shrugged, "Well she's a loser like I said, so yeah."

Quinn shook her head in disgust, "Unbelievable. You're as much of a man-child as Finn!"

She turned on her heels and stormed out of the door, leaving a very confused Sam in her wake.

After a moment of stunned silence, Santana spoke up, "What the hell just happened?"

Brittany sat back in her chair a triumphant smile on her face, "I told you she cared, San."

Chapter Text

Quinn stormed down the hallway, the look on her face spelling immediate danger for anyone who got too close. The students still walking through the hallways scrambled over each other to get out of her way, having no desire to have the Cheerio's anger directed at themselves. Quinn for her part was too lost in her own thoughts to pay much attention to them, wondering why she had ever dated that oaf in the choir room.

Finn had been the definition of an inattentive boyfriend. If Quinn had to be honest with herself, she had only agreed to date him because it felt like the right thing to do. Head cheerleader and quarterback, a match made in heaven and all that. She might have been upset that he was so willing to blow her off for football and Call of Duty marathons if she had liked him, but she couldn't care less about what he did. For Rachel, who actually wanted to spend time with him, he was a terrible boyfriend; yet she didn't seem to see that. Even now when Finn was obviously taking things too far, Rachel seemed to be convinced she deserved it. It was a far cry from the girl that Quinn was use to dealing with, and for some reason it made her angry. The Rachel she knew would never have let Finn treat her like that; she would have yelled at him for his hypocrisy instead of running away.

The squeaking of her white tennis shoes on tile slowed as the sound of a piano being played drifted toward her. With a jolt, she realized she was standing outside the auditorium, and the door was slightly ajar. Looking around hesitantly, Quinn approached the door and slipped inside, careful to stay in the shadows.

Her eyes immediately focused on the diminutive figure hunched over the piano mere feet from her, singing softly. Rachel's fingers flowed smoothly from note to note, eyes closed as she poured out her feelings the only way she knew how.

Oh I was perfect
For the circus
If he dared me I'd do it
Love makes you stupid
I gave it up
But I guess it was not enough
'Cos he never seems satisfied

Her breath caught in her throat, overwhelmed by the emotion pouring from Rachel. The anger began to drain from her as the singer's mood started to affect her.

I know I'm not perfect
But at the end of the day
Who is?
He wanted someone that's perfect,
Okay.
But can you tell me who is?

The bitterness surprised Quinn, and her knuckles whitened as she clutched the wall. She felt as if she was intruding on a private moment, but she couldn't pull herself away if she tried. It was as if Rachel was baring her soul, and it made Quinn uncomfortable. The emptiness she had caught a glimpse of was nothing compared to this.

If he loved me he'd stop me, b ut no

Rachel's voice grew louder as she belted out the next lines, her face scrunched in concentration.

I saw something worth my future
So wrong, so wrong.
In my mind I would find a reason
But I guess I wasn't wrong

All the energy seemed to fade from the diva as her voice grew softer again, the sadness that had been permeating the room retreating back into her small form.

I know I'm not perfect
But at the end of the day
Who is?
He wanted someone that's perfect,
Okay.
But can you tell me who is?

The last line was whispered, dissipating into the air as the brunette allowed her hands to fall from the piano. Quinn let out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, completely entranced by the sound of Rachel's voice.

"What are you doing here, Quinn?"

The blonde's heart stopped, as her eyes swiveled to Rachel, whose head was still bowed.

"Well, I could ask you the same thing," she snapped.

Internally, she kicked herself for lashing out at the girl from habit when she saw Rachel's shoulders slump even lower.

"I needed to sing," she mumbled, "but I was just leaving."

She stood up abruptly from the piano bench and started to walk toward the stage door.

"W-wait." Quinn stuttered, taking a step towards Rachel, "I didn't mean to sound like that. It's just..are you okay?"

The question was stupid, and she knew it. If the song was any indication, Rachel was far from okay. Rachel turned around, eyeing Quinn suspiciously.

"Since when did you care how I feel?" Rachel asked, the bitterness from earlier back in her voice.

"I -" Quinn couldn't come up with an answer, and was actually asking herself that very question.

"I don't know," she finished lamely.

Rachel nodded and smiled sadly, "You don't have to pretend to care. I'm well aware of how little everyone cares about my well being."

Quinn opened her mouth to respond, but the brunette had already whirled around and hurried from the room.

Rachel was surprised when her dad poked his head out from the kitchen as she closed the front door.

"How was your day sweetheart?" Hiram Berry asked as his daughter hung her car keys on the hook by the door.

"The usual. Nothing interesting." Rachel replied mechanically, letting her legs carry her to the stairs.

"That's good," her dad said airily as he fiddled with his tie, "Oh! Your father and I are going out for dinner tonight, so you'll be home alone. That okay with you?"

Rachel paused, one foot already on the bottom step and let out an imperceptible sigh. She wanted to scream that no she was most definitely not okay with her dads leaving her alone again. She needed a sign, no matter how small, that they at least gave a damn about her. But no, they were too busy to notice when something was obviously wrong with her.

She felt her head jerkily nod, and she could practically see her dad grinning at the back of her head.

"Great! I'm going to go pick up your daddy from the office and there's some leftover vegan casserole in the fridge."

Rachel nodded again clenching her hands into fists, as her dad grabbed his own keys.

"Bye pumpkin! We'll be home late so we'll see you in the morning!" Hiram called as the door shut behind him.

As soon as the door shut, she rushed up the rest of the stairs to her room, finally letting the mask she had barely held in place all day fall. It felt like a weight was being pushed on her chest as she ran to her bathroom and shut the door, dropping to the floor and cradling her knees gasping for breath. She had to stop this, she thought desperately, digging her nails into her skin. She had to stop feeling. All her feelings had ever done was get her into trouble. Loving Finn had made her heart ache when she had found out that he had not only lied to her, but that the entire glee club had known about his escapade with Santana before her. Her feelings had pushed her to hurt him like he had hurt her, ending with her heartbroken and Finn being showered with sympathy.

She glanced at her arms, where her nails had left half moon indentations. Blood had started seeping from the marks, and she blinked in surprise, unaware that she had been digging her nails in that hard. Strangely, the pain had barely registered for her. Actually, it had felt kind of good. She looked around cautiously, adrenaline kicking in as a plan came to her. She pulled herself up from the floor and opened her cabinet. Before she could think twice about what she was about to do, she snatched a razor blade from the shelf and sank back down to the floor. Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the object, placing it on her forearm. Goosebumps broke out on her arm, and she licked her lips nervously. Steeling herself, she dragged the blade horizontally across her skin, and watched in fascination as the blood started welling up from the small cut she had made. Relief flooded her system, and the weight on her chest lessened. The second time was easier, as she slid the blade across her arm again. She had cut slightly deeper than the first and the blood flowed a little faster. After the third cut, she was feeling better, more in control. The pain and regret she had been feeling for the past few days had miraculously started to lessen. Shakily, she rose from the floor and grabbed a towel from the rack to wash away the blood, which was still flowing from the cuts. She placed the razorblade on the sink and pulled open a drawer, rifling around for a box of bandaids. Once she found it, she covered her cuts with Neosporin before placing band aids on top of them. A smile broke out on Rachel's face as she brushed her fingers over the bandaids, feeling better than she had in a long time.

Chapter Text

After her botched attempt at comforting Rachel the day before, Quinn was wary of approaching her again. Instead, she decided to get information from people who might have an inkling about what was bothering her, which was how Quinn found herself leaning casually against a wall of lockers, waiting for Finn to get his books for Biology.

A year ago, Quinn would have laughed if anyone had told her she would be worrying about Rachel freaking Berry and then promptly had them slushied for the rest of their high school years for suggesting such a thing. She still was having a hard time coming to terms with the concept, but after a sleepless night of tossing and turning, she had decided to try to help Rachel. It wasn't like the idea of being nicer to Rachel was completely new to her. She had had plenty of time to think over the summer, and she had decided that if she managed to regain her status, she wouldn't slip into the image of the cold-hearted bitch she had so carefully crafted. She wouldn't forget how terrible it had been at the other end of the social ladder, and she would do all in her power to make it easier for the gleeks that were there.

Unfortunately, the moment she slipped on that red and white Cheerio uniform, all of her ideals had gone out the window. The glee club was back to being divided into 'us' and 'them' for her, and for a time Rachel was back to being an insufferable loser instead of the girl who had reminded Quinn that she had twelve people who cared about her no matter what. Thankfully, the fight with Santana after she regained her head Cheerio status had snapped her at least partially back to her senses. She wasn't the pre-babygate Quinn, but she wasn't exactly the reformed pregnant Quinn either. She was somewhere in the middle. There were moments where she remembered there was more to Rachel than she had first assumed. She had agreed to help Rachel test Finn's fidelity, feeling as if she owed the brunette at least that much. Of course doing something thoughtful for Rachel had been so strange that she had immediately considered having the girl slushied the next day. What could she say? Old habits died hard. In the end, she had decided against it. There was something wrong about slushying Rachel when she had been practically shining with happiness as she sang The Only Exception to Finn, even if he didn't exactly appreciate its significance, but whatever. Not like she cared.

Mostly, she left Rachel alone, save snarky comments in glee because really she could be so self-centered at times. The problem was that ever since this break up business with Finn, she had found herself noticing how awful people treated Rachel. She personally blamed Finn, and by extension Sam for being such jerks that she felt compelled to stand up for the one person for whom everyone knew she harbored a special loathing. Or at least used to. She couldn't honestly say she had hated Rachel since last year.

So all in all, Quinn had come to the conclusion that Finn and Sam were assholes and she wasn't going to let them get away with their behavior, even if it involved her defending Rachel. It didn't hurt that she could actually empathize with her, recognizing the look the diva was wearing nowadays. She knew that look all too well, having become accustomed to seeing it every time she had looked in the mirror during the first few months of her pregnancy. Rachel was giving up.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Finn's bulky frame came around the corner, and Quinn pulled away from the lockers, making sure her HBIC face was on before stalking over to him.

"Hey, Finn!"

She had to restrain herself from laughing as the boy's eyes widened and he put his backpack in between him and the fury that she was pretty sure was radiating off of herself in waves.

"Stay away from me, Quinn," he warned.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed the backpack out of the way and grabbed Finn by the collar, dragging him into the nearest unoccupied classroom. Once inside, she let go of him and he hastily scrambled away from her, assuming a karate stance that Quinn was pretty sure he had seen in a movie.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know exactly what happened between you and Rachel."

"You what?" Finn lowered his hands and stared at her in disbelief.

Quinn sighed in exasperation, "You heard me, Finnessa!"

"Okay okay, no need for namecalling." Finn mumbled, looking like a puppy that had just been kicked.

"Well?" She couldn't help feeling like she was a blonde version of Santana as she put her hands on her hips and stared down the quarterback.

"Okay before you beat me up, I just want to say that I didn't cheat on Rachel, so really she was the one who messed up our relationship."

"So did you catch her and Puck together or something?" Quinn asked.

Finn put a hand behind his head, looking slightly uncomfortable, "Not exactly. She told me she did and then I got mad and broke up with her."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure that's what happened? I feel like you're leaving out the part where you went crazy and yelled at her before you destroyed the boys locker room."

The quarter back flushed red, "She shouldn't have cheated on me! She knows how I get when I'm upset!"

"Yes, you take your anger out on chairs, but since there weren't any you decided destroying the locker room was the next best thing." she snapped.

Finn closed his mouth and glared at the cheerleader, who was unaffected by his anger.

"So then what happened?"

"Nothing! We were over so I haven't talked to her." Finn grumbled.

"Does throwing a slushy in her face qualify as nothing to you?"

He squirmed under her accusatory gaze and crossed his arms, "Like I said she didn't seem upset about the break up when it was hurting me."

"Are you seriously this stupid or just blind?" she snapped, "Do you call Rachel not showing up to glee for two days and walking around like a zombie not upset?"

Finn shrugged, and flinched as she moved closer until she was inches from him, "If you ever slushy her again, if you so much as glare at her so help me I will have you covered in slushy faster than you can learn how to throw a football. Got it?"

The boy nodded furiously and exhaled in relief as Quinn stormed out of the room.

The next person on her interrogation list was a little bit harder to get alone, so she had to hold off on her search for information until the next week. Monday morning found her waiting impatiently for Brittany to come bouncing out of Spanish so she could whisk her away before Santana showed up.

"Hey, Qui-"

She grabbed Brittany's wrist and dragged her unceremoniously to the safety of the library, looking over her shoulder warily for a brunette in hot pursuit. Somehow, she managed to reach her destination unmolested.

"Sorry about that, Brit. I just didn't want Santana to take you away before I could talk to you."

Brittany grinned at her, "I know."

Choosing not to ask how the other blonde could possibly know that, Quinn sat down at an unoccupied table and Brittany sat next to her, her smile still on her face.

"So, um do you know why Rachel's sad?" she asked awkwardly.

"Oh yeah! Finn was being mean to her last week. Then he had her slushied, and Santana yelled at her for hanging out with me, which wasn't really fair because I was the one who wanted to hang out with her."

Quinn nodded encouragingly, even though she already knew all that.

"Anything else?"

Brittany's smile faded and grew serious for a moment, "I think she thinks no one likes her. I mean, Finn was kind of the only person who liked her before he yelled at her."

Quinn grimaced and crossed her arms, "Yeah, that's true."

"But she's wrong." Brittany said, smiling knowingly at Quinn.

The blonde blushed and found it was suddenly difficult to look Brittany in the eye, "I know it looks like I care about her, but really Finn was just being a jerk and I can't stand him."

Brittany frowned and shook her head, "Oh, I thought you wanted to kiss her or something. That's why I said you should help her."

Quinn choked and turned redder, "I'm not like you and Santana! I don't like kissing girls, I have a boyfriend, B!"

"But you don't really like him, do you? Anyway, I better go. Santana's probably getting angry again. Bye Q!"

The blonde hugged a still spluttering Quinn before skipping out of the library.

The next person Quinn had intended to talk to was Santana, but considering the fact that would mean she would have to see Brittany again, she decided to skip her and find Puck. She found him lounging outside the Cheerios locker room, leering appreciatively as they walked by him.

"Puck, I need to talk to you."

He held up a hand, his eyes never leaving the ass of the Cheerio that had just come out of the locker room,"Wait one second, Baby Mama, I'm admiring the view."

He waggled his eyebrows appreciatively at the girl, who giggled and blew him a kiss.

"Now, Puck. You can perv on my Cheerios later." She tapped her foot impatiently and the boy sighed dramatically.

"Fine. What do you want?"

"What happened between you and Rachel?"

Puck chuckled, "Getting straight to the point. I like that."

Quinn gave him a warning glare, and he raised his hands in surrender, "Easy there, babe. Look, Rachel's hot and she was having boyfriend troubles, so I said I could help her."

"Was she still upset about the incident with Santana?" Quinn asked, the pieces suddenly coming together.

"Yeah, she was feeling insecure about herself, so we made out. She panicked though, and it didn't really last that long. Oh, but don't tell her I told you that. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone." Quinn felt herself nodding, but she was surprised that Rachel could ever feel insecure. She was always seemed so confident.

"I meant to thank you by the way," Puck continued, "it meant a lot that you stood up for her. I'm sorry I stopped you from pummeling Finn."

Quinn frowned, "Why didn't you do it yourself? You're part of the reason Finn broke up with her."

Puck shrugged nonchalantly, "I was thinking about it, but you beat me to it."

The blonde raised an eyebrow, making it clear she wasn't buying his story, "What? Finn can be a douche sometimes, and lying to Rachel and slushying her is not cool."

"I have to say I'm impressed, Puck. I guess you do have morals." Quinn teased, finally relaxing from head bitch mode.

"What can I say? The Puckasaurus has his moments," her replied, a genuine smile gracing his face instead of his usual leer.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go back to enjoying those skirts you Cheerios just love to tease me with."

"Just don't get drool on the floor."

He winked at her as she walked away from him, a sense of purpose in her step. Now all she had to do was to find Rachel and - do what exactly? Tell her she was here if Rachel ever needed to talk? No, she had tried that already and it had gone as well as she had expected. Maybe it would be better to just sit back and watch Rachel for a bit. Yes, that would work for now. She might be worrying over nothing, and she might snap out of her mood and go back to her old bossy self. Quinn had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't going to happen, but she was hopping she was wrong.

Suddenly, Quinn found herself thrown off her feet as a figure collided with her, sending her tumbling to the ground.

"S-sorry, I didn't see you." a voice choked out.

Quinn was ready to snap out a retort until she saw who was hovering over her, orange slushy dripping from her clothes and with suspiciously puffy eyes.

"Berry?"

Chapter Text

"Berry?"

Rachel froze in terror as Quinn's hazel eyes bored into hers. For once, there was no animosity, just plain surprise. She scrambled off of the blonde and pulled her up, hastily trying to wipe away the patches of slushy that had landed on Quinn's uniform.

"I'm s-sorry, Quinn. I was just trying to get to the bathroom."

The blonde snapped out of her stupor and Rachel noted the anger was back in her eyes, "What happened?" she demanded, her eyes glued to the slushy melting in Rachel's hair.

Rachel's eyebrows shot up in surprise, momentarily thrown by Quinn's reaction. Where were the insults and snappish retorts? She had just run the cheerleader over and the only thing Quinn was concerned about was why she was covered in slushy.

Rachel gestured at her clothes, "Nothing I'm not used to," she replied ruefully, noting how Quinn's mouth hardened into a line.

She started to walk away from the cheerleader, but to her surprise Quinn kept pace beside her as she headed to the bathroom.

"I mean who did it," Quinn rephrased, as Rachel swung open the bathroom door.

A pair of freshmen girls turned to smirk at Rachel's appearance as she entered, but almost immediately their expressions morphed into fear as Quinn turned her glare toward them.

"Out," she commanded, and the pair scurried past them, the bathroom door swinging shut behind them.

Rachel shot Quinn a questioning look before bending down to grab her emergency slushy bag she kept in every bathroom for just this purpose. This was getting a little too surreal for her. As she straightened up, she noticed the blonde was staring at her again, still waiting for an answer.

"Well?" Quinn asked, her words coming out harsher than she intended.

The brunette cringed at the tone, but couldn't help feeling as if the blonde wasn't directing her anger at her for once. If Rachel hadn't known better, she would have thought Quinn actually looked a little concerned.

"Karofsky," she muttered, shivering, slightly as the slushy continued to soak into her skin.

"Hey dwarf!"

Rachel knew what was coming when she heard Karofsky's insult, and scrunched her eyes shut in preparation. Sure enough, the familiar sting of half melted slushy left her wincing in pain and humiliation yet again.

The even more familiar sound of her peers' laughter started ringing in her ears as she wiped away the hated drink from her eyes. One would think that after seeing her slushied countless times before it would lose its humor, but apparently not. The laughter echoed in her ears as she ran, not wanting to see Karofsky's self-satisfied smirk at having put yet another loser in their place.

Rachel had managed to remove most of the slushy from her hair with a towel while she told her story. As she lowered the towel from her now soaked hair, she chanced a glance at the cheerio in the mirror. Quinn's face had hardened into a cold mask, and her mouth had slipped into a scowl.

Crossing her arms, the girl said that last thing Rachel expected to hear, "Are you sure it wasn't Finn?"

Rachel shook her head emphatically, "While Finn and I didn't part on the most…amicable terms, I am certain he wouldn't do such a thing."

Quinn's eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head to the side, "Are you so sure about that?"

Rachel started to answer, but something made her hesitate. The blonde's expression was carefully guarded, and Rachel had a feeling she was debating something internally.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asked, hating how fragile her voice sounded.

Quinn bit her lip, dropping her eyes to stare at the orange stained towel in the brunette's hand instead of answering the question. Rachel fidgeted as the silence lengthened, each second ticking by seeming like an eternity.

Finally, Quinn lifted her head and met Rachel's eyes, her gaze softening marginally as she took a deep breath.

"Last week when Karofsky slushied you," Rachel nodded to show she remembered, heart hammering in her chest while Quinn licked her lips nervously, "That wasn't just his idea."

Rachel tightened her grip on the towel and grabbed the sink counter to steady herself. She had to be wrong. Quinn couldn't possibly be implying -

"Finn?" she heard herself ask, already knowing the answer.

Quinn hesitated before jerking her head in a nod. Rachel closed her eyes, feeling the knife Finn had driven in her heart twisting if possible deeper.

"How do you know?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly with the effort it took to keep her composure.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably, "He let it slip after he sang his song to you."

Rachel turned to face the mirror, both of her hands clutching the sink as she stared at her reflection. Ice seemed to flow through her veins as she realized what a fool she'd been. Finn must have enjoyed watching her plead for his help all the while knowing he was the cause of her humiliation. Her fingers curled into fists and she dropped her head, staring at the faucet in front of her. She was pathetic.

She heard Quinn take a step closer to her, but she didn't bother turning her head.

"Rachel – "

"Go," she said harshly, throwing up an icy facade that she desperately hoped would get rid of Quinn.

"But – "

"Go," she repeated, her voice breaking, "please. I just want to be alone."

She could tell Quinn wanted to argue, but instead she nodded and moved to the door.

"I do care you know." Quinn murmured, so low Rachel almost missed it.

Rachel's chest constricted, and the tears started to stream down her cheeks, "No. You never have. You never missed an opportunity to remind me how worthless I am, and no small act of kindness can make me forget that now."

Quinn hung her head, tightening her arms across her chest.

"Please stop pretending to care, Quinn. It would hurt less if you would throw slushies in my face again."

"Why can't you accept that I'm not that person anymore." Quinn said vehemently, "I don't like what Finn's done to you. You're not acting like yourself, Rachel. You hardly ever show up to glee, and when you do you just sit there and don't say anything."

Rachel scoffed and for the first time, she felt anger instead of the sadness that had engulfed her.

"You think that was just Finn's doing?"

"What are you – "

"It's what I've been trying to tell you!" she shouted, and it felt so damn good to be able to yell, to finally take out her feelings on someone.

Rachel advanced towards Quinn, whose eyes had widened slightly in shock, "You and Santana and the rest of McKinley did this to me long before Finn broke up with me. I took the abuse because I thought I could ignore it. I was willing to excuse it as the jealousy of immature teenagers, but I was wrong. The glee club has made it clear they detest me, and the entire school shares their sentiments. I'm finished trying to change their opinions and I'm choosing to accept that I'm always going to be a loser. So congratulations. You win."

Her words reverberated in the small space, and her chest heaved with the effort the words had taken.

Quinn shook her head, hazel eyes never leaving Rachel's as she stood her ground, "You're wrong."

For a fleeting moment, Rachel wanted to believe her. Until she remembered this was Quinn Fabray she was talking to.

"Just leave," Rachel said, backing away from the cheerleader.

To her relief, Quinn acquiesced and headed to the door, giving Rachel one final look before gently shutting it behind her.

Rachel didn't waste anytime. The moment she set foot in her house, she raced up the stairs, the desire to erase the day from her memory driving her forward. Betrayal and hurt welled up inside of her and she sensed it would soon overwhelm her if she didn't act. She only had eyes for the razor as she snatched it from the sink, not hesitating for a second as she sliced open her skin, barely feeling anything as the blood started to drip down her arms. It wasn't enough. The feelings were still there. Automatically, she carved another cut across the first.

This time, a slight sting registered in her muddled mind, and she let out a breath of relief as the high washed over her. It would be okay now. Another cut joined the other two, followed shortly by four more. Her arm was bathed in red by the time she finally let the razor drop to the floor. The world had finally gone quiet, and it was just her and the blood now. Here, she didn't have to think about Finn. Here, she didn't have to worry about Quinn. She didn't have to answer to anyone, but herself. Here, she was in control. Rachel stood there for a minute, letting what she had done sink in before she moved to the sink to start washing off.

Dabbing off the blood felt wrong to her. She wanted to see it, let it remind her of what she had done, but she knew that would be impractical. This time, she had to add pressure to her shoulder to make the blood stop, but all she managed to do was reduce the flow. Realizing she was going to need more than a band aid to cover it up, Rachel opened her cabinet and grabbed a roll of gauze. Deftly, she wound it around her arm, making sure it was tight. Once it was secure, she started to clean up the blood that had landed on the floor, making sure to throw out the razor once she was done. She was going to need to buy some more, she thought dully. At this rate, she would be out of new blades before the week was over.

"I don't know what to do, B. She doesn't want anything to do with me." Quinn said softly, staring at the brunette in question from across the hallway.

"She's hurt and scared. You just have to keep trying."

"How can I help her when she keeps pushing me away?"

"If you really care about her, than you have to keep trying." Brittany replied, before changing the subject. "Do you want to see the bird S got me? I made it a nest in my locker."

"Maybe some other time, B." Quinn said offhandedly, her eyes following Rachel as she closed her locker.

Brittany nodded in disappointment, before walking away to leave Quinn with her thoughts.

Quinn continued to keep a close eye on Rachel for the rest of the week, waiting for any sign that she had had a change of heart and would let her help. She grew frustrated as the exact opposite happened, with Rqchel going out of her way to avoid her. Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong with the girl, and her elusiveness was only confirming her suspicions. Quinn couldn't explain it, but she knew it was only a matter of time before something would break. She was just hoping it wouldn't be Rachel.

Chapter Text

The familiar sound of the alarm roused Rachel from her sleep, if one could call it that. She hadn't been sleeping well lately. She gave her elliptical a passing glance before going to her bathroom to start her new regular morning routine. As the lights flickered to life, the gashes on her arms glared back at her, many more than the few with which she had started. Her entire left arm was covered in gauze, which she quickly unwrapped to put more Neosporin on so that the cuts could heal fast, just so she could start again. All in all, she counted over twenty cuts. Some had faded to pinkish scars, but most were an angry red.

Once she had re-wrapped the gauze on her arm, she grabbed the blade waiting for her on the sink and sliced quickly into her right arm, making sure she went deep enough so the blood would run quickly. By now, she knew exactly how much pressure would yield how much blood. Some days, she liked watching the blood slowly well out of a cut, but today she wanted to see the blood flow. She felt the shiver run down her spine as she watched the blood drip into the sink, bright red droplets running down the drain. Seven cuts later, and the slow drip had become faster, staining the white sink with red. Deciding that was enough for the day, Rachel almost reverently washed the blade before putting it in its place by the faucet. She frowned as she realized her arms were now almost completely covered by cuts; she would need new skin soon. Quickly, she wrapped her right arm in gauze to staunch the blood and left her bathroom. The first part of getting through the day was done.

Rachel wasn't sure when the days had started to blend together for her. They were all the same; a monotonous pattern with occasional nuances tossed in. She would go to school, bearing whatever torture was in store for her. These days it wasn't much since the slushies had stopped. She could care less about that though. Glee was just one more thing for her to sit through, not talking or adding input. A small part of the old diva in her was a little perturbed that no one in glee had noticed the radical change in her behavior, but the larger part of this new Rachel didn't care. Once school was done she would come home and possibly be greeted by one of her fathers if they weren't working late.

They were still unaware of the secret she was hiding under her sweaters. Lately, they had been taking off on a lot of conferences. This week it was a medical conference in Orlando. Unless that was next week? She wasn't really sure. The singer honestly had no idea what day it was. Or month. Time for her was measured by the cuts on her arms. She knew it had been two weeks since she had first started cutting her right arm, which meant it had been two weeks since Santana had yelled at her for colliding with Brittany during a dance routine. It had been three days since she had made the three long gashes now running from her elbow to her wrist on her left arm. That had been the day Finn had told her she was acting weird and she needed to get over him. She had just shrugged.

It had also been the first time she had cut at school. She kept a plastic bag with gauze and a razor tucked away safely in her bag now should the urge prove too great to ignore. It had become a comfort for her, knowing she could turn to the razor whenever things just became too much.

"Rachel?" She started at the sound of her name and was surprised to find herself standing at her locker. When had she gotten there? That had been happening a lot too. She would zone out and just…find herself somewhere. She was so used to putting herself on autopilot that she hardly noticed what was going on around her. The voice said her name again, and she turned to see Quinn standing next to her, holding a pink notebook. Her notebook.

"You dropped this earlier down the hall," Quinn said, holding it out for her to take.

Rachel stared at it for a moment, before muttering a quick thank you and throwing it in her locker. She had been making it a point to avoid Quinn whenever she could, but that had proven impossible. She had settled for barely interacting with her, but that didn't seem to have phased the blonde, who only grew more persistent. Quinn didn't push her to talk to her though, for which Rachel was grateful.

"Are you okay?"

The question caught Rachel momentarily off guard, and she flinched when Quinn put a hand on her forearm.

"I assure you I am perfectly fine," she murmured, subtly moving her arm away from Quinn's touch, "I've not been getting enough sleep lately which I can attribute to the various activities in which I am currently involved. Other than that I see no other reason that could prompt your question."

It had been a while since she had rambled. It had been a while since she had said that much at all. Quinn still looked unconvinced, but she didn't have time to come up with a more convincing reason, so she pushed past Quinn and walked away. Her footsteps faltered as she realized she had no idea what class she had next. Biology. That was it, right? She started moving towards the science hallway, feeling the hole Quinn's stare was burning in her back until she rounded the the corner.

Quinn stared after Rachel's retreating back, frustration and worry carefully concealed behind her usual cold glare. This was getting ridiculous. She had promised herself that she wouldn't push Rachel, but after three weeks of inaction she was going crazy. Quinn had thought that stopping the slushies would at least make the former diva hold her head a little higher, but Rachel was unaffected by the sudden lack of slushy facials. She still walked with her head held down, invisible to everyone but Quinn. In class, she didn't sit in the front row anymore, choosing instead to stay hunched over in the back, paying no attention to what they were supposed to be learning.

The worst part was glee. Rachel had stopped trying to wrest control from Mr. Schuester, not even protesting when he gave the solo to Mercedes. The first time that had happened, they had all turned to look at Rachel, expecting her to throw a tantrum and storm out. For a moment, Quinn had been sure she would. The brunette had tensed, but then nodded and leaned back in her chair as if nothing had happened. When Rachel did sing, it wasn't with the same passion that left Quinn's arms covered in goosebumps. It was weaker, dulled by the something that Rachel was keeping hidden.

It was time, she decided as she headed toward her AP English class, that she confronted Rachel again. She had been patient long enough, and it was clear Rachel wasn't planning on returning to her old self anytime soon. A plan started to form in her mind as she sat down at her usual desk next to the window. Cornering Rachel would be tricky, but she could manage it if she could get to the biology room before the lunchtime crowds bogged down the hallway. She briefly stopped to consider if knowing Rachel's class schedule was a little disturbing, but she brushed that thought away. Content now that she had a plan, Quinn allowed herself to zone out as the teacher started talking about something called "The Lost Generation."

The moment the bell rang, Quinn tore through the door, only to be greeted by the easygoing smile of her boyfriend, who carelessly threw an arm around her shoulder.

"Hey stranger," Sam said, bending down to place a quick kiss on her cheek.

Quinn fought down the scream of frustration boiling inside her and settled for ducking out from under his arm and flashing him a tight lipped smile, "Not now, Sam. I have to go."

Sam gave her a wounded look, "But, we never spend time with each other anymore. You're always too busy."

"We'll talk later," Quinn called, already leaving her boyfriend behind as she speedwalked down the hallway.

When she came to a stop outside the empty biology room, she seriously considered killing Sam. Sighing in defeat she headed to the cafeteria, deciding she would just have to wait until glee to talk to Rachel.

Rachel took her now permanent seat in the corner of the room away from the rest of the glee club. It was a choice, her isolation. It was easier to sit and listen to her teammates prattle on about mindless things than to try to get them to come up with a list of songs for Regionals. That was Finn's job, not hers. She had pretty much given up her position as co-captain. She watched them now, Mercedes talking animatedly to Tina, Santana looking content as Brittany sat on her lap playing with the stray strands of her hair, Finn and the rest of the football players discussing plays for the game that night. None of them gave any indication that they had seen her enter the room. Rachel tugged down on the sleeves of her sweater and stared down at the floor, choosing to let her mind wander. Watching the others was making her stomach ache, and her arms were throbbing more than usual. Before she could leave to go to the bathroom to check on them, Mr. Schuester finally showed up.

In typical Shuester style, he opened up the meeting with a very over the top speech about club unity going into Regionals, and how important it was that they all come together as a team. Rachel felt herself losing interest until she heard her name.

"-And Rachel I appreciate how open you have been to letting other people get the solo instead of immediately trying to take it."

Her heart clenched and she felt rather than saw everyone's gaze turn in her direction. She forced her mouth to twitch into a passable smile, looking straight ahead instead of looking at anyone in particular. Mr. Schuester finally wrapped up his speech, and she distantly heard him tell them to break into groups to come up with song ideas for Regionals. Knowing that no one would want to listen to her ideas, she silently shouldered her bag and left the room. The familiar urge was back, and she knew just how to take care of it.

