Something I put together in about two hours, as a result of my newfound obsession with the show. I don't intend to take away from the purpose of the show, I understand it is meant to spread awareness about suicide. I just loved Clay and Hannah's relationship so much that I wanted to see the possibility of them getting a happy ending that they both deserve.

This is my take on that, I was hoping and praying that Hannah would go find Clay after her assault. I feel as though things would have been much different if she'd gone to him rather than Mr. Porter. I know that at the time she was under the impression that Clay hated her, but I know that she knew better deep down. As a survivor of a near attack myself, I wanted a friend to talk to, not a guidance counselor. I wanted someone who really knew me to listen, and I feel as though Hannah would be the same way.

I think with a little push, Clay could've helped her tremendously. So, this is how I feel as though things would go if Hannah Baker were to stay alive. The tapes will be in this story, there will be a suicide attempt. I hate to spoil it, but I do feel the need to put a warning in. There's also a joke in this chapter about Hitler, so if you're sensitive to that feel free to skip over it. It's towards the end of the chapter, it's not meant to offend anyone. This is not a one shot by the way, it will be a full story. Feedback will determine whether or not I continue it or not, think of this as a pilot chapter.

Hannah Baker had gone seventeen years not knowing that a human being could feel this kind of pain.

Hannah Baker had gone seventeen years without understanding how truly empty an individual could actually feel.

Hannah Baker had gone a good, solid seventeen years without being raped.

Hannah Baker felt pain. Hannah Baker felt empty. Hannah Baker had been raped.

She wandered the streets aimlessly, holding her shoes in her hand- embracing the walk of shame. Her clothes were snug against her body, which had still been wet from the hot tub when she put them on. Droplets of water fell from her damp hair to her shoulders, but she couldn't feel them.

She couldn't really feel anything anymore.

She walked slowly, without reason, without direction. Was she going home? Could she? What if her parents were up? Would she be able to tell them?

No, she couldn't.

So she kept walking, letting fate lead her wherever it wanted to take her.

She ended up stopping outside of Helmet's house.

Helmet.

The word held more comfort for her than a word should, and as she stood in his driveway after midnight, she decided she could talk to Helmet.

If he would have her.

She only knew where he lived due to walks after school, she had never actually seen the inside of his home. She didn't know which window was his, so she made an educated guess based on a Star Wars poster than hung against a baby blue wall.

This is how Hannah Baker found herself shimmying up a tree, after midnight.

She didn't feel the bark of the tree scraping into her bare feet, which made the climb easier. For a brief moment, she was thankful to feel so numb.

She reached window, peering into the room to see Clay, her helmet boy, turned on his side. He had his headphones on and his eyes shut. She almost left, he looked too peaceful to disturb. She didn't want to corrupt him with her problems.

She also felt that at a time like this, she had a right to be selfish.

She tapped on the window, watching Clay's eyes open. He briefly looked around the room, only half awake, before allowing his head to hit the pillow again.

"Clay, you'd so get murdered if this were a horror movie." Hannah mumbled to herself. She tapped again, and this time Clay sat up in his bed. He was craning his neck to see down the hallway through his open bedroom door, so Hannah tapped a final time to correct his direction.

He looked to his window and squinted for a moment, before his eyes went wide. He briefly looked down at his body, clad in boxers and a T shirt, silently thanking the lord that he wasn't naked. He stood up and shut his door, before making his way to the window to open it.

"Hannah?" He questioned, his voice raspy from sleep. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times to make sure this wasn't a dream.

"In the flesh." She replied. She was trying to be her usual, coy self, but the monotone of her voice worked against her.

"You're… you're all wet."

"Great job, captain obvious. Care to invite me in, or do you hate me?" Clay moved aside to let her in, putting his finger over his lip as a signal to be quiet.

"I don't hate you." Came his lame reply as Hannah let herself in.

"Great." She said. Clay turned to shut the window as Hannah padded across the floor to his dresser. He stood, frozen as she rummaged through his drawers.

"Hannah what are you-" He stopped when she began undressing herself in front of him. She didn't care what he saw, it's not like she had her modesty to keep in tact. Bryce had ruined that in a mere five minutes.

"What the hell are you-" He stopped again when she pulled on a shirt of his that she'd taken from the dresser.

She wanted dry clothes. He thought to himself. He still didn't understand what had gotten into her. As bold and brash as Hannah was, she wasn't the type to do something so rude.

He really didn't mind though, he liked the sight of her in his clothes more than he'd ever admit to himself.

