You Were Sent Here (For The Rescue)

Her head flies to the right and she barely curbs the urge to make a noise. Long ago, she has learned the hard way that noise simply makes everything all that much harder and the blows will rain longer, harsher. Tightening her body into a small ball, she huddles closer to the wall, desperate to protect whatever parts of her body she can from the man that she supposedly calls father. Her eyes are bleary with the blood running down her forehead. Out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees her mother laughing at her.

A kick to the ribs makes her keel over and gasp for air. An audible snap echoes around in the room and she whimpers and tries to avoid another kick to something crucial.

"Such a weak, pathetic thing," Russell growls in a low voice. He grabs the glass from beside him and takes another sip of the scotch in the cup before he throws it onto the ground, barely missing Quinn in the process. The cup shatters and she sobs and it's only because his wife – her mother – manages to distract him long enough that she isn't kicked in retaliation for uttering a complaint.

Clutching her ribs protectively, Quinn watches the two of them wander away, deliriously drunk. She wipes the blood, sweat and tears out of her eyes before she grits her teeth and leans heavily against the wall. How things got this bad, she's still not quite sure. All she ever does is what her father wants but still, he's never quite satisfied with her.

It's with shaking fingers that Quinn dials a number she knows that she should not have memorized but does. She grabs the first article of clothing she can find and wipes furiously at the blow on her head, hoping to staunch the blood flow. Containing a whimper of pain, she finds that she's breathing harshly still even as she tries to slow her thundering heart.

A sleepy hello greets her call after the second attempt.

"Rach?" she asks, hates the way her voice sounds so small and weak, a far cry from her normally confident self. "Can you come pick me up?"

Even half asleep, Rachel knows something is wrong immediately when Quinn uses her nickname in that voice and it's like a bucket of cold water is splashed onto her. She's up in seconds, assuring the blonde that she'll be there in seven minutes exactly.

"Thanks, Rachel," Quinn replies quietly as she leaves the bloody shirt on the floor and contemplates how she's going to manage to sneak out of the house without her father catching her and being submitted to another beating.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she winces. Now that the blood has stopped, the head injury didn't look so bad. Her father is good when it comes to aiming at places that aren't easily seen. Her face, minus the tears and the slight smatters of blood on her head, is still perfect looking. Quinn doesn't even broach the thought of what other parts of her body might look like though.

Restraining the urge to curse heavily and to crumble into the fetal position upon the floor, she lifts her shirt up and wishes she didn't. Older bruises stick out prominently against her skin along with fresh welts and discolored skin and every time she tries to breath, it hurts. Her hand tentatively creeps up to press gently against the darkened flesh. Muttering a quick curse, she tries not to breathe too deeply as she removes her hand.

"Definitely broken," she decides. She glares at the image of the broken girl she sees in the mirror before she lowers her shirt and tries to clean up as well as she can. The tenuous task of climbing out of the window is not something she is looking forward too. Taking the door is an option she wishes she has.

Every move feels painful and she swallows several pills to numb the pain a bit before she as she stumbles to the window stiffly, unlocking it and looking out into the dark. She knows without a hint of doubt that anger will dominant her father's features tomorrow when she returns after school but right now, she needs relief, a moment to let her guard down and Quinn is slightly disgruntled that she can't confide her mother but instead has to go to Berry of all people. They hold a tentative friendship and she can count on the brunette in a way she can't from Santana, Brittany, Finn or even Puck.

Climbing out of the window and taking the tree is a painful affair. She knows that as she sucks in another painful breath and tries to make it to the ground without injuring herself more. The quiet crunch of tires on gravel bounces around in the night and she feels hopeful, knows that Rachel is just around the bend and it sickens her at the same time to feel so ecstatic for a person that isn't quite a friend but isn't an enemy either to be here.

She manages to make it down to the ground successfully, although slightly sore and she limps her way to the door of Rachel's car as fast as she can. Pulling it open, she slips in, shivering.

"Thanks," Quinn mutters as Rachel turns up the heating in the car before beginning to drive.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asks hesitantly, concern coloring her voice. She glances at Quinn from her peripheral vision.

"Yeah," she responds shortly, nodding her head to emphasize her point. She's exhausted and all she wants to do is sleep the world and its nightmares away. "Can I stay at your place tonight?"

"Of course," Rachel agrees easily.

"Your parents won't mind?"

Rachel surveys her once again. It's dark but she swears she sees blood. She turns her head to look where she's driving again. "I am quite certain that they will understand considering the current...situation."

Quinn's hackles rise at that and she bites out sharply, "There's no situation. I just need a night away, Rachel."

The brunette stops the car outside the Berry household and placates Quinn with a tight smile, "If you say so Quinn."

The blonde's defensive mechanism slides firmly into place and she has a snarky retort on the tip of her tongue for the shorter girl but stops herself. Insulting her host would not do. She simply opens the door and the two of them get out and into the house in silence. Quinn follows behind Rachel as they progress up the stairs and the brunette stops outside the guest bedroom.

"You can occupy this room for the night," Rachel says. "You know the washroom is down the hall. I will be back in just a moment with some clothes for you to wear."

Quinn attempts the cover up how disarrayed her appearance is but there's a knowing look on Rachel's face that tells her the other girl suspects things. "Thanks, Rachel. I can't…explain how thankful to you I am right now."

"Not a problem, Quinn," Rachel responds before she wanders further down the hall and into her room.

She steps into the washroom and winces once again at the girl staring back at her in the mirror. Her reflection makes her wonder how Rachel managed to hold her tongue and not interrogate her on the spot for her ragged appearance.

Rachel knocks on the door, waiting a few moments before opening the door.

"Clothes," Rachel states. "I brought you a towel as well in case you wanted to take a shower."

"Thanks, Rachel," she sort of smiles, maybe a grimace, as she takes the assortment of things and wonders how many times she's said those words in the past half hour.

"Sleep well tonight, Quinn."

Quinn nods and closes the door. She takes off the clothes she's wearing and contemplates burning them while she ignores the mirror before she steps into the shower. Enjoys and hates the hot spray of water that washes away any evidence of blood and tears. It hurts when the water hits her body a certain way and those tears that she refused to shed in Rachel's presence fall now, fast and freely.

She is never quite good enough.

Rachel sits with her back against the wall outside of the washroom with a haunted expression. Deep inside, she's hurting because although Quinn thinks she's excellent at hiding the sound of her tears, she isn't. She never has been and it hurts all that much more because Quinn doesn't think she's strong enough to take what the blond has to give.

Her head is bowed and unwillingly, she sheds some tears of her own.

A bright smile plasters itself on her face as she wanders into the guest room with more clothes (non-argyle to satisfy Quinn's tastes) and sees the blonde still asleep, hair splayed around her face like a blonde angelic halo. The covers are kicked half on, half off, flung across the blonde and as she wanders closer, she has to hold a hand against her mouth to stop from suddenly screaming.