When she opened the bathroom door, however, she saw a group of girls huddled by the sink. They looked at her suspiciously, and she quickly closed the door. She felt her hands tremble as she started to panic, the need making her breath uneven. She started walking blindly to find another bathroom, but the auditorium door caught her eye. Thankfully, she noted it was empty as she pushed open the door. The piano stood alone on the stage, and maybe in another time she would have sought comfort in the melodies she could coax out of it.

It was different now. Singing wasn't going to make her feel better. She started climbing the stairs that would take her to the back of the room, choosing the farthest row from the stage. Rachel gave the room one more quick sweep to confirm she was alone before she pulled out the plastic bag. The razor glinted in the auditorium lights as she clumsily grabbed it from the bag. She shoved a sleeve of her sweater up and unwound the old gauze that was covered in dried blood from earlier that morning. Rachel noted that the cuts had closed somewhat before she carved yet another gash in her arm. Her hand was still shaking, and the blade slipped a little, but it worked.

Relief flooded her and she managed a shaky breath before she dragged the blade across her arm again. It never ceased to amaze her how fast she could calm down once she had cut. It was her escape, the one thing that no one could take from her. In a daze, she watched as her hand moved to cut again, and part of her knew she would have to stop soon. She was still at school, after all, and she wasn't prepared to clean up a lot of blood. She would have to settle with just this for now.

"Rachel?" She cursed under her breath and shoved the razor into her bag, quickly trying to cover up her arm.

She heard footsteps coming towards her and panic overtook her again. She grabbed her bag and tried to run, but a strong arm caught her and prevented her from fleeing. She winced in pain and looked into blue eyes clouded with worry.

"Brittany, please let go of me." Rachel muttered through gritted teeth.

The blonde relented, but she still had a worried look on her face. "Why did you leave glee?"

Rachel straightened her sweater sleeve and started to slowly back away, "I-I just wasn't feeling good so I came here."

She could feel the blood on her forearm, and she knew she had to wrap it soon or it would start to stain through her sweater.

"I feel better now though, so I'll head back soon," she babbled on. If Brittany would just leave, she could take care of her arm, but the way she was standing told Rachel she had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. Brittany's eyes darted to her hand, and Rachel felt her heart plummet as the girl gasped in surprise.

"Rachel," Brittany said quietly, carefully approaching her, "why is there blood on you hand?"

Chapter Text

"Why is there blood on your hand?"

"I-I slipped when I was climbing the stairs and something sharp cut me. It's not serious, really," Rachel babbled, quickling concealing her hand behind her back away from Brittany's prying eye.

The blonde wasn't listening to her and grabbed her hand to get a better look.

"It's bleeding really badly though," Brittany frowned, "You should put a band aid on it."

Rachel tore her hand away and nodded, "Y-yes that's what I was going to do. So, I'll just go procure a bandage. I appreciate you concern, Brittany, but perhaps you should return to glee."

She forced a smile, her heart thumping from the adrenaline still running through her veins. Brittany still hadn't seen her arms, so there was a chance she could still get out of this.

"Maybe I should come with you," Brittany said, worry still etched on her face.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll be able to manage," Rachel protested. She was starting to get dizzy, and she desperately wanted the other girl to leave her alone.

Brittany shook her head forcefully and grabbed Rachel's other hand and guided her to the door, "I want to help, and band aids always make me feel better."

Rachel had no choice but let herself be dragged down the hallway to the nurse's office, hoping that once she had gotten there she could somehow ditch Brittany. She had been careless and now there was a good chance that she was about to get busted. She was still bleeding from the cuts she had made earlier, so if Brittany pushed her sleeve up...

They had barely made it a couple of steps from the auditorium when a voice rang out from the end of the hallway.

"Where do you think you're going, manhands?"

Not now, Rachel thought desperately, praying that she was hallucinating. No such luck, as Santana came striding toward them. She whimpered and pressed herself against Brittany, wondering if things could possibly get any worse.

Quinn was convinced that the universe was bent on preventing her from talking to Rachel. She had been a little slow leaving chemistry, and the teacher had singled her out to stay behind and clean up after the titration experiment. So, twenty-two burets later and a couple of near disasters with leftover hydrochloric acid, and she was finally making her way to glee.

That was until she heard the shouting coming from the hallway to her right. She recognized the familiar sound of Santana's voice bouncing off the walls, and she quickened her pace, a sense of foreboding descending over her.

"- so stop wallowing in self-pity and get your ass back to glee before I kick it there myself!"

"Santana, stop! You're making her upset!"

Quinn turned the corner and was met with Brittany defending a terrified Rachel from Santana, who was pointing accusingly at her. Something inside Quinn snapped, and she felt the anger pouring out of her as she stalked toward Santana.

"Knock it off, Lopez!"

Santana turned and put her hands on her hips, regarding Quinn with contempt, "Oh well look who decided to grow a backbone. Nice of you to join the conversation, tubbers."

"I mean it, Santana, stop being such a bitch and leave Rachel alone," Quinn snarled, placing herself squarely between her and Rachel.

Santana laughed, "Since when have you cared about her? This is between me and Stubbles so keep walking."

Quinn refused to back down, and she fixed her second in command with her patented Fabray glare, "It's not smart to tell your captain what to do, especially when I can make you run suicides until you feet bleed."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," Quinn replied, and Santana could see there was no mercy in those hazel eyes.

With a muttered curse, she gave Rachel a final glowering look before stomping back the way she came.

Quinn watched her go before turning her attention to the small girl still holding on to Brittany for dear life.

"Thanks, Q," Brittany said, and Quinn detected sadness in her friend's voice, "San didn't mean it, she's just in a bad mood."

Quinn sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, "I feel like she always is. Anyway, what's wrong with Rachel?"

"I'm fine," the brunette insisted, detaching herself from Brittany's side.

She looked anything but fine in Quinn's opinion. Her cheeks were pale white and sunken, and she seemed to be trembling slightly. There was a sense of fragility about her that made Quinn realize just how different Rachel had become.

"She hurt her hand and needs someone to kiss it and make it better. See?" Brittany tried to show Rachel's hand to the blonde, but the singer snatched it away before Quinn could see.

"A-actually I think a bandaid will suffice. It's not serious, it's only a scratch."

"Then let me see it," Quinn said impatiently, taking a step forward, but Rachel backed away.

"Don't," she warned clutching her bleeding hand with her other.

Brittany frowned, "But she wants to help." 

Rachel whimpered, eyes darting between Brittany and Quinn, "I don't want her help."

"I think you're making a big deal out of nothing," Quinn said, moving forward again to try to reach Rachel.

"No I'm not just stay away!" Rachel half-shouted.

Quinn stopped moving, her eyes fixed on the shaking girl in front of her. This wasn't good; Rachel was panicking now, and if she wasn't careful she knew Rachel would run away again.

"Brittany," she said calmly, careful not to let her eyes leave Rachel's, "go to glee. I'll take care of her."

The other blonde hesitated, but she nodded and turned to go down the same hallway Santana had earlier. Quinn waited until her footsteps had faded to speak again.

"Okay, Rachel. What's going on?"

"I -" Rachel's lower lip started to tremble, and her eyes clouded with tears.

Cautiously, Quinn reached out for her hand, hoping against hope Rachel wouldn't refuse. Slowly, Rachel released her grip on her bleeding hand and placed it in the hers. Quinn exhaled in relief and started studying the cut. It wasn't deep, and there seemed to be more blood than there ought to be. She was about to release her hand, when a dark spot on the arm of Rachel's sweater caught her eye.

"Rachel, what is that?"

Luckily, she was expecting it. Rachel tensed, and tried to rip her hand from her grasp, but Quinn held on tightly.

Ignoring the singer's protest, Quinn pulled up the sleeve and gasped. Rachel's arm was bleeding badly, worse than her hand. As she pushed the sleeve up higher, Quinn's stomach flipped at the number of gashes carved into Rachel's arms. They stood out, a raw red against the tan skin. Some were lined up in neat rows, but most were jagged and uneven. The farther up her eyes traveled up Rachel's arm, the more clustered together they were. There was barely any skin that didn't seem to have been cut open.

"Oh god...Rachel," Quinn felt tears spring to her eyes as she looked up at the girl before her.

The next thing she knew, she had an armful of Rachel Berry, who was pressed into her and sobbing. Swallowing hard, Quinn allowed her arms to wrap around Rachel's small body, gently holding her close. She didn't say anything, simply letting the smaller girl cry into her shoulder uninterrupted. Something told her this was what Rachel needed, and there was nothing Quinn could say at the moment. Eventually, it grew too difficult to hold Rachel up, and she slowly let the pair of them sink to the floor. She was still cradling Rachel, her head buried in Quinn's shoulder as sobs continued to wrack her body.

"It's okay," she found herself whispering, "I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

She leaned her head against Rachel's, holding her as close to herself as possible while rocking gently back and forth. Seeing Rachel so broken was tearing her apart like she hadn't believed possible. She should have done more, she thought bitterly. She shouldn't have stayed away like Rachel wanted. If she had kept pushing, made more of an effort, it wouldn't have come to this.

Rachel's sobs had started to subside, but Quinn didn't let go. She held her tighter, trying to communicate that she was willing to stay there as long as Rachel needed her.

"I won't say anything, but please let me help you," she said stroking Rachel's hair to try to calm her down.

"I don't know if I can trust you," Rachel whispered, her head still buried in Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn swallowed hard, "Please give me this chance. I'm not asking you to tell me everything, just stop pushing me away."

Rachel raised her head from her shoulder and looked up into her hazel eyes. The pain reflected in those brown eyes was so raw, that Quinn was tempted to look away.

"I-I don't know," she said, starting to pull away from Quinn's embrace.

"Please, Rachel. You can't go through this alone," the blonde pleaded, the desperation plain on her face as she struggled to keep the smaller girl in her arms.

Rachel stopped her efforts and sighed, shoulders drooping in defeat, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want you to realize that I do care about you," Quinn cupped Rachel's cheek and made the singer look into her eyes, "I want to put the past behind us, but only if you're ready to. I want you to see that this," she gestured at Rachel's arm, "isn't the answer."

Rachel took a deep breath, and unconsciously put her head back on Quinn's shoulder. Quinn took that as a good sign, and started stroking her hair again.

"Okay," Rachel mumbled finally, "I'll let you help, but I don't trust you. I can't forgive you for everything that has transpired between us," Quinn gritted her teeth, trying not to let the hurt show, "but I want to. I think I will, just please be patient with me."

"I will be. I promise."

"I'd rather you don't make promises you can't keep, Quinn."

"You think I'll break my promise?" Quinn asked, "Do you really have that little faith in me?"

"It's just..Finn said we would never break up, and well, you saw how that turned out."

"But I'm not Finn," the blonde insisted, a little upset that Rachel would compare her to that thing.

"I'm not saying you are," Rachel said, "but I've found people have a tendency to break promises when it comes to me."

Quinn sensed there was more behind this then Rachel was telling her, but she didn't push the issue.

"Well, I'm not like that," she said confidently.

A little laugh came from Rachel, but to Quinn it sounded more bitter than humorous, "We'll see, Quinn. Now will you let me stand up?"

"Oh, uh yeah," Quinn mumbled sheepishly before letting her arms drop.

Quinn stood up first, and turned around to help Rachel from the floor. Rachel gave her a small smile and their hands stayed connected for a split second longer before they dropped.

"It's only your right arm right?" Quinn blurted out, catching Rachel off guard.

"What?" Rachel's eyebrows furrowed and she tugged the sleeves of her sweater down self-consciously.

Quinn's eyes followed her action and she shifted uncomfortably, "You haven't...done it to you other arm too have you?"

A flash of comprehension dawned on Rachel's face, and she bit her lip, "I'd rather not talk about that right now."

"Just tell me yes or no," Quinn said, already knowing the answer. It was obvious from the way Rachel was acting.

When she didn't get an answer, she sighed and shook her head, "Will you promise me you won't hurt yourself without talking to me first?"

Rachel set her jaw and looked ready to protest, but Quinn cut her off, "I'm not telling you to tell me everything, just don't take what you're feeling out on yourself."

Rachel shook her head, "I can't promise that. It's my way of coping, and I need it."

Quinn restrained herself from arguing with her, curling her hands into fists from the effort it took. When she was certain she wasn't going to yell, she nodded, "You don't have to promise, but will you try?"

Rachel bit her lip, and crossed her arms, seeming to curl in on herself, "Yes, I believe I can do that much."

"Okay. So are you coming back to glee with me?"

"Not today. I need to process some things, but I am may be willing to accompany you to glee tomorrow," Rachel replied, starting to walk away, before she stopped.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

Rachel turned and wrapped her arms around the cheerleader. Quinn returned the hug, giving the girl a confused look as she pulled away.

"Thank you."

Quinn blushed slightly, "Anytime, Rachel," she said sincerely.

Rachel tilted her head to the side and smiled, a small, but genuine smile, "I didn't notice before, but it's nice to hear you say my name instead of calling me manhands."

"It was mean for me to call you that," Quinn murmured, shame burning in her face.

"No, you are a cheerleader and I'm a social outcast. I understand the name calling was obligatory," Rachel assured.

"Rachel, that's not - "

"Anyway I'd better go. Goodbye, Quinn."

Rachel turned and walked away, not looking back once at her. The blonde stood unmoving, staring after her long after she had left. When she finally did start to make her way to glee, she could barely see through the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes.

Chapter Text

To put it mildly, Rachel was panicking. It was only after she had replayed the day's events in her mind while lying in bed that she realized the full gravity of the situation. Someone knew. It wasn't just anyone; it was Quinn Fabray. She hadn't had much time to process that small fact when she was too busy sobbing into the girl's shoulder, but now she was scared. What if she would use this new information to make her life even more of a living hell? No, Quinn hadn't done anything to her for a long time, and she had seemed sincere. But then again, what if that was just part of the plan to mess with her? It was possible, but Quinn wasn't that good of an actor was she? And if it wasn't a trick what if Quinn told someone? She had promised that she wouldn't, but Rachel wasn't exactly going to trust her word.

At 5:59am, Rachel finally gave up on getting any sleep and turned off her alarm. She started to head to the bathroom before she stopped herself. She had said she would at least try for Quinn. Her eyes darted to the razor glinting invitingly on the sink. Maybe she wouldn't need it today. She tried to move toward her closet, but her feet refused to obey. Then again, she wasn't sure about Quinn's intentions. One cut wouldn't hurt. And who was Quinn to tell her what to do? As long as she cut just once, she could get through the day. Quinn wouldn't have to know. She was at her sink before she could process what was happening. The blade was in her hand, poised over her skin like so many times before. Quickly she brought it down, cutting quickly and dropping the blade as soon as she saw the blood. The cut wasn't that deep, so Rachel didn't even bother putting bandaging it. Instead, she turned her attention to the other cuts, which she had let air out the night before. Once she had determined that none of them were infected, she started to wrap her arm again, but the fresh cut caught her eye. It's not enough. She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the thought, knowing she couldn't cut anymore today.

"It's going to have to be enough," she muttered under her breath, turning towards her closet to get ready.

By third period, Rachel was barely holding it together. The urge had gotten worse and her eyes kept darting to the clock as she fought to stay still. She dug her nails into her arm in an attempt to relieve some of the need, but it still wasn't enough. There was no way around it; she needed to cut, except a certain blonde was making that impossible. Why did history have to be the one class she shared with Quinn? There was no way that she was going to be able to leave the room without her becoming suspicious. Quinn chose that moment to glance back at her, but Rachel avoided making eye contact. She glanced at the clock again. Twenty minutes. She could last twenty minutes.

As soon as the bell rang, Rachel tried to push past Quinn, but the Cheerio called her name, and she found herself coming to a halt.

"Why are you in such a rush?" Quinn asked, eyebrows raised as she zipped up her backpack.

Rachel chewed on her lip, trying desperately to come up with a believable excuse.

"I don't want to be late for my next class. After all, I pride myself on my punctuality," she rambled, hoping Quinn would buy it.

"Well that won't be a problem," Quinn smiled as she shouldered her backpack, "come on."

Rachel felt her stomach drop, "I'm sorry, what?"

Quinn walked to the door calling over her shoulder, "I'm walking you to class, so lets go."

Rachel sighed and hurried to catch up with Quinn, the need to cut slightly lessened by the unexpected turn of events. True to her word, Quinn didn't leave her side as they walked down the hallway. This didn't go unnoticed by the general student population, who did a double take at the sight of the resident head bitch walking amicably next to Rachel Berry of all people. Rachel kept her eyes glued to the floor, shoulders hunched in an attempt to escape from the unwanted attention.

"Just ignore them," Quinn muttered beside her, casting scathing glares at the students who were staring.

Rachel felt a rush of gratitude toward the cheerleader, and soon she found herself outside the classroom.

"Thank you, Quinn. You didn't have to do that though," she said, fiddling with her backpack straps.

"No, I did," Quinn said firmly, and Rachel squirmed under her piercing gaze, "It's the least I could do."

Rachel was taken aback by her words, and she studied Quinn's face for any signs that she was lying. All she saw was sincerity, and it made her feel slightly guilty for ever doubting Quinn. Then again, she had had good reason to.

"I have to go, but I'll see you after class?" Quinn asked uncertainly as she started to take small backward steps away from Rachel.

Rachel nodded, making sure to flash her a small smile. As soon as Quinn turned around, she dropped the pretense and started ducking through the crowd to the nearest bathroom. She felt bad for deceiving Quinn, but she knew for a fact she wouldn't be able to make it through another class without her fix. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty when she entered, and she made a beeline for the bigger stall. She made sure the lock was secure before she brought out the razor and the band aids. It would have to be fast. Three strokes of the blade later, the panic had started to recede and she felt more in control. After bandaging her arm, she hurriedly threw her supplies back in her bag and rushed back to class, making it just as the bell rang.

Quinn was enjoying the solitude her small corner of the library afforded her, once again loving the freedom a free period, when a small tap to her shoulder shattered the tranquility.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Sam, hands in his jean pockets as he leaned casually against the adjacent bookshelf with what he must have thought was a charming smile plastered across his face.

"Hey," he greeted her nonchalantly, sliding into the only other available chair next to her.

Quinn covered her small sigh of frustration and had enough sense to return his greeting before returning her attention to her book.

Sam didn't seem put off by her less than friendly demeanor, and rested his head on his fist, looking at Quinn expectantly, "So you said we could talk later. I was wondering if now was a good time."

The blonde was tempted to blow him off. The last thing she wanted to deal with was relationship troubles, since Rachel was occupying pretty much all of her thoughts. Still, Sam was her boyfriend, and he did get priority. Closing her book, she turned slightly to face Sam, "Now is fine."

He exhaled in relief and leaned back in his chair throwing an arm over the back of Quinn's chair, "I've missed you," he said sincerely.

Quinn tried to return his earnest smile, but something prevented her from doing so. Sam didn't notice though, and he kept on talking.

"It's just that I feel like I haven't seen you for awhile, and I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me."

She shook her head resolutely, "I can't, I have some things I have to take care of." It wasn't exactly a lie. She had planned on spending the day with Rachel to keep an eye on her, and she hated the idea of the girl going through another day alone.

Sam's eyebrows knit together and his arm dropped from the back of her chair.

"Why don't you want to spend time with me?" he asked dejectedly.

Quinn stared at her lap, absentmindedly fiddling with a loose thread on her cheerio skirt, "I do, I've just been preoccupied with some things."

"Like what?" Sam challenged.

"Nothing I feel like talking about, Sam," Quinn replied evenly, looking her boyfriend coolly in the eye.

His frown deepened and he shrugged indifferently, "Fine. Do what you have to, Quinn. If you have time, feel free to fit me in to your busy schedule."

He pushed his chair back and started to stand.

"What's wrong with you?" Quinn asked, causing Sam to pause.

He sighed, leaning forward with his hands braced on the edge of the table, "Nothing is wrong with me. It's you who doesn't want anything to do with me."

"That's not true," Quinn scoffed.

"That's not what everyone else thinks," Sam insisted, "they think we've broken up."

"And you don't want them to think that because that would ruin your perfect golden boy image?" Quinn guessed.

Sam shifted uncomfortably and started to move away from her, "You know what? Forget it, I'll see you later."

Quinn smiled sweetly, patting the chair that he had just vacated, "No, stay. You're the one who wanted to talk."

Sam glanced apprehensively at the chair, knowing he was screwed whether he left or stayed. With an air of defeat, he plopped himself back in the chair avoiding his girlfriend's gaze.

"I'm not dating you for my image," he mumbled unconvincingly. Quinn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course that was why he was dating her, she had guessed his intentions the moment he had tried to plant one on her in the astronomy classroom. She had gone along with it because a boyfriend offered security, and after last year that was one thing she needed.

"I'm dating you because I really care about you. That's why I gave you the ring," Sam continued, gesturing unnecessarily at it.

"The only thing that you 'care' about is your popularity," she countered.

"And is it wrong that I like being popular?" Sam asked, "I don't want to have to worry about being slushied all the time, like Rachel does."

Hearing her boyfriend flippantly mention Rachel made Quinn if possible even angrier. He had no idea what Rachel was going through, or what McKinley's social ladder had done to her. He didn't know how guilty and ashamed she was that she had cared so much about popularity and had been willing to do anything to keep it. She hadn't been any different from him. If she had to be honest with herself, she had been a lot worse.

Sam was still staring expectantly at her, no doubt waiting for her to concede and admit he had a point.

"I can't tell you you're wrong to like it," she said, and Sam started to smile triumphantly, " – but I don't like being used."

Sam tensed at the shift in her tone, and she took a moment to appreciate the flash of fear in his eyes.

"So take a minute to think about why you're really with me and then maybe we can have lunch another time."

She turned and picked up her bag, satisfied with how she had handled the situation. Sam was still staring dumbly at her, but she ignored him and exited the library just as the bell signaling the end of class rang.

"Quinn, wait!" she heard scrambling from behind her and hurried footsteps as Sam tried to catch up to her.

She started walking faster, hoping he would give up as other students started trickling into the hallway. Apparently, Sam had no intention of quitting as he continued to call after her. Quinn ignored him, stopping outside of Rachel's classroom just as the brunette opened the door.

"Hey," she greeted quickly, glancing over her shoulder to see how far behind Sam was. She didn't have to look far, as the blond boy pushed his way through a pair of Cheerios and spotted her.

"Crap," she muttered.

Rachel followed her gaze and saw Sam, who was gesturing for Quinn to wait for him.

"I should go," Rachel stammered, trying to leave before Sam got any closer.

"No, don't, I'll take care of him." Quinn assured her, as Sam came up to them.

"Why didn't you wait?" he asked running a hand through his hair.

Quinn shrugged, "I didn't hear you."

"Oh, okay," Sam smiled, slightly confused, but buying the blatant lie.

"What do you want, Sam?" Quinn prompted, making it clear that she had little patience for him.

"I just wanted to say that -," his eyes slid to Rachel, who was still standing awkwardly next to Quinn, " – why are you talking to Rachel?" he asked accusingly.

"She wasn't I was just leaving," Rachel muttered. She tried to leave again, but Quinn caught hold of her arm.

Rachel glanced at her questioningly, but Quinn gave her a small smile before turning back to Sam. "No, I was talking to Rachel. Is that a problem?"

Sam looked like he wanted to argue, but he hesitantly shook his head, "I guess not," he said begrudgingly.

"Quinn, I really need to get to class," Rachel said quietly, and Quinn reluctantly released her arm.

"I'll see you later for lunch," Quinn promised. Rachel looked surprised at that, but she nodded and walked off.

"Wait, that's why you can't have lunch with me?"

Quinn internally berated herself. She had forgotten Sam was still there.

"Yes. I'm having lunch with Rachel," she said decisively.

Sam let out a bark of laughter, "but you're not even friends. You can barely stand her."

"We're friends now," Quinn replied. Sam snorted, still clearly not believing a word that was coming out of her mouth.

"I just find it hard to believe that you're ditching me," he pointed to himself, "for her."

"Well believe it, because it's what's happening," Quinn said, a bit of the head bitch shining through.

"I'll see you in glee, Sam." And with that, she whirled around and headed to her class.

The rest of the day passed quickly for Quinn, and before she knew it, she was walking to the parking lot with Rachel. She hadn't left the girl's side, ignoring the hurt looks that Sam threw at her whenever she passed him in the hallways. Rachel had seemed a little bit better, and Quinn could have sworn she had managed to coax a genuine smile from her at least once. They stopped at Rachel's car, and Rachel pulled out her keys to unlock it.

"Thank you for today. It was nice having someone else to talk to..." Rachel trailed off quietly, looking especially vulnerable as she toyed with her keys.

Quinn felt her heart break a little more at the sight, but she hid it behind a comforting smile, "I told you, I'm not going anywhere, Berry," she teased gently, "You'll just have to get used to having me around."

"I think I can do that," Rachel said shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "So I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Quinn paused as she remembered something, "you have my number right?"

Rachel pulled out her phone and quickly scrolled through her contacts until she came to Quinn's name.

"Is this it?"

She showed the blonde the number, and Quinn nodded.

"Yeah. If you need to talk, call me or text me. I don't care what time it is."

"I will," Rachel promised, opening her car door and sliding into the seat.

Quinn backed away and started walking to her car, but she watched Rachel drive away. She smiled to herself, feeling a little hopeful. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Chapter Text

For the first time in a month, Quinn was feeling hopeful. As she walked to glee, she couldn't help reflecting on the week. She hadn't left Rachel's side, refusing to let the girl's small semblance of trust falter for even a second. Rachel seemed to have become accustomed to her company, even if the rest of the school wasn't taking the change in stride. Chief among them was Sam, who saw their newfound friendship as an inconvenience. His confident attitude was gone, replaced by a sulkiness that was mirrored on his best friend's face. Finn didn't seem to be too thrilled about his two ex-girlfriends hanging out, and he had taken to shooting them suspicious looks along with Sam whenever he saw them.

This more than anything had Rachel on edge, and she would tense whenever she locked eyes with Finn until Quinn ushered her away. Except for those few instances, Rachel seemed to be doing better. She had even willingly gone to glee with Quinn, and had looked somewhat less miserable when the Cheerio sat next to her. The other glee members had edged away from the pair, looking as if they expected the four horsemen of the apocalypse to come charging into the small choir room. Brittany was the only one who hadn't looked completely shocked, and she had waved and given them a thumbs up.

After glee, Brittany had come up to them and given Rachel two boxes of band aids, telling her that she hoped the rainbows on them would make her better. Rachel had managed to stutter out a thank you and Brittany had given her a hug before skipping back to a disgruntled Santana. There were still moments when Rachel thought Quinn wasn't looking when the sadness would show through her eyes, reminding the blonde that things still weren't okay. As much as it bothered her, Quinn had expected it. Rachel had been tormented for over two years (mostly by her), and she couldn't expect everything to be better in a week.

Quinn walked inside the choir room expecting to see Rachel in her usual seat, but was surprised to see that it was empty. She would probably be there soon, she assured herself, smoothing out her skirt before sitting down in her usual seat next to Rachel's.

Glancing around the room, she noticed Sam and Finn looking at her and talking in hushed tones. Finn was nudging Sam and trying to subtly point towards her. Sam was shaking his head nervously and running his hand through his hair, but Finn was persistent. Sam muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse before he stood up and started moving towards Quinn.

He stood awkwardly in front of her and raised a hand in greeting, but she lifted an eyebrow and fixed him with a withering look.

"Uh hey," he greeted, turning his head to look at Finn who prompted him to go on.

"I just wanted to tell you that I get it and I'll be a better boyfriend, so you can stop spending so much time with Rachel."

He looked at Finn again who grinned and gave him an encouraging nod.

"Is that so?" Quinn drawled, leaning back in her chair, an air of indifference radiating off of her.

"Yeah, I really like you, Quinn, and I don't like it when we're fighting," he rushed on, emboldened by her lack of a response, "so since I said I'd try harder, would you like to go to Breadstix with me tonight?"

Quinn resisted the impulse to rip the goofy grin right off of his face, choosing instead to stand up so that she was face to face with Sam, "You think that's what this was about?"

"Well, yeah I mean why else would you hang out with Rachel?" Sam asked confusedly.

The cheerleader through her hands in the air in frustration, "because she's my friend, Sam! Was that too much of a foreign concept for you to wrap you brain around?"

By now their argument was attracting the attention of their fellow glee clubbers. Mercedes and Tina were whispering to each other, their eyes never leaving the scene folding out in front of them, while Puck's eyes darted between Sam and Quinn like he was watching a tennis match.

Great. The last thing she needed was her fight with Sam to go public. Quinn growled and grabbed her boyfriend's wrist, dragging him out of the room to a more private place where she could yell at him without an audience.

Once they were out of the room, she dropped his wrist and started down the hallway, expecting him to keep up. On her left, she saw an empty classroom and she hurled open the door, stalking inside with Sam following close behind.

"Uh why did you just storm off like that?" he asked, jerking his thumb behind him and raising his eyebrows at her.

"Because I don't want everyone watching us fight," Quinn snapped, crossing her arms defensively.

"Oh, okay…" Sam trailed off still looking perplexed.

Quinn rolled her eyes, "so why is Rachel being my friend such a problem for you?"

Sam shrugged and scuffed his shoe against the floor, "Because it's weird. Ever since I've gotten here, you've made it clear you hate her and now all of a sudden you two are best friends? I'm not stupid, Quinn."

The cheerio huffed and took a step closer to him, "I'm getting really tired of people questioning my friendship with Rachel. I know we didn't exactly get along in the past –"

Sam snorted at this, but Quinn continued, " – but things change."

"When will you stop this and just come back to me already?" Sam said, his voice starting to get louder.

"There's nothing for me to stop!" Quinn yelled back, jabbing her index finger into his chest so hard he winced, "you are the one who is convinced that this is some elaborate scheme to get you to admit you're sorry when really I could care less! I told you Rachel is my friend and that's the truth. This has nothing to do with you!"

Sam shoved her hand away and glared back at her, "Fine. Go back to your 'friend' Quinn," He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he put air quotes around the last part of his sentence.

"I will!" Quinn snarled, taking a few steps toward the exit.

"And for the record, I'd rather hang out with Rachel than you and your self-absorbed ass any day," she whispered to herself as she left.

When Rachel entered the choir room, she was slightly worried to see that Quinn wasn't there yet. She shrugged it off and started heading to corner, certain that she was just running late.

"Oh there you are," Santana said, her eyes alight with mischief, "we were wondering where blondie had left you."

Rachel flinched at the verbal assault, but she couldn't stop her curiosity, "And why is that, Santana?"

"Well you see," the Latina continued, stepping off the riser and moving towards Rachel, "Barbie was having a very interesting conversation about you with Ken a couple minutes ago."

"Oh?" Rachel inquired, shrinking as Santana continued to advance.

"Aren't you curious to know what it was about?" the girl asked, her smirk sending warning bells off in Rachel's head.

"Well?" Santana prompted, her smirk growing as she saw the fear in her prey's eyes.

"I'd rather not. The subject of Quinn's discussions with her boyfriend is none of my concern."

Santana laughed, "Wow. After weeks of barely talking, I thought you had forgotten how to rant."

"Santana, stop it."

A flash of uncertainty passed over the Santana's eyes as she glanced back at Brittany. Her best friend was biting her lip nervously and looked ready to interfere.

"Don't, Britt. Rachel and I are just having a conversation."

Brittany's face fell at the tone in Santana's voice and she got up from her place in the risers.

"I mean it, San." She warned softly, "Quinn will get mad at you again if you don't back off."

"Tubbers isn't here!" Santana snapped, "and I'm sure she's just dying to know why."

Her gaze turned back towards Rachel, who knew then that the proverbial shit was about to hit the fan.

"Quinn and her carbon blond copy are busy fighting about you. Apparently she's just using you as an excuse to avoid him."

Rachel felt her stomach drop down to her feet. It couldn't be true could it? Quinn wouldn't use her, she cared about her right? She looked wildly around the room, waiting for someone, anyone to speak up and say Santana was lying. No one did.

Rachel let out a tiny sob and reached blindly for the door handle, feeling the small bit of confidence she had gained back crumble. She managed to yank the door open and flee the room, not knowing where she was going. Disjointed thoughts ran through her mind as her feet continued to run, trying to leave behind Santana's sickening smile. She should never have let anyone get close to her. It only made it easier for people to hurt her. A familiar weight was being pushed on her chest and she gasped, stumbling in her frantic flight.