Clad in one of his shirts and her underwear- a sight that was slowly driving Clay crazy- Hannah crossed the room and plopped down on his bed. He took a moment to collect himself before he sat down next to her.

"Is there a purpose behind the impromptu slumber party?" He said lowly. Hannah almost smiled.

"I just got raped." Hannah said, as casually as if she were talking about the weather. Clay's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he put two and two together. There had been bruises on her back, but being the kind to mind his own business, he ignored them.

Until now, in a moment where he decided Hannah Baker was his business.

"At least, I think I did." Hannah continued in lieu of his silence.

"Who? What happened?" Clay asked, as thoughts more violent than he'd ever known swirled in his head. He didn't realize how possessive he felt over Hannah until now.

"You don't need the gruesome details." She bit her lip, staring at the wall straight ahead. Her hair was beginning to frizz around her small face as it dried.

"I need the gruesome details. You can't come tell me you got raped and not give me a name, if you know who it was." Clay was calm on the outside, but the rage building inside of him was too much. He wanted a name, he wanted someone to kill with his bare hands- if that's what Hannah desired.

She was silent.

"I want to know because I care, Hannah. I know we haven't talked, but I thought that's what you wanted." He knew she was being so short because they hadn't spoken much since the party.

"You don't hate me?" Hannah whispered.

"I could never hate you, no matter how hard you try to make me."

She'd keep that in mind.

"Bryce." She said.

Clay stood up, clenching his fists by his side. Being the gentleman he was, he'd never understand how some guys thought it was okay to take what they wanted. He'd been eaten alive with guilt since the party, even though he had stopped when she asked.

He just didn't understand how anyone with a conscience could ignore the word no when it came from the girl underneath them.

He took a moment to pace, before turning back to look at the broken girl sitting on the edge of his bed. His resolve weakened as his heart broke for her.

"Hannah." He said, moving to kneel on the floor in front of her. "Tell me what happened."

He wiped away a few tears, kneeling for the sole purpose of being able to see her face as she hung her head. She took a deep, shaky breath as she looked everywhere but him, preparing to tell him the events of the night.

"Hey," He gently grabbed her chin, turning her head so that she was forced to make eye contact. The minute their eyes met, she seemed to calm down. "Look at me, and tell me what happened. Please."

"There was a party." She said instantly. He let go of her face and allowed her to break eye contact in order to gather her thoughts.

"I got there towards the end of it. Jess was in the hot tub with some other people. She wanted me to get in, I only did it because I thought she wanted to be friends again." Another tear fell, getting caught by Clay's thumb.

"It's okay, you don't need an excuse to get in a hot tub, Hannah." He told her gently. She nodded her head in agreeance after a moment of thought, and continued.

"So I got down to my underwear and I got in. Jess and the other's left after a few minutes. I stayed. I wanted to look at the sky." She stopped, but Clay nodded in encouragement.

"Then he got in. I tried to leave, a few times actually, but he kept grabbing me. Then he said he just wanted to have fun…" She stopped, and this time Clay decided he had all the information he needed.

"You don't have to keep going if you don't want to."

"I fought but I gave up. I didn't say no, technically. I was in my underwear." She started, and Clay immediately recognized these as reasons she was blaming herself.

"Do not, under any circumstances, blame yourself. Do you understand me?" Clay said sternly. She gave him a weak nod, and he figured it was better than nothing.

"Helmet, that night at the party was all me, not you. You were perfect. I don't want you to think you're anything like Bryce." Hannah said suddenly.

"I don't."

They sat in silence for a while, they'd figure out what to do in the morning. Clay was already dead set on turning Bryce in, but he knew it was ultimately up to Hannah.

"Do you want some water?" Clay asked her, to which she nodded. She had shifted so that she was under the covers, using his pillows as her back support to sit up.

He decided that he also liked seeing her in his bed.

"I'll be right back." He silently made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen, mentally applauding himself for dodging the squeaky floor boards.

"Your door was shut." His mother said as he entered the kitchen, causing his heart to jump out of his chest.

"Jesus mom!" He exclaimed, clutching his chest.

"Why so jumpy? Anything I should know about?" She knew, and Clay knew she knew, but he decided to play dumb, shaking his head back and forth rapidly.

"Oh really? So that was your imaginary friend you were talking to?" She raised an eyebrow at him. Mrs. Jensen had been on this earth for forty two years, and she was far from stupid- her law degree proved that. She was well aware that her kid was a seventeen year old boy, who likely had a seventeen year old girl in his room right now.