Quinn's shirt has managed to ride up quite a bit during the night. The welts that were carefully concealed before are blatantly staring Rachel down now. They look fresh and with a shaking hand she traces them, finger a hair-breath away from touching the other girl. But the short squeak that escaped from her earlier seemed to wake up the blonde already and she's scrambling away from the touch before a look of pain crosses her face.

"Quinn?" Rachel asks, scared.

"What are you doing, Berry?" Quinn growls out. "Trying to rape me in my sleep?"

"While I understand that you are hurt, Quinn," Rachel frowns. "I whole heartedly disagree with your insinuation that I would try to take advantage of you while you are asleep."

"I'm not hurt," Quinn snaps out defensively.

Rachel glances at the flash of skin and her expression turns sceptical.

Quinn hurries to pull her shirt down and winces again at the pain.

"Look, Quinn…"

"No," she interrupts more harshly than she means too. She sighs and tries to tone down the urge to snap and push Rachel away. "I'll call Finn to pick me up for school. Thanks for letting me stay here, Rach."

"I am perfectly capable of driving you to school," Rachel argues.

"I've already taken up so much of your time. It's okay."

The brunette tries not to feel hurt that the blonde would choose Finn over her and hands Quinn the clothes she originally came to give. "I'll see you later then."

Once Quinn departs from the Berry household, Rachel manages to find time in her busy morning schedule to sit down with her fathers to talk to them about what she saw before she left for school.

"Are you sure, dear?" Leroy asks. His brows are furrowed slightly at the revelation. "The Fabrays seem like such a happy family."

"I'm quite certain of what I saw!" Rachel protests. "And then she kept wincing when she moved and yesterday when she called me to pick her up from the Fabray household, I swear I saw blood."

Hiram shares a look with his husband. "Why don't you talk to Quinn about it today, dear? Perhaps you simply had a misunderstanding."

Rachel huffs in reply. "I tried when she woke up this morning. She was less than receptive of my interference."

"I believe you should try again, Rachel. It wouldn't do to make false accusations about such an important problem."

Rachel sighs and agrees.

Rachel catches Quinn on the way to one of their shared classes and falls in step with the blonde with a pleasant hello. Their silence is comfortable and familiar as Rachel clutches the books she's holding tighter to her body and glances at the blonde out of the corner of her eye. Triumphant and smiling, Quinn looks picture perfect once again.

"How are you doing, Quinn?" she asks as they near their classroom.

"Great," Quinn responds with false cheer, "you?"

"Worried," Rachel replies, her eyes shift to the ground for a moment. "About this morning…"

"I'm fine, Rachel."

"But -"

The blonde shoots her a glare and she drops the topic, at least for now as they settle into seats beside each other. While Rachel always actively keeps herself in the discussion in the classroom and takes notes with a rigorous precision, Quinn has always been the one to try and distract the brunette. It was unnerving to see the blond paying sole attention to the board and ignoring her.

"Thanks for the ride, Finn," she leans over the console between them and awkwardly places a kiss on her boyfriend's cheek before she exits the car.

Quinn internally winces when she notices that her father's car is at home and that her reception back would probably not be the best. She waves to Finn in his car once more before she opens the door and slips inside. Immediately she's on guard as the door swings close behind her and the car outside – her only get away – drives away.

"Where were you this morning?" a low voice asks from behind her and she curses that her attempt to sneak up to her room failed.

"I left early, daddy," she turns around and responds with her eyes trained to the ground. She's not ready for the slap that sends her careening into the wall.

"Liar," he hisses as he pulls her up and pins her against the wall.

Protests want to slip from her lips, that she isn't lying but instead she simply closes her eyes and quietly resigns herself to her fate.

"Noah," Rachel says as she approaches Puck.

"What's up Jew babe?" Puck asks, throwing an arm around Rachel's shoulder.

Rachel glances at the football player and wonders what in the world made her choose him to talk to first but she's already started and eventually, she has to confront him anyways.

"I need to have a conversation of utmost importance with you," Rachel responds. "Do you know if Quinn has ever had problems with her family?"

Puck doesn't seem to be all that into serious conversations though. "Oh this is awesome. Do you have the hots for Quinn now?"

"Noah," Rachel admonishes. "Please answer the question."

Puck shrugs. "Quinn's a happy girl. I mean, her parents are always drunk when I'm over but they're cool – minus the uptight Christians part."

"So you've never seen…Quinn with bruises or anything?"

"She's a bitch sometimes," Puck responds. "It's not my problem if she gets into fights."

"So her father's never raised a hand to her?"

"Whoa whoa, girl," Puck says, waving his hands around. "Her dad might be an asshole and a bit of an alcoholic but I'm pretty sure Quinn's not getting beat."

Rachel sighs. Either what Puck says is true or Quinn is really good at hiding the truth. "Thanks, Noah."

That's one down, only three more to go.

It doesn't take her long to find a blond haired dancer by the name of Brittany – the easier of the two formidable former Cheerios to approach. Although she knows that it's just as likely that the dancer's other half is probably lurking around in the hallway somewhere and it's with wary eyes that she approaches the much taller blond.

"Hello, Brittany."

"Hi, Rachel!" Brittany energetically responds.

"I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for -"

"Midget," a voice greets from behind her before Santana slinks around to wrap herself around Brittany. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, Santana, I also attend this high school for education, however insufficient it is."

The Latina's far from amused expression makes her backtrack.

"I wanted to ask Brittany – and you – about something actually."

"Well hurry up and ask it then hobbit."

"I was wondering if you two spent much time around Quinn's family?"

"Why the sudden interest?" the dark haired girl asks. "Do you want to tap that ass or something? Because let me tell you, being a stalker isn't the way to go about it."

Rachel blushes profusely. "While I am certainly not against, as you so crudely put it, tapping that ass, that isn't the reason I asked."

"Oh this is good," the Latina's eyes gleam, "so good."

Her eyes widen and her hand flies to cover her mouth as she realizes what exactly she just said. "Well, um, ignoring my proclamation of love, I am serious when I ask. Lately, Quinn has been acting differently."

"Look," Santana says with an impressive eye roll, "you can claim that fine ass if you want, I don't care. Blondie's probably PMSing if she's acting like a bitch again."

She grabs onto the blond beside her and walks off.

"My ass is finer, right, San?"

These are the moments when Quinn is extremely thankful that she is no longer part of Sue Sylvester's cult – er, the Cheerios. She knows without a single doubt that she wouldn't be able to perform a single routine before landing on the floor, crying out in pain. Besides, the cheerleading uniform did little to cover up her skin and she's grateful that she chooses her own clothing now.