Quinn. She needed Quinn. No. That would only make things worse. She clutched her bag closer to her side, as the other - no - the only solution occurred to her. Rachel looked at where her feet had taken her, and she wasn't surprised to find herself outside of the bathroom. It seemed her body knew what she needed. Tears streamed down her face as she pushed open the door, knowing that this emotional pain was seconds away from becoming a distant memory.

When Quinn slipped back into the room, she noticed the air was charged with a tension that seemed to be directed at her. Everyone looked wary, like she was a wild animal loose from her cage that could attack them at any minute.

"What's going on?" she asked, her suspicion evident as she took a few tentative steps into the room.

The tension thickened as her question remained unanswered. Santana was glaring pointedly at Tina who had opened her mouth. The girl quickly closed it and buried herself further into Mike's protective arms.

"Brittany?" Quinn pleaded, feeling like it was a little bit of a low blow to appeal to the blonde, "what's going on?"

Santana's dark eyes flickered to her friend, who set her jaw and met Quinn's gaze.

"Santana made Rachel cry."

Quinn's eyes whipped back to Santana who was smirking triumphantly, leaning back in her seat like she didn't have a care in the world.

"So what if I did?" she said airily, "It's not like you're going to anything about it. You're all talk, Q."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Santana?" Quinn spat, feeling as if she would like nothing more than to slap her.

"Nothing," Santana retorted, "I just told the midget that you and Ladylips were arguing, and she took the news kind of hard."

"It wasn't necessary. Not even Rachel deserved that, Santana," Mercedes scolded, looking at the girl with disapproval.

"And since when did you start sticking up for her?" Quinn shot, her fury directed toward the other diva, who seemed taken aback.

"In fact when was the last time any of you gave a damn about what happens to Rachel?" She asked, turning her attention to the rest of the room.

"Have any of you noticed how much she's changed?" She took the time to look each of them in the eye before answering her own question.

"Of course you have, but you weren't gong to do anything about it. You've torn her down and used her as your personal punching bag again and again, not caring how badly she got hurt because you think it's just Rachel she's used to it she can take it," she mocked.

"Well I'm sick of it. Rachel is a freaking shell of herself because of you people, so do her a favor and leave her alone."

As the last words of her tirade faded into the air, the full meaning of Brittany's words came crashing down on her. If Santana had made Rachel cry then -

"Where's Rachel?" Quinn asked, the calm in her tone forced as her heart started beating faster with fear.

"She ran out of the room," Tina answered quietly, still looking slightly fearful of Quinn.

The Cheerio was moving before her mind could catch up, hurling open the door she had just entered and running down the hallway. Bathroom. Rachel would go to a bathroom if she wanted to – no. She wouldn't let herself finish that thought. She came to the bathroom at the end of the hallway and hurled it open, expecting the worst. It was empty. She stood frozen in the doorway, chest heaving from the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Maybe she had gone to her car or – shit. Mentally she smacked herself; she might have gone to the bathroom at the other end of the hallway. Quinn was sprinting back the way she had come bypassing the glee room until she came to a stop outside yet another bathroom door. Tentatively she pushed open the door, and felt a similar rush of disappointment mixed in with relief when she saw it was empty. Until she noticed the largest of the stalls was locked.

Taking a deep breath she called hesitantly, "Rachel?"

An answering sob came from the stall. Quinn started forward and rapped hard on the stall door.

"Rachel? Let me in," she pleaded, the panic making it difficult for her to talk.

She pushed against the door uselessly, but it wouldn't budge, and the whimpers were getting softer. In desperation, Quinn got down on all fours and managed to slip under the small space between the door and the floor. A small figure was curled up on the opposite side of the stall, staring at her. No, that wasn't right. Staring through her. Rachel's eyes were glazed over, and in the loose grip of her right hand was a razor blade. Blood was seeping from fresh cuts on her wrists and already it had started to drip onto the floor. That wasn't all. Long gashes on Rachel's leg had left it stained red, the trails of blood looking almost innocent, like a painting project gone wrong.

Quinn didn't feel the tears fall from her eyes as she moved to Rachel, tangling her hands in the brown hair and pulling her close. Rachel didn't react, just lying in Quinn's embrace, idly tracing the new cuts on her wrist. The blonde snatched the razor from the girl's loose grip, throwing it as far from Rachel as possible, who didn't make a move to stop her. Quinn gently cradled the girl's wrist in her hands, looking at the gashes that may as well have been slashed across her heart with how she was feeling.

"Rach?" Quinn whispered, her voice starting to crack, "Rach, please look at me."

Rachel slowly lifted her head, and Quinn could see only deadness in her eyes.

"Oh god," she whispered, pulling the diva close to her again, not caring if the blood got on her uniform.

The blood. Oh. She had to stop the blood. Quinn looked around quickly for any bandages, and nearly started crying in relief when she found them next to Rachel.

"I'm going to start wrapping your arm now," she said out loud, her voice still thick with unshed tears. She was talking mostly to herself keep her hands from shaking, since she didn't expect Rachel to respond.

Steeling herself, she started to wind the bandage around Rachel's wounds, hoping that it was tight enough to stop the bleeding. She noticed some of Brittany's band aids on Rachel's arms, and she flinched. Once both wrists were done, she turned her attention to Rachel's leg, which was still bleeding rather badly. Disentangling herself from Rachel, she got up and grabbed a handful of paper towels. She started to press on the wound, watching the brunette carefully for any signs that she was causing her pain. Rachel's expression remained deadpanned. The paper towels were covered in blood by the time Quinn judged it was okay to wrap Rachel's leg without the gauze being soaked through.

"Okay," Quinn breathed shakily, "I'm going to help you stand up."

Bending down, she put an arm behind Rachel's back to support her as she hoisted her onto her feet. Rachel started to sway dangerously and she whimpered as she put weight on her injured leg. Quinn steadied her and the pair started to limp to the stall door. Quinn somehow managed to unlock it with Rachel still draped over her, and they started hobbling to the bathroom door. Quinn made sure no students were in the hallway before, starting off to the parking lot, still supporting Rachel.

Rachel was in no position to drive, and Quinn had no intention of leaving her alone. She spotted Rachel's car parked closer than her own and started heading towards it. By the time she reached the car, she was out of breath and starting to sweat. Carefully, she leaned Rachel on the side of the car, and started fishing through her bag for Rachel's keys. She found them in a small pocket, and unlocked the car. Thankfully Rachel had enough sense to move away from the passenger door so that Quinn could open it and help her in.

The blonde moved to the driver's side, starting the car and slowly pulling out of the parking lot. Getting to Rachel's house was easy, since she had been over there once before to work on a project for school in freshman year. The route had managed to stick in her head, even though it had been almost two years. She pulled up to the plain looking two story house, cutting the engine and glancing at Rachel. The girl was still catatonic, so Quinn got out and moved to her side of the car and gingerly helped her stand. Somehow, she managed to get Rachel up to her room, even though the diva had progressively gotten heavier the longer she carried her. Quinn lay Rachel down on her bed, tucking the covers around her small body before turning to leave.

"Quinn?" Rachel sounded child-like, and when Quinn turned to look at her, the vulnerability in her eyes floored her.

"Don't leave," Rachel whimpered, tears threatening to cascade down her own face, "please don't leave me alone."

Quinn nodded, her throat constricting, "Okay. I won't."

She moved back to the bed and hesitated briefly before getting in beside Rachel, automatically pulling the girl closer to her.

"You're not alone," she whispered into the brown hair, finally allowing herself to relax when Rachel's whimpers turned into even breaths as she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Rachel felt the foreign sensation of a warm arm draped over her back and someone's light breaths teasing the back of her neck. Squirming out from under the arm, she flipped around to see who it was. Beside her, only inches away, was Quinn Fabray, sleeping peacefully, her hair mussed and falling out of its usual perfect ponytail. Oh god. She scrambled away from the girl, feeling pain shoot up from her leg. Glancing down, she saw the bandages wrapped tightly around it, along with her arm.

"Oh shit," she whispered, the afternoon finally catching up to her.

She snapped her attention to Quinn, who had murmured something unintelligible and started to stir.

"mm Rachel?" she mumbled sleepily, feeling around the space where Rachel had been lying minutes before.

The cheerleader shot up when she couldn't find her, almost immediately relaxing when she saw her sitting up at the edge of the bed.

"I was afraid you left," Quinn stammered combing her hand through hair to try to fix her ponytail. The blonde's eyes were clouded with worry and exhaustion, making Rachel feel even guiltier.

No words were coming to Rachel as she continued to stare at Quinn, unconsciously fingering the bandage on her arm. Quinn's eyes followed her movements, and she cringed at the splotches of blood that were visible through the bandage.

"I tried to fix it as best as I could. I don't think I did a good job though," she said, voice carefully guarded, clearly fearful of Rachel's reaction.

"It's fine," she said weakly, carefully pulling her knees up to her chin.

"Hey," Quinn reached toward her, "What's wr – "

Rachel flinched away from her touch, and Quinn retracted her hand, the hurt flashing across her face before she hid it behind a blank expression.

"Nothing," Rachel insisted, her denial sounding hollow even to her.

"Rachel, please don't shut me out," the blonde pleaded, inching closer without actually touching her.

The diva kept her gaze straight ahead, willing herself not to look into the hazel eyes. If she did, she knew she would give in to the blonde again, and she couldn't afford to do that. She had already made it worse by asking her to stay.

"I'm fine, Quinn," she assured, the lie making her stomach twist into knots.

"Two hours ago I found you sitting in a stall with blood dripping down your arms. That's not fine, Rachel," Quinn snapped.

Rachel looked up at the girl, whose eyes were glistening with tears, "It scared the hell out of me," she choked, turning away from Rachel to wipe her eyes.

Guilt welled up in Rachel at the sight. She hadn't meant for Quinn to see her like that.

Shifting herself so she was sitting on her knees, she hesitantly moved closer to Quinn, "I'm sorry I caused you distress. I assure you that was not my intention."

"When I saw you -," Quinn's voice broke and she shook her head, unable to finish.

"I'm sorry," she repeated quietly, unsure of how else to console the cheerleader.

"Don't," Quinn said sharply, raising her head to look Rachel in the eye, "don't apologize. Okay?"

Rachel stared back before slowly nodding. The moment she did, Quinn relaxed, sinking back into the pillows. A silence fell over the two of them as they waited for the other to speak. Finally, Quinn broke the silence.

"Will you answer just one question?" Quinn asked, turning her head slightly to look at Rachel, "what did Santana say to you?"

Rachel stiffened, "How did you know about that?"

"Brittany told me she made you cry when I got back. That's how I knew you were probably in the bathroom."

"Oh," Rachel mumbled, as things started to fall into place. She had been wondering how Quinn had known where to find her. Quinn's hand reached for hers, wordlessly encouraging her to continue, and this time Rachel didn't pull away. There was a reassurance in the feel of Quinn's hand in her own that allowed the wall she had built around herself to partially drop.

"She said you and Sam were fighting," she admitted.

The blonde's eyes narrowed, gripping her hands a little tighter, "what else?"

Rachel paused, afraid to continue. She couldn't bear to see the confirmation in Quinn's eyes that Santana wasn't lying, and it had all just been a cruel game.

"Rachel?" Quinn prodded gently, a hint of worry in her voice.

"I'm sorry. I just..can't right now," she muttered ducking her head.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm scared." Rachel revealed, feeling completely vulnerable as she voiced her feelings for the first time in ages.

Quinn squeezed her hand reassuringly, "Don't be. It's only me."

Rachel sighed, reclining back on her pillows like Quinn, "That's the problem, though."

The diva looked at Quinn, who was obviously perplexed by her cryptic answer.

"What do you mean?"

Rachel bit her lip, mulling over her thoughts before speaking again, "I want to trust you, Quinn. It's just - "

"You can't because I was such a bitch to you?" Quinn guessed, looking expectantly at her.

"Well yes and no." Quinn's eyebrows rose and Rachel tried to clarify, "I want to trust you, but I'm afraid that if I do, and you hurt me..."

She trailed off, unwilling to finish her sentence. The scary truth was she had started to believe the blonde when she said she cared about her until Santana had dashed her faith to pieces in a matter of seconds.

"Rachel."

She looked up at the sound of her name, her heart jumping at the gentleness in Quinn's voice, "I'm not expecting you to suddenly trust me. I know that's unrealistic."

"Quinn, I - "

Quinn looked at her pointedly, "I'm not done. All I want to know is what Santana said that made you hurt yourself."

Rachel didn't want to tell her. There was still the possibility that Santana was right, and this was just an act for Quinn. But the girl was looking at her with something she wasn't used to seeing directed towards her. Quinn was concerned about her.

Before she could stop herself, Rachel decided to take a leap of faith.

"She said you were using me as an excuse to avoid spending time with Sam."

"What?" Quinn hissed, tearing her hand from Rachel's grip as she jumped off the bed, "Of all the screwed up lies -," Quinn was pacing now, hazel eyes burning with anger.

Abruptly she paused in mid-stride and faced the bed, horror dawning on her face, "And you believe her?"

The accusatory tone made Rachel shrink back into her pillows, "Yes. I did, but now I'm not sure."

"But - "

"Do you think it's easy for me to hear things like that, especially taken into account our past history with one another and just wave it away like it's nothing?" Rachel countered, feeling a twinge of guilt as Quinn's face fell.

"No," she admitted, shoulders sagging in defeat, "It makes sense."

Rachel watched warily as the blonde made her way back to the bed and sat down.

"Are you using me?" the brunette asked quietly, bracing herself for the answer.

"No," Quinn said firmly, moving her hand as if she wanted to hold Rachel's again, before pulling it back and placing it awkwardly on her own lap, "I wouldn't do that to you, and if I wanted to avoid Sam I could do that on my own."

Rachel bit her lip, still unsure what to think. Quinn was trying her best to look nonchalant, but Rachel sensed that she wanted desperately for her to believe her. The sincerity in those hazel eyes made the diva want to trust her, but she couldn't help holding back.

"I didn't want to believe Santana," Rachel confessed, looking at Quinn to gauge her reaction.

Quinn looked up quickly as Rachel continued, "Having you with me this week helped a little. It made me feel less alone."

Rachel shifted uncomfortably, hardly believing that she was actually saying this out loud. Quinn was listening with rapt attention, staring intently at her.

"Hearing her say...those things...it made me feel stupid for letting someone get close to me." Rachel felt her eyes stinging, and she suddenly wanted to stop talking; but it was too late. She had opened up the floodgates to what she had been keeping bottled up because she was too afraid to say it out loud.

"All I could see was Finn walking away from me again, and I felt like I should have known better than to think that someone would care about me."

"Rachel, stop." Quinn interrupted, placing a warm palm under Rachel's chin and forcing her to look up, "Finn is an idiot, and I've pretty much told him that."

"When did you - "

"That's not important," Quinn dismissed, "What is important is that you know there are other people besides Finn Hudson who care about you, and unlike him I'm not going to hurt you."

Rachel studied face, feeling as if she was seeing Quinn for the first time. "You mean it, don't you," she said, starting to believe Quinn in spite of herself.

"I do," Quinn promised, scooting closer to Rachel on the bed.

Rachel's lip trembled as she buried herself into Quinn, her heartbeat quickening as Quinn wrapped her arms protectively around her. For that moment, she felt completely content in the blonde's arms.

When she pulled away, she didn't miss the blush coloring Quinn's cheeks, and she felt a similar rush of heat in her own cheeks.

"Do you want to stay the night?" Rachel asked shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "my dads won't be back from Orlando until tomorrow."

Quinn nodded, her smile making Rachel's heart jump again. It really needed to stop doing that.

"I'll just text my mom and tell her I'm staying here."

The Cheerio started toward the door to grab her phone from the car, but Rachel scrambled off the bed.

"Quinn?" she winced as she put weight on her bandaged leg, the pain catching her off guard.

"Get back on the bed, you need to stay off your leg," Quinn admonished.

Rachel obeyed, and sat back down on the bed. "Thank you for helping me today," she said, gesturing at her bandages, "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

Quinn sighed, the exhaustion creeping back into her eyes, "I told you not to apologize for that."

"I know, but I can't help it."

"I'm just glad I found you," Quinn replied softly, her eyes darting to the bandages before returning to Rachel's face.

"I should probably change those bandages soon. I don't think the bleeding has completely stopped."

Rachel nodded, still feeling guilty, "I'm not ready to talk about it yet, but I think I want to eventually."

Quinn smiled at her words as she opened the door, turning back to look at Rachel. "I think I can be patient for a little longer."

Chapter Text

"Seriously, Rachel?" Quinnn sighed exasperatedly, not remembering the last time she felt so ridiculous.

"It's the best I have, Quinn," Rachel called from the bathroom.

Quinn groaned, trying in vain to pull the black shirt down, but it kept riding up, exposing her abdomen. Rachel's sweatpants weren't much better, ending a good couple inches above her ankles. To make matters worse, the sweatpants just had to be argyle.

"I look stupid," she muttered under her breath.

"It's really not that bad," Rachel defended as she emerged from the bathroom, a roll of bandages clutched in her hand.

The blonde huffed indignantly and flopped facedown on the bed, "You're such a liar," she mumbled into the pillow.

Rachel chuckled and sat down on the bed next to her, causing Quinn to turn her head to the side to look at her, "and what happened to staying off of your leg?"

The brunette rolled her eyes, "Walking to the bathroom isn't completely beyond me," she scoffed, starting to wrap her wrists. Quinn's eyes followed Rachel's actions, and she felt a pang of sadness as she saw the number of gashes on Rachel's arms. Her staring didn't go unnoticed by Rachel, who tried to hide her arm as best she could.

"I'm sorry. If it's bothering you I can put on a sweatshirt," she said, the insecurity back in her voice.

"No. I'd rather you didn't hide them from me," Quinn confessed, sitting up and taking the bandages from Rachel's limp hand to continue wrapping her wrist.

Rachel stayed still as Quinn finished up, refusing to look at the blonde until she was finished. Quinn's hand lingered on her wrist, brushing against the exposed fading cuts before pulling away.

"So what's for dinner?" she asked lightheartedly, hoping the subject change would make Rachel feel a little less uncomfortable.

Rachel's brows creased in thought before her face brightened and she started to get up from the bed, "I can warm up my vegan lasagna – "

"Oh no," Quinn grunted, putting a restraining hand on Rachel's shoulder, "I'll warm up the lasagna and bring it up here."

Rachel blew the bangs out of her eyes, looking slightly dejected, "But you're my guest, I'm certain you're not supposed to cook."

Quinn barely held back a laugh at the look on Rachel's face and shook her head, before bouncing up from the bed, "Nope, I'm an exception. Now stay." She commanded, giving Rachel a pointed look.

Rachel raised her eyebrows at her tone, and Quinn smiled sheepishly, "- please?"

Rachel grudgingly relaxed into the pillows behind her, "Very well, I will allow this slip in propriety just this once."

Quinn grinned and rushed out of the room before Rachel could change her mind. As she had anticipated, the lasagna was simple to warm up, and ten minutes later she was heading back into the room, balancing two plates in her hands.

Rachel was stretched out on her bed, her head propped up on a pillow, with her eyes glued to the television across the room. She had kept her t-shirt on, but she had changed into a pair of sweatpants, effectively hiding any sign of the bandages on her leg.

She looked up from the screen when she smelled the scent of food wafting towards her.

"Thank you," she said, grabbing the plate Quinn offered to her and taking a bite of the lasagna.

"No problem," the cheerio responded, plopping down next to the girl before mimicking Rachel's action, "Oh my god this is good," she groaned, quickly shoveling more into her mouth.

"You sound surprised," Rachel chuckled, as Quinn swallowed.

"I'm usually a meat person, but I think this lasagna might change that."

Rachel's gasped dramatically, "Is Quinn Fabray considering becoming a vegan?"

The blonde snorted, "as good as this is, I wouldn't give up bacon for it."

"Of course because dead pig is so much better than my lasagna," Rachel agreed mockingly, giggling when Quinn bumped her shoulder, "Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it, Berry."

"That is never going to happen," she promised returning her attention to the movie.

"Your loss," Quinn shrugged, "what movie is this anyway?" she asked, pointing her fork at the screen, where a car had crashed in the middle of a barn.

Rachel did a double take, staring at the blonde incredulously, "You've never seen Back to the Future? It's a classic, Quinn!"

"It's not a musical, is it?" Quinn asked warily.

"Hardly! It's an interesting spin-off on the typical teenage romance, even though Lorraine's infatuation with her own son was a bit disturbing to say the least, but I personally believe she was suffering from the Florence Nightingale Effect, which would explain why she married George in the first place, since he was supposed to get hit by the car before Marty intervened."

"Rachel, you're rambling," the blonde laughed, but she stopped when she saw Rachel's face fall.

"I'm sorry, I know people get annoyed when I do that."

"No," Quinn assured, "I like it when you ramble. In fact, I kind of miss it," she admitted.

"Really?" Rachel asked, looking up hopefully at Quinn.

"Y-yeah," Quinn confirmed, feeling herself start to blush as Rachel smiled genuinely at her.

Quinn was saved from further embarrassment or whatever the hell was going on when her phone vibrated on the nightstand. Awkwardly balancing her plate in one hand, she grabbed the phone with the other, glancing at the name flashing on her screen. Sam Evans. Really? Couldn't he leave her alone for a couple hours? She angrily pressed ignore and put her phone back on the table.

"Who was that?" Rachel asked casually as she took another bite of her food.

"Just Sam," Quinn explained, rolling her eyes out of habit, "he's probably calling to apologize again."

"For fighting with you?" Rachel guessed.

"Yeah, but I don't have time to put up with his shit right now," she dismissed, returning her attention to the movie.

"You shouldn't do that, Quinn. He seems like he means well…most of the time at least," Rachel amended.

Quinn looked at her disbelievingly, "How can you say that? He's been a jerk to you, just like everyone else."

"Exactly. Just like everyone else. That's normal, Quinn."

Quinn felt her anger rising, both because of Sam's idiocy and Rachel's resigned acceptance.

"You can't let people like him and Santana walk over you like that. You're worth more than that."

Rachel shrugged noncommittally, "Regardless of how Sam treats me, he seems like a good boyfriend, and Santana for her part has always made it very clear that she dislikes me."

Quinn's grip on her fork tightened and she stabbed the lasagna a little too violently, "She has no right to make you feel like shit about yourself," she growled, purposely avoiding mentioning her feelings about Sam.

Rachel sighed, "You can't expect her to change just because we start spending time together, Quinn. This is Santana we're talking about."

"Then I'll have a chat with her and tell her politely to stay the hell away from you."

The diva shook her head, "Don't do that. I don't want you getting involved for me."

"You're my friend, Rach. I'm not going to let her treat you like that."

Before Rachel could respond, Quinn's phone rang again. Quinn groaned and reached for her phone, jabbing the ignore button again and turning her phone off.

"There. That'll shut him up," she exclaimed triumphantly, before turning around to face a not so happy Rachel, "What?"

"You can't ignore him forever. You'll have to talk to him eventually."

"Better later than right now," Quinn waved carelessly, "and anyway, I'm with you."

"But you like him, don't you?" Rachel pressed, staring at Quinn expectantly.

"Y-yeah I guess," she answered hastily, ignoring the small flip of her stomach that screamed she was lying.

"Then you should attempt to mend this rift with him as soon as possible. It's not healthy to leave these things unresolved for too long or - "

"Are you finished with your food?" Quinn interrupted quickly, not wanting to discuss her relationship with Rachel for much longer.

Rachel looked slightly upset at being cut off, but she nodded and handed her plate to Quinn, who took the plate gratefully and hurried downstairs to wash the dishes. Truthfully, the answer was no. She didn't like Sam, and she was starting to think she never really did. She hated lying to Rachel, but she really didn't want to have to explain her reasons for entering into a relationship with a guy that she didn't even really have feelings for. Sam had only been a comfort, a reminder of what once was. She frowned as she realized for the first time how much of an act her relationship really was. At first, It had been so easy to use Sam, but now it was getting too complicated for her liking. She was tired of keeping up appearances just so he felt secure in his popularity, and she had more important things to worry about than his insecurities. Scrubbing away the last remnants of lasagna off of her plate, Quinn turned off the sink and placed the plates in the drying rack, shaking off any lingering thoughts about her boyfriend before trudging back upstairs.

Rachel's eyes were half closed when she opened the door, but she sat up quickly when she felt Quinn get on the bed, mumbling,'I'm awake' and blinking blearily up at the cheerleader.

"Sure, Berry," Quinn teased as the girl tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

God she's adorable. Quinn froze at the unexpected thought. Where the hell had that come from? Sure, Rachel's nose looked funny all scrunched up when she yawned, but it wasn't adorable. Or cute.

"Sorry. I guess I had more of an exhausting day than I thought," Rachel apologized, startling Quinn from her thoughts.

"It's okay. Do you want to sleep now?" Quinn asked, barely holding in a yawn herself.

Rachel nodded and turned off the television. She started rearranging her pillows while Quinn stood up from the bed to pull the covers back.

"There's a guest room farther down the hall for you if you want to sleep there," Rachel informed her, lying back down and pulling the covers around her.

Quinn hesitated, "I don't mind sharing the bed with you if that's okay."

She had no idea why she had said that, but Rachel's dazzling smile seconds later was enough for her to not care.

"Not at all, there's plenty of room."

Quinn settled down next to her and pulled the covers over herself, making sure Rachel had enough, before turning off the light on the nightstand next to her.

"So, do you want me to leave early tomorrow before your dad's get home?"

"You can leave whenever you want, Quinn. I'm sure they would love to meet you if you stayed." she mumbled sleepily.

Quinn somehow doubted her fathers would be thrilled to meet one of Rachel's (former) tormentors, but at the same time she didn't want to seem like she was bailing on Rachel.

"I'll stay until noon, then I'll go home. Oh, could you drop me off at school so I can pick up my car?"

There was no response from next to her. "Rachel?"

She sat up and peered over at the girl, who was fast asleep, looking more relaxed than Quinn had seen her in a long time. She smiled, gently brushing a stray brown hair from Rachel's face before sinking back down into the bed.

"Night, Rachel," she whispered, before drifting off to sleep.

Chapter Text

The sound of her phone beeping at seven in the morning wasn't as unpleasant a thing as Rachel would have once believed. With her eyes closed, she felt around for her phone on her nightstand, finally locating it and squinting at the text message that had quickly become a regular occurrence over the past week.

Morning :) I'll be there in 30 minutes ~Q

Rachel felt a small smile forming on her lips, and she placed her phone back on her nightstand before slowly easing herself out of bed, heading to her closet with her eyes half closed from exhaustion. Sleep was still proving elusive for her, but she wasn't about to let that stop her from being ready in time for Quinn. The first time the blonde had picked her up had been the Monday after their impromptu sleepover. When she had seen a car idling in their driveway, for a fleeting moment she had thought it was Finn, until she saw Quinn poke her head out of the car and wave to her to hurry up.

It was times like those that almost kept her feelings of self-loathing and doubts at bay. Once Quinn was gone though, everything came crashing back down on her. The cuts that she hid so carefully during the day taunted her at night, reminding her how worthless she really was. She felt her eyes being pulled inexplicably towards them now, forcing herself to see what she had done. Even worse, the cuts held the promise of what she would continue to do. The wounds on her wrist weren't too bad, but the cuts on her legs were healing more slowly. It wasn't painful to walk, but she had been forced to wear tights to cover them. Except now she had run out of tights. Making a mental note to do more laundry, she chose a pair of jeans and grabbed a long-sleeve shirt to hide her arms, relieved that the weather was cold enough that her outfit wouldn't draw too much attention.

As she came down the stairs, her dad, Hiram, gave her a quick greeting before hurrying into the kitchen to grab his morning coffee. He and James had come back a week ago, but with the amount of time that Rachel actually saw them, they might as well have not been there at all. She tried not to take it personally. After all, a doctor and lawyer were always busy, but it seemed like they were going out of their way to avoid her. She followed her dad into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of orange juice while he talked into his phone.

" – yes I got the two consults. Thank you, Lisa."

No sooner had his phone slammed shut, then the pager on his hip started beeping, alerting him that he had more consults on the way.

"Where's daddy?" Rachel asked, as her father shut off the pager.

"He went in early since he got that promotion. He told you yesterday, remember?"

Rachel shifted uncomfortably, remembering that conversation a little too well for her liking.

"Rachel, what do you think?"

Rachel started in surprise and looked up at her daddy, who was staring at her oddly. She had zoned out again, and she hadn't really been paying attention to him while he had been talking.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, Daddy?"

"I was saying the office has promoted me to a higher position, which means I won't be home until later. You'll be okay home alone for most of the day then?"

Her stomach dropped and she stared at her food, mindlessly pushing around the peas on her plate, "Y-yeah. Of course I will be."

"That's my girl," the man smiled, ruffling her hair as he stood up to clear his plate.

"May I be excused, Daddy? I don't feel so well," Rachel said, willing the tremor to stay out of her voice. James nodded distractedly and she left the table. They hadn't even asked if she was okay. They had just let her go.

Anger was welling up inside her again, and she needed to feel calm. Feel in control. She quietly closed the door to her room, looking around for her razor blade that was usually waiting for her on her sink. She couldn't find it though, and now the urge was growing. Looking around wildly, her eyes landed on her geometric compass that was still on her desk from her homework the night before. The sharp tip glinted invitingly at her, and without preamble she grabbed it, sinking down onto the floor as she pressed it against her skin. She had to put more pressure on it, and it didn't glide quite as smoothly as the razor blade, but it worked. The blood trickled out of the fresh cuts on her arm, but the anger and hurt was still beating down on her.

Her gaze dropped to her legs, a half remembered memory coming to her. For a moment, she was sitting in a bathroom, dragging the blade across her thigh. She shivered, as she remembered how amazing the high had been, how deep the cuts had been. That's what she needed right now. She needed to forget about her dads, lose herself in the pain that somehow kept her clinging onto sanity. Her hand moved again, digging just as deep as she had on that day, and finally the calm she craved enveloped her. The compass fell from her fingers and she exhaled in relief.

Her leg twitched from the memory, and she smiled unconvincingly at her dad while she sipped her juice, "Of course. Sorry, it slipped my mind."

Her dad kissed her quickly on her forehead and patted her shoulder, failing to notice that she winced slightly in pain, "That's okay. I'm sure you'll be just fine home alone. You've done it before, right?"

She nodded faintly, "Yes. I suppose so."

Hiram hadn't heard her. He was already back to business with the phone to his ear, checking in with his patients.

" – well Mr. Wilson has been complaining about chest pain, but I haven't put him on medication yet – "

His voice faded as he walked out the door, not even glancing back to wave at his daughter before it shut behind him. Rachel finished her juice, ignoring the emptiness she felt now that she was alone once again. She didn't have to struggle for too long. The doorbell rang, and her heart leaped as she knew who would be waiting for her. Sure enough, Quinn was beaming at her when she opened the door, and relief flooded through Rachel.

"Hey," Quinn greeted, hugging Rachel briefly before stepping back and surveying the brunette's outfit, "You should wear jeans more often."

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice, since I ran out of tights this morning," Rachel explained as she closed the door behind her and started walking to Quinn's car.

Quinn nodded, and Rachel caught the flash of worry across the cheerleader's face as she slid into her seat.

"So how are things between you and Sam?" Rachel asked casually, hoping to steer the conversation away from any mentions of her cutting.

The previous week, Sam had spent most of his time tailing Quinn in a feeble attempt to apologize to her again. Quinn had at first blatantly refused to talk to her boyfriend, but that hadn't deterred the blond boy one bit. If he hadn't spent the time he wasn't gazing longingly at Quinn shooting suspicious glances at her, Rachel might have admired his determination. As it was, she couldn't help feeling a (very) small amount of pity for him, and she made it a point to remind Quinn that she couldn't avoid him forever. The Cheerio had grumbled, and told Rachel that she would talk to Sam when she felt like it, which coincidentally turned out to be the day after Rachel had brought it up. It hadn't been much of a discussion, but the couple had come to an understanding. It was still obvious that Sam wasn't thrilled that Quinn was still friends with her, but he kept his mouth shut and seemed genuinely happy that Quinn was talking to him again.

"They're okay," Quinn answered indifferently, keeping her eyes on the road.

"You don't sound too enthusiastic."

"Well we're going to have dinner at Breadstix on Wednesday."

"That's a start!" Rachel exclaimed, trying to sound enthusiastic.

The Cheerio rolled her eyes, "We've gone out to Breadstix before, Rachel. It's nothing to get too excited about, and I'm still pissed that he didn't believe you and I were friends to begin with. I mean is it really that hard to believe?"

