Wham!

Rachel landed hard on the ground atop the dirt and cigarette butts under the bleachers. She hadn't seen the hit coming, but as Mack, Ronnie, and Sheila towered over her she wondered how she could have expected anything less than violence.

Still, she was slightly surprised they were already resorting to it.

"What was that for!" Rachel demanded, still defiant and feisty even in her vulnerable position.

"What the FUCK did you do, Berry?" Mack snarled.

"Do?"

"Fabray's dad, he got arrested," Sheila said.

"And she woulda never told anybody. Gotta figure it was someone else. Gotta figure it was you," Ronnie concluded.

Rachel froze. They didn't seem at all shocked. The undercurrent of fear that had been coursing through Rachel evaporated as blind fury replaced it. "Did you know? Did you KNOW and do NOTHING?" Rachel demanded, rolling onto her knees and shooting to her feet to meet the three Skanks head on. How could they not be floored, absolutely blindsided by this?!

The Skanks were all startled by Rachel's sudden anger. None of them backed down but Rachel saw Ronnie and Sheila exchange a look behind Mack. Rachel was too furious to be mad. The very idea that someone had known what Quinn was going through filled her with a fire like nothing else.

"Fuck off," Mack snapped. "Of course we didn't know. You think she would have told us?"

"Then WHY are you not confused, horrified? Why are you MAD at me for telling the police that her father RAPED her!" Rachel screamed back.

Mack shoved Rachel this time instead of the fist that had come at her before, but Rachel managed to keep her feet under her and she bent her torso enough to headbutt Mack in the chest in retaliation. Rachel was not a violent person by nature, far from it, she had never been in a physical fight in her entire life, but this was Quinn, this was about Quinn, and all she could seem to muster was violence.

Mack stepped back, eyes wide in complete shock. When Ronnie and Sheila moved to rush Rachel she held up a hand, stopping them. Mack glared down at Rachel, who was panting, her eyes narrowed and her breath coming in pants of anger and adrenaline.

"… because there's always been somethin' wrong," Mack explained. "Always. We've known it was bad. But Quinn came here to get away from it all, and we don't ask."

"So you knew something was happening, something awful, and you did nothing," Rachel clarified, not sure if that made her hate them more or less. Not even asking for years.

"Shit goes down, Berry," Sheila said. "Maybe you don't get that. We don't got the loving parents, the pretty house, the voice you got. Some of us have seen things you can't even imagine. We aren't gonna judge Quinn for comin' down to our neck of the woods to hide. What do you think we're doing."

Rachel's anger ebbed as she looked between the three girls. She remembered suddenly, alarmingly, that Mack had been sexually assaulted in the hallways of McKinley High. What had she said, that day with Sue and Rigby? "Don't be where you shouldn't." How many times, Rachel wondered, had Mack "been where she shouldn't?". How many things had they seen? What went on behind closed doors in Lima, Ohio? What went on behind closed doors… everywhere?

The Skanks were hiding from the world down here because that's what they knew how to do.

"I apologize," Rachel said slowly, keeping her eyes on them for signs of more shoves. "I wasn't being fair. But you can't be mad at me for telling. You can't. She needed my help and I gave it to her."

"Yeah, trying to get into her pants," Mack shot.

"No," Rachel said firmly, then more softly, "…no. I have a crush on Quinn, it's true. This might have ruined any sort of relationship I had with her, including friendship. She may never forgive me."

"See-"

"But that's okay," Rachel interrupted, firm again. "I would do it again, knowing that. I want her to be safe. I don't care…" Rachel trailed off. That was a lie, so she tried again. "No, sorry. Of course I care. I care a great deal that I might have lost her. That doesn't mean I wouldn't do it again, because I care more about her than about being her friend. She was in danger. He hurt her, not just the assault. She had a black eye. She had a mild concussion. What could he have done if there had been a "next time"? Broken her arm? Her ribs? She could have died in that house. I would never have left her there, never, and you can beat me up and say that I gave away her secrets and I'll still know what I did was right, was right by her."

Mack, Ronnie, and Sheila all stared as Rachel sighed and sat down on the couch, suddenly bone tired all over again. "I came here to ask for your help. I hope you will give it, for Quinn's sake. I don't care how you feel about me and that's the truth. Think whatever you'd like. For Quinn, I hope you'll put that aside until you hear out what I have to say."

Mack crossed her arms. For a few moments there was silence.

"Spit it out, Berry," Mack said.

Rachel looked up from her hands. The Skanks had moved to form a loose ring around where she sat, but it wasn't threatening. There was enough space that she could stand and move between them. Clearly intentional. Rachel nodded sharply and started her spiel. "The glee club is starting a patrol to keep the rumors and misinformation in check. We need all the allies we can get. We want to protect Quinn's reputation as best we can, not let people slander her all over the school."

Mack snorted. "Yeah? Good luck."

"I know it's a long shot," Rachel said. "I don't care. I'm going to try. Quinn deserves people on her side in this. Glee club is heading the charge. The Cheerios have a gag order. We've got feet on the ground in the football ranks and most clubs. We have a good grasp of the general school population. Not the loners. Not the "other". We could use your help, there."

"And, what, you want us to beat them up if we hear them talking about Quinn?" Ronnie asked.

"No. Not immediately, anyway. I suppose if they refused to stop…" Rachel trailed off. She was considering having people beaten up? Well, for Quinn it seemed worth it. "Just… talk to them. Set them straight. Tell them they don't have the whole story, or that it's none of their business, or whatever you can think to tell them that will get them to lay off."

"Most of us are gonna believe her."

Rachel's eyes widened. "…you think?"