The medication she took before coming to school numbs the pain slightly but not enough and every step is a shuddering reminder of what she's hiding underneath clothes, make up and false smiles.

Before she realizes what's happening, Brittany bounds up to her and wraps her arms around the shorter blond in a morning hug. Stiffening in pain, Quinn tries not to hyper ventilate and struggles to push the lankier girl off of her. Brittany backs off with a sad smile and Santana looks like she wants to blow up at Quinn for putting the frown there.

"Hey, Brittany," Quinn says with a nod, "Santana."

"Hi, Q!" Brittany immediately responds, forgetting the reason she was sad.

"Congratulations, I'd like to inform your hopeless romantic self that Rachel wants to fuck you," Santana says in greeting.

"What?" Quinn asks, shocked and faintly, a blush correlates itself on her cheeks.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Q. Rachel," she says slowly to enunciate her words, "wants to get into your pants."

"And she wants to know about your fairies?" Brittany says excitedly. "I want to meet a unicorn. They're rare and magical."

"Family, Britt," Santana translates to Quinn.

"Why does she want to know about my family?"

"Will you take me to see a unicorn, San?" Brittany interjects.

The Latina pats the blond on the shoulder and takes it in stride. "Maybe later after school, alright?" she says and she hopes that her counterpart will forget about unicorns by the end of the day. "And don't ask me why the dwarf wants to know. I can barely understand why she's crushing on you instead of me."

"And I'm friends with you how?"

Quinn is joking around but on the inside she's a mess. Hatred fills her at the fact that the future star is once again interfering with things she doesn't understand. Nothing the brunette has ever encounted could compare, considering the loving family she had. Quinn has met the Mister Berrys and they were all too sickeningly sweet.

The day is almost half over before she finds Rachel, cornering Finn with an intense expression on her face. The brunette is waving her hands around as Quinn approaches.

"Are you sure you know nothing?" she exclaims and Finn nods. "It's like all of you are her friends and significant others but none of you know anything about her!"

"Know nothing about who?" she asks, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Oh. Uh, Quinn," Finn mutters. "This isn't what it looks like."

"Hello, Quinn," Rachel acknowledges in a slightly flustered voice.

"Just the person I was looking for," Quinn glowers at Rachel. "Can you leave, Finn?"

The boy disappears as fast as his long legs can take him.

"Stop this Rachel," Quinn begins.

"Stop what?" the brunette asks innocently.

"I know what you've been talking to my friends about," a light blush colors her face at the thought. "Stop interfering with things you don't understand. I'm fine, I just fell in the shower by accident, alright?"

"Quinn, if you choose to lie at least create a believable story. I would suggest one where the causes of your injuries actually make sense. Falling in the shower does not equate welts of that severity," Rachel responds, shaking her head. "I would know."

All that manages to do is make Quinn picture Rachel in the shower, naked.

"Whatever," Quinn says trying to pull her mind out of the gutter. "I'm fine, you're fine. Everybody's fine."

Sceptical, Rachel touches Quinn's torso and the blond pulls back with a wince.

"Stop trying to feel me up," Quinn side steps Rachel's wandering hand once again.

"See!" Rachel exults. "This proves it, you're hiding something underneath that excellent taste in fashion – although including argyle in your wear wouldn't hurt – you are hurting!" she concludes.

"You don't understand Rachel. I'm fine, so stay out of it," Quinn insists, scowling.

"But I want to, Quinn. I do."

"Honey," her mother greets when she arrives home.

"Hi Mom," Quinn tilts her head slightly and tries not to wrinkle her nose in distaste at the smell of alcohol on her mother's breath and the glass being held precariously between her mom's fingers.

"Oh dear, how was your day?"

"Good," she replies shortly.

"So where is that Finn boy? When are you going to bring him over again?" Judy asks.

Quinn shrugs her shoulders. She's suddenly got the feeling that she never will.

"Your father will be so proud to see his little girl finding such a good man. I've heard much about the Hudson boy."

"Yeah," Quinn whispers softly, fighting back tears now. "Finn's great."

"Darling," her mother's concerned voice is right beside her now, alcoholic breath and all. "Why are you crying?"

She recoils. Alcohol has become something she associates with being hurt.

"Never mind," she shakes her head and bolts upstairs, wishing she would hear footsteps following her but all she receives is the clink of bottle against glass. Finn is a reminder of the drunkenly picture perfect life her parents want her to have, to ground her here in Lima underneath their overbearing figures but staying here is the farthest from what she wants. She doesn't want to have to blow away her hopes and dreams in alcohol and be unhappy with her marriage.

But she is just another Lima loser. Just like her mom.

It's with shaking fingers that she yet again calls Rachel. Rachel always seems to understand no matter how much she tries to push the brunette away. Never is it the Latina or the dancer that she grew up with or Puck the resident play boy that's secretly good at heart. It's funny how things turned out this way considering all she did for several years was torture the brunette.

"Come pick me up?" Quinn asks, not bothering to hide her sobs now that her parents were gone and she was broken yet again.

"Always Quinn," Rachel murmurs sleepily, "always."

Rachel's car pulls up outside of the Fabray household silently. Her eyes watch the darkness for any signs of an approaching blond and its agony, every single moment she spends waiting for Quinn's arrival. A few more moments past and she contemplates calling when she sees a figure limping their way stiffly towards her. The door swings open and Quinn shuffles inside slowly.

Rachel waits for the door to close before she starts driving.

"Thanks," Quinn starts.

The ride is made in silence as Rachel tries to process how much worse Quinn looks tonight than the last time she called. Only when they're both going through a routine they are intimately familiar with does Rachel broach the topic, stopping Quinn from entering the bathroom immediately.

"You need to go to the hospital," Rachel states firmly.

"I'll be fine Rach, I just need to get cleaned up," she attempts to move past the brunette who refuses to let her go.

"Look, you can tell everyone else that you fell but stop lying to yourself," Rachel tries not to panic and shout but her voice falls to a gentle, broken whisper. "Stop lying to me."

Suddenly, Rachel's crying and Quinn doesn't know what to do.

"I do not want you to get hurt anymore."

Quinn sighs and has a feeling this won't be the last time she caves to Rachel because the brunette is sad. "I'll go the hospital, tomorrow, alright? But for now can you just…let me get cleaned up and lie with me?"

Rachel hugs Quinn gingerly and the blond is startled for a moment before she lets her own arms wrap around her friend gently.

"Of course," Rachel whispers in Quinn's ear, her breath brushing against the blonde's neck and making her shiver.

Quinn shifts nervously around in the chair, trying not to audibly make a sound when she shifts a certain way that she shouldn't have because it pains her. Sitting in the waiting room of a clinic, she's fighting the urge to run. Being in a medical treatment facility is so many levels of wrong and ingrained in her is the fact daddy won't be happy.