Rachel felt a small rush of happiness as Quinn continued to rant. She didn't miss the way Quinn's jaw was set in anger, or how tightly she was gripping the steering wheel. It was small things like these that had convinced Rachel that trusting Quinn wasn't such a bad idea after all. The girl really did have her best interests at heart. By the time Quinn pulled into the parking lot, they were already running a little late. The pair of them rushed inside, not too worried about getting to class on time. One of the perks of being friends with the Head Cheerio was that people got out of your way if they knew what was good for them. Today, however, people didn't seem to be bothered, and it took them a little longer to get to their lockers. Rachel noticed that Quinn seemed a little perturbed at this strange development, but she didn't comment. Instead, she waited dutifully at Rachel's locker to make sure she had her books for her first few classes before walking her to her first period.

To the amazement of Rachel and the glee club at large, they found Mr. Schuester waiting for them in the choir room when they entered for glee later that day.

"Woah, Mr. Schue is something wrong?" Puck asked, voicing what they were all thinking.

"Not now, Puck," the teacher said excitedly, gesturing frantically for them all to take their seats, "I was talking with Miss Pillsbury - "

"You mean Mrs. Howell?" Mercedes cut in.

Mr. Schuester deflated slightly at the mention of the surname, "Uh right of course. As I was saying, Mike, Brittany, could you come up here please?" He gestured at the two of them, and they walked to the front, standing on either side of him looking slightly confused.

"It has come to my attention that our dance choreography has been lacking lately. So - " he punctuated the word by placing a hand on Mike and Brittany's shoulders, " - I figured the best thing we could do is have our two expert dancers lead us in a little friendly competition."

That got everyone's attention. Rachel felt the old drive to prove herself stir within her and she glanced excitedly at Quinn, who returned the look, grinning in anticipation.

"Brittany will lead the girls and Mike will lead the guys. Next Friday, both teams will perform their routine, and you will be judged by a panel of judges including myself, Coach Beiste, and Emma. I want you guys to put your best effort into this because the winners will have their song featured at Regionals."

Excited chatter broke out among the glee clubbers as they divided themselves into their groups. The girls took the upper right side of the bleachers, congregating around Quinn and Rachel. All of them were throwing out different song ideas, except for Lauren who stood slightly apart from them, looking bored.

While Santana and Mercedes were arguing loudly over whose song choice was better suited for a dance routine ("I'm not dancing to another Tina Turner song, Wheezy!"), Quinn pulled Brittany over to her and Rachel and murmured, "Do you think you could go a little easy on the dance routines for Rachel? She's still our strongest singer, and it would be difficult for her to sing if she's out of breath from the dance routines."

Rachel was grateful that Quinn was talking to Brittany for her. She knew Quinn wasn't really concerned about her breath control, but was really still worried about her putting too much pressure on her legs. She had a feeling Quinn suspected she had cut her legs again, and she wasn't exactly wrong.

"Sure," Brittany agreed readily, smiling at Rachel, "I can work something out."

"Hang on," Santana snapped, holding up a hand in Mercedes' face to stall their argument, "Why is she getting special treatment?"

"She's our best singer," Quinn shot back.

Rachel shrank into her seat as Quinn stood in front of her, effectively blocking her from Santana's line of sight.

Santana scoffed, "Oh please, Q. You're going to have to do better than that."

"Back. Off." Quinn warned, "We don't need this right now. We need to be focusing on what we're going to do for our routine."

Santana acquiesced, but she gave the blonde a look clearly saying things were far from over. Rachel was still on edge as Santana resumed her argument with Mercedes, still trying unsuccessfully to disappear into her seat. Quinn sat back down, unthinkingly taking Rachel's hand in hers as she kept an eye on her second in command. Her touch comforted Rachel, who finally remembered how to breathe normally. Quinn looked at her worriedly, and mouthed 'Are you okay?' She nodded shakily and returned her gaze to the floor, resisting the impulse to lean on the blonde's shoulder. If she did, Quinn would know just how far from okay she really was.

Chapter Text

"Alright guys that's it for today. Keep working on your numbers and I'll see you tomorrow."

With that dismissal, people started drifting out the door in the usual twos and threes. Sam gave Quinn a quick glance, but she shook her head and he shrugged, choosing instead to leave with Finn. Santana and Brittany left close behind them, but not before Santana shot a parting glare in Quinn's direction. Beside her, Rachel was still slumped in her chair just like she had been for the last hour. Her eyes had remained glued to the floor, ignoring the bickering around her about song choices and costumes. The old Rachel wouldn't have let them argue. She would have taken charge, outlining exactly what needed to be done before next week's competition. An image of the diva bouncing around enthusiastically swam before Quinn's eye before she forced it out of her mind. Thinking about how things used to be wasn't going to help right now.

"Ready to go?" Quinn asked, squeezing the brunette's hand which was still tightly clasped in hers.

Rachel nodded once and stood up, with Quinn reluctantly releasing her hand as she did so. The two of them walked to Quinn's car in silence, which was more unnerving than Quinn would have liked to admit. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she started to worry that the drive would be pretty much the same, until Rachel spoke.

"Thank you for defending me from Santana," she said quietly, her head turned away from Quinn as she stared out the window.

"Someone had to say something. She was being a complete bitch," Quinn growled, once again questioning why she had ever been friends with Santana to start with. Oh yeah, popularity.

"Not entirely. She did have a right to question why I was getting off easier than the rest of you."

The blonde gripped the steering wheel, tighter, her voice clipped, "I wasn't going to let you strain yourself. Your leg isn't completely better yet."

Rachel shrugged noncommittally, "I could have managed, but the gesture is nice."

Quinn held back from telling Rachel that wasn't an option, reminding herself that she wouldn't take too kindly to her words. Instead, she didn't respond as she pulled into the Berry's driveway, surprised that the lights were off and no car was parked outside.

"Are your dads even home?" Quinn wondered aloud.

Rachel shook her head, opening the car door to leave, "They're working late today."

As Rachel started to get out, Quinn reached over and grabbed her shoulder, "Wait." Rachel looked at her questioningly, "How long are you going to be alone?"

"As long as it takes them to come home?"

Quinn gave her a look and she sighed, "Until eleven most likely."

Quinn chewed on her lip, looking at the brunette contemplatively, "Maybe I should come back after Cheerios practice."

"That won't be necessary, I'll be fine," Rachel insisted as she stepped out of the car.

"Wait!" Quinn called again, forcing Rachel to stop in the act of closing the door with her eyebrows raised.

"If I can't come over, can I at least call you after practice?" Quinn asked nervously, hoping Rachel wouldn't think she was being overly protective.

Rachel regarded Quinn for a moment, who fidgeted in her seat, "I see nothing wrong with that."

A huge grin started to form on the cheerleader's face as Rachel closed the door and walked up to her house. Quinn idled in the driveway until she saw Rachel was safely inside before driving back to school, feeling as if nothing could dampen her mood.

"Sloppy babies! You call that a pyramid? It's disgraceful! Hit the showers, I'm tired of dealing with such pathetic excuses for cheerleaders!"

Groaning from exhaustion, the Cheerios started filing off to the locker room led by Quinn who was trying not to show how bone tired she was. Coach Sylvester had taken it upon herself to drive the Cheerios harder than ever to prepare for Regionals, and Quinn was starting to wonder if the pressure for a seventh National win had finally cracked her. The air conditioner hit her full force as the locker room door swung open and she sighed in relief, heading to her locker to grab a spare change of clothes. Most of the other cheerios were too tired to change, choosing to grab their bags and limp out of the room to get away from Sue as soon as they possibly could. She couldn't fault them for it, since Sue had been known to barge into the locker room and demand they fit in another hour or so of practice regardless of how tired they were. Her muscles ached in protest as she proceeded to change. She took the time to fix her ponytail, gathering the loose strands that had been shaken loose during practice, before throwing her dirty uniform in her bag.

"Hey, Q!"

Quinn tensed, her bag strap falling from her hand as she straightened up and turned to find Santana leaning against the lockers behind her.

"We need to talk."

"About what?" Quinn asked, feigning disinterest as she regarded the girl coolly, "Is this about how you almost caused the pyramid to collapse?"

Santana gritted her teeth, but didn't retaliate, which intrigued Quinn even more. Whatever it was, it must be important.

"No. It's about Berry."

Quinn's eyes narrowed, and she didn't bother keeping the ice out of her voice, "Unless you're about to apologize for being a complete bitch to her, I'm not interested."

"What's your deal?" Santana pressed, "Since when do you defend her? Hell, since when are you friends?"

"That's none of your concern," Quinn growled, "All you need to know is that Rachel and I came to an understanding."

Santana snorted disbelievingly, "That's bullshit."

"Believe what you want, but Rachel and I are friends. You mess with her, and you mess with me."

To her fury, Santana burst out laughing, "Is that your attempt at trying to intimidate me? Because honestly, it's kind of pathetic."

"Listen, Lopez – "

"No you listen," Santana commanded, "This little friendship thing you have going on with Berry needs to end. People are talking and just because you're Head Cheerio doesn't mean you can do whatever you want."

"Newsflash that's exactly what it means," Quinn shot back.

Santana rolled her eyes, "Yeah, if people are afraid you. But let's face it, you're not the cold-hearted bitch you used to be. You're not going to order random slushy attacks to keep people in check, you're just going to rely on your rep to do it for you."

Quinn scoffed at the her words, but internally she was a little surprised the girl had picked up on that. She turned around and shouldered her bag, "Well thanks for the advice or whatever, but I'm not leaving Rachel anytime soon."

She walked past her to leave the locker room, thinking the conversation was over.

"Why not?" Santana called after her exasperatedly, "Why do you care so fucking much about her?"

The blonde paused and turned back around, looking the brunette straight in the eye, "Someone has to. I can't just sit by and watch her fade away a little every day."

"Berry's a big girl, I'm sure she can handle whatever shit she has going on," Santana dismissed.

Quinn only vaguely registered her bag falling to the ground as she sent Santana sprawling back into the lockers with a shove, "You just don't get it, do you?"

Santana cursed and rubbed at her shoulder, "What the fuck, Tubbers?"

Quinn didn't hear her. She was rooted in place, all of the helplessness and worry that had been accumulating suddenly roaring to the surface.

"Rachel can't handle anything right now and you just have to make everything worse. Every time she seems like she's getting back to normal, you go and ruin it!"

"It's not my fault she can't take a couple insults, she needs to learn to toughen up!"

"Toughen up?" Quinn repeated incredulously, "She's had plenty of time to do that thanks to us! All we ever did was insult her. We never even gave her chance," her voice cracked as she slumped back against the locker.

Santana looked unphased by her outburst, "She's Berry, of course we didn't give her a chance. We were popular, she wasn't, it's that simple."

"Well I'm sorry that I feel guilty for being a bitch," Quinn snapped, her hands curling into fists by her side, "Not all of us can be like you."

The girl smirked and rolled her eyes, "Ouch that hurt, Quinnie."

The blonde felt her anger rising. Santana had pushed her past her breaking point, and at that moment all she wanted to make the girl hurt. Make her feel a fraction of the pain Rachel was going through. So she went for the crack in Santana's armor.

"You know anyone else would say you're a bitch to Rachel because you enjoy it, but I know better." She advanced on Santana, her anger making her continue without stopping to consider the consequences of her words, "I think you're like that because you're jealous of her."

Santana laughed, "What does the dwarf have that I could possibly be jealous of?"

Quinn smiled. Santana was making this too easy. "Well Britt seems to be paying more attention to Rachel than you lately."

Santana's eyes darkened, and before Quinn knew it, she was being slammed into the lockers, a fistful of her shirt clutched in Santana's hand.

"Don't talk to me about Britt. Got it?" She punctuated her question by shoving Quinn harder into the lockers before releasing her grip.

Quinn ignored the stinging in her back and stood her ground, not missing the flicker of pain in Santana's eyes.

"Why not? Because you know I'm actually right?"

Santana banged her fist against the locker, inches from Quinn's face, "Drop it. Now, Fabray."

The threat came out more as a plea, and Quinn was taken aback by how vulnerable she sounded. She had hit a nerve, that much was certain.

"I'll let you sort out your deal if you leave Rachel alone."

Santana seemed to deflate in front of her before her face hardened, "Fine. She's your problem now, though. I'm not going down with you, and if you're smart you'll remember what I said."

Quinn stared after her as she headed for the exit, "You do know B's crazy about you, right?" she pushed, the guilt of what she had said earlier pushing her to try to reach out to the girl.

Santana let out a dry chuckle as she stopped with her hand on the door, "Yeah, I know. That's kind of the problem."

Before Quinn could ask what she meant, she had left, the door swinging shut behind her. Quinn could have sworn she had seen a tear sliding down her cheek.

"That wasn't very nice of you, Quinn. You shouldn't have provoked her like that."

Quinn rolled her eyes and barely stopped herself from sighing into her phone. The moment she had gotten home, she had called Rachel to tell her what had happened, leaving out certain parts that she knew would only upset her.

"I know, but she was asking for it," Quinn grumbled.

On the other end of the phone, Rachel smiled as she prepared her dinner, holding her phone in one hand and stirring her soup with the other, "Regardless, it still wasn't right. You know how sensitive she is about Brittany."

"Yeah," the Cheerio admitted grudgingly, "when it comes to Brittany, she seems almost human."

Rachel laughed, catching Quinn momentarily off guard before she smiled. She loved these moments, when she could catch glimpses of the Rachel she missed. It made her feel special, knowing that she was the only one who Rachel trusted.

"I regret that I have to go, Quinn. My soup is ready, and I'm famished."

There was a silence on the other end of the line, which caused Rachel to frown, "Quinn?"

The resigned sigh made Rachel smile. "Okay. Are you sure you don't want me to come over?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Rachel replied hastily, as she spooned some of her soup into a bowl. She didn't want Quinn to think she had to constantly be with her, although she wouldn't have minded if she came over.

Quinn frowned, but she decided to give the brunette her space, "Alright. Call me later if you want."

"I will. Good bye."

Quinn pressed the end call button and tossed her cell phone on the bed beside her. Already she had resigned herself to a quiet night, since her mother wouldn't be home from work for at least another hour. That gave her a lot of time to think, which wasn't something she wanted. She hadn't told Rachel about Santana's warning because she was afraid it would sound like she was only concerned about her popularity. In her heart, she knew she wasn't ready to lose it again, but she couldn't abandon Rachel either. She had caused enough pain in her life already, and the very last thing she wanted to do was hurt her.

Quinn groaned and closed her eyes. If she lost her popularity, she wouldn't be able to protect Rachel, and if she couldn't protect Rachel - no that wasn't an option. She would be damned if she let anything happen to her. But why? The question was nagging at her, taunting her with it's simplicity, and yet she didn't seem any closer to an answer then when Rachel had asked. She turned to stare out the window, the last rays of sunlight streaming across her bed. There was something about Rachel. Quinn didn't know what, but she knew whatever it was, it was important. She continued to ponder long after the sun had dipped below the horizon, finally moving when the sound of her mother opening the door and calling her name prompted her to go back downstairs.

Chapter Text

" - And they're still adding more words to the language, so I usually go on the website so I can learn more words. I'm practically fluent now."

Quinn tried to look intrigued, and even let out a halfhearted 'wow' that wouldn't have fooled anyone. Well, except Sam, who looked rather pleased with himself and smiled, taking it as a sign that he should keep explaining. Yeah, this date was a stupid idea. So far, Quinn had been graced to the tale of "How Sam Evans learned to speak Na'vi in a week," for the past hour, with occasional pauses so Sam could shovel down large mouthfuls of his spaghetti.

It had been cute for the first few weeks of their relationship, but after a while, Sam's closeted dorky side had grown tiresome. Secretly, Quinn figured she wouldn't have minded as much if she genuinely liked him, but since she didn't...well she'd rather be back at the bottom of the pyramid than hear one more thing about blue people. Tuning Sam out, she picked halfheartedly at her untouched salad, her mind drifting to Rachel for the hundredth time that night. She could have skipped out on the date and spent the evening at Rachel's, but ultimately that would have led to Sam complaining yet again about how much she neglected him.

"Quinn?"

The sound of her name jolted her from her thoughts, and she glanced up at Sam, who was waving a hand in her face.

"Are you okay? You zoned out for a bit," he said concernedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Quinn lied, sounding peppier than she felt, "just tired from Cheerios practice I guess."

"Oh. Well anyway, I was asking if you wanted to go see a movie or something. It's only 6:30, and I don't have anything else to do."

"No," Quinn said hurriedly, anxious to get away from him as soon as possible, "I have some things I have to do tonight."

Sam's shrugged off her flimsy excuse, placing the money on top of the check and sliding out of the booth, "It's cool. Maybe some other time."

The two of them walked to Quinn's car, where Sam kissed her gently before waving goodbye and leaving in his car. Quinn made sure he was out of sight before wiping away the traces of him that she still felt on her lips, trying to push away how wrong it had felt. Pulling out her phone, she rapidly sent a text to Rachel, telling her she would be at her house in ten minutes. At least her evening wouldn't be a total disappointment.

"Shit."

That pretty much summed it up, Rachel thought bitterly, as she stared at the gashes on her legs. They were an angry red and had swollen considerably since she had cut herself. She was sitting on the floor with her back resting against the side of her bed, trying to somehow tend to her cuts. She swore again as she dabbed more ointment on them, gritting her teeth at the pain. She had barely even touched her leg for crying out loud! Rachel was stopped in the middle of her ministrations by the sound of the doorbell, signaling Quinn had arrived. Groaning, she hoisted herself up from the floor, and gingerly climbed down the stairs. The moment she opened the door, she was welcomed by the sight of a scowling Quinn, who stomped past Rachel and made a beeline for the living room. Rachel followed after her, just in time to see Quinn flop onto the couch.

"I'm assuming your date didn't go well?" Rachel asked, taking her place at the end of the couch closest to Quinn's head.

Quinn made an unintelligible noise and lifted her head up, no doubt to start telling Rachel exactly how much of a disaster it had been, when her eyes fell on the tube of ointment still clutched in her hand. It didn't take long for her to notice the angry red cuts on Rachel's thigh that were still visible since she had rolled up her sweatpants to attend to them.

"When did you do that?" Quinn asked, sitting up and swinging Rachel's leg so it was resting over her lap to get a better look.

Rachel winced as the blonde's fingers ghosted over the area around the cuts, "Earlier this week. For some reason it hasn't healed properly."

"It looks infected," Quinn observed, frowning as she saw how swollen Rachel's thigh was, "Can I see that ointment?"

Rachel wordlessly handed it to her, and her frown deepened when she read the label, "That's not going to be enough. Do you have any more gauze?"

"Yeah, under the bathroom sink but - "

Without another word, Quinn gently moved Rachel's leg off of her lap and gestured for her to get up.

Together, they made their way to the bathroom, where Quinn had Rachel sit on the edge of the tub. She turned the water on, waiting until it had warmed up before cupping some of it in her hands and pouring it over Rachel's cuts. Rachel hissed at the sudden pain and tried to move her leg away, but Quinn kept it steady in a vicelike grip. Before Rachel could squirm any more, Quinn reached for the soap and applied it directly on the cuts, lathering it up before cupping more water with her hands to wash it away.

Quinn cleaned her leg one more time before she was satisfied. She left Rachel to dry herself off before maneuvering her back to the living room to sit on the couch.

"Give me your leg," Quinn commanded, and when Rachel looked ready to protest, she gave her a look.

Quinn's face remained an unreadable mask as she dabbed the ointment on the cuts and finished by wrapping them with gauze. Rachel felt her stomach twist, a mixture of fear and guilt making her feel worse. She knew watching her hurt herself was tearing Quinn apart, but she kept doing it anyway. What made it worse was that Quinn accepted it, helping Rachel when she needed it, but never demanding an explanation.

"Here," Quinn said tiredly, handing the ointment and remaining gauze to Rachel. When the brunette looked at her questioningly, she sighed.

"If you get another infection, just wash the cuts first to disinfect it before putting the ointment on."

"Oh," Rachel mumbled meekly, carefully lifting her legs off of Quinn's lap, "Thank you."

She got up to put the ointment and gauze back in the bathroom and returned to find Quinn slumped against the couch, all thoughts of her date with Sam forgotten. The tension in the room increased as Rachel unrolled her sweatpants to hide the cuts and sat back down on the couch, making a mental note to avoid using her compass to cut again.

It scares me, you know," Quinn said, her voice deceptively calm.

Rachel tensed as she watched the cheerleader, who turned her gaze towards her. The hazel eyes seemed to bore straight through the wall that she kept up around everyone else. Quinn took a deep breath and closed her eyes, looking like she was steeling herself to continue.

"Quinn -," Rachel started to say, but the girl shook her head violently.

"I have to say this, even if it doesn't make a difference, you need to know."

Rachel nodded, taking the blonde's hand in her own to offer her some form of comfort. Quinn looked at their joined hands blinking back tears at Rachel's display of kindness, "I just feel so helpless all the time. I know I can't force you to stop cutting, and it helps you cope, but I'm afraid one day - " her voice broke and she squeezed Rachel's hand tighter.

Rachel brushed away the few tears that were falling from Quinn's eyes, simultaneously scooting closer to the girl so she could curl into her side. Quinn separated their hands so she could put an arm around Rachel, pulling her closer.

"I'm afraid one day I'm going to get there too late," she whispered, taking comfort in the rise and fall of Rachel's chest against her side, "What if I hadn't found you in the bathroom last week? What if you just lay there, b-bleeding until you passed out or worse?" Her voice had grown thick with emotion, and she found she couldn't continue.

"But you did find me," Rachel argued softly, meeting Quinn's tortured eyes with her own.

"Yeah, this time," Quinn choked out, "but what if next time I don't?"

"You can't think like that," Rachel protested, pulling slightly away from Quinn, "it's never going to come to that."

"How do you know?" Quinn asked, her voice trembling slightly. Rachel's heart throbbed painfully as she realized how truly worried Quinn was about her. It scared her, and made her want to assure Quinn not to worry so much, that she was going to be okay; but the words wouldn't come.

Instead, she simply rested her head on Quinn's shoulder, feeling the Cheerio's arms automatically wrap around her as if she were afraid she could lose her at any moment.

"It won't," Rachel whispered, just loud enough for Quinn to hear. She was relieved when Quinn didn't question her, the slight tightening of her grip around her the only indication that she had heard Rachel at all.

The brunette would have been content to lie there in Quinn's arms for as long as she needed her to, but the sound of Quinn's stomach growling prevented any hope of that.

"Did you eat at all on your date?" Rachel asked aloud, diffusing the tension in the room.

Quinn let out a watery chuckle and managed to wipe the few tears that were still on her face, "Not exactly."

Disentangling herself from the blonde, Rachel stood up and headed to the kitchen, fully intent on finding something for her to eat. Within a few minutes, she had warmed up a slice of leftover pizza, and deposited it in front of Quinn, who attacked it hungrily. While Quinn ate, Rachel turned on the television, mindlessly channel surfing until she had finished.

"So what would you like to do?" Rachel asked, relieved when she saw that Quinn seemed to have partially recovered from her earlier outburst.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably, "Well I was wondering if - "

The sound of keys jingling in the lock made the pair of them freeze, simultaneously turning toward the front door. Seconds later, the door opened.

"Hey, Rachel, is Finn over? Because there's a car in the driveway but it doesn't look like - " Hiram Berry stopped in his tracks, eying the strange blonde girl who was sitting on the couch with a mixture of surprise and suspicion.

"Who are you?

Chapter Text

The silence in the room was palpable. Quinn stared in shock, stock-still, her body refusing to move while Hiram continued to stare at her, his initial surprise quickly fading. This wasn't good. Quinn would have given anything for the ground to open up and swallow her right then and there, but Rachel was having none of it.

She chose that moment to grab Quinn's hand and pull her off the couch towards her dad, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face, "This is Quinn, Dad. She was keeping me company until you came home."

The blonde awkwardly held out her hand to shake, but Hiram didn't make a move to grasp it.

"Quinn?" he repeated, the tone in his voice shifting, "Quinn Fabray, the cheerio captain?"

The tension in the room doubled as Rachel's gaze flitted from her dad to Quinn, "Yes sir," Quinn said, her heart hammering as she lowered her hand.

His eyes narrowed at her confirmation, "I see," he replied curtly, giving her another once over, "And what exactly were you doing here in my house?"

Rachel glanced nervously at Quinn, and the blonde could tell she was mentally deciding how best to diffuse the situation. There wasn't much she could do at this point, Quinn thought ruefully. Judging by the animosity in his voice, it was obvious that he knew who she was and what she had done at one time or another.

"I came over to spend some time with Rachel," she replied calmly, deciding the truth was the best policy.

"Well I find that hard to believe," Hiram stated, his eyes continuing to bore into Quinn's.

Quinn nodded, taking his admission in stride. She had expected as much; it wasn't like she had given him any reason to think she actually cared about Rachel.

"I understand, sir, but – "

"Why?"

The question startled Quinn, and she turned to face Rachel, whose face had gone frighteningly blank.

For the first time since entering the house, Hiram took his eyes off of Quinn and looked incredulously at his daughter, "What did you say?"

Rachel took a sharp intake of breath, her hands twitching slightly at her sides as if she were about to curl them into fists before she spoke, "Why is it difficult to believe that Quinn would want to spend time with me?"

Hiram moved forward to place a comforting hand on her, shooting a look in Quinn's direction as if to say this was all her fault, "Sweetheart, it's just that I don't think Quinn is," he hesitated, searching for the right words to describe the situation, "the most appropriate person to be spending time with."

The words were a low blow for Quinn. She kept her expression neutral as she fought to keep her anger from showing. Did the man not see her standing right next to him? She was tempted to scream that he had no right to dictate who Rachel could and couldn't be friends with, but another part of her, the part of her that remembered the slushying and name calling a little too vividly, thought that he had a point.

"Why not spend time with Finn? I hardly see him around here anymore."

At his remark, Rachel stiffened, her eyes dropping down to stare at the floor, "I'm afraid that is entirely impossible. Finn and I broke up almost two months ago and he no longer has any wish to talk to me."

The pain behind the words made Quinn's blood boil, scenarios involving Finn Hudson suffering severe bodily harm drifting through her mind. He had had no right to hurt Rachel like that, to completely break her to the point that Quinn had had trouble recognizing who the diva was anymore.

"Ah. I see," Hiram said uncomfortably, removing his hand from Rachel's shoulder. "I'm sorry things couldn't work out, honey."

Rachel nodded mechanically, accepting his sympathy with silence, while Quinn could only watch. The need to reach out and protectively wrap the brunette in a hug was suddenly very overwhelming. Even though moments ago it had been Rachel offering the comfort, the balance had shifted. She needed Quinn now, and the Cheerio was going to make damn sure that she did whatever she could to be there for her.

Hiram was still standing awkwardly, unsure how to continue. Sighing he ran his hand over his balding head, "You know I love you very much, and I only have your best interests at heart – "

He reached towards Rachel to take her hand in his, but she scrambled away from his touch, moving closer to Quinn in the process.

"No," she whimpered, shrinking into Quinn's side, her arms wrapped around herself like a shield.

Hiram retracted his hand, glancing exasperatedly at Quinn, who had thrown an arm over Rachel's shoulder, "Now Rachel – "

"No, Dad!" The yell tore from the girl's throat, the raw power of it making the man's eyes widen.

"You do not get to stand there and tell me with whom I can be friends! Quinn is the one person I trust, and I can't stand the thought of you trying to take her from me. She was the only one who was there for me, while you and Daddy were too busy to give a damn."

Hiram looked completely dumbfounded. His mouth was hanging slightly open as he stared at Rachel, but the girl was far from finished.

"When was the last time you actually asked about my day or asked if I wanted to spend some time with you or Daddy?"

The bald man spluttered, still reeling from Rachel's outburst. The brunette smiled lowly, his response reinforcing what she had said.

"That's what I thought." She hurried past him, yanking open the front door with Quinn close behind her. The blonde didn't spare a second glance at the man still standing frozen in the hallway before she shut the door in his face.

Rachel was already walking quickly toward Quinn's car, the tears she had been holding back starting to slide down her cheeks. She couldn't believe her father had had the nerve to say those things, in front of Quinn no less. He may have known a little bit of what the girl had done, but things were different. Quinn was different. She waited for the beep that meant the car was unlocked before she opened the passenger door and slipped inside. Quinn was in the driver's seat seconds later, the car whirring to life as she turned the key in the ignition.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked softly, looking intently at Rachel.

Rachel's heart constricted in her chest at the concern in the blonde's voice. She still wasn't used to hearing Quinn talk to her like that.

Her lip trembled as more emotions overwhelmed her, "Quinn..."

Quinn instinctively reached towards her, copying Rachel's actions from earlier by gently wiping away her tears, "Shh, it's okay. Just tell me where you want to go."

Rachel cupped Quinn's hand on her cheek, possibilities rushing through her mind before she settled on one.

"There's a park…not too far from here."

Quinn's eyes lit up in recognition and she slowly pulled her hand away from Rachel's, her touch sending shivers down Rachel's spine.

"I know where it is," Quinn murmured softly, shifting the car into reverse as she backed out of the driveway.

Minutes later, they were pulling into the parking lot of an empty playground. The sun was starting to dip into the horizon, the trees casting long shadows across the ground. The wind was blowing slightly, rustling the leaves as they stepped out of the car. Rachel crossed her arms, trying to hold in any small semblance of warmth as she moved toward the swing sets. She lowered herself onto one of them, holding on to the worn chains as she used her legs to rock back and forth while keeping them planted on the ground. Quinn sat down on the swing next to Rachel, patiently waiting to see if she would talk.

The silence wasn't awkward, but it still weighed heavily on the two girls as it stretched between them. Rachel grasped the chains tighter as she steeled herself to say what needed to be said. She was ready to talk now; the confrontation with her dad had given her the strength to finally open up to Quinn.

"I know I should have done this sooner," she began, eyes fixated on her lap as she continued to rock back and forth, "but I was too scared to say it out loud. It would make it too real."

Quinn stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt Rachel. The brunette could feel the hazel eyes staring intently at her, which surprisingly calmed her down. Taking a deep breath she continued, "I'm not okay, Quinn. I'm sure you've known that for quite some time. There are days where I feel as if I were to suddenly disappear no one would really care. Everyone at school hates me, and my dads – " her voice broke as she thought of her fathers.

"They're not bad people, and I know they're busy working. I just wish they'd show that they cared about me, instead of taking every possible opportunity to avoid me."

She laughed bitterly, more tears falling down her cheeks, "But why would they want to? I'm selfish, overbearing, bossy. There isn't any reason that anyone would want to spend time with me."

Slowly she raised her head to look at Quinn.

"Did you ever wonder why I was so obsessed with my dreams of Broadway?"

Quinn shook her head.

"I needed something to keep the taunts and slushies from getting to me. I needed to keep myself busy so I wouldn't have to think about how I didn't have any real friends. When Finn came along, I thought I finally had someone who cared about me, supported me, but I was wrong."

She stopped rocking, digging her heels into the ground so that she was sitting still, "I latched onto Finn because he represented the one thing that I wanted. When our...relationship was over, everything inside me felt broken. I was broken. I had completely entrusted my heart to Finn and just like before, he shattered it."

She paused to compose herself, the old hurt rushing back as she talked about Finn.

"That was the last straw for me. I started listening to the insults and the name calling. I felt terrible, and I felt like I deserved it. I started cutting because I had no one to turn to. It makes me feel better, and it helps me deal with things when they become too much. Seeing the cuts are a comfort, and it reminds me that at least I have control of one thing in my life. I was fine, or at least I thought I was. I still felt empty inside, but I lived for those small moments when the adrenaline would rush through me when I cut and I would feel something other than sadness and disgust. When I didn't feel quite as worthless."

Rachel stood up shakily from the swing, no longer able to sit still. She walked forward, her back to Quinn her arms crossed, "Then you came along, and things changed. Cutting was still all I had, but for the first time I found myself wondering if I had the strength to stop. I'm not ready for it yet, and I still need it to cope, but I'm not cutting nearly as much as I used to."

She heard the creaking of the swing as Quinn got up and approached her. Soon, she felt warm arms encasing her, and she leaned back into the blonde, taking in the familiar vanilla scent.

"I cut last week because for one terrifying moment, I thought I had lost you. I thought I was all alone again, and I couldn't deal with it. You're all I have right now. I need you." Tears sprang to Quinn's eyes at Rachel's admission, and she tightened her grip around the diva.

"You need me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rachel nodded turning around so her face was inches from Quinn, "so much so that it scares me sometimes."

Hazel eyes burned brightly as they stared back at her, the emotion in them making Rachel feel lightheaded, "I'm not going to leave you, Rach, and I'm trying to understand why you feel the way you do. You don't have to stop cutting if you're not ready, but will you at least tell me when you feel like you want to? Maybe if you talk to me before you do anything, it'll help."