"Can you do me a favor and not ground me until you hear the story, which I promise I will tell you in the morning." Clay pleaded. His mom decided this was fair, they both needed to go to bed for the time being.

"Fine, but your little friend needs to leave."

"Mom no, please. Can she stay here tonight, just this once?" He begged, there was no way in hell he was kicking Hannah out right now.

"You think I'm going to let you have a girl in your room for the night?" She was mildly insulted that her son seemed to take her for such a fool.

"She can't go home mom, she can't. I promise I'll tell you everything tomorrow morning, but I can guarantee nothing will happen." Clay promised.

"I'll make you a deal." She said, and Clay was all ears. "If you tell me now, she can stay. IF it's a good reason."

"I…" Clay shifted uncomfortably. "I don't have permission to tell anyone yet. Especially not a lawyer."

"Clay, I am off duty right now. Whatever you say to me will stay between us, in this kitchen." Clay faltered, his mom had always been a woman of her word.

"All I'm going to say right now is… she's hurt. Physically and mentally, and she came to me. I'm not kicking her out." Mrs. Jensen's eyes widened as he said the words physically and mentally, knowing now that there was a form of abuse involved.

"Okay, she can stay. In the morning, I'm sitting down to talk to both of you though, and I'd like a full report."

"I'll see what I can do." Clay said, elated as he pulled two bottles of water from the refrigerator. He kissed his mom on the cheek before turning around to bound up the stairs.

Mrs. Jensen rolled her eyes, teenagers were such handfuls.

Clay kicked his door shut behind him, walking to his bed. He handed one bottle of water to Hannah and sat the other on his bedside table, where he saw Hannah's phone plugged up to his charger.

He wanted to laugh, she'd really made herself at home.

"We have a situation." Clay said as he sat at the food of the bed. Hannah was now laying on her side, curled up in a ball.

"What is it? Why were you gone so long?" She panicked as she realized he was probably about to tell her to leave.

"My mom was up… She heard us in here." Hannah's eyes went wide as she quicly sat up.

"Shit. Do I need to leave?"

"Not if you don't want to. She said you could stay if you'd agree to give her an idea of why you're here in the first place." Clay explained. Hannah's eyes darted to the window, briefly tempted to leave.

She wanted Helmet too badly to move.

"Is she… will she make me press charges?" Hannah asked slowly, biting her lip as a nervous habit.

"She can't make you do anything, you don't even have to give a name." He said. Hannah decided that that would be okay, as long as she didn't have to go to court. She had no idea what she wanted to do.

"Okay." She said.

"Okay."

There was another awkward silence before Clay asked her if her parents knew where she was, and if they'd be worried.

"I texted them and said I was at Jessica's. They don't know about that situation, nor do they need to." She said with a roll of her eyes. Clay nodded in satisfaction, and watched as Hannah layed back down, curling up again.

He felt awkward. Should he sleep on the couch? Would she be comfortable with him here?

"Hey idiot, you can lay down too. It's your bed." She sparked a small laugh from Clay, who laid down behind her. He was pressed against the wall, trying to keep a comfortable distance.

"My bed, which you seemed to have invaded and taken over." He poked fun at her.

"I'm not Hitler, and this isn't Poland." Came her snarky response. Clay was glad to see a little bit of the old Hannah, even if it was a mask to block out her horrific night.

"I'm Jewish." Clay dead panned, watching as Hannah flipped to her other side to face him.

"Fuck, seriously?" She asked, guilt washing over her.

"No." Clay smiled. "I still don't think we're supposed to make holocaust jokes though."

"You're probably right." Hannah agreed, scooting closer to him. He was laying on his back, looking uncomfortably close to the wall.

"You don't have to smush yourself."

"Smush?"

"It's a word."

Clay smiled again, something he did often around her. He put a little distance between himself and the cold wall, thankful for the space. Hannah was now only mere inches to his right.

"I.. I think I need this." Hannah said, as she scooted herself up to Clay, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You can have anything you need." He told her, loosely wrapping his arm around her back.

"What if I need you?" She whispered.

"You've had me Hannah." He said, his words spreading warmth through her body as his fingers traced patterns along her back.

"Helmet, I think I love you." She said. The words didn't take as much courage as she thought they would, they seemed to slip out naturally. Clay remained relaxed underneath her as he responded.

"And I love you, Hannah Baker."