She's about to jump up when a hand rests itself comfortably on her knee in an attempt to hold her still and calm her down, even though it's futile. Quinn is nervous and jittery and although she's attending to her injuries because they're causing so much pain, she still adamantly refuses to acknowledge who put them there because she deserved every punch, kick and slap.

"Quinn Fabray?" a nurse calls out from behind the counter.

The blonde stands and tugs nervously at the bottom of her shirt for a moment.

"Do you want me to come in, Quinn?"

A small smile spreads over the blonde's lips. "I'd like it if you did."

The doctor enters the room moments after the two of them are seated; his eyes are glued to a clipboard with a chart on it.

"So which one of you girls is Quinn?" he asks when he finally looks up, adjusting his glasses.

"That would be me."

"Right, so what can I help you with today, Quinn?"

"Well, um," her eyes stray over to Rachel who smiles encouragingly. "I slipped in the shower a couple of days ago and I think my ribs hit something. They hurt when I move or breath too deep now."

The doctor nods his head in understanding and approaches after settling the clipboard on a desk. "You should have gotten assistance earlier. A rib could potentially puncture something vital." His hands press lightly against Quinn's torso and she bites her lip to prevent the whimper from coming out.

"Does that hurt?"

Quinn nods her head.

"Right, we'll have to do some scans on you," the doctor says, pulling his hands away. "But I believe nothing important has been damaged."

Behind them, Rachel breathes a sigh of relief. Not that she thinks Quinn is potentially going to die. It's just that any injury on the blonde makes her body hum with anger.

After the doctor's appointment and learning a few exercises on how to help her rib heal faster, Rachel drives them back to McKinley for the football game that the two agreed earlier to attend together. While Rachel does enjoy spending time with Quinn, she's really using it as an excuse to keep the other girl out of her house longer. A temporary solution that she doubts will work forever but for now, it is better than nothing.

They find seats moderately close to the field and the conversation flows easy and fast.

"I really don't understand this game at all," Rachel muses after Quinn finishes a long winded explanation of how football works. She is after all, a former cheerleader and knows the game intricately. Even if it is mind numbingly hurtful to watch the McKinley Titans lose all the time.

Quinn frowns. "Then why did you suggest we watch the football game?"

"Supporting out fellow club members in their other endeavours," Rachel replies as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

She smiles at Rachel's explanation. It's endearing how much Rachel cares about her sort of friends, no matter how horrible they are to her.

And then suddenly instead of staring out at the large field laid out before them, Rachel is turning those expression brown eyes on her with a softness and a gentleness in her eyes that Quinn can't quite comprehend, almost refusing to understand because she's not ready to come to terms with this yet.

"Your eyes are gorgeous," Rachel murmurs softly, shyly, a blush on her cheeks before she turns away.

And just like that, the connection is broken and Quinn is left staring at Rachel's cheek for a silent moment before the crowd lifts to its feet and roars around them. Arms are grabbing her and pulling her for victory hugs but none of that gets through the daze in her mind. Her eyes are trained on the brunette beside her. Once the other person let's her go, Rachel gathers her for a hug as well.

"Titans won!" Everyone is shrieking around her.

Rachel's left her stunned and she can't quite figure out why because they're friends and that's not unusual. They're supposed be nice to each other but something in that moment…

Later, she thinks about how that's the first compliment she's received that she believes.

Football is definitely not the last outing Rachel suggests. They vary from having Glee club after school to vocal lessons, to bowling accompanied by dinner at various restaurants, more football games and spending ridiculous amounts of time at the brunette's house.

Not that Quinn disagrees with this. She loves Rachel – she loves this.

She loves this newfound safe relationship – friendship – so much that it hardly fazes her anymore when she spins excuse after excuse for her boyfriend. As charming and sweet, albeit a little inept as Finn is, she knows she's not in love with him. Never was, really. Finn is a boy toy, someone to hang off her arm when she was the Head Cheerleader. It's just a bonus that he never pressures her for more.

Still, she can't keep up facades anymore.

"Finn?" she calls after the tall and goofy footballer as he walks by with Mike.

"Yeah?" he asks, turning around and waving at Mike who smiles at Quinn once before leaving.

"I," she starts then stops. "Can we talk somewhere more private?"

Finn's forehead creases but nods his head and catches her hand in his as they walk into a more secluded part of the school. Here in high school, it's a vicious life and any scraps of gossip that can bring down the power couple will be used against them. Not that there will be a power couple in a few minutes.

She tries to stifle the urge to pull her hand out of his bigger hand. It feels different, not the same as holding Rachel's hand.

Once they're carefully tucked away, Quinn tugs her hand out of Finn's grasp. Nervously, she tries to smile but ends up with more of a grimace.

"I'm breaking up with you, Finn," she states in a rush. It's easier to peel off the band aid faster instead of slowly.

It takes a couple of minutes for Finn to process what Quinn just said and an awkward silence falls.

"Why?" he asks, hurt.

Quinn turns away. She knows that Finn deserves an answer but even she doesn't have any answers to her own questions. She swallows the lump that forms in her throat and tries to push words around it.

"You're a great guy, Finn," she says. "It's just…you're not the one I want."

He stares at her with those big eyes of his.

"There's someone else isn't there?" he asks and she wonders how he can be so intuitive but so stupid at the same time. Sort of like Brittany, if she thinks about it.

"No," Quinn shakes her head. Not a lie.

"Alright," Finn replies in a slow tone. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly and the two of them stand around, shifting and not quite looking at each other before he mutters something and darts out of the room.

She breathes a sigh of relief when he does. Being around him is stifling, a reminder that Finn probably won't get any farther than her father did and the thought of being just like her mother hurts more than anything else.

The blows of the attacks don't startle her as much as they use to anymore. She knows how to swing her head to try and keep the force of the punches to a minimum while she fervently protects her ribs, fearful that another injury there will be the one that ends her. Russell's stormy features are not unusual. A careless mistake, she reached awkwardly to grab his plate first after dinner and spilled his drink on the pristinely white table cloth.

His rage is the first thing to react.

She hates this…this hopelessness, this weakness, this inability to stand up and fight for her rights as a child and a woman when her father storms through her like a hurricane, not caring enough to try and pick up the pieces. Money is good around the house, her father works five days a week but his boss is horrible and he's praying for a promotion and his daughter is useless.

Quinn hates that her hand automatically searches for her phone afterwards when she's alone in her room, aching and covered in fresh bruises. She hates that her traitorous fingers have memorized the actions to get to the one person that will not judge her, will not push her but just love her.

She hates Rachel Barbra Berry.

But she loves her too. And it sickens her because she's a good Christian girl and they don't think about their friends in that way.

"Rach?" her voice shakes. She can't recognize herself in the aftermath and wonders how anyone can.

"I'm on my way," her voice is ethereal, whisper soft and immediately Quinn relaxes.