"Okay," Rachel promised, tucking her head in the crook of Quinn's neck, emotionally drained after confessing everything to Quinn.

"You're not worthless." Rachel swore her heart had stopped, and she raised her head to look at Quinn.

"W-what?"

Quinn looked completely sincere as she stared down at Rachel, her head tilted slightly to the side, "You're not. You're amazing, and I wish you could see that just like you used to."

"Really?" Rachel whispered, half-believing she was dreaming.

Quinn nodded, "Really."

Rachel suddenly became aware of how very close their faces were, along with a strange charge to the air. The blonde's gaze was intense, her hair framed perfectly by the setting sun. Even in her current state, Rachel was struck by how beautiful she was. Quinn hesitantly lifted a hand to cup her cheek, her touch burning Rachel just like before. Her heart was beating so fast Rachel felt as if the beats had blended into one long continuous beat. She was so entranced by the blonde before her, that she didn't question why Quinn's face was moving closer, or why her breath had suddenly sped up. She felt her eyelids flutter shut, whether on instinct or not, she didn't know nor care. All she was aware of was the soft pressure of Quinn's lips on hers, and the realization that she was kissing her back. Something had ignited inside of her, making her earlier kisses with Finn and Jesse pale in comparison. This was something entirely new, and exciting. And terrifying.

She forcibly detached herself from Quinn, panting heavily as she inhaled large gulps of oxygen. Quinn was staring at her, her own chest rising and falling rapidly, but there was panic in her eyes.

"Rach?"

"Don't," Rachel, said frantically, backing away from the blonde slowly, the gravity of the situation catching up to her. She needed to get her thoughts back, to think clearly, but she couldn't do it around her.

Before she could register what she was doing, she had taken off running as fast as she could, away from Quinn. Away from everything.

Chapter Text

Quinn had started running before she could fully process what she was doing, the sharp pain of her hurried breaths barely registering as she fought to keep up with the figure in front of her. The dull pounding of her feet was the only other sound echoing in the darkness that was gradually enveloping the neighborhood around her. This was all her fault, she thought bitterly. If she had managed to maintain her self-control, she wouldn't be in this mess.

"Rachel!" The name tore from her mouth, sounding more like wheezing than the yell she had been shooting for, but the brunette didn't slow down or glance back.

Quinn knew she couldn't continue running at this pace, and it wouldn't be long before Rachel would be out of her reach. She would only have one chance. Calling up all the energy she could muster, Quinn lunged forward, her hand outstretched to grab Rachel. Her fingers barely managed to graze the girl's t-shirt before Rachel twisted away from her, leaving her clutching thin air, but it was enough. The maneuver had caught her off guard, and she stumbled, landing hard on the ground.

"Oh god, Rachel, are you okay?" Quinn asked, immediately dropping down by her side. She helped Rachel into a sitting position and started to make sure she wasn't seriously hurt.

The diva tried to brush Quinn off, shying away as she continued to fuss over her, "I'm fine."

"Well I just want to make sure," Quinn argued, wincing as she spotted a few gashes on Rachel's hand that had started bleeding.

"I said I'm fine," Rachel insisted again, trying to extricate her hand from Quinn's grasp.

Quinn ignored her and held on tighter as she continued to examine Rachel's hand, which was quickly becoming stained red by the blood.

"We should get you home so we can patch you up," Quinn said, trying to disguise the worry in her voice. The blood seemed to be flowing faster now, which was strange since the cuts were fairly shallow.

"We don't have to do anything," Rachel hissed, finally succeeding in yanking her hand away from her, "I think I'm capable of handling a few scratches, Quinn."

"I'm not saying you can't," Quinn sighed angrily, brushing stray blonde hairs from her face, "I'm just worried that – " The words died in her throat as her eyes fell on a dark spot that was blossoming across part of Rachel's sweatpants.

Before Rachel could stop her, Quinn seized the bottom of her sweatpants and pushed them up, revealing more blood running down her leg.

"Shit," Quinn whispered, suddenly noticing more stains appearing across Rachel's t-shirt and sweatpants.

She yanked up the sleeves of the brunette's shirt, panicking as more blood became visible, spilling from the cuts that covered Rachel's arm.

"No, no, no," Quinn chanted, looking around frantically as if she expected a roll of gauze to fall from the sky. When none came, she did the next best thing, and started ripping off strips of her shirt to try to bind the cuts. A whimper escaped from Rachel as Quinn roughly tied the strips of cloth around as many cuts as she could, but it wasn't enough. The blood was showing no signs of letting up, and Rachel's face was becoming paler. Tears were streaming down Quinn's face as she continued to try to bind the cuts, trying to suppress the bile rising in her throat as she felt her own hands grow sticky with Rachel's blood….

Quinn's eyes flew open and she shot up from her bed, the final moments of her dream still playing out in her head. Her hair was sticking to her face due to a thin sheen of sweat, and she took a moment to take in the fact that she was in her room and not the middle of some godforsaken road. She looked down at her hands, thankful to see they were blood-free and collapsed backwards onto her pillow, leftover adrenaline still coursing through her veins. It had been two days since she had kissed Rachel Berry. Two days since she had watched Rachel run away from her, and she hadn't tried to stop her. Quinn rolled over so that she was facedown in her pillow and screamed, willing the feelings that had erupted in her chest to just go away.

Questions swirled through her brain as she pounded her fist into her pillow. Why hadn't she had the courage to run after Rachel? Why had she stayed frozen in the middle of a damn park for over ten minutes? More importantly why the hell did she want to kiss Rachel again? She lifted her head up so that her chin was resting on her pillow, staring intently at her headboard. Kissing Rachel was out of the question. The brunette had been avoiding her ever since the incident, hurrying away whenever Quinn got too close. It was aggravating, but Quinn knew that Rachel needed some space for the time being. As for not chasing after her that night…the Cheerio groaned and buried her head in her pillow again. Part of the problem was that she had been too shell-shocked from the kiss to do anything. Recognizing that she wasn't going to get anymore sleep, Quinn sighed heavily and sat up, ready to start her before school routine.

After she had showered and changed into her uniform, she made her way to the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised by the smell wafting towards her. By the stove, Judy Fabray was bustling around, putting pancakes on a large plate and placing it on the kitchen table. She turned when she heard Quinn come in, flashing a smile in her direction, "Morning, Quinnie! Did you sleep any better last night?"

Quinn shook her head, certain that the bags under her eyes could have spoken for her, before grabbing an apple from the fruit basket on the counter and sitting down at the table. Moving back in with her mother hadn't been nearly as awkward as she had thought it would be. They had fallen into a routine, both content to stay out of each other's way for the most part. Without Russell Fabray's shadow looming over her, Judy seemed more relaxed and less inclined to turn to scotch when things got stressful. She had found a job working as an accountant, which kept her busy for most of the day. Still, she did her best to reach out to Quinn and be there if her daughter needed her. She did have her moments (like today) where she would go out of her way to act more like a mother than she used to.

As Judy continued to smile expectantly at her, Quinn shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to tell he mother that eating the pancakes went completely against her Cheerio diet. The last thing she wanted was to shoot her mother down, especially since she had been trying so hard lately. Reluctantly, she put her apple down and selected the smallest pancake possible. Her mother relaxed once she saw Quinn was eating, and patted her daughter on the head before stacking a couple pancakes on her own plate. She sat down across from Quinn.

"So what are you doing at school today?" she asked, in an obvious attempt at conversation.

Quinn swallowed a particularly large bite before replying, "Nothing. Just Cheerios practice until five."

"Oh, okay."

Quinn knew what her mother was worried about, and she rolled her eyes as she finished her pancake, "Mom, I'll be fine home alone for three hours until you get home."

"I know, honey, I'm just worried that you're alone too much," Judy admitted, toying with her food, "You hardly hang out with Santana and Brittany anymore, and you three used to be inseparable."

Quinn shrugged nonchalantly, but her heart was beating fast. She hadn't given her former best friends that much thought since she had spent so much time with Rachel. Come to think of it, that's all she was doing these days.

"They're just busy lately," Quinn deflected, standing up from the table to put her plate in the sink, "I hang out with other people besides them." Like Rachel.

Judy frowned in concern as Quinn moved to the door, "Are you sure you had enough to eat?"

"Yes, Mom, thanks for the pancakes!" Quinn called over her shoulder as she opened the door, "I'll see you later."

School was a bitch. Or at least that's what Quinn had concluded after sitting through her morning classes. She had seen Rachel only once, and that had been during the history class that they shared. She had spent the entire period staring intently at her in an attempt to catch her attention, but to no avail. Seconds after the bell had rung, Rachel bolted out of the room before Quinn had a chance of approaching her. Needless to say, Quinn's patience was wearing thin.

"So you're okay with that, Quinn?"

Quinn stopped herself from scanning the cafeteria for a certain brunette and focused on Mercedes. She had agreed to go with the girl to the cafeteria so that she could get her lunch before they met up with the rest of their group to decide which song they would be performing in glee club on Friday. The blonde had hoped to catch a glimpse of Rachel, but so far she was having no luck.

"Oh it sounds good," she said, hoping it sounded like she had actually been listening.

Mercedes raised her eyebrow, "Really?"

"Yes, I think it does," Quinn nodded emphatically, giving the cafeteria a last cursory glance before turning to leave.

"So you wouldn't mind going shopping alone with Santana and Brittany on Sunday for outfits?" Mercedes said, clearly unconvinced.

Quinn stopped in her tracks before turning around, "What?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes and picked up her lunch tray as she walked past a still stunned Quinn, "They asked if I could go, but I can't go because I promised Kurt I'd help him get ready for his date with Blaine, and Tina is stuck at a family reunion all day, and I don't think Lauren will go, so it'll just be you and them."

"Actually I do have a problem with that!" Quinn spluttered, hurrying to keep up with Mercedes. Things were still rocky between her and Santana, and the last thing she wanted to do was risk another fight with her.

"Well, girl, I'm sorry but I can't help you," Mercedes said sympathetically, "but someone's gotta go with them to make sure they don't end up dressing us up like strippers."

Quinn groaned, but she had to admit Mercedes had a point. The two of them entered the choir room to find the rest of the group sans Rachel waiting for them.

"About time," Santana huffed getting up from where she had been sitting to stand in front of them while Quinn and Mercedes took their seats, "now let's figure out what we're doing."

Tina raised her hand tentatively, and Santana rolled her eyes before pointing to her, "Yes?"

"Shouldn't we wait for Rachel? I mean she is part of our group…" Tina trailed off when she saw Santana's expression.

"Since I don't want to get stuck dancing to showtunes, I think it's best if we agree on a song without Berry," Santana waved her hand dismissively, "And before you try to kill me, Q, I did text her so it's up to her if she shows up or not."

Quinn was surprised to find that she was on the edge of her seat, like she was about to get up and do just what Santana had suggested. Mercedes was looking at her curiously, but she shrugged it off and attempted to relax into her seat. She really needed to have better self-control.

Santana smirked at her before continuing, "So like I was saying, I've decided we're doing S&M by Rihanna."

"Oh hell to the no! There's no way we're doing that song!" Mercedes cut in, Tina nodding furiously in agreement behind her.

"I like it," Brittany insisted, causing Santana to flash her a quick smile before her face hardened.

"Come on, Wheezy, it's not like you losers can come up with a better song."

"Oh you best not be questioning my song choices," Mercedes warned, making a move to get up, but Quinn restrained her.

"How about Fairy Tale?" Tina interjected timidly.

They all looked at her, slightly puzzled.

"What are you talking about?" Lauren asked curiously.

Tina shrank a little under all the attention but she continued on, "You know, the song by Saturday Night at the Apollo?"

When they continued to stare at her blankly, she sighed and pulled out her iPhone, "Just listen."

After the first few seconds of the song, Brittany frowned and shook her head, "I don't like it. It's too depressing."

"Yeah, no," Santana said flatly, "There's no way we're doing that song."

"Well we have to agree on something!" Quinn snapped, "the competition is in a week!"

"I'm trying, Blondie, but none of you people can appreciate my song – "

Santana was interrupted from her rant by the sound of a ringtone coming from Tina's phone. Tina glanced at her phone absently, her face lighting up before she quickly texted a reply. When she was finished, she looked up and was surprised to find everyone staring at her, "W-what? That was just Mike."

"What song was that?" Quinn asked.

"Um, Passion for Publication," Tina answered nervously, pocketing her phone, "Why?"

"It's not that bad," Quinn said slowly, "actually, it's pretty good. What do you guys think?" she asked, turning to the others.

"I don't hate it," Santana admitted, shrugging indifferently.

Quinn was tempted to sigh in relief. If Santana didn't mind, then the others would more than likely go along with it.

"Yeah I could be down with that," Mercedes agreed, shooting the goth girl a smile, "Why didn't you suggest that song in the first place?"

"I didn't think you guys would like it," Tina replied, "Do you want to hear the full song?"

They all nodded, and Tina promptly turned up the volume on her phone so they could all hear the song. The beat was decent, and they were all bopping along to it twenty seconds in. From there, it was pretty obvious that the decision was unanimous. When it was over, Quinn looked over at Santana, "So, we all agree?"

Santana in turn looked at Brittany, who was nodding enthusiastically, "Yes! We should totally do it!"

Her counterpart grinned, "Now that that's settled, which of you bitches are coming with me and Britt to pick out outfits?"

The room grew silent as the girls suddenly found it very difficult to look at her in the eye. Mercedes subtly dug her elbow into Quinn's side, causing the blonde to yelp.

Santana's head whipped around and found Quinn, "Guess it's gonna be three of us, Q. Just like old times, huh?"

"Yeah. Great," Quinn said enthusiastically, taking the opportunity to shoot Mercedes a withering look.

"Alright so we'll meet on Monday to work on a routine," Mercedes said, trying to ignore Quinn.

They all nodded and started to leave in groups talking animatedly about the song. Quinn was the last one to go, one thing still bothering her as she closed the door. Rachel had never shown up.

Chapter Text

Two days earlier….

Rachel stumbled through the front door, panting and out of breath. Her hair had slipped out of its ponytail, wisps of hair sticking to her face thanks to a thin sheen of sweat covering her body. She had run the entire ten blocks from the park to her house, desperate to put as much distance between herself and Quinn as possible. The house was dark, all except for the crack of light coming from underneath the door of her fathers' room, but Rachel didn't even consider talking to him. As quietly as she could, she crept up the stairs, almost tripping over her own feet in the dark, but managing to avoid falling by grabbing onto the banister.

Eventually she made it to her room, closing the door behind her and collapsing onto her bed. She leaned her head against the headboard, her breath evening out as the adrenaline slowly drained out of her. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be happening. Gingerly, she brought her shaking hand to her lips that were still tingling from where Quinn's lips had met hers.

A shuddering breath escaped from her mouth, and she closed her eyes as a jolt of warmth ran through her body. She could still feel Quinn's mouth moving against hers, gentle and assured, completely different from Finn's awkward movements. Her stomach rolled uncomfortably and her eyes snapped open. No. She couldn't be thinking about this. Not now. Rachel dropped her hand from her lips and banged her head against the wall.

It was all too surreal. Quinn Fabray, a girl that up until a couple weeks ago she would have considered her enemy, was kissing her as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Quinn, the same girl that Rachel was starting to realize she completely depended on, whose mere presence calmed her down when nothing else would.

But that didn't mean she liked her in that way; it just meant that Rachel considered the cheerleader her friend. Her traitorous heartbeat sped up at her conclusion, but she pushed the thoughts bubbling to the surface away, too scared to fully examine them at the moment.

Again the diva banged her head against the wall, the pain giving her a welcoming distraction from her problems, "What the hell am I going to do?" she whispered aloud.

For the first time in her life, Rachel Berry was late to school. She slammed on the brakes, barely pulling into an empty parking spot before she was out of her car, a pile of schoolbooks clutched messily in her hand as she hurried toward the school. She had fallen asleep around four in the morning, the kiss still replaying itself in her head, and she had forgotten to set her alarm. That had led to her frantically throwing on whatever clothes she could grab first and rushing out the door, trying to bury her disappointment upon discovering that no blonde was waiting for her in the driveway. It wasn't that she hadn't expected it, but she couldn't completely pretend that it didn't bother her.

Her math teacher barely acknowledged her as she burst into the classroom, muttering apologies and taking her now permanent seat at the back of the class. A couple of students looked at her curiously, but the majority of them ignored her. She could have cared less, however, and instead busied herself with the more pressing matter of how she was going to successfully avoid Quinn for the rest of the day.

The moment Rachel walked into US History, she was ready to smack herself for her stupidity. She had completely forgotten that Quinn was in the same class as her. The blonde was slumped at her desk, her head supported by one of her hands looking as if she hadn't slept at all. There were dark circles under her eyes and her normally well-kept ponytail was flung up haphazardly.

She looked utterly forlorn, yet somehow she still looked heartbreakingly beautiful. Quinn chose that precise moment to look up and she immediately locked eyes with the diva. Life flickered back into her expression, and the worry and exhaustion on her face melted to be replaced by relief. She immediately stood up, making a beeline toward Rachel and wrapping her up in a fierce hug, ignoring the small whimpers of protest.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, okay?" she mumbled into Rachel's hair, squeezing her tightly before letting her go.

Rachel felt her cheeks reddening as she stared back at the Cheerio, realizing as she did that any hope of her burying her sudden feelings for Quinn had now become quite impossible. The way she was regarding her now was making her want to smile and burst into tears at the same time. How was it that this perfect girl could harbor any feelings for her, when she obviously didn't deserve her? It wasn't, it was simple as that.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, trying hard to keep her composure as she moved back to the door she had come through, "I just – I have to go."

She turned away from the confused blonde, dimly aware that this was the second time she was running away from her, before slamming the door in her face. The tears came fast as she speed walked down the halls of McKinley and out to her car. Rachel half expected to hear hurried footsteps and Quinn shouting her name, begging her to stop, but she heard nothing, which for some reason just made her cry harder. She stayed there in her car, unable to muster the energy to drive home or go back inside. Instead, she stayed curled up in the back seat of her car, sobbing quietly and wondering why it was impossible for her to be happy.

By Friday, Rachel had managed to rebuild the walls Quinn had unknowingly ripped away during their brief encounter the day before. It had still been torture to feel Quinn's gaze on her during History, but she had resisted the urge to turn around and had left the classroom as quickly as she could. The Cheerio seemed to have gotten the message, and was giving her space for the time being, for which Rachel was immensely grateful.

She knew she couldn't avoid Quinn forever, because like it or not, she had come to rely on her, but she just needed some time to sort through her feelings. At the moment, she was watching Quinn conversing with Mercedes from her corner table in the cafeteria, thinking wryly that she truly was a masochist, when her phone buzzed in her jacket. She momentarily tore her eyes away from the pair, and flipped open the phone to read the message.

Group is meeting in the choir room to choose a song. Come if you want. -S

Rachel wasn't sure whether she was more surprised that Santana was actually courteous in her text, or that she was bothering including her in a group meeting. She closed her phone and looked around for Quinn, but was slightly disappointed to find that she had left the cafeteria. She glanced back down at her phone and bit her lip, contemplating her options. If she did go, she would have to deal with Quinn, but if she didn't go, she would risk being seen as a non-team player. Sighing in defeat, she got up from her table, resigning herself to her fate.

Suddenly, a wave of melted ice smashed into her, making her stop in her tracks as pain shot through her skull. Her mouth was open in shock, and the bitter sweet taste of grape pervaded her mouth as she blinked her eyes furiously to relieve some of the sting of the colored dye. Gobs of ice dripped down her skin and splashed onto the floor, the feeling of humiliation finally starting to sink in as snickers echoed in the cafeteria. Wiping away the slushy from her eyes, she was surprised to find it wasn't Karofsky standing in front of her with a smirk on his face, but three freshmen jocks, that were sneering at her.

They all high-fived and snorted as they looked at the diva covered in slushy before swaggering back to the jock table. They were welcomed back with more high-fives and fist bumps, from all except one particular mohawked jock who looked ready to pound the shit out of them. Rising from his seat, he slammed his fist on the table and shoved the three younger boys out of the way as he made his way over to Rachel, who had started to shiver. Stopping in front of her, he shrugged off his varsity jacket, and offered it to her, but Rachel pushed it away.

"N-no, Noah, I-I'm covered in slushy," she reasoned, stuttering from the cold.

"I don't give a fuck, Rach," he told her firmly, wrapping her in his jacket and putting one arm on her lower back as he steered her out of the cafeteria. He made sure to shoot one last death glare at the jocks before they left.

As they walked down the hallway, Rachel leaned her head on Puck's shoulder, and he tightened his grip around her reflexively.

"Thank you," she whispered, adjusting his jacket around her.

He smiled tightly at her and wiped some excess slushy from her cheek, "Don't thank me, babe. I haven't been sticking up enough for you lately."

Rachel's brow crinkled and she was about to shake her head in protest, but Puck cut her off, "And don't even try to make up some lame ass excuse for me. The Puckasaurus owns his own shit."

Rachel couldn't help but smile at his comment, and she remembered why she had once found him so endearing. Puck stopped awkwardly outside the girl's bathroom and glanced apologetically at Rachel.

"I'm sorry this is all I can do for now."

Rachel nodded in understanding, and made to give him his jacket back, but he shook his head and pushed it back towards her, "Keep it for now. You can give it back to me later, okay?"

He smiled encouragingly at Rachel as she went into the girl's bathroom, but it slipped from his face the moment she was gone. Whirling around, he nearly sprinted down the hallway towards the choir room, thanking God that he had heard Santana mention her group was meeting there to talk about the competition. He just hoped he wasn't too late to catch a certain blonde.

Quinn had walked about five feet away from the choir room, when she heard her name being shouted behind her. She started in surprise and turned to see Puck running towards her, shouting at her to wait. He skidded to a stop in front of her with a grim look on his face that practically screamed something was wrong. Quinn's eyes narrowed and her worst fears were confirmed by the next words out of his mouth.

"It's Rachel."

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she spit out one word through her clenched teeth, "Where?"

He gestured wordlessly for her to follow, and she didn't waste any time, immediately falling into step beside him. Her fears only grew when they stopped outside the girl's bathroom.

"Thanks, Puck," she said sincerely.

"Anytime, Baby Mama," he dismissed, but the worry was still in his eyes, "just take good care of her."

"Why can't you help?" the blonde asked, hand already on the door to the restroom.

Puck shifted and put a hand behind his head, "I did what I could. And anyway there a couple of shitheads in the cafeteria I have to take care of."

Quinn nodded and pushed open the door, nearly slipping on some water on the bathroom floor. She managed to catch herself, but upon closer inspection, she realized the so-called water was actually purple. White hot fury coursed through her as the pieces started to fall into place. As if to confirm her fears, Rachel was standing in front of a sink, a folded varsity jacket placed neatly on top of it, wiping away grape slushy from her clothes.

Silence enveloped the restroom as the two girls stared at each other. The diva was soaked, the front of her sweater completely sodden through with slushy, bits of it still caught in her hair. Walking forward in small steps, she approached the sinks and gently took the balled up paper towel from Rachel's hands and resumed removing the slushy from her face.

As soon as her fingers grazed Rachel's cheek, the singer flinched and moved quickly away from Quinn, her watery brown eyes plainly showing the pain that she felt. Quinn couldn't help but think that even soaked and shivering, Rachel Berry still looked breathtaking.

"I'm sor – "

"Don't you dare say it," Rachel snapped, grabbing a fresh paper towel from the container and resuming wiping fruitlessly at the stains on her sweater.

Quinn shut her mouth and settled for watching Rachel struggle for a couple seconds before she sighed gently and walked forward, coming to a stop beside Rachel.

"I'm sorry," the blonde whispered quietly, and both girls knew she was apologizing for more than just the slushy.

Rachel's lip trembled, but she managed to nod, which Quinn took as an invitation to start cleaning her up. This time, Rachel stayed still until Quinn was satisfied that she had done all she could.

"You're going to need new clothes," Quinn said grimly as she threw away the now purple stained paper towels.

Rachel sniffed, pushing back her hair, "I don't have another change of clothes. I stopped packing emergency slushy kits weeks ago."

"Then you'll just have to borrow some of mine."

She gestured for the singer to follow her out of the bathroom, and they walked side by side in silence. At one point, Quinn's hand grazed the back of Rachel's, but she resisted the urge to reach out and grab it. When they stopped outside the Cheerios' locker room, Rachel looked at Quinn nervously, but the blonde walked resolutely forward, internally thankful that it was deserted. Rachel trailed behind her as she fiddled with her lock, and pulled out her gym bag. She took out a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt and placed it on the bench for Rachel.

She started to take off her sweater, but it was sticky from the slushy, and she couldn't get it completely over her head.

"Um, Quinn could you – "

"Y-yeah," the blonde grasped the bottom of the sweater, and tugged upward, blushing furiously as Rachel's stomach came into view.

She tried to ignore the cuts crisscrossing her stomach and arms as she tossed the sweater aside. Wordlessly, she handed Rachel the sweatshirt and turned around so Rachel could take off her jeans.

"You can turn around now," Rachel said, and Quinn felt her blush deepen as she did just that.

"So what now?" Rachel asked.

Quinn took a deep breath and closed her eyes, the anger she had been desperately trying to hold back starting to seep through.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked hesitantly, reaching out to touch her forearm.

There was a roaring in Quinn's ears, and all she could think about was finding whoever had slushied Rachel and making them pay. "This shouldn't have happened," she growled.

Rachel's tightened her grip around her arm in warning, "Quinn, just calm down you're not thinking clearly."

"No!" her shout echoed around the room, and she turned to face Rachel, her anger shining in her face, "I made it clear you were off limits. They need to know that they can't mess with you."

"And what are you going to do?" Rachel asked quietly, "slushy them too?"

"If that's what it takes," Quinn said determinedly.

Rachel sighed tiredly and shook her head, "I don't have the energy to argue with you right now, but just know that you aren't going to solve anything by doing this."

"Yes I am," Quinn insisted, "they'll know that they shouldn't attack people that I care about."

Rachel bit her lip and looked at Quinn, "You care about me?"

Quinn groaned in frustration, "Did Wednesday not make that clear?"

Rachel blushed and looked away, pulling the sweatshirt more securely around her, "Quinn – "

"No, I get it," she said hastily, pushing her own feelings for Rachel aside, "it was a mistake, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you."

"It's not that you shouldn't have," Rachel interjected quietly, making Quinn's heartbeat speed up, "And I can't say I hated it, but I need time think. It's not that I don't trust you, Quinn," she continued on hurriedly when she saw the girl's face drop, "but there are a lot of things to consider right now."

"Like what?" Quinn asked, her impatience leaking through.

Rachel looked at her strangely, "Like Sam."

Quinn's stuttered, eyes widening in shock at the mention of the boyfriend she had completely forgotten about.

"Uhh – "

Rachel patted Quinn's shoulder sympathetically, "I understand that it was an accident, and honestly I just want to get back to the way things were between us."

Quinn wanted to protest. She wanted so badly to scream that it hadn't been an accident at all, and she wanted more than a friendship (screw Sam), but she knew Rachel was in no state to handle that at the moment.

To her horror, she found herself nodding dumbly, and Rachel flashed her a relieved smile before giving her a quick hug. As she pulled away, Quinn could have sworn there was a flash of sadness in her eyes, but it was gone too quickly for her to be sure.

She was tempted to call Rachel out on it, but she chose instead to help her gather the ruined clothes along with Puck's jacket and toss them into her locker.

Chapter Text

"Quinn Fabray!"

The blonde flinched, her grip tightening on her cell phone as Rachel's shriek tore through her eardrums. She knew this had been a bad idea, but she was feeling a little desperate right now. "I'm sorry! I know this is asking a lot of you, but I really need someone to go with me."

"And did you stop and think for a second that maybe - just maybe - I'd have a problem with this?"

Quinn hesitated, biting her lip. She had in fact considered the implications, but she hadn't expected the brunette to react so forcefully. Through the hysteria, Quinn could detect a small trace of fear.

"I know you and Santana don't exactly get along – "

"She hates me!"

Quinn sighed, running her free hand through her hair, "She doesn't hate you."

"She strongly dislikes me."

"Okay, that's a little more accurate," Quinn relented, pacing around her room, "but we really need to look for outfits for our song and everyone else bailed on me."

"And you really need someone to come with you, even though I'm sure you have hung out with them alone plenty of times before?"

"Yes," Quinn said defensively, "Santana won't listen to what I have to say about the clothes she chooses. She'll just call me a prude and buy them anyway. If someone else is there with me to back me up, she might listen to reason."

It wasn't a complete lie. Santana could be stubborn when put in charge, and Quinn didn't want to end up fighting with her again if she could help it. What Quinn hadn't told Rachel was that she was afraid to leave the diva on her own again. Quinn knew her dads were still hardly around, and she wanted Rachel to come so she could keep an eye on her.

"So your solution to this problem is to bring me along."

"Basically," Quinn replied, crossing her fingers and praying Rachel would buy it.

"I'm still a little hesitant, Quinn."

"She's not going to try anything if I'm there with you," the blonde argued, feeling her chance slipping away.

"Really? You can personally guarantee that?"

Quinn weighed her chances. If it was just her, Rachel, and Santana, she might have said no, but the fact that Brittany would be there too made her odds seem a lot better.

"Yeah, I can," she said confidently.

Her declaration was followed by a silence that stretched on for a few seconds before she heard a resigned sigh, "Very well. I'm trusting you to keep your promise."

Quinn nodded frantically, a smile breaking out on her face before she remembered that Rachel couldn't see her, "I will. I promise, Rach."

"And just to be clear, I'm only doing this so I can contribute to our group. I'd feel worse if I didn't help in some way."

"I understand," the blonde replied, sitting down on the side of her bed, "Thanks for doing this."

"Yes, well…I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Alright, I'll pick you up at twelve."

Quinn tossed her phone on the bed beside her and lay down on her mattress. All things considered, that hadn't been as terrible as she thought it would be. Things had pretty much gone back to normal for the pair of them since the slushy incident, even if there was a hint of tension that hadn't been there before. It was barely there; only noticeable in the slight hesitation in Quinn's movements before she hugged Rachel, or the glint of trepidation in Rachel's eyes whenever Quinn would brush against her, but it was enough for Quinn to know things weren't what they seemed.

However, she was wary of pushing Rachel to talk about the kiss when it was pretty clear the diva wanted to forget it had ever happened. Sighing, the blonde rolled over and closed her eyes. Worrying about things wasn't going to make her get to sleep any faster, and the last thing she needed was for Rachel to yell at her because she was late picking her up.

"Are you sure they're coming?"

Quinn glanced over at Rachel, who was sitting next to her fiddling with the sleeves of her long t-shirt. She could tell Rachel was trying to look nonchalant, but in reality she looked like she was going to throw up.

Quinn restrained herself from leaning over and giving her a reassuring pat on the arm and settled for shrugging, "Yeah, Santana said she'd meet us in the food court, so I'm sure she'll be here any minute."

Rachel nodded absentmindedly and her eyes resumed darting around the mall.

"Hey," Quinn called softly, causing Rachel to start and look at her, "Don't worry, okay? I'm not going to let her be a bitch to you and neither will Brittany."

The brunette still looked unsure, and at that point Quinn decided she might as well. Not giving a damn about the possible implications, she reached over and grabbed Rachel's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before reluctantly letting go. Rachel's lips quirked in a smile, and she returned it almost immediately.

"Tubbers. Berry."

Quinn's mouth hardened into a thin line and she let out a small breath of frustration before turning in the direction of the voice. Santana Lopez was standing feet from their table, pinkies linked as usual with Brittany, who waved at them.

"About time you showed up," the blonde grumbled, glancing sideways at Rachel to make sure she was okay.

Santana smirked, "I'm so sorry we kept your ass waiting an extra five minutes. Britt and I had some business we had to take care of."

"Yeah, well let's just get this over with," Quinn muttered, standing up and brushing past Santana with Rachel close by her side, already wondering if this had been a good idea.

"For the last time, we aren't wearing that when we're performing!"

"And why the fuck not? It's perfect!"

Rachel sighed and rubbed her temples as Quinn pushed away yet another pair of very short shorts that Santana was brandishing in her face.

"Because I said so!" Quinn yelled in frustration, glaring angrily at the hangar in Santana's hand, "Those can't even be classified as shorts!"

"Get the stick out of your ass, Fabray! These – " she shook the shorts for emphasis, " – will look smoking hot on me and halfway decent on you."

"Are they still arguing?" Brittany whispered, sitting down on the bench next to Rachel with a smoothie clutched in her hand.

"Yes," Rachel sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache developing in the back of her skull, "Are they always like this when they're together?"

Brittany sipped pensively on her straw before answering, "No, but usually yeah."

They both watched as Quinn grabbed the shorts from Santana and stormed off to put them back.

"Deep down they care about each other. They just don't like to show it," Brittany said sagely, as Santana followed Quinn, shouting a string of abuse at her.

Rachel's brows knit together and she looked at Brittany strangely, "That's them caring about each other?"

Brittany giggled and shook her head, "No silly, that's just Santana being Santana."

With a final long pull on her straw to get the last bits of her smoothie, Brittany stood up and taking Rachel completely by surprise, grabbed her hand and hauled the diva to her feet.

"C'mon, I saw the perfect pair of jeans over here," she called over her shoulder.

"Wait! What about Quinn and Santana?" Rachel asked.

"They'll stop arguing eventually," Brittany shrugged, letting go of Rachel's hand and starting to sift through the clothes until she found what she was looking for.

"Here!" she thrust a pair of black skinny jeans into Rachel's hands, "Try this on withhh," she looked around quickly and pulled a red tank top with a black outline of a rose and a black leather jacket off a rack, "these!"

"W-wait!" Rachel squeaked, as Brittany pulled her over to the dressing room, "I don't think this is a good idea!"

Brittany opened the door to a room and gently shoved the brunette inside, "You'll look awesome," she smiled as Rachel looked at her nervously, "trust me."

With that, she closed the door in her face. Rachel stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds before she was able to shake off her surprise and start stripping. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but then again it was common knowledge that you couldn't say no to Brittany.

"Can I see?" the blonde called over the stall door, five minutes later.

"Just a second," Rachel called back, pulling on the leather jacket and examining herself in the mirror.

She adjusted the tank top one final time to make sure she looked presentable before stepping out of the room.

Brittany's eyes lit up and she held out a silver chain belt, "Put this on, and it'll look perfect."

Rachel took the belt and threaded it through the loops of the jeans. Once she was done, she stepped back and let Brittany examine her. The girl nodded appreciatively, "You look hot."

Rachel blushed and pulled self-consciously at the jacket, "I look okay, I guess."

"Nuh uh, you look way better than okay," Brittany insisted, letting her eyes roam Rachel's body from top to bottom, "Quinn will definitely agree."

"Wait! Brittany!" Rachel hissed, but the girl was already on the move, skipping around clothes racks over to where Quinn and Santana were still fighting.

She watched in horror, as Brittany gestured animatedly for the pair of them to follow her back to where she had left Rachel. After a couple of exchanged words and eyerolls, they followed Brittany to the dressing rooms, still casting each other dirty looks. The moment they saw Rachel, they stopped dead in their tracks.

Quinn's eyes widened slightly, and her cheeks started to redden while Santana smirked, "Not bad, Berry. You actually look pretty fine."

The brunette ducked her head down and mumbled a thank you, while Brittany bounced over to Santana, "Doesn't she, San? Do you think we can all wear something like this for the song?"

The corners of Santana's lips quirked into a smile, and her eyes softened as Brittany looked at her pleadingly, "Yeah sure, B. I think it'll work."

Brittany squealed in excitement and she hurriedly wrapped Santana up in a hug, "Yay! I'm going to go find more tank tops!"

Santana watched her go before swinging around to Quinn without missing a beat, "When you're done staring at Berry's ass, come help me find some jeans for you and me."

Quinn blinked rapidly and snapped her head towards Santana, "I wasn't staring!"

"Uh huh, yeah," Santana smirked knowingly, before following after Brittany.

"I wasn't," Quinn defended, the moment she had gone.

Rachel bit her lip and nodded, more out of a way to avoid replying than anything else.

"I'll just go change back into my clothes," she said awkwardly, retreating back into her dressing room.

"Y-yeah, you do that," Quinn mumbled, putting a hand on the back of her neck and avoiding eye contact with Rachel.

Once Rachel was finished changing, she and Quinn met the other two Cheerios at the cash register to pay for the clothes. They ended up only buying tank tops for everyone since Quinn reminded them that they still had leather jackets left over from the Start Me Up/Livin' on a Prayer mash up.

"That actually wasn't a shitty afternoon," Santana admitted as they exited the mall, their bags clutched in their hands.

"Glad to hear it," Quinn said sarcastically, rolling her eyes behind her back.

The action didn't go unnoticed by Rachel, who had to stifle a giggle with her hand. Quinn still heard her though, and she smiled at the brunette. The four of them stopped at Quinn's car first since it was closer, and Quinn loaded all the bags into her trunk.

"Don't forget to bring that shit on Monday, Fabray," Santana warned, glaring at her friend, but even Rachel could tell she wasn't serious.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Quinn quipped, closing the trunk and going around to her side of the car.

Rachel was about to open her door, when she suddenly found herself being lifted in the air in a hug by Brittany. When she put her down, Rachel scrambled away from her, and looked fearfully over at Santana, fully expecting the her to rush towards her, fists blazing. Instead, Santana was standing in the same place, not looking exactly happy, but not looking like she wanted to kill Rachel either.

"What was that for?" Rachel asked warily, still shooting suspicious glances at Santana.

"For coming shopping with us, even though Santana has been mean to you," Brittany replied simply.

"Oh, you're welcome, Brittany," Rachel said uncertainly.

Brittany grinned and leaned down close to the her ear and whispered conspiratorially, "She's only mean when she's in school, because she thinks she has to be tough. Outside of it, she's more like a fluffy bunny."

"Alright, well B and I gotta go," Santana said sharply, effectively ending their conversation.

Brittany stepped away from Rachel and waved goodbye, once again linking pinkies with Santana, "Bye Rach, bye Quinn!"

"So was today okay?" Quinn asked nervously from Rachel's desk.

Rachel paused midway through taking off her sweatshirt and looked at Quinn contemplatively, "Actually yes."

The blonde let out the breath she had been holding, and relaxed into her chair, "Thanks again for coming with me. I don't know how I would have gotten through that without you."

"Mhm," Rachel said absentmindedly, throwing her sweatshirt on her bed and moving to lean on her desk beside Quinn.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, angling her body so that she was facing Quinn.

"Sure," Quinn agreed easily, eyebrows knit in concern, "what's up?"

Rachel chewed on her lip, unsure how to phrase her question, "It's about Santana.." she said slowly, watching Quinn closely to gauge her reaction.

Quinn's eyes narrowed, but she nodded to indicate that Rachel should continue.

"Why was she - for lack of a better term - 'nice' to me today?"

The blonde regarded her strangely, "I was actually wondering the same thing."

"And?"

"Most of it was probably because Brittany was there," Quinn reasoned, "but I think a small part of it too was that we weren't in school."

Rachel frowned, "I don't understand."

"Well," Quinn said patiently, idly tracing patterns on the desk in front of her, "if we're not in school, Santana doesn't feel pressured to act like a bitch all the time to intimidate people. I think in her mind, she believes she can't afford to be nice to you because people won't fear her."

"But why is it so important that people are afraid of her?" Rachel asked curiously.

Quinn gave her a pointed look, and suddenly Rachel felt as if she had been smacked in the face.

"Brittany?"

"Who else?" Quinn chuckled, "Almost everything Santana does leads back to protecting Brittany. Being a bitch to you was her way of ensuring Brittany never had to go through what you did."

Rachel was silent, taking in this new information.

"But that doesn't excuse her behavior," Quinn continued hastily, "I still want to smack her for the things she does to you."

Rachel shook her head, smiling a little at Quinn's words. She hesitantly put her hand on top of Quinn's, "I know you would, but I wouldn't want you to."

Quinn tensed in her chair, but Rachel's squeezed her hand gently, warning her to stay silent, "Santana may have tortured me since the beginning of high school, but something tells me she's hurting just as much as I am."

"And why do you say that?"

Rachel drew in a breath and seemed to think about how to answer, "Because she has everything and nothing at the same time."

And for the first time in her life, Quinn Fabray actually felt like she could relate to Santana Lopez.

Chapter Text

Even though the shopping day had ended several hours ago, Quinn had opted to keep Rachel company since she had nothing else she had to do. During that time, Rachel had decided that there was nothing as completely perfect and torturous as curling up into Quinn's side, the blonde playing with strands of her hair as they both watched whatever was playing on the television at that moment. Rachel squeezed her eyes closed, willing her heart to stop racing and her body temperature to return to somewhere close to normal as Quinn shifted slightly next her. It shouldn't feel this…natural. Again, Rachel had to remind herself that she was the one who wanted to forget about the kiss. She was the one who was too scared about what it could mean for them if they actually talked about it, and yet here she was, almost wishing that Quinn would just lean down and kiss her again.

She was taken out of her thoughts by the sound of the phone ringing insistently. Sighing in resignation, she gently disentangled herself from Quinn and reached over to grab her cell phone from the coffee table.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Rae, it's Daddy."

She unconsciously gripped her phone tighter, and turned slightly away from Quinn to avoid the questioning looks she was undoubtedly shooting her way, "Oh, hey, Daddy. Is something wrong?"

"No, pumpkin, everything's fine."

His voice sounded too cheerful, too fake, " – I just wanted to check in on you. How are you doing?"

"Fine," she answered neutrally, eyes narrowing as she waited for him to get to the point.

"Ah, well that's good," he laughed, and she could immediately tell it was strained, "I'm sorry we've been gone so much lately. It's just – "

"Work. Yes I'm aware," she cut in, unable to hear him finish the sentence, "and I understand."

"I know you do, and I'm sorry to surprise you like this – "

Rachel braced herself for it, waiting for the worst, " – but Dad got invited to another conference in Columbus last minute, and I was planning on going with him."

"Oh."

Her voice was controlled, completely devoid of emotion. It wasn't like she wasn't used to it, after all. Her dad was still talking, but Rachel was shutting out his words, wishing like she had so many times before that she didn't care.

"How long?" she asked, stopping him mid sentence.

"Not too long this time. Only about a week, and we'll be leaving tomorrow," he paused for a moment, waiting for her to respond. When she didn't, he sighed heavily into the phone, "I know this is tough on you, honey, but I'll make it up to you when we get back, okay?"

"Okay."

"Great," Rachel could practically see him smiling on the other side of the phone, "I'll talk to you later then. Love you."

Rachel focused on keeping her breath controlled and her face an expressionless mask as she ended the call. They were leaving again. Her dad hadn't even sounded that sorry about it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Quinn asked quietly, sensing that something was wrong.

"No," Rachel said a little too quickly, her blank expression momentarily slipping, "I mean…I'm fine, Quinn," she assured.

Lies. Already her hands had started to shake, and the need for comfort, for distraction, was setting in.

"Are you sure?" the blonde pressed, not completely buying her act.

"Yes!" Rachel flew up from the couch, surprised by just how desperate she sounded. She wanted – no – needed Quinn to stop. She didn't want to talk about it. She just wanted to forget.

Her feet seemed to move of their own accord, and she wasn't surprised at all that she ended up in the bathroom. Frantically, Rachel started looking through the cabinets, searching for the thing that would make it all go away.

"Rachel…"

The diva jumped and slammed the drawer closed, before turning to look at Quinn. The blonde must have followed her, but she had been too focused to hear her. She stood still, warily watching Quinn as she moved forward until she was standing right in front of her.

"That isn't going to help you."

"Yes it will," she insisted, her eyes blurring with tears as Quinn just shook her head.

Quinn took her hands in hers and looked her calmly in the eye, "No, it won't."

A part of her knew Quinn was right. The relief was temporary, and yet she wanted to feel it so badly. She wanted to feel that rush of letting everything that was building inside of her go, to see all the anger and pain leave her as the blood dripped down her wrists.

Angrily, she tore her hands from Quinn's grasp and resumed her frantic search for the razor, no longer caring that Quinn was watching her.

"Rachel!" Again, Quinn grabbed her hands and forced her to stop, "just stop and think for a second, please!"

"You think I haven't tried?" Rachel whispered lowly, struggling against the Cheerio's grip, "You think I take pleasure from the fact that I have to resort to this whenever it gets to be too much?"

"I wasn't suggesting that," Quinn grunted from the effort of holding onto Rachel, "I just want you to talk to me before you do anything!"

"Why?" Rachel shouted, "It's not going to make a difference! I'll still end up cutting once we're done. Now let go of me!"

"I can't do that," Quinn's voice was soft, but determined, "not until you promise to talk about this."

"No! Just let me go, Quinn, let me do this," her voice cracked and the fight was leaving her the harder she fought against Quinn, "please," she begged.

Rachel felt her knees give way, and she slumped against Quinn, her small sobs muffled by her shirt. Quinn wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, waiting for her to calm down.

Rachel couldn't help but relax into her, taking comfort in the safety Quinn's arms afforded her.

"Do you want to cut because of what your dad said?" Quinn asked softly, catching Rachel off guard.

She raised her head to look at Quinn with wide eyes, "H-how – "

"I was sitting next to you, Rach. I'm not stupid."

The younger girl sniffed and wiped away some of her tears, "My fathers have decided to leave for another week-long conference tomorrow, and only informed me of it today."

"Oh, sweetie," Quinn murmured, pulling her close and stroking her hair.

"I just want it to stop hurting," the brunette whimpered, burrowing herself farther into Quinn, "and this is the only way that it will."

"No, it isn't," Quinn disagreed, pulling away from Rachel and looking her in the eye, "there are other ways, Rachel."

"Like what?" the diva asked disbelievingly.

Quinn looked momentarily perplexed, but then her eyes lit up, "Do you know where any rubber bands are?"

"In a drawer in my desk, but I don't see how – "

"Wait here," Quinn ordered, backing out of the bathroom and running before Rachel could finish her sentence.

A minute later she was back, holding a rubber band triumphantly in her hand.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Rachel wondered aloud, as Quinn slipped it onto her wrist.

"Snap it," Quinn said simply, "I looked up some alternatives to cutting, and this is supposed to help," she elaborated when Rachel looked at her skeptically.

Rachel shrugged, pulling back on the band and letting it go, wincing slightly at the sharp pain. The dull ache in her chest eased slightly, but the pain was already receding.

"It's not enough," she confessed, trying to not feel so guilty as Quinn's face fell.

"There are other things you can do," Quinn babbled on, and Rachel could tell she was starting to get desperate, "like squeezing ice, or drawing lines on your arms with red markers – "

"Quinn."

The blonde stopped talking, shoulders sagging, "you're not going to stop cutting, are you."

Rachel hesitated for a moment before shaking her head, "It's not something I can stop overnight, no matter how badly I want to sometimes," she sighed, handing the rubber band back to Quinn.

"Keep it," the Cheerio said, slipping it back onto her wrist, "Just try snapping it before you cut. Even if it only makes a little bit of a difference, I'd rather that than nothing at all."

Rachel nodded, trying to not look Quinn in the eye, "I just don't want to feel so alone all the time," she confessed, hating how weak she sounded.

"Well maybe there's something I can do about that," Quinn replied hesitantly.

"W-what?" Heart constricting in her chest, Rachel looked up at Quinn, wondering what she was talking about.

The blonde's eyes were shining with sincerity and something else that made her feel secure.

"Stay with me," Quinn breathed, stepping forward and reaching for Rachel's hands, "I mean it. I don't want you staying here by yourself, and there's a spare bedroom at home you can use."

Rachel was actually considering it, but then she shook her head, "No, I would hate to intrude – "

"It's not an intrusion if I'm inviting you," Quinn interrupted, wrapping an arm around Rachel and guiding her out of the bathroom and up the stairs, "Actually, it's not like you have a choice," she teased.

Twenty minutes later, and the pair of them had managed to pack all the clothes that Rachel would need for the week in two small duffel bags. Quinn was lugging them out the door to load them into her car, but Rachel had stayed behind to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. She was about to follow Quinn, when it caught her eye. The razor was staring innocently at her from the bathroom sink. Rachel looked around quickly to make sure she was alone, before moving towards it. She picked up the shiny metal and held it in her hand, turning it over. The urge had died down considerably, but that didn't mean she still didn't want to do it.

"So you got everything?" Quinn asked as Rachel closed the car door and started buckling her seat belt.

"Yeah," Rachel smiled brightly, trying to ignore the small object in her pocket that suddenly seemed to weigh a ton. She really was weak.

Judy didn't mind Rachel staying over at all. In fact, she seemed excited by the prospect, bustling around and helping her unpack and get her room straightened out.

" – and if there's anything at all that you need, don't hesitate to let me know," she insisted, putting a comforting hand on Rachel's shoulder and smiling at her.

"Thank you, Ms. Fabray," she replied, smiling a little at the woman's enthusiasm.

Judy started, "Oh my goodness, you must be starving! I'll start cooking dinner," she hurried from the room, and Quinn couldn't help rolling her eyes at her mom's behavior.

"Sorry, she's just happy that I have a friend over," she explained, before moving to the door and shouting down the hall, "No meat, mom! Rachel's vegan!"

Quinn turned back to look at Rachel who was holding back a giggle, "I like her."

Dinner wasn't as awkward as Quinn would have thought it would be. Rachel seemed genuinely happy, and didn't mind answering all of Judy's questions. It was the most that she had talked in a while, but the blonde couldn't help but notice she avoided talking about her dads and her singing. Sure, they talked about glee, but Rachel only talked about the songs they were doing, and praised everyone else's contributions to the team. Even then, Rachel didn't talk that much about it. Broadway wasn't mentioned once. It saddened Quinn, seeing this slight change, and she couldn't help but reach for Rachel's hand under the table. Rachel jumped a little, and her eyes darted to Quinn, questions dancing in her eyes, but the blonde simply smiled at her plate, squeezed the diva's hand lightly, and continued to eat.

Chapter Text

Rachel was startled out of her sleep by a soft pounding on the door. She groaned from exhaustion and buried her head farther into her pillow, wondering why her dad found it necessary to wake her up since he usually left her to herself in the morning.

"Rachel, we're going to be late if you don't get up!"

Well that definitely wasn't her dad. Rachel sat up quickly and was temporarily disoriented by her unfamiliar surroundings, until the previous day's events came rushing back to her.

"I'm up," she half yawned, hoping her response would be enough to placate Quinn.

Instead, her door flew open and before she had time to process what was going on, Quinn was rummaging through her drawers and throwing a pair of leggings, a skirt, and a sweater into her arms.

"I thought you love waking up early," Quinn chuckled as the brunette rubbed her eyes.

Rachel grumbled and was about to retort, when she made the mistake of looking up at Quinn. The blonde's hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders, not yet pulled back in the trademark high ponytail, but she was already dressed in her uniform. Her breath caught in her throat, and she mumbled something about changing before brushing past Quinn and locking herself in the bathroom. Once there, she slid down the length of the door until she was sitting on the floor. She really needed to get a hold of herself.

After splashing some cold water on her face, she examined her cuts to make sure none were infected. She hadn't had to wrap them for a couple of days, since she had only made a couple of shallow cuts that healed fast. She rubbed some ointment on the red cuts, and pulled on the clothes Quinn had picked out for her. When she came out of the bathroom, her room was empty, so she assumed Quinn had gone downstairs for breakfast. Yawning again, she descended the stairs and was met with the sight of Quinn leaning casually against the banister with a granola bar in her hand.

"Here," she said, throwing the bar to Rachel, "sorry, but this is all we have time for since someone decided to sleep in this morning."

She smirked at Rachel, who smiled sheepishly before following Quinn out the door. Despite Quinn's worries, they arrived at school with plenty of time to spare. The blonde walked Rachel to her locker, and patiently waited for her to change her books, but her whole body was tense, and she kept shooting looks at students who came too close to Rachel.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, Quinn, but why are you glaring at everyone?" Rachel asked as she closed her locker.

"No reason," Quinn growled, fixing a freshman football player with a particularly fierce glare. The boy paled and sprinted off in the opposite direction.

Rachel sighed and touched Quinn's arm, making the blonde turn her attention towards her. Her hazel eyes were clouded with worry and frustration, and the brunette once again felt her heart skip a beat.

"Quinn…"

The blonde frowned, but she relaxed marginally at her touch, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Quinn said, offering Rachel a tight smile, "I just worry about you, that's all."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, suddenly realizing what was bothering her, "The slushy wasn't your fault, you know."

Anger flashed across Quinn's face before it smoothed back into its normal blank mask, "Why would you think that's what I'm thinking about?"

Rachel shrugged, "Just a guess."

"Mhm," Quinn pursed her lips before grabbing the books out of Rachel's hand, "We should go. I wouldn't want you to be late to class."

Rachel decided to not point out the blatant subject change, and chose instead to follow Quinn silently to math. It was probably best to not test her at the moment, and she had a sneaking suspicion this wasn't the last time she would have to talk to her about it.

Rachel hadn't been wrong. Quinn had been doing a lot of thinking about the slushy incident, and she had every intention of making sure the meatheads who had ignored her slushy ban paid the price.

She gritted her teeth as an image of a Rachel covered from head to foot in purple ice passed through her mind. Of course it would happen as soon as she wasn't there to protect her. The only problem was that she had no idea who the culprits were, and the only person who knew –

"Puck," she whispered aloud, the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind.

"Mmm?" she started and turned to the mohawked boy, who was sitting to the right of her, his eyes already half closed from boredom.

Her eyes darted around the classroom to make sure no one had heard her, and she was relieved to see that half the class was asleep. Mr. Schuester usually had that effect on people, she thought, as the man continued to struggle to explain the difference between 'por' and 'para.'

"You saw who slushied Rachel on Friday, right?" she asked, making sure to keep her voice low.

Puck sat up straighter, his eyes darkening with anger, "Yeah I did. Roughed them up pretty good too," he took one look at the blonde and smirked, "and I'm guessing you want to deal with them yourself, right?"

Quinn smiled, but it was anything but pleasant, "Do you think you could arrange for them to be at the boy's locker room at the beginning of fourth period?"

Quinn didn't have to wait long. She was leaning casually against the wall outside the locker room when three scrawny boys came into view. Typical freshman. In all honesty, Quinn knew they had probably only attacked Rachel to impress their teammates, that they didn't have a personal vendetta against the singer, but the closer they got to her, the more she realized she didn't care.

She felt herself channeling the head bitch persona as she pushed herself off the wall and walked to stand in front of them, a barely controlled rage burning in her eyes, "So you're the three? You don't look like much."

The shortest boy looked like he was about to say something but Quinn cut him off, "Don't even think about interrupting me. I want to get something straight with you pathetic losers."

She leaned in close, making sure to look at each one of them individually, "You slushied my friend. That makes me angry. And if there's one thing you know at McKinley, it's that you don't want me to be angry."

"W-we were just doing what they told us to do," defended the black haired boy, Nick, if she recalled his name.

"Really?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, "So if they told you to slushy her again would you do it?"

Nick gulped and shook his head rapidly, "N-no."

"I would hope not. Because you see if you did, I'd ensure that you wouldn't be able to go two hundred feet without getting doused in slushy," she said icily, her glare never leaving his face.

The boy ducked his head, and Quinn turned her attention to the other two, "That goes for you as well. If any of you even think about touching Rachel, you get to deal with me. Clear?"

She could practically smell the fear coming off of them as they hurriedly assured her that they understood.

"Well get going," she ordered, unable to hide her smirk as they practically sprinted back up the hallway they had come, glancing back at her to make sure she wasn't following them. As if.

The moment they got to the end of the hall, Puck stepped out from his hiding place with two slushies in hand, unceremoniously flinging their contents on the heads of the two boys in the lead. The third boy was too shocked to move, which gave Puck plenty of time to pick up the third slushy at his feet and dump it on his head.

Quinn felt a twinge of guilt at the pain she saw on their faces, but she quickly pushed that away. Rachel had gone through far worse, and they had to learn. Quinn Fabray wasn't someone you wanted to mess with. She managed to give Puck a nod when he glanced her way, and he flashed her a grim smile before going back the way he had come.

"Quinn?"

She tensed and looked over her shoulder, surprised to hear her name being called. Standing behind her, looking completely stunned, was Sam dressed in his work out clothes with a towel slung over his shoulder. Dread settled in her stomach as she watched his eyes flicker from her to the freshman who were starting to recover and make their way to the nearest bathroom.

He opened his mouth, no doubt to ask what the hell was going on, but she cut him off, "Not now, Sam," she snapped, before turning on her heel to storm down the hallway.

"No."

That one word made Quinn stop, and whirl back around to face Sam, who looked surprised that he had said anything, but he squared his shoulders, "You can't just slushy those guys and then not explain why."

"They were losers, Sam, how's that for an explanation?" she spat, anger still churning inside of her.

"That's not a good reason," Sam argued, frowning at her as if he expected better.

"Oh really?" Quinn snarled, "and yet that's exactly the excuse people use every day. They're losers, so we should punish them by throwing a fucking frozen drink in their face!"

Her fury seemed to have registered with Sam, because he was backing away from her slowly, hands held in front of him, "That's the way things are! There's nothing we can do about it!"

"No, you're too afraid of losing your status to do anything about it!" she shouted eyes blazing as she advanced on him, "You're perfectly content with the way things are as long as you aren't the one getting a slushy facial."

"Like you're any different!" Sam argued, standing his ground and wincing when he tried to hold Quinn's glare, "The only reason we're dating is because you care so much about your image."

That stopped Quinn in her tracks. She hadn't thought he would have realized that had been her original intention, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh let's be honest with each other for once, Quinn!" Sam exclaimed, voice rising to match hers, "We were both using each other, and we were fine with it!"

"Were?" she asked, her voice trembling in spite of herself.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, shoulders hunching in defeat, "Yeah. Were."

The pair of them stood in silence for a moment, and Quinn swore she felt the hallway get colder. Finally Sam raised his head, a mixture of dejection and something else on his face. Regret maybe?

"This isn't working anymore, is it."

Quinn let out a shaky laugh, and shook her head, "Absolutely not."

Sam smiled self-deprecatingly and ran his hands through his hair.

"Did you like me?" he finally managed to ask, his voice laced with insecurity. It was so innocent that Quinn was tempted to lie and spare his feelings, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Her silence seemed to be enough for him though. He nodded sadly and toyed with the towel on his shoulder, "I kinda figured as much."

"Sam – " she started forward, but he took a step back, shaking his head warningly.

"Forget it, okay?" his tone was light, but even to Quinn it sounded forced, "I knew what I was getting myself into when I asked you to be my girlfriend."

She bit her lip and glanced down at the floor, the guilt crashing over her in waves, "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I didn't mean for us to end up like this."

The boy shrugged, "It's done, and honestly it's probably for the best."

He hesitated, as if he was going to move in and hug her, but he seemed to think better of it because he suddenly turned away.

"I'll see you around, Quinn," he mumbled, before trudging down the hallway.

Quinn spent the rest of her free period and all of her fifth period ensconced in the library, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. She couldn't deny that she felt…good. It had been stressful keeping up her relationship with Sam, and she was relieved that she wouldn't have to pretend anymore.

She was still in a bit of daze when she headed to the cafeteria, and she nearly bumped into Rachel who was waiting in the lunch line.

"Hello, Quinn," she greeted, handing the blonde a lunch tray.

"Huh? Oh hi," she said distractedly, taking the tray and surveying the food in front of her.

Rachel quirked an eyebrow at her, but didn't comment on her behavior. Instead she grabbed two salads and deposited them on the tray, along with two bottles of water.

"Is Sam mad at you again?" Rachel asked hesitantly, noticing the blonde boy watching them sit down at a table, an unhappy frown on his face.

Quinn felt her stomach twist as her eyes met his, and she hurriedly averted her eyes, "Not exactly. I mean I think he's a little pissed, but he'll get over it."

Before Rachel could ask, she elaborated, "We sort of broke up."

The diva's breath hitched as she paused in mid-motion of spearing a tomato, "Really?"

"Yeah, this morning. It just kind of happened," she shrugged, taking a bite of her own salad.

Rachel studied her curiously, "You don't seem all that upset about it."

"Well it was mutual, and there aren't any hard feelings, so – " she shrugged again and let the sentence hang unfinished in the air.

"Oh," Rachel said, staring at Quinn with a thoughtful look on her face, "that's good."

"Yeah," Quinn replied, struggling to keep her tone nonchalant while a little smile pulled at her mouth, "I guess."

She was overanalyzing again, Rachel thought desperately, glancing over at Quinn for the twelfth time from her seat on the piano bench. The blonde was preoccupied with trying to imitate the dance moves Brittany was showing her, yet she still managed to catch Rachel's eye. The singer flushed, and quickly busied herself with the music she was supposed to be looking over for their song. Yes, definitely overanalyzing. Quinn probably had perfectly sound reasons for breaking up with Sam, none of them involving her.

And yet…her eyes flickered up again, to catch sight of Brittany twirling around a laughing Quinn. The blonde looked so carefree and happy. Rachel's smile immediately vanished and it felt like a stone had been dropped into her stomach. Who was she fooling? Quinn might as well have never broken up with Sam with the chance that she had with her.

The blonde was still laughing, and in spite of herself, Rachel felt a jolt of warmth shoot through her body. Maybe this was enough, she thought wryly as she fingered her rubber band. If Quinn was happy, than maybe she could be too. She barely winced when the rubber band snapped against her wrist.

Chapter Text

Rachel was walking quickly down the hallway, intent on meeting Quinn in the Cheerios' locker room so they could head home. It had been a particularly long day, but she felt a small sense of accomplishment that she had been able to arrange the song for the competition. She had been pleasantly surprised to learn that Tina's and Santana's voices actually melded quite well together, and in spite of herself, she was looking forward to glee on Friday.

" – she broke up with you over a couple of slushies?"

The unmistakable sound of Finn's voice made her pause, and she looked around to find that she was outside the door to the weight room. Quickly, she pressed herself to the wall, hoping he wouldn't see her.

"Yeah, dude. Don't rub it in," sighed another voice, which was definitely Sam.

He grunted, and she heard a clang of metal and assumed he had put down some weights.

"She just started shouting at me because I said she shouldn't have attacked them. I mean it didn't look they had done anything wrong."

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she realized who they were talking about. Clutching her binder to her chest, she leaned in closer to the door to hear better.

"But did she say why she slushied them?" Finn asked, and she could clearly picture the bewildered look on his face, "She wouldn't just randomly slushy people."

There was another metallic clang and a grunt, and Rachel assumed one of them was lifting weights again.

"Not exactly," Sam said, his voice slightly strained from exertion, "we just kind of started yelling at each other, and next thing I know, we're broken up."

"That sucks, dude."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. For a couple of seconds, the two of them fell silent, and Rachel was about to sneak away when Sam spoke again.

"It was just weird because I've never seen her that angry," he mused, "Well except when I said it was weird she was friends with Rachel."

At the sound of her name, Rachel had to stop herself from uttering a gasp.

"Yeah I don't get that," Finn cut in and this time Rachel was able to get a glimpse of him as he moved to a weight rack, "Quinn used to hate Rachel, and now they're like best friends."

"I know right?" Sam said exasperatedly, "It doesn't make sense."

Finn picked up a pair of thirty pound weights and turned back to where Rachel presumed Sam was standing. He was frowning slightly, like he was trying to work something out, and after a couple of seconds he lowered his weights.

"Wait…who did you say Quinn slushied?"

"Just a couple JV jocks," Sam answered, "Why?"

Rachel could almost see the wheels in Finn's head turning as he started to put the pieces together. She didn't have to puzzle, however. She knew the reason why, and the guilt was starting to set in.

"I think those were the same guys that slushied Rachel last week," Finn said slowly turning to Sam for a look of confirmation.

"Are you saying it's basically Rachel's fault Quinn and I broke up?"

She saw Finn nod, and Sam then heard Sam snort, "That's messed up."

Finn let out a short laugh and started lifting his weights again, "I just can't believe Quinn would slushy someone for her."

Rachel cringed at the emphasis her ex boyfriend put on the end of the sentence. His voice was starting drip with an anger she was all too familiar with.

Sam seemed to notice too, because there was an edge to his tone, "I don't get it either, but it's not that big of a deal, I guess."

Finn forced the weights back into the rack a little harder than necessary, and Rachel jumped at the loud sound.

"Not a big deal? Rachel cheated on me! She deserved to get slushied!"

Rachel cringed at his words, her knuckles whitening around the folder still clutched in her arms. She had believed Quinn when she had told her about Finn, but to actually hear the words coming from him…it was so much worse.

"I don't know," Sam said slowly, "That was months ago. You need to let that go."

"I won't!" Finn shouted. Rachel winced and braced herself for more yelling, but Finn had lowered his voice, which she found even more frightening.

"That slut broke my heart. She's dead to me for all I care."

It was all Rachel needed to hear. She was flying down the hallway, not caring anymore if they heard her hurried footsteps or her barely concealed sobs.

"You," Santana drawled, gesturing with a bag of ice, "are a klutz, Fabray."

Quinn would have normally come up with a witty retort, but she had to settle for glaring weakly at her and snatching the ice.

"Thanks, San. That makes me feel so much better."