She hears the brunette breathing and before the dial tone can enter the conversation she speaks again. "This," she chokes out, stops as the feeling overwhelms her. "This is the last time."

"Last time?" Rachel asks with a hint of fear in her voice as she hurries out of the house. She doesn't even want to contemplate if it's a final goodbye Quinn is talking about.

"I'm," she whispers the words as she shoves more things in a duffel bag, "not coming back."

She's a shaking mess when Rachel comes. Not just from the cold but from nerves, the thought of just what she's doing. Quinn knows that by walking away, her father will disown her, will never allow her back into the house or if he does, it will be with a severe welcome back beating. Her flesh aches at the thought.

She slides into Rachel's car like normal but she's not prepared for those arms that snake around and the sob she lets loose. They never talk about this. The problem that she faces but Rachel's always known, she realizes.

Rachel might always be stoic, never pushing, just there but she out of everyone knows. It's better than anything the man in the sky has ever offered her because if someone up there really cares, why is she sporting her own battle wounds from a battle that she shouldn't have to fight?

The words slip from her before she knows what's happening.

"I love you," she rasps hoarsely.

The brunette's arms tighten around her for a moment, painful against her newly battered skin before Rachel draws back so that they're eyes can meet.

"I love you too."

Their hands are intertwined, the spaces between their hands perfect for the others, when they drive away into a night of unknown and fearfulness. At least with Rachel, Quinn knows there will always be a resemblance to a plan. Somewhere.

She tries; she really does, to smile at school the next day.

An absurd amount of cover up is used to wipe away the traces of abuse. They have an argument about it. The brunette wants her to come clean, to call child services and confront her demons head on but she still refuses. One step at a time, she said. Running away from his frightful visage is the first step but going so far as to punish him? He's still her father.

Rachel takes one look at her after school and drags Quinn into her car gently, mindful of her injuries.

"Where are we going, Rachel?"

"Just wait," Rachel responds, smiling at the blond in the passenger seat.

Quinn rolls her eyes at the mystique but settles comfortably into her seat. She's learned long ago that pestering Rachel will not give her answers. The brunette has a big enough mouth that in time, she will reveal the secret.

Surprisingly enough, they reach the Berry household and still Rachel says nothing.

"I'll be back in a second. I just need to grab some things."

The blond smiles, amused. Apparently this isn't just some spontaneous adventure to cheer her up. Rachel has planned this surprise already. She hides something in the trunk of the car when she returns and then they are off again, driving down winding roads in a silence that only Rachel's incessant tapping along with the music blaring from the radio disturbs.

It feels nice to have the sun bathed across her face, the silence comfortable as Rachel begins to sing along with the lyrics in a quiet voice. This feel like bliss, fragile and easily breakable but for now, she'll settle for whatever she can grasp in her small hands.

"So when are you letting up the secret act?" Quinn asks as her arm half hangs out of the car.

Rachel doesn't bother to answer, instead she points to an open field beside them.

"And?" Quinn asks.

She rolls her eyes in response. "Patience is rewarding, Quinn," she says.

"Yes," Quinn agrees. "But I'm not patient."

"Too bad," Rachel tosses back with a playful smile.

Turns out she doesn't have to wait that much longer either way. Rachel parks the car on some gravel by the side of the road before getting out of the car and leaves Quinn staring at her incredulously

"Really?" she calls after the girl as she gets out to and scrambles to keep up. She's nervous around fields after watching Lovely Bones, that girl did get murdered in one after all and although she doesn't really suspect Rachel to be a murderer, her never ending cheerfulness could be explained away by her psychotic behaviour.

Rachel just turns back and beckons her to follow. "Trust me," she calls back, "it will be beautiful."

Well if trust is on the line, at least Quinn can say that Rachel is one of the few people she trusts. By the time she catches up to the shorter girl (who can surprisingly move really fast), the brunette is unfurling a blanket from that basket of hers.

"We're having a picnic?" Quinn asks, surprised and touched.

"For now," Rachel replies back cryptically, patting a spot beside her that Quinn happily took.

And just like always, the conversation and banter flows easily between the two of them. They nibble away at sandwiches (ham and bacon for Quinn, a plain vegetable one for Rachel) that Rachel had somehow managed to make before the two of them departed to school along with potato salad and various other vegan friendly foods. Time slips away like a ribbon and before she knows it, she's staring up at a sky lit only by stars.

"Are you going to be up there one day?" Quinn asks, half joking.

Rachel glances up at the star contemplatively, "Maybe one day – with you, of course."

"Cheesy much?" she laughs.

"But true!" Rachel declares indignantly. "I think you are wonderful, even if your eyes are a little sad and broken."

That feeling comes back full force. Suffocating, to the brink of being uncomfortable – she's still a little hesitant to take compliments. They feel wrong. She's always been the poster child for perfection but never quite good enough. Insults are something she can understand; can cope with but things having people tell her she's wonderful? She's on edge even if this is Rachel.

Quinn just blushes and Rachel scoots closer, one hand cupping the blonde's cheek.

"Don't ever let anyone tell you," Rachel breathes out, her gaze searches hazel ones, "that you aren't perfect. To quote Criminal Minds," she continues with a playful laugh, "scars remind us of where we've been but they don't dictate where were going."

She pauses and Quinn can't help but think Rachel looks like an angel in the shine of the moon and stars.

"Besides, I love your battle scars."

Whatever Rachel is looking for in Quinn's eyes, she finds because her lips sneak closer and closer till they brush and its half clumsy and tentative because neither of Rachel isn't sure how Quinn will react and Quinn doesn't know how she will respond.

Exhaling, the blonde's hand latches onto Rachel's mane of hair and presses her closer. She's in high school, she can't help the fairytale dreams, slightly altered, that appears in her mind as they breathe the same air, lock lips and battle a war that neither of them truly want to win.

God stopped listening a long time ago, she thinks faintly. She's already a sinner and an ungrateful rascal to her father, might as well be one to Him as well.

This is perfection and she can't quite recall why it took Quinn so long to find her.

"Hey, Quinn?" Santana stops the girl from leaving.

Quinn raises her eyebrow in silent question.

"Did you lose your phone or something?" she asks. "Your mom called me yesterday, asking about where you were."

The pleasant mood of happiness she has been drifting along on disappears in an instant. The constant fear she use to and still does live in comes back like a freight train. She hides the uneasiness in her eyes in a flash, walls of Castle Quinn falling firmly in place but Santana, oh God, Santana has spent days and nights and hours and years with Quinn.

Santana looks around for a moment before they return to Quinn. "You know I've always got your back, right?" she says in a rush.

The blond slowly nods her head.

"And I know we don't do this emotional shit but…I've got your back."

"Thanks S," Quinn hesitantly responds.

This is why the two of them are friends because although the two of them are also each other's most bitterest rivals and snap at each other without hesitation, when it comes down to it, they always have each other's back.

Quinn stares at her phone. A bunch of text messages – from Rachel, and a dozen more voicemails most likely from her father or mother. She's heard all they have to say already and it'll probably just be more of her mother's curious brand of protection and her father's vibrant anger. Slipping the phone into her pocket she enters the Berry household.

"Rach?" she calls out. The brunette left earlier than her for an appointment earlier.

The scene she stumbles upon is not one she expects but then again she lives in a tiny as hell town, the yellow pages don't go on for forever and she should have known it wouldn't be hard to figure out where she was staying.

"Mom," she nods her head like a robot, cordially, "dad."

"Quinn, honey," Judy immediately leaps from her seat and attempts to wrap her arms around her daughter although Quinn bats her arms away.

"Quinn," Russell greets. There's something simmering underneath his polite demeanour. "We've come to take you home, for the Chastity Ball."

Rachel sits uncomfortable in between her own parents.

"Mr. Fabray, I highly disagree with your course of action," Hiram says.

Russell's eyes flash. "She's my child. I will do with her what I see fit."

Her feet drift closer without her meaning too. She is and will always be a bit of a daddy's girl and her father is always so proud to show her off at the Chastity Ball and there are a million and reasons why she should return to the sick comfort of her parents. She almost accepts but when she looks at Rachel and sees those brown expressive eyes, broken and tired, she knows she can't just become a mindless robot again.

Feeling is the best thing in the world.

"I'm not coming back dad," she says the words but she's looking at Rachel - Rachel who always smiles no matter how bad it rains.

"Quinn."

A warning.

"I'm happy here daddy, don't you want that for me?" she pleads, hopes to see some resemblance to her former father in the terrifying visage of this new monster. Hopes are dashed easily though, the crystal meth of humanity.

Russell stands and so does Leroy, both of them move closer to Quinn, one to defend and one to take.

Quinn's father eyes the tall black man for a moment before he tosses his head over his shoulder and jerks his head. "You will regret this Quinn," he says before he leaves with Judy in tow.

Quinn collapses once they leave and the door closes but she's not afraid of falling apart anymore because arms slide underneath her, arms tuck her closer into a soft, warm body and wisps of dark hair cloud her vision. This person might break her apart but she knows will always put back the pieces better than she ever could.

Rachel tucks her legs underneath her as she watches Puck blow the head off of yet another zombie. Ever since she started dating Quinn, Puck has declared that it was only right that they have bro nights together. Personally, she thinks he's crazy since all he ever does is get drunk with her and play videos and sometimes they occasionally go out to wreck havoc before she returns to the reeling safety of the blonde's arms.

But tonight, there's something on her mind. It's been persistent, ever since Quinn's parents had showed up the other day unannounced and she saw it in Quinn's eyes. Something in there made her heart clench.

"Do you know?" she asks.

"Know what Rach?" he asks while he scrambles to hit buttons on the controller.

She shifts around uneasily. This isn't her story to tell but she's worried and Puck is one of her friends and has known Quinn since diapers.

"Quinn's father use to beat her," she blurts out before she can lose her nerve.

Puck's character on the television screen dies – a little bit like Quinn's innocence. Slowly as the zombies begin to latch onto his character, as the innocence inside her fades from one occasional beating to more and more till the fairytale of daddy being a white knight fades into death.

"What?"

"He, he use to beat her. That's why Quinn is living with me now."

"Why didn't she tell me this?"

"You have to understand that Quinn is deathly afraid of her parents," Rachel replies, wondering if this is a bad idea.

"Yeah and that bastard should be afraid of me," he stands and Rachel scrambles to pull him back.

"Violence isn't the way to solve it, Noah."

Puck looks back at her. She sees in his eyes that he's hurt that Quinn didn't bother to confide him into something that was so life destroying. He wants to do something to make it right.

"I've contemplated calling child services but…Quinn does not agree with me."

"Call child services, it's better than nothing," Puck sighs and pats his head.

"I lose her then."

"Lose the girl but at least you protect her, right?"

Puck manages to tuck himself into the non-existent space between Rachel and Quinn at the lunch tables. He throws his arms around both girls and leers.

"So I see Quinn's finally got a girl," he turns to Quinn. "Good choice by the way. Now, question Jew babe, are you into threesomes?"

No one even pays Puck that much attention as the blonde smacks him in the head and winces, rubbing the spot as if it hurt a lot. Rachel leans past him to hold onto Quinn again.

"Sickeningly sweet, aren't they?" Santana asks.

"I wish you did sweet things like that for me, S," Brittany says pouting.

"Brittany's got someone to compare your horrible girlfriend skills to now," Puck says, laughing.

The Latina glares at him. "We do sweet things all the time."

"In bed?" he finishes, chortling.

"You'll regret this Puck," she promises before turning to ignore him and attempt to make out with Brittany.

"I propose a double date!"

Eyes turn to look at Rachel. Quinn has to admit it sounds like a good idea except Santana and Rachel still don't get along without reprimanding from mostly Brittany. Still, it's her girlfriend so she has to agree with the idea.

"Woe is me, why must everyone exclude the Puckersaurus?" Puck asks.

"We're allergic to penis," Brittany replies with a smile.

It's just a bunch of them from Glee club going bowling that night. There's Kurt, dressed impeccably as always in designer wear and he's gossip mongering with Mercedes while they wait for their turn. Brittany and Santana are once again making out and Puck is nearby, still trying to proposition for a threesome. Mike is playing Dance Dance Revolution in the arcade and Artie and Tina are watching with the crowd of other people he attracts like moths when he dances. Finn is suspiciously absent but that's to be expected. Wounds are still fresh and Quinn, however much of a bitch she is, doesn't want to rub salt in the cuts.

Quinn shoots another glance at Rachel, something she has been doing all throughout the night of bowling fun and pizza and hidden alcohol courtesy of their resident bad boy.

"Spit it out?" Rachel grounds in frustration after Quinn shoots her another look when she returns from throwing the bowling ball down the aisle.

"Go to the dance with me?" the blonde blurts out.

"Did you ever think I wouldn't?" Rachel asks.

Quinn blushes and looks uncertain as she nods.

"I'd tell you pick me up at seven but considering we live under the same roof now…"

"I'll get ready somewhere else," she suggests helpfully.

"Excellent. Well Quinn Fabray, pick me up at seven."

"You're a goof."

"Your goof."

Quinn has to admit it feels good to know Rachel is hers.

Time passes easily when she's having the time of her life. She has Rachel Berry and if someone ever told her that the starlet would be her future lover and most trusted confident, she's crushed them in an instant. But it's nice, Rachel's sweet, funny and the two of them plan the most atrocious and cheesy dates and future and sometimes she's not quite sure if there will be a future or if they'll last beyond high school but it's nice to dream and Rachel is…

Well Rachel is beautiful, breath taking and awe inspiring. Words could never really describe her.