Santana snickered as Quinn winced and pressed the ice on the rapidly swelling bump on her forehead. The throbbing lessened slightly, but she could do nothing to repair her bruised pride.

"Be nice," Brittany chastised, sitting down next to Quinn on the bench, "it wasn't that bad of a fall."

Santana snorted and gave her best friend a look, "She tripped. Over her own feet."

Brittany fought back a smile, still trying to scold her, "Laughing at her isn't nice though."

"Oh like you don't want to," the girl scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully, "Anyway, Q knows I love her, right?"

"Yeah, I'm feeling the love," Quinn muttered, but she too was smiling a little now.

She had slipped up, and anyway it wasn't like she had twisted her ankle. At the worst, her head would be hurting a little in the morning, and it had been a while since she had joked around with her two friends.

"There ya go," Santana said triumphantly, lightly punching Quinn's arm, "and anyway this could work out for you in the end."

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asked, adjusting the ice on her forehead.

Santana smirked, "Oh come on, Q, you're not that – "

Whatever she was, Quinn never got to hear. At that moment, the locker room door burst open and a small brunette came stumbling inside.

Quinn's face brightened immediately, and she stood up with Brittany's help.

"Hey, Rach, ready to…go?" her voice faded away to nothing as she saw the diva's tear soaked cheeks.

Brittany acted quickly, seizing Santana's hand and dragging her out of the room, sending Quinn a look that clearly said to fill them in later.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Quinn moved towards Rachel, lowering the ice from her head, "What happened?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"I – ," Rachel seemed unable to form a sentence, her eyes swimming with more tears as she tried to explain.

"What?" Quinn asked desperately, fear starting to take over. She seized Rachel's limp hand that wasn't grasping her binder, ignoring for the moment how cold it felt, "What is it, Rachel?"

Rachel closed her eyes, trembling slightly, still obviously in shock from whatever it was. This time however, she managed to speak.

"Why did you do it?"

Quinn's brow furrowed in confusion, "What are you – "

"Why did you break up with Sam?" Rachel demanded, her brown eyes reflecting her desperation.

The blonde hesitated, but Rachel noticed and her hand gripped tighter around hers, "The truth, Quinn. Please."

Quinn felt her heart break inside of her at the smaller girl's plea, and she gave in, "He saw me slushy the guys that attacked you, and we got into an argument about it. That's all."

"I see," Rachel mumbled, and she started to pull her hand away.

"Rachel," Quinn started, but the singer's eyes had started to water. Quinn reached for her again, but the girl shook her head.

"Talk to me," the Cheerio pleaded, her own eyes blurring with tears as she saw Rachel withdrawing into herself again.

"He was right," she whispered, but it didn't seem like she was talking to Quinn.

"Who?" Quinn pressed, trying to take a step toward her, but the brunette backed away, "Who was right?"

Rachel looked at her, and Quinn had to hold back a gasp. The brown eyes that had just started to recover their warmth held only emptiness again.

"I'll see you later, Quinn," she said hollowly, backing away from her towards the door.

"Wait! Rachel!" She stumbled forward, but a particularly painful throb shot through her head and she collapsed against the row of lockers. She gritted her teeth against the pain, struggling to raise her head. She wouldn't let Rachel run away again, she just couldn't; but by the time she was able to stand without the support of the lockers, Rachel was long gone.

Rachel didn't remember the walk to the Fabrays, but soon enough she found herself at the front door. She reached under the mat and pulled out the spare key. Her had was shaking so badly, that it took her three tries to successfully unlock the door. Once she had, she hid the key again and closed the door behind her. She had to leave, she decided, rushing up the stairs to her room. She couldn't let Quinn confront her again, or she might break down and reveal what she had heard. The last thing she wanted was Quinn beating up more people for her; after all, Finn had a point. She didn't deserve to be defended.

It only took fifteen minutes for Rachel to be completely packed, and she was lugging her bag down the street. She kept looking over her shoulder, half expecting Quinn to come running after her, telling her everything would be alright; Rachel knew better though. As long as she was around, nothing would be okay.

"San," Brittany whispered urgently, pointing at a small figure walking quickly out of the school and across the parking lot.

Santana tensed as soon as she spotted Rachel, and she made as if to follow her. Brittany restrained her gently, however, and when she looked back at her, the blonde shook her head.

"She doesn't want our help," she said sadly.

Santana stiffened and her face shifted into something that resembled her bitchy façade, but was really just worry, "Tough shit. Berry can't just walk out on Quinn after she came in looking like she had bawled her eyes out."

Brittany tugged on her arm again, and slowly Santana relaxed her stance.

"Not now, San. Quinn needs us."

Santana still looked torn, but in the end she reluctantly linked pinkies with the blonde, and the two of them went back inside the Cheerios' locker room.

Quinn was slumped on the floor, her back pressed against the back of the lockers with the bag of ice at her side. She didn't look up as the two of them entered, but continued to stare straight ahead at the wall.

"Quinn?" Santana's voice was uncharacteristically soft as she dropped Brittany's pinky and knelt down by her side.

Quinn turned her head slightly to look at her, and Santana had to fight not to flinch. She had never seen such a haunted look on the blonde's face before.

"I broke my promise," she whispered.

Santana looked concerned, "I think you hit your head a little harder than we thought."

Quinn shook her head violently and latched onto the girl's hand, "I hurt her. I promised her I wouldn't, and I broke it."

She released the Santana's hand and buried her head in her shoulder.

"Come on," Santana said awkwardly, looking pleadingly at Brittany to help her, "We need to get you home."

Rachel carelessly threw her bag down in the hallway. There would be time to unpack later, but right now she needed to erase Quinn's face from her mind.

She fumbled with her bedroom door, wrenching it open and moving toward her bathroom. Drawers were thrown open, their contents scattered across the floor as she searched. Finally, she found her prize: an unopened pack of razors. Greedily, she ripped it open, choosing her tool. By that time, her breaths were coming short and quick, and Rachel's only desire was to blot out the image of Quinn standing abandoned in the locker room from her memory.

The razor felt smooth as it cut across her skin, a sting that she had grown accustomed to over the weeks. Again and again she dragged the blade across her arms, but the feelings wouldn't go away. If anything, they grew sharper. The blade fell from her numb fingers as she stared at the cuts standing out against her tan skin, mocking her. Her arms and stomach were bathed in red, but there was no euphoria, no sense of peace. Instead, Rachel felt weak. She could still see Quinn's hazel eyes staring back at her, confusion and fear plain on her face. Rachel dropped to the floor, hugging herself tightly as the guilt washed over her, not caring that the blood was staining her shirt as she cried.

Chapter Text

It had taken a lot of coaxing from Brittany, and a couple of empty threats from Santana, but eventually Quinn had let herself be escorted out of the locker room. She didn't bother trying to stop Santana from snatching her keys from her gym bag, nor did she resist being led to her own car with Brittany's arm slung protectively over her shoulder.

"Follow us in my car," Santana murmured to Brittany, handing the blonde her own keys.

Brittany nodded, and gave Quinn one last reassuring hug before walking away.

Next thing Quinn knew, she was strapped into the passenger seat, and Santana was pulling out of the parking lot, turning in the direction of her house. She caught her glancing sideways at her a couple of times, but still Quinn didn't speak. She couldn't. The image of Rachel's broken, tear-stained face was still painfully etched in her mind. When the car finally stopped, Quinn mechanically unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her gym bag at her feet before getting out of the car. To her surprise, Santana did the same, and followed her to the front door.

"You can go now," Quinn said flatly, opening the door, and stepping inside before attempting to close it in Santana's face.

The girl caught the door before it closed and pushed it open.

"I said leave, Santana," Quinn hissed, throwing down her bag and pushing harder against the door, but the smaller girl wouldn't budge.

With a hard push, she sent Quinn stumbling backwards and stepped inside, her arms crossed, "Yeah, not gonna happen."

Quinn looked over her shoulder just in time to see Brittany pulling into her driveway.

"Get out of my house."

"Hate to break it to you, Q," she said glancing behind her as Brittany made her way up the walkway, "but I just spent the last hour or so with you whimpering on my shoulder because of some fight you had with Berry, and I'm not planning on going anywhere until - "

"What she means to say," Brittany started, stepping inside and giving Santana a warning look, "is that she's worried about you. We both are."

Quinn shifted uncomfortably, looking from one girl to the other. Santana's jaw was taut, but she had known the girl long enough to tell there was truth to Brittany's words. There was a glint of something akin to concern in her eyes. Brittany was…well Brittany. It was obvious she wanted to help, and even though Quinn appreciated it, that didn't mean she was willing to accept it.

"I can't…do this right now," she deflected, crossing her arms over her chest, "I still have to check up on Rachel and – "

"Whoah, back up there, blondie," Santana interrupted, her eyes narrowing, "what do you mean you have to 'check up on her'?"

"Exactly what you think it means," Quinn explained tiredly, turning towards the direction of the stairs.

"You mean she's here?" Santana asked incredulously, the last word coming out in a harsh whisper.

Quinn paused at the bottom of the stairs, her left hand pressed to her forehead and her eyes closed as she tried to stop the pounding in her head, "I really don't want to hear it from you right now, San."

"Well that's too damn bad bi – "

"We'll be in the living room," Brittany interrupted, grabbing Santana's hand and dragging her away before she could finish.

Quinn sighed in relief and started to climb the stairs, holding onto the banister for support. She felt completely physically and emotionally exhausted. Her head was still aching, and she really didn't want to have to explain her complicated situation with Rachel to her two friends, but she knew now there was no way she was going to be able to get them to leave. The bedroom door loomed in front of her, and Quinn hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard to try to regain some of her composure. Slowly, she raised her hand, hovering an inch from the wood for a split second before she knocked.

"Rachel?"

No answer. She waited a couple seconds before she knocked again, a little harder this time.

"Rach, will you please open the door?"

Still nothing. Quinn sighed, and rested her forehead against the door as her remaining reserves of energy started to ebb away.

"Please talk to me," she pleaded, hating how her voice came out strangled and weak, "please."

She waited, but no one answered her plea.

"Alright, I'll leave you alone," Quinn whispered, "Santana and Brittany are downstairs with me…i-if you want to come out."

She was about to leave, but on a whim her hand strayed to the doorknob in a last ditch effort to get to Rachel. She expected to meet resistance, but the knob turned smoothly in her hand, and the door swung open.

The room was empty. For a moment, she stood stunned in the doorway, unable to come to terms with what this meant.

"No," she moaned, moving to the drawers and opening them, expecting to see Rachel's clothes still folded and put away.

Nothing. They were gone. She searched frantically, looking for any sign that Rachel had been there, but to no avail. Any trace of her was gone from the room. The bed looked cold and unslept in, a contrast to the bunched up sheets that it had been mere hours before when she had gone in to wake Rachel for school.

She couldn't deny it. The physical proof was staring her straight in the face. Rachel was gone.

Without a second thought, she whipped out her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she stopped on Rachel's name, jamming her finger on the green button and pressing the phone hard to her ear.

A high pitched ringing noise pounded in Rachel's eardrums, waking her from the light nap. Dried tears caked her cheeks, and her body tingled all over. Groaning, she struggled to move into a sitting position, blinking blearily to try to take in her surroundings. It was then that she noticed her torso was bare, and the tiles of her bathroom were stained crimson. Memories slammed into her as she took in the gauze wrapped around her arms and stomach, splotches of red showing through. There had been so much blood, more than usual. And she had panicked. Her eyes found her bathroom towel, soaked through with her blood from when she had frantically pressed it to her stomach to stop the bleeding. Not too far away, her shirt was balled up and just as thoroughly drenched in red. Rachel vaguely remembered resorting to using it to replace the towel when the blood had finally started to subside. And the ringing was still there. Was it common for people who suffered blood loss to hear things?

Her body ached as she grabbed the edge of the sink, hauling herself up from the floor, and making a note to clean the floor later. Right now it was all she could do to stand. She swayed slightly in place, and she gripped the sink tightly to keep from falling down. Her face was chalk white and there were still bits of dried blood on her arms that she had neglected to wash off. She could get to it later. Sighing, she rested her head on the wall, closing her eyes and losing herself in the feel of the cold tile against her cheek. If only she could just stay here forever. Just forget about all the hurt and pain, and stay here, in limbo. The brief moment after, when she felt this relief. Before all the feelings came rushing back, along with the disgust with what she had done. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she felt a small frown on her face. Best not to think about that now. Would the ringing ever go away?

Suddenly her eyes shot open, and she swore she felt the remaining blood in her veins run cold, as she finally identified her phone as the source of the ringing. Sure enough, when she opened her eyes and turned to look into her room, it was lit up and vibrating madly on her bed.

Rachel was tempted to let the phone ring, but it seemed the caller had no intention of leaving her alone. She stumbled from the bathroom, her eyes raking the ground for discarded clothing. She zeroed in on a black hoodie hung on her bedpost and made her way towards it, clumsily pulling it over her head and simultaneously trying to walk. Big mistake. The room started to spin, and she dropped onto her knees, willing it to stop.

"Shut up," she mumbled hoarsely, the harsh ringing making her head hurt even worse. As if to spite her, the noise seemed to grow louder.

With a tremendous effort, she was able to stand again, and somehow managed to hoist herself onto the bed and grab her phone.

The name made her freeze.

Quinn.

Her thumb hovered over the green button, as she tried to decide whether to pick up or not. Before she could, the call ended informing her that she now had seven missed calls. All from Quinn. Along with six voicemails. Two seconds later, her phone was ringing again, and she hastily pressed the reject button. Before she could change her mind, she turned the phone off and threw it back on her bed, hoping that be enough of a hint to the Cheerio that she didn't want to talk.

Quinn looked down at her phone, Rachel's voicemail mocking her once again, but this time it had come too early. Rachel was ignoring her call.

"Quinn."

Her head snapped up, and her eyes found Santana, standing in the doorway of the room. Pity was reflected in those dark eyes, and it made Quinn feel even more pathetic. She knew she should stop, that Rachel had made it obvious that she didn't want to talk, and yet she couldn't.

She just needed to do something, anything to stop herself from drowning in her helplessness. Quinn was always in control, but whenever it came to Rachel, she was left clutching at anything to stay afloat.

"I'll just try one more time," she muttered, her voice wavering slightly.

Unsurprisingly, it went straight to voicemail, and Quinn ended the call before she heard Rachel's overly bubbly voice telling her to leave a message for the eighth time.

She sank onto the bed in defeat, clutching the useless phone in her hands. That was that. It looked like Rachel didn't want anything to do with her. She felt the bed dip and heard a soft sigh as Santana sat down next to her.

"Look, I'm not good with this kind of shit," she muttered, fingering the edges of her skirt self consciously, " - but I've got to be honest, Q."

She waited for Quinn to actually look at her before continuing, "There are just some times when you've got to let it go."

"I can't do that," Quinn admitted, her voice cracking, "Rachel...she's…she might…"

Her lip trembled, and she couldn't bring herself to finish her thoughts, to make it that much more of a possibility. It was already enough that she was breaking down in front of Santana of all people.

"I don't think Berry wants to talk to you right now, and blowing up her phone isn't going to help change her mind," Santana said bluntly.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Quinn cried, shooting up from the bed and running her hands helplessly through her hair, "And why are you even trying to help?" she demanded, rounding on Santana, "You don't exactly keep it a secret that you dislike Rachel."

"Yeah, I don't," she shrugged, pausing to think for a second, "it's just...you would've done the same thing for me."

Santana sighed, and the blonde could detect the vulnerability in her voice when she spoke, "If it was me freaking out about B, I know you'd be there telling me to suck it up and wait it out."

"But it's not the same thing!" Quinn argued, willing Santana to understand where she was coming from.

Santana raised an eyebrow, her mask snapping back into place, "Oh really?"

"All I've done is wait!" she yelled, gesturing helplessly, "I waited for her to let me help her! I waited for her to trust me, and stop looking at me like she expected I was going to turn on her, and I finally got that! And as soon as I do, it's taken away from me! Hell, I'm still waiting for her to admit that - " she slammed her mouth shut, horrorstruck that she had been so close to mentioning the kiss.

To cover her slip up, she collapsed on top of the bed, her head buried in the pillow, "What am I supposed to do?" she mumbled, turning her head so she was looking sideways at Santana, "Tell me," she pleaded, desperate for an answer.

Santana didn't say anything.

Rachel stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her hands clutching the edge of the sink. She drew a rattling breath and forced her eyes to meet those of the pale face reflected back at her. Why couldn't Quinn just leave her alone? Her eyes strayed back to where her phone was still lying innocently on her bed. It was silent, and yet she could still practically hear it ringing. She knew the blonde was probably worried sick, and she would be even more upset if she found out Rachel had cut again.

She reached for the faucet, cupping the cold water in her hand and splashing it on her face. She winced, but once she had blinked past the droplets of water, she was dismayed to find the reflection had remained the same. The girl with the lifeless eyes, shivering in a hoodie that hung limply around her frame still stood in front of her. Worthless. Stupid. A waste of space. A sudden desire to hit the mirror, to shatter the image that glared tauntingly back at her, overcame her, and she had her fist raised, ready to deliver the blow…but what was the point? Breaking the mirror wouldn't make the reflection any less true. Angrily she turned away from the mirror and punched the bathroom wall instead, the pain shooting threw her hand only helping a little.

She couldn't believe that she had been so close to forgetting the truth, that she had let herself believe Quinn when she had told her she was special. Thankfully, Finn had let her see her foolishness. She was a disease, a loser; and she always would be.

One of her hands found the razor on the sink, her fingers running almost lovingly along the cool metal that was still stained with droplets of her blood. Her fault. It was her fault. She whimpered and closed her eyes, but the words echoed tauntingly in her head. Sam. Quinn. Finn. She had messed everything up. One stupid kiss with Puck because she was feeling insecure, and Finn hated her. Quinn tried to defend her from bullies, and Rachel inadvertently cost her a boyfriend.

It wouldn't be long before the Cheerio would be looking at her with the same disgust as Finn, and when that time came, Rachel knew it would break her. It was better to leave her now, before that happened. It still hurt, but at least this way it was on her terms.

Her fingers stopped idly tracing the blade, and instead she picked it up and examined it closely. It glimmered with a promise, beckoning her forwards once again. This time, she was in control, and there was no danger of her cutting too deep again. She rolled up her sleeve, and lifted the blade to her forearm, which to her annoyance was still bandaged. She tore them off her arm, slightly pleased that the cuts had yet to stop bleeding.

Again she lifted the blade to her arm, looking for a patch of skin left unmarked. The inside of her forearm seemed promising, and with a shaky breath she pressed down on the razor. Immediately, she felt the burning. Her arm screamed in agony, but she just pressed harder. Her heart screamed in unison, burning with her confusion. Her guilt. Her sadness. Her heartbreak.

No. The blade stopped its work as she gathered her resolve. She had never been loved. Not by him. And especially not by her. The razor took on a new path, shifting from its usual straight lines to form curves. Letters. When Rachel was done, she washed the razor and held her arm up to inspect her handiwork. The message glared back at her, burning itself onto her skin, branding her so that she would never forget. Blood ran from the letters, dripping down her arm and joined the mess on the tile floor.

Slut.

Santana leaned against the car, looking back at the window that she knew was Quinn's, where the blonde was still undoubtedly curled up on her bed. A soft hand brushed against her forearm, and she instinctively reached out and grasped the hand, seeking comfort in the familiar gesture. She looked up at Brittany, who was staring at the window too, lost in thought.

"Santana?"

"Mhm?" she answered, a little distracted by the small patterns she was tracing on the back of Brittany's hand.

"You said Rachel's not going to talk to Quinn, right?"

"Yeah."

"And Quinn can't talk to Rachel because she is ignoring her?"

Santana's hand stilled and she let go of the blonde's hand so that she look at her properly, "Where is this going?"

"Well," Brittany started, chewing on her lip, "If they won't talk to each other...what if Quinn sings to her?"

Santana stood there silently marveling once again at her best friend's ingenuity. Normally, she would have tried a little bit harder to hide her approval of anything to do with Berry, but something definitely wasn't right if Quinn was freaking out this much over unreturned phone calls; the sooner this was fixed, the better.

"That's a great idea, Britt."

Brittany beamed and let out a breath of relief, "I thought so too, but I just wanted to make sure you agreed."

She gave Santana a quick peck on the cheek before nudging her to move out of the way so she could open the passenger door.

"We can tell Quinn tomorrow and she can pick out a song to perform!"

Santana rolled her eyes, but she couldn't keep the smile off of her face even if she tried, "Okay, okay we'll tell her tomorrow, and then she can perform it next week or whatever."

She slid into her seat, and looked over at Brittany who had gone quiet, "What?"

Oh shit. The blonde was chewing on her lip and doing that adorable pout that she knew Santana couldn't resist.

"Ay díos," she muttered, dropping her head to the steering wheel, "what else were you thinking?"

Chapter Text

Quinn felt like she had barely slept at all when she woke up the next morning. Stifling a yawn, she sat up slowly and eyed her phone, wondering if Rachel had called her back. One quick look told her she hadn't, and with a resigned sigh, she swung her legs over her bed and got up to start getting ready.

Thankfully, her mother was still asleep when she went downstairs, which meant she wouldn't have to withstand the barrage of questions Rachel's absence would have undoubtedly caused. She grabbed her keys from the kitchen table and headed out the door. The wind nipped at her as she got into her car, and the blonde shivered while she pulled her jacked closer around her.

Whatever was going on, it was making Quinn nervous, and she knew the sooner she could talk to Rachel, the better. It had nearly killed her to see the brunette standing there, looking just as shattered as she had when Quinn had found her in the bathroom. She couldn't accept that she had caused Rachel to look like that, she just couldn't.

The moment she got to school, she made a beeline for Rachel's locker, determined to catch the girl before she got to class. She positioned herself so that she had a good view of the hall and started looking for any sign of Rachel. She caught sight of a flash of brown hair, and her heart leapt momentarily, until she realized it was Santana coming towards her.

"You look like shit," she commented, casually leaning on the locker next to her.

Quinn would have laughed, if for no other reason than the statement was so glaringly obvious, if she didn't feel so completely helpless. Instead, she shrugged and continued to scan the crowd for Rachel.

Santana sighed and shook her head, "Did she ever text you back?"

The question caught her completely off guard, and Quinn actually turned to look at Santana.

"What?" she snapped.

"Nothing," Quinn said, "For a moment there I thought you actually sounded concerned."

Santana scoffed unconvincingly, and Quinn was tempted to push her, but decided it was best not to.

"No, she didn't," she replied, returning her attention to the hallway, "I haven't even seen her yet."

Santana made a noncommittal noise in response, and the pair of them fell into silence, leaving Quinn to wonder what she was still doing here.

"So how long have you liked her?"

Quinn's eyes widened and her head whipped back around, "I don't," she denied quickly. Too quickly.

Santana actually laughed, "Really? After everything that happened yesterday you expect me to believe you?"

Quinn's shoulders slumped in defeat, "No, not really."

"I just can't believe I didn't realize it sooner," Santana admitted, "I mean I thought something was weird at the mall, and it explains a lot, but… you and Berry?"

"There's not much of a me and Rachel," Quinn mumbled bitterly, "I mean I thought maybe…but she said she just wants to be friends right now."

"And you're just gonna go with that?" Santana said disbelievingly.

Quinn shrugged, "I can't do anything about it right now even if I wanted to; Rachel doesn't want anything to do with me."

The bell rang at that moment, and the students milling about started to go to their classes. The two Cheerios, however, acted as if they hadn't even heard the bell.

"Shouldn't you be making fun of me right about now?" Quinn asked.

Santana pushed off the locker, "I should be, right?" she mused, "I mean you're in love with a dwarf."

She rolled her eyes, catching Quinn's glare, "but given everything that's happening, I'm not going to."

"How nice of you, Santana," Quinn said with a straight face, causing the shorter girl to bump her shoulder, "Shut up, Blondie."

But the corners of Santana's mouth were quirking up a little, and Quinn felt a bit better, but it didn't last long.

Sighing she returned her attention to the problem at hand, "I still don't know what I'm going to do about Rachel."

"Well then you're in luck, because B and I think we have an answer."

Quinn cocked her head to the side, "You do?"

"Look you want Berry right?"

Quinn nodded, and Santana continued, "Then sing her a song. She loves that shit."

Quinn blinked, "That's…actually perfect."

It made sense. It was the one thing she hadn't tried yet, and it wasn't like forcing Rachel to talk had ever gotten her anywhere. Maybe if she showed her how she felt, Rachel would be more willing to talk.

"Great," Santana said, jolting Quinn out of her thoughts, "so let's get to it."

Quinn's eyebrows furrowed, her confusion only growing when Santana grabbed her forearm and started to drag her down the hallway.

"Get to what exactly?" she asked, yanking her arm out of the smaller girl's grip and standing her ground.

"Choosing a song," Santana said impatiently, "you're singing it today."

"I'm what?" Quinn squeaked, looking at Santana as if she were crazy, "There's no way I can have a song ready by the end of today! I-I have classes and the competition is today!"

"So skip," Santana said, waving her hand dismissively, "and Schuester's competitions are a bunch of crap. Chances are he completely forgot about it anyway."

Quinn opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again to argue, but she couldn't. She didn't even know why she was so dead set against the idea.

"Fine," she relented, and then the rest of Santana's words caught up to her, "Wait, we? You're helping me?"

Santana rolled her eyes, "Listen, Fabray," she growled, "I'm going to let you in on a little secret."

She looked around quickly to make sure they were alone and lowered her voice so that Quinn had to lean in to hear her.

"You see, there's this amazing girl that I would do anything for, and if she wants me to help you, even if it means being nice to Berry is part of the deal, then that's what I'm going to do. Sound good to you?"

Quinn simply nodded, and Santana looked satisfied.

She started to walk forward, but she paused and turned back to Quinn, "And if you ever repeat that to anyone, I will go Lima Heights on your ass."

The moment Rachel's alarm clock went off, she slammed her hand down on top of it and tried to get back to sleep. Instead, she ended up staring at the mess on the bathroom floor, one arm dangling uselessly over the edge of her bed for a good hour before she mustered enough energy to sit up and shrug out of her hoodie. Her whole body ached, and her skin itched where the blood had dried against the bandages. They clung to her skin as she unwrapped them, making her grit her teeth, but she didn't utter a sound. With a practiced eye, she scanned her arms and stomach for infection, but the cuts seemed to be healing normally. Her eyes hovered over the word she had carved onto her arm and Rachel had to tear her gaze away to stop her shame from growing.

And to think she had been so sure she was getting better, that maybe she could get back to being normal; but no. What was normal anyway? The Rachel who had no friends, that everyone hated? The one who pretended to be happy, that put on her show face every day, clinging to the hope that the memories of pain and humiliation would fade once she left Lima? No, she wouldn't go back to that.

She pulled the hoodie back on, leaving the used bandages on her bed, and gave the bathroom one last glance before deciding she was too exhausted to clean it up; she could always do it later. With a soft groan, she forced herself to stand and made her way downstairs. She would just have something to eat and then go back to sleep, since going to school was out of the question. Her hand was reaching for the lone banana in the fruit bowl when the doorbell rang. She hesitated, wondering who could be at the door at this hour, and if they would go away if she stayed quiet. As if to answer her question, the person started rapping insistently on her door.

"Great," she mumbled, thoughts racing as she tried to conjure a way out of the situation.

As quietly as she could, she made her way to the door and stood on her tiptoes to see out of the peephole.

A flash of blonde hair made her freeze, but she quickly calmed down when she recognized who it was. Cautiously she unlocked the door, and opened it a crack, just to be sure.

The girl on the other side smiled and waved at her, "Hi, Rachel! Can I come in?"

"S-sure," she stammered, opening the door wider so that Brittany could come inside.

"Thanks!" the blonde breezed past her and headed to the living room.

Rachel just shook her head and closed the door before following the Cheerio who had taken a seat on the couch.

"Not to be rude, Brittany," she said carefully, sitting down next to her, "but what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," the girl replied simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Rachel wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she busied herself with twisting her hands in her lap.

"You're still sad."

Rachel's insides clenched uncomfortably, but she knew there was no use lying. She nodded, and immediately had to blink back tears that seemed to have come out of nowhere. A warm arm slid around her back, and she found herself plastered to Brittany's side in a one armed embrace.

"I don't like it when you're sad," she admitted quietly, tilting her head so it was resting on top of Rachel's, "It makes my stomach hurt."

"Shouldn't you be at school?" Rachel asked, trying to deflect the conversation from her.

Brittany frowned, "Yeah, but you're more important right now."

"N-no," she tried to peel herself away from the blonde, "I can wait. There's the competition to th-think about, and I'm just…" she sighed, searching for the words, "…I'm not worth it, Brittany," she finished in a whisper.

"Well I think you are," she said firmly, squeezing the smaller girl a little tighter.

Rachel sniffled and shook her head, "I'm n-not, I - "

"You are," Brittany said again with even more certainty.

She dropped her arm from around Rachel, and slid her hand into her pocket, pulling out a small box.

"Here," she said, handing it to Rachel," it's not much, but I hope it helps."

Rachel stammered, turning the box over uncomprehendingly in her hand, "Why are you giving me band aids?"

Brittany smiled sadly, shrugging her shoulders.

Rachel's lip trembled, the truth suddenly dawning on her as she stared at Brittany.

"How long have you - ," her words failed her, but Brittany seemed to get the gist of it.

"For a while," Brittany admitted guiltily, "I figured it out after I found you in the auditorium. You're not a very good liar, Rach," she added, a serious look on her face.

The brunette choked back a laugh, and suddenly she was sobbing, whether with relief at being found out, or dismay that yet another person knew what a freak she was, she wasn't sure.

Strong arms wrapped around her, making soft shushing noises in her ear as she rocked her back and forth.

"It's okay," Brittany whispered, "You're going to be okay."

A disturbing sense of déjà vu overcame her as she remembered another blonde cheerleader doing almost the exact same thing when she discovered her secret. Thoughts of Quinn just made her cry harder, and she clung tighter to Brittany, the pain clawing at her insides as she gasped for air. Why was she so incapable of shielding herself from all her emotions when it came to Quinn? Brittany waited patiently until her sobs had dissolved into small whimpers before she gently extricated herself from Rachel.

"Better?" she asked, wiping the pad of her thumb down Rachel's cheek.

Rachel took a breath and shook her head, "Why didn't you tell me you knew?"

"I was going to, you know, when you calmed down. You were really scared when I found you, Rach, and I knew if I pushed, you would panic and wouldn't let me help you."

Rachel smiled a little in spite of herself. Brittany's words rang a little too true.

"But then we ran into Santana, and then Quinn, and well…I didn't get a chance to tell you. I tried to make it up by giving you those band aids, remember?"

Rachel nodded to show she did, and Brittany continued, "but I wasn't sure if you used them all up already, so that's why I brought more. I'm sorry that's all I could do, but if you didn't let Quinn help you, I was going to say something. Well, that's why I'm here now anyway," she finished, looking up nervously, "to help."

Rachel sat still, stunned by Brittany's explanation. She was looking at the girl with new eyes now, and the simple sincerity and care that she saw floored her. It was almost as if Brittany knew exactly how cracked and broken she had become, how far she had fallen; and now all she wanted to do was help piece back whatever she could. Rachel knew what she had to do. Taking a deep breath she handed the band aids to Brittany, and looked into her blue eyes, her heart racing. Slowly, purposefully, she started to roll up one of the sleeves of her hoodie, her eyes never leaving Brittany's, until the cuts she had made the night before were exposed.

She resisted the need to cover them, and prayed that Brittany understood what she wanted. The blonde opened the box of band aids and selected one with colorful polka dots. Gently, she took Rachel's arm in one of her hands and examined the cuts. Rachel willed herself to stay still as Brittany's fingers skimmed across her skin. Carefully, Brittany placed the band aid on one of the deeper cuts. She then got another band aid and repeated her actions, until Rachel's arm was covered in colorful band aids.

"Now you have something pretty to look at," she said, kissing one of the band aids and letting go of Rachel's arm.

The brunette sucked in a breath and felt tears stinging her eyes again as she managed a nod. Without warning, she reached out and grabbed one of Brittany's hands, squeezing it to convey her thanks. Brittany smiled and squeezed back, but the beeping of her phone ruined the silence.

Brittany pulled out her phone and flipped it open. She scanned the text quickly, and her face broke out into a wide smile before she closed it.

Excitedly she turned to Rachel, "I have a huge favor to ask you, Rach."

She paused to compose herself so that she had a serious look on her face, "Will you please come to glee with me later?"

Rachel bit her lip and was already shaking her head, "I can't, Brittany. I don't feel like performing, and I'd rather not see anyone right now."

Brittany wilted in front of her and looked at her pleadingly, "Please? You can just watch us perform, and we can hang out here for now, but it's really important that you go."

"Well, I – "

"Please?"

"A-alright. I'll go I guess."

"Yay!" Brittany exclaimed, launching herself forwards, and wrapping her arms around Rachel's neck.

The brunette tensed, but she wrapped her own arms around Brittany a second later, wondering what on earth was so important about glee, that would get Brittany so excited.

"So you found anything yet," Santana called to Quinn, who was scanning lists of songs on the library computer.

"Nope," she said distractedly, clicking on a link to another song. She turned around to see Santana typing away on her phone.

"Brittany?" she guessed, and Santana made an affirmative noise.

"Where is she anyway?" Quinn asked offhandedly as she returned her attention to the computer, "I thought she had a free period now."

"Home," she answered, snapping her phone shut, "she had to watch Charity."

Santana came closer and leaned over her frowning as she stared at the screen, "Seriously? Kelly Clarkson?"

"That's just one song," Quinn said defensively, quickly exiting the screen, "I'm not really looking for anything specific."

Santana snorted and turned her back on the computer, mumbling to herself and pulling her phone back out when it dinged. Quinn ignored her and stared at the screen, her fingers drumming aimlessly on the mouse as she wracked her brain for a song.

The truth was, she had no idea what she was looking for. She was going to come clean to Rachel, that much she knew, but she wasn't exactly planning on serenading her. It wasn't her feelings that she wanted to communicate; she just wanted Rachel to know that she was always going to be there, that she hadn't given up on her and she never would.

And there it was. Staring at her in the face was the song. She remembered hearing it one day on the way home from Cheerios practice, and she had immediately felt a connection with it. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed in the lyrics she could remember. The results popped up, and the moment she saw the name she knew it was perfect.

"Hey, Santana," she called shakily looking behind her to where the girl was still texting.

She glanced up and looked questioningly at Quinn.

"I think I've got the song."

Chapter Text

Quinn couldn't seem to sit still. She tried keeping her hands busy by pulling on her leather jacket, but Santana batted her hand away and looked at her exasperatedly. She rolled her eyes and sank back into her chair, trying not to look like she was sick to her stomach.

In an effort to distract herself, she looked to where the guys were all grouped together in a huddle, frantically talking to each other in hushed voices. Chances were they didn't have something put together, so there went any hope of this being a serious competition; not that the competition was what had her worried.

Her eyes slid over to the vacant seat where Rachel usually sat, and the butterflies in her stomach seemed to multiply. Where was she? All that rehearsing she had done all day would go to waste if Rachel chose to skip. Swallowing hard, she turned her attention back to the front of the room, just as Mr. Schue finally decided to show up with Miss Pillsbury in tow.

"Alright guys, who's ready for the competition today?"

There were a couple of halfhearted cheers, and Quinn didn't miss the nervous looks exchanged amongst the boys.

"Unfortunately, Coach Beiste couldn't make it today, since she is busy overseeing detention. But Miss Pillsbury," he turned to give the guidance counselor a charming smile, causing her to blush, "is still going to assist me with the judging."

"Uh, Mr. Schue?" Finn called, raising his hand.

The man nodded his head, and Finn moved his hand to the back of his neck, looking sheepish, "The guys and I uh aren't really ready to perform today, so we were wondering if it's okay with you if we go Monday?"

"Yeah sure thing, Finn," Mr. Schuester agreed readily, already turning to the other group, "the stage is all yours girls."

Quinn stood, and was about to walk down the risers, but Santana grabbed her wrist and tugged her back.

"No go, Mr. Schue," Santana argued, dropping Quinn's wrist and settling back into her seat, "not all of our group is here yet."

"Oh." Mr. Schue's smile faltered slightly at this new development, "well I suppose we can wait – "

The choir room door opened, and Brittany came bouncing in, with a rather anxious Rachel in tow. Quinn tensed as the need to rush forward and scoop Rachel up in her arms overwhelmed her, but she forced herself not to budge. She looked like a wreck. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she kept pulling down self-consciously on her sleeves. She stopped fiddling with them after she noticed Quinn staring, but it was enough for Quinn to put two and two together.

Rachel's eyes widened and she shrank into Brittany, eyeing Quinn fearfully as if she expected her to come charging toward her and demand an explanation. Quinn was actually seriously considering doing just that, but she knew that would only scare Rachel away. So she stayed still, nails digging into her palm, unable to do anything, while Brittany continued to explain to Mr. Schuester why they were late. She caught a couple of snatches of their conversation, something about Rachel not feeling well, and suddenly things started to fall into place.

"Santana," she murmured lowly, her eyes never leaving Rachel as Brittany guided her to the front row, "Brittany wasn't at home with Charity, was she?"

The only answer she got was a small smirk, before she was hauled to her feet and pushed down the risers to the front of the room. Brittany's smile widened when Santana stepped from behind Quinn, and she gave the girl a hug, whispering something that sounded suspiciously like 'thank you,' but Quinn didn't have time to dwell on it.

The other girls were already moving to their positions, grabbing mics from the piano and forming a line with their backs to their audience. Quinn took her place between Brittany and Mercedes, just as the lights dimmed.

A single light suddenly illuminated Tina, who turned around and started to walk forward, as a lone guitar began to play.

It's the calming before the storm

Alcohol sits nicely in your stomach warm

When you wake up hungover

You wish you were sober.

Santana whirled around and strutted forward, stopping in front of Tina.

I've danced with the devil

And dreamed with the demons

Fell asleep with debt

Then fell short of breath

Tina stepped to the side and thrust her arm out in front of Santana, raising her eyebrow and turning to sing her lines in the girl's face.

When you wake up hungover

You wish you were sober

Santana playfully rolled her eyes before the two of them moved to make way for the other girls to come forward.

Just be pretty but naïve

Anything you hear is what you believe

Let the rhyme get stuck in your head

Wish you had undressed me in your head.

Quinn had to admit their practicing had paid off. She tried to let herself get lost in the performance like she usually did, but she couldn't seem to relax. Her eyes kept wandering to the brunette in the front row, whose gaze was fixed determinedly on the floor. Rachel's hands were clutching the sides of her chair, and Quinn was pretty sure she wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room. She lost sight of the diva when Brittany grabbed her hand and twirled her away, just as Tina came sauntering forward.

It's the low before the high

It's been so long you thought you would die

When you wake up hungover

You wish you were sober

Tina stopped directly in front of Rachel and leaned down, giving Rachel no choice but to look up. She held out her hand expectantly to her, eyebrows raised as if asking a question.

And I'll be counting the days that the sun goes past

With clouds beneath my feet.

Rachel eyed the hand nervously, and violently shook her head. Tina just shrugged sadly, and whirled away as the others started the chorus.

Just be pretty but naïve

Anything you hear is what you believe

Let the rhyme get stuck in your head

Wish you had undressed me in your head.

Santana detached herself from the group, and beckoned to Brittany, who broke away from the group and twirled toward her, a mischievous smile on her face. Santana returned it and started moving around the other girls, swaying her hips while Brittany followed her.

'Cuz we've been falling apart

Built to crumble from the start

I'm a cold metal machine

And I'll do things you've never seen

She stopped in the middle of the room, and Brittany circled around her teasingly within arm's reach.

Just be pretty but naïve

Anything you hear is what you believe

Brittany moved closer until she was inches from Santana, her eyes never leaving hers as one of her hands trailed down her forearm.

Let the rhyme get stuck in your head

Wish you had undressed me in your -

Santana pushed Brittany away and she stumbled backward and melded back into the group. Santana sent her a wink before turning and facing Tina, who was on the opposite side of the room. The two girls started to slowly walk toward each other while everyone else danced around them.

Just be pretty but naïve

Anything you hear is what you believe

Let the rhyme get stuck in your head

Wish you had undressed me in your head.

And what they don't tell you in church is

They met in the middle, standing face to face as they belted out the last line.

Saints are sinners too

As the song ended, everybody clapped and cheered. Quinn felt a reluctant smile pulling at her lips, even though she knew she still had another performance to worry about.

"Good job, guys! Now that's the kind of teamwork and energy that I expect to see every day!"

He turned to Miss Pillsbury who was nodding in agreement, "Yes that was very good, girls, even if the lyrics were a bit questionable."

Santana scoffed and muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "Whatever. We totally kicked ass."

Quinn had to agree, and judging by the blown away looks on the guys' faces, they had the competition in the bag.

Mr. Schuester decided to end glee early, since the boys would be going Monday, and everyone started to file out, ready for the weekend. Brittany stopped to briefly hug Quinn, and Santana even offered her a gruff 'good luck' before the pair left the room, leaving her with Rachel. The diva rose from her chair, and started to make her way to the door.

"Rachel."

The girl halted, but she kept her back to Quinn, making no other effort to acknowledge her.

Quinn sighed, and walked over to her, making sure to keep some distance between them.

"Could you…stay for a second?"

Rachel's shoulders tensed, and her voice was tight and clipped, "I don't think that would be prudent."

"It'll only take a minute," she promised, reaching forward against her better judgment and lightly brushing the brunette's wrist. She flinched when Rachel jerked away and covered the spot that she had touched her with her other hand.

Burying her hurt, she tried again, "Please, just one last chance."

Rachel's jaw tightened, and Quinn could tell she was struggling to decide what to do. She waited patiently, and almost jumped for joy when Rachel wordlessly turned around and made her way back to her seat. She crossed her arms and legs and waited for Quinn to make the next move.

Battling her nerves, Quinn walked over to a mic stand and dragged it to the center of the room, looking over at Brad to see if he was ready. He adjusted the sheet music she had given him earlier and gave her a small nod. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed onto the mic stand for dear life, not daring to rely on her feet to hold her up and nodded back. She braced herself as the opening chords began to play, and she started to sing.

When you try your best, but you don't succeed

When you get what you want, but not what you need

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

She sounded weak and shaky, and it took all her control to keep singing as she tried to get it together.

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone, but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

Quinn's voice grew stronger as her eyes focused on Rachel. She poured all her emotion into the song, willing Rachel to understand, because if this didn't work, she was sure what she was going to do.

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Rachel's bottom lip was trembling, and her arms tightened around herself. A single tear trailed down her cheek, and it took all of Quinn's willpower to keep singing and not brush it away from her cheek.

And high up above or down below

When you're too in love to let it go

She stumbled over that particular line. She prayed that Rachel hadn't noticed and just gripped the stand tighter.

But if you never try you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and Quinn felt another pang of sadness pierce her. She wanted – no – needed Rachel to understand. To know that she was special.

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Quinn didn't know at what point everything faded away. Maybe it was the full realization of what she was trying to do, or maybe it was just watching the struggle on Rachel's face; But the fear was gone, and now it was just her and Rachel.

Tears stream down on your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream down on your face

And I...

Quinn knew the song was almost over. The pace of the song was slowing down again, and she lowered her voice to barely above a whisper.

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Quinn trailed off as the last chord rang through the choir room. She felt tears rolling down her cheeks, but she didn't make a move to wipe them away. She only had eyes for the other girl. There was a shifting of the piano bench as Brad got up and left the room, but the two girls didn't seem to notice. They were still locked in their silent conversation, waiting for the other to break the silence.

Until Rachel got up from her chair. She had reached the piano before Quinn fully processed what she was doing.

"Rachel, – "

Rachel whirled around, the tears still falling. She was pale and visibly shaking, and Quinn could tell she was moments away from completely breaking down.

"Why would you do that?" she whispered, searching Quinn's face for an answer, "Why would you sing that?"

"Because you matter to me, Rachel. And last night – " she broke off, searching for the right words, "I was terrified. I had no idea where you had run off to and you wouldn't even answer any of my calls - "

"I was fine, just upset. I wasn't thinking straight," Rachel deflected.

"But I didn't know that!" Quinn snapped. Rachel started in surprise, and the blonde took a steadying breath to try to calm herself.

Running her hands nervously through her hair, she tried again, "All I could think of was that something had happened, that I had messed up."

"Did it occur to you," Rachel whispered, her voice shaking, "that maybe I just didn't want to talk to you?"

It was like she had punched Quinn in the gut. The blonde felt a burning in her throat as she searched for words, her eyes shining with more tears.

"W-why would you want that?"

"Because I just didn't!" she shouted angrily, "I didn't need you telling me what I already knew."

"Telling you what?" Quinn pressed.

"That you hate me!"

"What?"

"Stop pretending, Quinn! Sam, the break up. It's my fault!"

"Wait. That's what this is about?" she asked slowly, "you ran off because of Sam?"

Rachel nodded, and Quinn threw her hands up in the air in frustration, "Rachel, I never even liked Sam! We were going out because it was convenient!"

"But the slushies – "

"It's not your fault," Quinn spelled out, "We would have broken up over something else."

Rachel's breath caught, and she sank onto the piano bench, staring blankly ahead.

Slowly Quinn moved over to her and dropped to her knees in front of her.

"Rachel," she said, and the girl whimpered, lifting her hands to cover her face. Gently, Quinn took Rachel's hands in her own and lowered them to her lap.

"Look at me, please."

Rachel raised her eyes to Quinn's face, more tears staining her cheeks.

"I don't hate you. I could never hate you," she emphasized, squeezing her hands gently.

"Actually," she paused, running her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, "I think…I lo – ."

Rachel's hands shot out of hers and she stood up so quickly that Quinn had to scoot back to avoid being stepped on.

"I…" Rachel's eyes were darting around the room, looking anywhere but at Quinn, "I can't do this with you right now."

"What do you mean you can't?" Quinn asked, standing up and staring disbelievingly at Rachel.

"I just can't," she repeated, her voice breaking as she turned her back and started toward the door again. Quinn could feel her chance slipping away, and the moment Rachel's hand met the door knob, she blurted out the first thing she could think of.

"I know you feel the same way."

Quinn saw the brunette's back stiffen, and she rushed on, "That night at the park. When your dad came home early. You told me that you needed me. You needed me so much that it 'scared you'."

"I n-never said that," Rachel stammered, eyeing Quinn as the girl moved slowly towards her, "I wasn't myself, I was still upset at my dad, I was just saying things – "

"You know that's not true," Quinn insisted, "and you can't pretend forever, Rachel."

Rachel dropped her hand from the door knob and turned her head to glance over her shoulder.

"I…maybe I do have similar feelings for you, but that doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" Quinn argued, her eyes blazing, "it makes all the difference!"

Rachel sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Not now...please, Quinn. I just need some time and I really should be getting home."

Quinn resisted the need to push Rachel, and forced herself to nod, "Then when?"

"Later," the brunette said vaguely, pushing open the door.

She stopped in the doorway and turned back to Quinn, biting her lip, "Maybe after your Cheerios practice you could come by my house? I mean if that's okay with you…"

"It's fine," Quinn quickly assured her, her heart racing, "better than fine actually."

Rachel gave her a small smile, but to the blonde it looked more like a grimace, "Okay."

Rachel was pacing around her room, alternating from looking at her clock on her nightstand to glancing out her window, and then back to pacing. She had been doing this ever since she had gotten home two hours ago, too anxious to do much else. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she couldn't help but feel like she had made a huge mistake by inviting Quinn over. Sure, she had postponed the talk by about two hours, but in the long run it wasn't going to do much good. Still, whether she liked it or not, Quinn was right; she did need her. And maybe...maybe she did love - .

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of the doorbell. The sound echoed ominously around her empty house, and for a moment Rachel stood still, frozen with fear. What had she done?

Chapter Text

The doorbell rang again, longer this time, and Rachel knew she couldn't stall any longer. Mustering the small amount of courage she still possessed, she willed her panic to disappear and let her feet carry her toward the front door. She could do this, she thought, taking a shallow breath as her hand curled around the door knob. She would just tell Quinn that she had made a mistake by inviting her over. She'd understand, and then she could tell her that she didn't have to wor –

"Hey," Quinn, greeted, startling Rachel out of her reverie.

Quinn had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a faded Mckinley t-shirt. Her hair was damp, probably from the shower she had taken after practice, and her eyes were sparkling with something that made Rachel's heart ache painfully. She looked beautiful.

"Hey," she answered, her explanation for why Quinn should leave dying the moment Quinn flashed her an uncertain smile.

"So…can I come in?"

"Oh y-yes of course," Rachel replied, hurriedly moving to the side to let Quinn in.

She closed the door behind her and followed Quinn into the living room, "Do you want anything to eat or…" she trailed off when Quinn raised her eyebrow, making it clear she knew what Rachel was trying to do.

"Nevermind," Rachel sighed, gingerly sitting down on the edge of the sofa.

Quinn followed, and angled her body towards her while still keeping a respectable distance between them.

Rachel's hands automatically moved to fiddle with her sleeves, unsure of how to proceed.

"So," Quinn said, causing the girl to jerk her head up. She looked taken aback by the expression on Rachel's face, and her brows furrowed in concern, "are you okay?"

"Yes," Rachel said automatically, before shaking her head and dropping it into her hands, "no…"

She was confused. Not surprising, really; she hadn't anticipated how much Quinn's presence would throw her. She chanced a glance up at Quinn, and found that the girl was watching her intently. She felt that pull again, the inexplicable desire to let go of her defenses that seemed to happen whenever Quinn was around. Even now, when she wanted nothing more than to lock her feelings away and deny everything, she couldn't; she should have run when she had the chance.

Quinn scooted closer to her and carefully moved a strand of hair out of Rachel's eyes and tucked it tenderly behind her ear, her fingers accidentally skimming across her cheek. Rachel let out a shaky breath, aware of just how close Quinn's face was. It must have been the way her hair shimmered in the sunlight, or maybe it was her eyes that shone with differing shades of gold and green; either way Rachel couldn't deny that Quinn Fabray really was breathtakingly beautiful. Unbidden, her own eyes darted to the lips that were parted just so. She tilted her head up to get a better look, and her breath hitched when she realized that if she would lean in just slightly she would be able to taste them.

"No," she blurted out, shoving Quinn away from her and bolting up from the couch.

She backed away, her hand clasped tightly over her mouth, horrified by what she had nearly done.

"What the – ow," Quinn exclaimed, gingerly touching her shoulder where Rachel had shoved her, "Why did you do that?"

"I can't…we can't…" Rachel started, before shaking her head, "It's a mistake…"

"What's a mistake?" Quinn asked, standing up and regarding Rachel with such concern that it made her next words even more difficult.

"I can't like you," she whispered, the admission causing a hurt look to flash across the blonde's face.

It hurt, it physically hurt, to see Quinn like that, but Rachel kept her resolve firm, even as Quinn's eyes started to water.

"I can't like you, because if I do...you'll leave. Just like all the rest."

Quinn shook her head, "No, Rach, I won't. I – I love you and I would never – "

"No," Rachel moaned, her hands gripping her hair tightly, "you don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

"No you don't!" Rachel screeched, and Quinn took a step back, shocked by the misery and anguish on her face.

"No one can love me, don't you understand that, Quinn?"

"Rach - ," Quinn whispered, "that's not true.."

"Don't lie to me!"

Rachel looked around frantically, then moved towards Quinn. She roughly yanked off her hoodie and tossed it on the ground, leaving her clothed in only a tank top.

"Look!"

She thrust her arms into Quinn's face, angry tears pricking her eyes. Thick, jagged, red lines crisscrossed her arms, Brittany's band aids unable to cover them all, each one showing the depths of her pain, her suffering.

"Who could love this?" she hissed disdainfully, "Huh? Tell me, Quinn!"

She expected the blonde to flinch, to jerk back in fear or disgust, maybe push her arms away for good measure. What she didn't expect was for Quinn to gently take her wrists and lower her arms. She examined the band aids, her fingers brushing over them tenderly, her eyes filled with such care, that Rachel had to look away. Suddenly, the blonde paused her ministrations, and Rachel heard a small gasp that made her whip her head back to Quinn. She was staring intently at the inside of her left forearm, at the savage lettering that she had forgotten she had carved into her arm.

"Oh god," Quinn whispered in shock, her fingers trembling as they brushed over the 's.'

Rachel tensed and yanked her arm out of Quinn's slackened grip, taking care to turn her arm so that the word wasn't visible. She glared defiantly at Quinn, who was gazing back at her, tears falling silently down her cheeks.

Coldly she turned on her heel, expecting Quinn to follow her as she went up the stairs. She turned into her room, throwing the door to her bathroom wide open just as Quinn came around the corner.

"See that?" Rachel gestured to the dried blood on the floor that she had yet to clean up.

Quinn's face paled and she had to lean against the wall to keep herself upright.

"I did that last night. I had to, even though I know it's fucked up, I had to do it. And you know what?" her voice was ragged, her throat burning from the effort it was taking to not to burst into tears.

Quinn shook her head wordlessly, eyes wide as she stared at Rachel.

"It didn't help at all!"

Rachel slammed the bathroom door shut with such finality that it shook in its frame.

"I still felt weak. I still felt pathetic," she spat, her voice breaking as she sank to the floor, clutching her knees, "so I did this to remind myself that's all I'll ever be.

"That's not true," Quinn growled fiercely, dropping to the floor and cradling Rachel's arms in her hands, "believe me, Rachel, that's not you at all."

The smaller girl let out a soundless laugh, closing her eyes and turning her head away, "How would you know?"

"Because I know you," Quinn answered, her grip tightening reflexively briefly around Rachel's arm.

Rachel swallowed and shook her head, "No, you don't. I – I am a slut, and – "

"You're not," Quinn said firmly, brushing her thumb over the word etched into her skin, "and carving it on your arm isn't going to suddenly change that."

Rachel sniffled and pulled away from the blonde so she could wipe away her tears, "Either way I'm still damaged. And you deserve so much more than me, Quinn."

Rachel buried her face in her knees, finally allowing her body to shake with the force of her sobs. Now Quinn knew everything, and all she had to do was wait. Wait for Quinn to yell, to call her a freak and walk out of her room. Her life. Then she would be alone again, like she should have been all along.

But none of that happened. Instead, she was surrounded by warmth. Quinn's tears were falling on her face, mixing with her own as the blonde pulled her into her lap, arms circling around her waist as she buried her face in Rachel's hair.

Rachel turned and pressed her head into Quinn's shoulder, her hand clutching desperately at the blonde's shirt as she cried. Quinn just held on, rocking her, back and forth, whispering something in Rachel's ear.

"W-what?" the smaller girl whispered, lifting her head from Quinn's shoulder.

"You're not damaged," she repeated, cupping Rachel's cheek and wiping away the tears, "and before you argue with me, the cutting hasn't changed a thing. You're still Rachel. My Rachel…who's hurting so much right now."

The diva whimpered, and Quinn pulled her back in and wrapped her arms around her, "And I still love that Rachel, and I'll always want her. Nothing is going to change that," she whispered.

Rachel didn't respond. She simply held onto Quinn, taking comfort in the hand that was rubbing small circles into her back. She should have hated her. Hated the way Quinn made her feel wanted, made her feel cared for. She was Rachel Berry after all, and it had been made very clear to her what that meant. Except Quinn seemed determined to change that.

She started in surprise when she felt Quinn shift beneath her, and she moved to allow her to get up. She watched curiously as Quinn opened the bathroom door, taking care to avoid the blood as she rummaged through the drawers, grabbing a clean towel, a tube of disinfectant, and more bandages. She ran the towel underneath the water before returning to Rachel's side.

"Quinn – ," Rachel started to protest, but the girl was having none of it.

She gave the brunette a pointed look and her eyes trailed to her stomach. Rachel followed her gaze, and she felt her heart lurch as she noticed her tank top had ridden up slightly, exposing the cuts on her stomach. Obediently she lifted her top up higher, exposing the full extent of the cuts. Quinn was nothing but soft as she wiped off the dried blood, pausing when Rachel inhaled sharply from the initial contact. She nodded to show she was fine, and let Quinn finish rubbing disinfectant on the cuts before wrapping them in a fresh bandage.

When Quinn was done, Rachel pulled her top back down, suddenly feeling uncomfortably exposed, even though Quinn had done this before.

The blonde tilted her head to the side, then lifted her hand to trail it through Rachel's hair as she sighed, "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" Rachel asked, closing her eyes and instinctively leaning into Quinn's touch.

"Pulling away."

Quinn's hands stilled, and Rachel's eyes reluctantly fluttered open.

"I'm scared," she murmured, dropping her head and refusing to meet Quinn's gaze.

"Of what?"

"You."

Quinn's hand dropped from her hair, and for one terrible moment, Rachel thought she was going to leave. Instead, she simply crawled over so they were sitting side by side.

"It's just…Quinn you could hurt me so much worse than anyone else. And I know if I admit it…if I say it out loud…"

"Say what?" Quinn asked softly, and the way she said it gave Rachel a feeling that she already knew.

Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at Quinn, wondering how she had ever missed the thinly veiled adoration that was plastered all over her face.

"I can't keep running from you," she confessed, feeling the weight of her words as they left her lips.

Her eyes had stayed locked with Quinn's and she saw nothing but understanding and love, and everything else she hadn't dared to hope for present in her hazel eyes. Eyes that flickered toward her mouth. She moved forward slowly, and Rachel knew what was going to happen. Even as she felt the familiar panic welling up inside her, she pushed it down and fought to stay still as Quinn leaned toward her, stopping a hairsbreadth from her lips. To anyone else, it might have seemed like a hesitation, but Rachel knew what Quinn meant.

This was her chance to stop, to push her away and pretend it had never happened; but she didn't. There was no forcefulness behind the kiss; at first it was a simple brushing of lips, until Quinn tilted her head just so and Rachel felt the deep affection laced in the kiss that Quinn had been trying so desperately to communicate. And the aching tenderness of it all made Rachel's heart swell.

Quinn pulled gently away and Rachel's eyes fluttered open, taking in the deep blush suddenly darkening Quinn's cheeks, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to catch her breath.

"Then stop trying," Quinn breathed.

It wasn't that easy, and Rachel knew Quinn that; yet Rachel felt better. She felt relief and genuine content, something that she thought she would only ever get with the sting of a razor. Here was this girl, this amazing girl that she might be learning to love, who had stuck by her for so long. But unlike that night so long ago, when she had left Quinn in the park because her fear had gotten the better of her, she felt closure. The cutting was a part of her, it would always be. But if she left it, if she could find it in herself to let it go, she would get Quinn.

"You'll be here with me?" she asked, her voice small and laced with vulnerability.

Quinn took her hands in hers, smiling shyly back at her and kissed the tip of her nose.

"If you'll let me."

Rachel felt a lump forming in her throat, and yet more tears were starting to cloud her eyes, but she didn't care. She flung herself back into Quinn's arms and again she felt the security that came with the blonde.

Rachel wasn't stupid. She knew this was far from over, that she was still going to be tempted to cut and it would be a constant struggle. It was going to get harder, and there was the possibility that she would fail again and again before she finally succeeded.

But with Quinn's arms encircled around her, Rachel knew she finally had something worth fighting for.

Chapter Text

The sound of the alarm blaring loudly jolted Quinn from her sleep, and she quickly shut it off. She felt a shifting in her arms and she couldn't stop the smile from breaking out on her face when Rachel scrunched her eyes and snuggled closer to her. Quinn tightened her hold on the girl and softly kissed her forehead, giggling when Rachel let out a contented sigh.

"Sleep okay?" she whispered.

"Mmmm."

She giggled again and let her fingers trail down Rachel's arm, lingering along the fading scars that were quickly becoming nothing more than white lines. It had been a long couple of months. Months filled with more tears and locked bathroom doors, of arguments and declarations of hate; and yet here they were.

Rachel had taken great leaps and bounds to get where she was. It was still a struggle for her, and sometimes Quinn would catch her looking at her bathroom, doubt playing on her face. She knew Rachel still had a razor hidden somewhere just in case she needed it, even if now it was more of a security blanket than anything else.

Quinn wished things were different, that she had caught the signs early, and stopped Rachel before she had cut for the first time, that she had never had a hand in tearing her down; but she couldn't change the past.

She felt a hand on her cheek, and her eyes found Rachel, now fully awake, and staring adoringly at her.

"What are you thinking?" she asked softly, thumb stroking her cheek gently.

Quinn felt her eyes flutter as she lost herself in Rachel's touch, but she kept them open, "Just us."

"Oh? What about us?"

Quinn shrugged, and covered Rachel's hand with her own, "The usual."

She met Rachel's gaze and felt the familiar warmth spreading from her chest when she saw the faint blush coloring Rachel's cheeks.

"I love you."

A simple statement, and one that Quinn knew Rachel needed to hear.

"I love you too," she replied, and Quinn smiled in relief, moving Rachel's hand to her mouth and gently kissing it.

The first time Rachel had said it, it had completely taken her by surprise. They were curled up on the couch, watching Funny Girl for what felt like the five hundredth time, not that Quinn minded. She had found herself concentrating more on the way Rachel was half spooned into her side, her head tucked against her chest with Quinn's arm draped over her.

Rachel had been humming along with the music and reciting a favorite line here and there, but she had fallen silent and Quinn had thought she had fallen asleep.

Until she had whispered it. It had been so soft, that Quinn had to strain her ears to hear it, but it was there. Who knew she could be brought to tears by three simple words?

"Do you mean it?" she had whispered, hardly daring to breathe when Rachel had craned her neck to look back at her.

The girl had hesitated before answering, obviously frightened that she might have gone too far in admitting her feelings, but she had nodded nonetheless. And Quinn had never felt so at peace with the world.

"Do you think you'll ever get tired of this?" Rachel asked softly.

"Tired of what?"

"Of me," Rachel mumbled a faraway expression that Quinn hadn't seen in a while on her face.

"No, I don't think so," Quinn answered, kissing Rachel tenderly.

She pulled back and grinned, "Nope definitely not."

Rachel rolled her eyes, but she gave Quinn a small smile.

"I'm still not okay, Quinn."

"You're getting better," Quinn whispered, squeezing their hands that were still entwined, "and I still love you."

"You know, I still have a hard time believing that sometimes," Rachel admitted, shifting closer to Quinn so their foreheads were touching.

"Then I'll keep telling you that," Quinn breathed, "after all what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't?"

Rachel smiled, and Quinn knew they both loved the sound of the word. Girlfriend. Rachel Berry was her girlfriend.

She felt a gentle nudging, and she let Rachel snuggle close to her, the smaller girl's head tucked perfectly underneath her chin. Quinn let out a small sigh of contentment, and felt her eyes close, enjoying the feel of Rachel in her arms.

"Sing for me?"

She cracked her eyelids open, a little startled by the request.

"Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully, absentmindedly nuzzling Rachel, "any requests?"

"Anything," Rachel murmured, and Quinn swore she could feel her smiling into her shirt.

"Fine," she sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes when she heard Rachel giggle quietly.

She mentally skimmed through the songs she had on file before selecting one.

"You've been on my mind, I grow fonder every day. Lose myself in time just thinking of your face. God only knows why it's taken me so long to let my doubts go. You're the only one that I want," she sang softly into Rachel's ear, "I don't know why I'm scared I've been here before, every feeling every word I've imagined it all. You'll never know if you never try to forgive your past and simply be mi – mmph"

A soft pressure on her lips cut her off, and she instinctively returned it before she came back to her senses.

"If you keep doing that I'll never finish it," she chided, doing her best imitation of a Rachel pout.

"I thought you liked my kisses," Rachel pouted, her bottom lip sticking out perfectly and putting Quinn's attempt to shame.

"No, I love your kisses," Quinn laughed, ruffling Rachel's hair and finally sitting up, "but sometimes they're too distracting."

She threw the covers off and stood up, stretching her arms up and groaning while Rachel sat up and crossed her arms.

"What happened to cuddling?" she frowned, blowing the stray bangs out of her hair.

Quinn smiled, thinking for the umpteenth time that her girlfriend was too adorable for words.

"It got overruled by breakfast. Now come on, I'm thinking eggs with a healthy helping of bacon – "

"Quinn!"

"Just kidding! Boring fruit it is," she laughed, taking another step towards the door.

With a huff, Rachel scrambled off the bed, but instead of going towards Quinn, she moved to the girl's desk, picking up a pen and moving to the calendar hanging on Quinn's wall. With a quick downward slash through yesterday's date, she put the pen back down and looked at Quinn who was staring at her.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, opening her arms as Rachel walked towards her and wrapping her in another hug, "I'm just proud of you."

She kissed the top of Rachel's head and stepped away from her, playfully shoving her out the door, "Now get downstairs so my mother can properly feed us."

Rachel scoffed but she did as she was told and left the room. Quinn watched her go, falling a little bit more in love with the girl as she did. Before she followed her out, she glanced at the calendar that was riddled with dates scratched out with the black pen. Thirty five days. It had been thirty-five days since Rachel had last cut.

"Quinn!"

She rolled her eyes, but she still felt the familiar rush of affection as she turned toward her door, "Coming, Rach!"