Quinn's stare is fixed at a precise point over the top of the television in the Berry living room. On the outside, she seems fine but on the inside, she isn't. Her fingers are tapping out an insistent rhythm on her phone and Rachel keeps shooting her glances, a concerned look on her face even though nothing has been said.

"Are you going?" Rachel asks hesitantly. Emotions aren't necessarily playing across the blonde's face but the other girl has tells.

"Soon," Quinn replies distractedly. There's a couple hours left before their junior prom and there are so many worries on her mind, she just wants to freeze time so she can have a second to breathe.

Quinn flips open her phone, mind falling on a decision, dialing a familiar number.

"San?" she says into the mobile device.

"What's up, Q?"

"I need your help with something," her gaze slides over to Rachel, only slightly surprised that Santana didn't snap at her when she picked up the phone. "Call Puck and meet me at the Berry's."

"Quinn?"

The rarity of her full name being used snaps her to attention.

"Mm?"

"What are you doing?"

Quinn shrugs before she realizes that Santana can't see the action, "I don't know, S. I don't know."

It's silent for a beat before Santana responds, "I'll be there in ten."

Thankful she has friends like Santana, a brief smile lights up her face but disappears again as her gaze lands on the brunette who's studious again and scribbling away at homework. As if the brunette can feel her stare, she looks up and smiles that heart wrenching, heart warming smile at Quinn. The smile that disappeared returns.

"Are you going now?"

"In a few, Santana should be here soon."

Rachel writes down another answer before she stands up and walks closer to where Quinn is sitting.

"You're about to do something, aren't you?" She can see it in Quinn's eyes.

Quinn nods slowly. No reason to lie.

"Be safe," Rachel whispers as a car honks outside.

Rachel can't shake the feeling that the blonde is walking off to a war, her own personal war, as she leaves. Sometimes Rachel wonders if Quinn will come back. If Quinn will survive the aftermath at all.

Puck greets Quinn just outside and oddly enough, opens up the backdoor for her before going to sit down with a somber expression. Santana rolls her eyes (typical) but Brittany squeals in excitement and sort of half turns to try and launch herself at Quinn to get the other girl a hug. The seats get in the way though so it's awkward.

"I thought I only told you to bring Puck?" Quinn asks. She has nothing against Brittany but the other blonde isn't someone she would want by her side during a fight.

"B wanted to come," Santana shrugs as she pulls out of the drive way.

"What's the down low, Quinn?" Puck asks from the seat beside her.

Quinn swallows and tries to gather the courage to spill the truth to her friends.

"I want to go talk to my dad about some things and in case the discussion gets out of hand, I want you guys to be there."

"What are we going to talk to Mr. Fabray about?" Brittany questions.

Her lips are suddenly dry and she has lick her lips a few times to choke out the words, "I use to be abused by my father."

Santana grips the wheel harder, Puck, remains silent. Brittany is the one with the more visible reaction as she shrinks into her seat.

Quinn tries not to meet their eyes.

"I don't like to see my girl hurt," Puck grunts out. "Your father has never cared. Are you sure you want to do this, Quinn?"

Puck is McKinley's resident bad boy, a player, but underneath all the false bravo and dominant alpha male behavior, is her friend. Her heart warms to hear that she's still his girl even though she isn't, nor will she ever be. But this is her family. A rag-tag team of kids who chose each other back on the playground before they knew how much they would mean to each other.

Confronting her demons. She can hear Rachel's voice in her head.

"Yes. I need to get over this and thinking that it's my fault and that if only I was just a little bit better -"

"But Quinn, you're perfect," Brittany interjects in a funny tone.

Perfectly broken.

"Either way, I," Quinn struggles with the words. It's hard putting herself on display when she's always just pushed them all away. "Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me.

"Always for you," Puck whispers. Half to them, half to himself. A pledge.

Quinn is a quivering mess by the time she sets foot on the Fabray lawn. Perfectly trimmed green grass, white picket fence. Perfection hiding a monster.

She's about to turn around and run away but Puck's hand slides into hers and he squeezes, eyes reassuring and conveying a load of emotions that she comprehends but doesn't want too. Quinn Fabray does not run because she is Quinn Fabray. It helps that she has Puck, Santana and Brittany to keep her moving though.

Right foot. Left foot.

One step. Another step.

Almost there.

And then the door.

The blonde takes in another breath to steal herself before she raises her hand, stalling for a little bit longer.

"We don't have to do this, Quinn," Puck's voice is gruff but there's something else underneath it as well.

Quinn shakes her head. "I need to do this," she looks behind her and says it again because she doesn't think she can ever feel more grateful. There's one person missing though. One person that she's really doing this for. "Thanks for coming guys."

But she hates for that person to see her at her weakest, even though she has.

Santana shrugs nonchalantly, though her eyes say more. "Brittany actually likes your sorry ass still so I guess I had to come to help out."

The blonde manages a laugh and sees the affection in the other girl's eyes before she knocks on the door. They wait apprehensively as the door opens to reveal her father.

"Dad."

A look of surprise crosses his face before Russell schools his expression into something more stoic.

"Quinn," Russell eyes the assembled group behind her warily. "Why did you knock? What happened to your keys?"

Did he never really stop hoping that she would return eventually?

"Can we come in?"

Russell is suspicious but he refuses to lose face and steps back, allowing Quinn to enter and lead the way to the living room. Taking a seat, Puck follows her, throwing an arm around her shoulders protectively. Santana chooses to give up her seat for Brittany and instead lounges behind the chair. Her father takes a seat opposite of them.

"Dad," Quinn begins, unconsciously tugging at the sleeve of her shirt for a moment.

"Quinn," Russell responds in an exasperated voice. He hasn't even heard her speech yet but he doesn't want too. Quinn notes that he never wants to hear her speak, just for her to look pretty and to pick up a good Christian husband.

"You hurt me..."

"Quinn."

A warning.

"Dad, you told me I was nothing and for the longest time, I believed you. Every day, you would come home and you would be so angry with me."

"Quinn!" he snaps.

"Listen to her," Puck growls in response that it stuns Russell into momentary silence.

"You hurt me even though you were support to protect me, dad," she had some sort of plan in her mind when it came to this moment but now she can't remember it. "Why didn't you protect me?"

"I protected you," Russell replies sternly. "From the likes of the people you are associating with now. Letting them brainwash you into thinking that everything we did for you is nothing."

"You hurt me. You and mom."

"We raised you to be a good Christian and look what you've done now. You let that beast of a boy keep his arm around you. Isn't he the one who got you pregnant?"

Puck opens his mouth but Quinn places a placating hand on his knee.

"At least I didn't get an abortion."

"You still had sex before marriage."

"I tried to be a good girl, daddy," Quinn pleads. "Was I never good enough for you?"

The silence is telling.

"I think you're good enough," Puck answers instead.

"I'm tired of living just to be molded into mom for someone else," Quinn continues in the awkward silence that follows Puck's words.

Russell ignores her completely. "Quinn, we can ignore this indiscretion if you come to your senses now."

"I did come to my senses, dad."

She wishes he would too.

"Get out of my house."

"Dad?"

"I don't know who you are."

"Dad..."

"You're not my daughter. Go!"

Quinn expected this but she's still torn between trying a bit longer or just leaving. This is a lost cause and she knows how bad her father's temper can be. Never would she want anyone to get hurt for her while she flounders and searches for something that isn't there.

"Look, Mr. Alcoholic Asshole," Santana interjects for the first time. "I really don't care whether or not you're Quinn's father and how much she loves you for God knows what reason. I'm reporting you to child services. This isn't -"

"San-"

"How dare you!"

"No," Santana stops Quinn. "I'm tired of this bastard threatening you. I'm your friend and I am damn well going to make sure you live to get out of this god forsaken town."

Russell Fabray is seeing red. Here is his daughter, his good daughter, the one he loved and cherished and raised with so much care, associating with a bunch of hooligans and devil spawns that dare to stand up against him. This is not right.

"Get out," Russell stands up to tower over them. "Get out and don't come back."

Santana has a fierce glare on her face. Puck's is grim and Brittany is surprisingly frightened. She knows where her choice should lie. There isn't anything left here for her anymore but blood family means nothing when she's chosen her family years ago.

And she's doing just fine with them.

So she walks, just walks away.

Puck and Santana are tempted to become violent but Brittany drags Santana after Quinn and Puck is smart enough that going to juvie again won't help Quinn. The blonde needs her friends to rally around her now more than ever. With one last dark glare at the despicable man, he storms after them.

He finds Quinn resting against the side of Santana's car, tears streaming down her delicate face. Brittany is holding Quinn tightly while Santana is standing there, looking uncertain and mildly frustrated. Puck can understand. Santana needs someone to beat up.

"The person who gets you is lucky, you know."

Quinn looks up at Puck and tilts her head to the side slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah," Puck can't help but wish for one moment that that someone is him. "Let's get you ready for prom. I'm sure you'll sweep it and take queen home tonight, Finn or no Finn."

Rachel is pacing back and forth while Mercedes, Sam and Puck stare on with amusement in their eyes. Brown eyes skip to look at the numbers ticking by on her phone before returning to stare at the entrance to the parking lot, hoping to see Quinn in one of those cars.

None of them bother to say anything after Sam was treated to a scathing look the first time. For the life of them, they could not figure out why Rachel was pacing back and forth. It's not like Quinn would purposely skip prom although considering Quinn failed to pick Rachel up from her house, it was possible.

Eventually, a black tinted car pulls into the parking lot and pulls to a stop in front of them causing Puck to perk up and Rachel to stare at him questioningly. With a mischievous smile on his face, he heads over to open the car door, sweeping into a bow with a goofy grin.

"Get a hold of yourself, Puckerman," Santana's snappy voice echoes from inside of the car as she steps out, pausing to help Brittany as well.

"Just trying to be a gentlemen," Puck shrugs, watching them wander off a bit before offering his hand to help Quinn get out.

"Thanks," Quinn smiles softly at Puck before tugging her hand out of his grasp and looking for Rachel.

Puck swallows but forces a smile on his face and closes the door in her wake.

The blonde smiles shyly once she stops in front of Rachel, dressed in a baby blue dress. "Sorry I'm late. Santana was being...Santana."

"Well, I do suppose being fashionably late is alright," Rachel agrees amiably.

"You look nice," Sam compliments.

"Thank you," Quinn smiles at Sam. "And you look dashing."

"Shall we?" Sam gestures to the entrance of the school before he offers his arm to Mercedes and they enter.

Quinn arches a brow and Rachel stares after them for a moment before turning to Quinn with this...look on her face that the blonde doesn't immediately get. Rachel holds out her arm to Quinn and the blonde stares at it for a few moments before –

Oh.

"Frankly, I understand if you don't want to proceed into prom on my arm, Quinn – in fact, I'm sure you could persuade Puck to be your gentlemen if you wish," Rachel rambles on nervously.

"It's okay, Rach," Quinn murmurs and links her arm with Rachel.

The smile that Rachel shoots at her warms her heart.

Quinn lets go when they arrive but Rachel turns to her and offers her hand, "May I have this dance?"

She takes a look around, trying to decide if she cares how the student body sees her if she dances with Rachel. Then again, Brittany is off dancing with a girl while Santana fumes and shows off with Karofsky. But it's Brittany, who in their right mind could be mean to that girl?

Still, Rachel is holding her hand out expectantly, the smile on her face fading as the seconds tick by and Rachel almost takes her hand back when Quinn settles her own in the brunette's.

That smile is worth it. Rachel tugs her onto the dance floor.

At the DJ station, Quinn sees Puck look at her questioningly for a moment before turning to bully the DJ into changing the song to a slower one.

"This is nice," Quinn comments, focusing on just Rachel and no one else. Partly because Rachel is gorgeous and partly because she can practically feel their eyes and she doesn't doubt that Jewish stalker of Rachel's is in the crowd somewhere, snapping photos.

"It is," Rachel agrees. "But you will always be more than just a prom queen from Lima, Quinn."

"So are you," Quinn mutters out shyly. "Well, I mean. From Lima. Not prom queen. But - Thank you."

"What for?"

There's so much to thank the little brunette for that all of the emotions suddenly overwhelm her. She can't even begin to coherently put it all into words but she tries. In the end, she's always trying for Rachel.

"Rescuing me."

Quinn's eyes wander for the briefest second, touching on Puck who is smiling flirtatiously at Lauren before eventually shifting to find her best friend and greatest enemy at times dancing with the supposedly reformed Dave Karofsky.

(Santana reforming him is still weirding her out.)

Eventually, her eyes find Brittany in the crowd as well and slowly, but surely, her hazel eyes return to the future star. It's an odd assembly of people that she considers friends, that she considers family but this is the best family she could ever want even if sometimes they wanted to kill each other with their antics but in the forthcoming days, she knows she will need them and she will not push them away. Not again because although she does run and hide behind a stony mask when she's afraid...

They make her feel undeniable safe. She makes her feel warm inside.

"Quinn?" Rachel asks, seeing the distant look in Quinn's eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I'm happy."

For once in her life, she feels safe again.

Originally this was a five chapter story but I've been recently sifting through my stories on and decided to rewrite it, compressing it into one short story about half the length word-wise. The major events that occur throughout YWSH occur in this story as well.