Mack shrugged, then nodded. "I knew the moment I heard about it it was true. So did Ronnie and Sheil. Outsiders like us are more likely to believe the underdogs. Like we said. We see the underbelly. It ain't always pretty. A dad raping his daughter? What part of that sounds implausible?"

Rachel swallowed thickly, horrified. She had believed Quinn the moment she'd heard, and she would have believed her even without the way she had looked and the physical evidence. But the idea itself had seemed unreal, and if she had heard it about a stranger she wasn't sure she'd be able to believe it so readily. She felt guilt for not believing the girl in this imagined scenario, even if she had done no such thing. She felt guilt for not believing any girl, anywhere, who tried to ask for help.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"…nothing. This mission should be easier than she had anticipated."

"Guess so." Mack pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. "Is that all you wanted?"

"Yes. Thank you for your willingness to help."

"You don't gotta thank us," Sheila said.

"Quinn is one of ours," Ronnie added.

Rachel nodded and stood to leave.

"Rachel."

Rachel turned to Mack. The girl's dark eyes were heavy with something like sorrow. "There will be plenty of others won't believe her. It's going to be a losing battle."

Rachel's heart went out to Mack in a way she never could have anticipated. She set her jaw. "I'll fight it all the same."

.

Quinn was awake when Rachel, Brittany, and Santana left for school. She listened to the muffled noises of the three getting ready, the pounding on the stairs as they went down, and, eventually, the sound of the front door shutting behind them as they left. After she was sure they'd left she went back to sleep for three more hours. She had slept fitfully the night before, hyper aware of the three girls in the room down the hall even as she tried to sleep. Now that they were gone, sleep came easier.

She was awoken by a knock on the door at 11:30 and a voice (alarmingly male but not her father's, sending her into momentary panic before the tenor had registered as unfamiliar) called through the door, "Quinn, the police escort is going to be here in half an hour to take you to get your things."

Quinn stared at the ceiling and did not reply. She heard quiet footfalls as the voice retreated and wondered if it was Hiram or Leroy. She couldn't remember their voices, but she remembered which was which. At least she wouldn't be rude calling one of them by the wrong name.

She hadn't remembered that she was going to her house to grab some things. Someone at some point must have told her, but perhaps it had been when she was dead and she hadn't retained it. She'd been given some sweats and a t-shirt at the hospital but she'd been wearing the same thing since Saturday and she was sure she smelled awful, though that seemed fairly low on the scale of things to care about. She didn't feel like inconveniencing a police escort, though, so she rolled out of bed and worked on making herself presentable. She rummaged through the guest bedroom dresser to see if she could find any other clothing. She managed to find another t-shirt but no pants or skirt that fit so she had to go with the sweats again. She brushed her hair and ran mouthwash over her teeth and tongue instead of brushing her teeth. She found a spare pair of socks and put them on before putting her shoes on and leaving the room.

The Berry father that had stayed with her was Hiram, the bespectacled one. Some unkind Jewish slurs flitted across Quinn's mind's eye before she squashed them and said, "Hello," in what she hoped was a calm and polite voice.

Hiram seemed surprised to see her but he tried to cover it with a smile.

"Nice to see you up and about! The officers should be here any minute. I was prepared to reschedule but I'm happy you were able to come down."

Quinn smiled wanly at Hiram, her capacity for small talk already feeling like it was spent with just the one word of greeting. Russell would be ashamed.

"Would you like something to eat? I don't think we have time to whip anything up, but we have some granola or some kale chips."

"Granola, please," Quinn said. She'd been prepared to reject the food but her stomach had growled at the mention of kale chips of all things, so clearly it was time to eat. She hadn't eaten since the hospital.

Hiram pulled out a bag of granola and Quinn ate delicately at the kitchen island, pretending that she wasn't keeping an eye on Hiram as he pretended he wasn't keeping an eye on her. He wasn't talking, which was interesting, because if Quinn remembered correctly he was the chattier of the Berry dads. Rachel had once made a comment that she didn't know which of her fathers was her biological dad, but Rachel must have been joking because this man was clearly her bio father. She looked like him and the chatterbox thing had to be genetic. Still, he was being quiet now, and Rachel could be quiet when she tried.

"Are you coming with me?" Quinn asked quietly after swallowing a mouthful of granola.

Hiram looked surprised by the question. "If you'd like me to, of course," Hiram said.

Quinn considered. She didn't like Hiram Berry or anything but at least she knew him, sort of, and she didn't know any of the cops, even the ones who had interviewed her. She'd been too far gone. A familiar face when she went back into that house… "I think I'd like that."

"Then I will," Hiram said. He smiled sheepishly before saying, "I would have offered and if you had said no I would have insisted that the officer with you take my number in case there was an emergency. Rachel gets her neuroses from me, I'm afraid."

The mention of Rachel left a bad taste in Quinn's mouth but she tried not to show it as she took another handful of granola and hummed acknowledgement of what he had said. She almost regretted inviting him now that she knew he would have been weird about it if she'd said no, but the offer was extended now and she wasn't going to take it back. Besides, in the end she was sure she'd be glad he came and she didn't have to go alone.

They sat in semi-awkward silence until the bell rang and Hiram jumped up to answer it. Even his movements were Rachel-esque and she watched him with veiled fascination as he dashed off. She got up and followed at a more dignified pace and was in time to see Hiram open the door and give a warm, "Hello, welcome!" to the officers on the other side of the front door.

Quinn didn't recognize either officer, though she hadn't expected to, and she gave both of them a cool smile as she went to join them. She knew she looked a wreck (dirty, disgusting, just like a woman) but she was present enough to offer expected courtesy to her elders and murmur a polite, "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon Quinn. You're looking better," one of them said, indicating they had met at some point in time. He was a younger officer than his partner, maybe early thirties, and he gave her a smile that one might be able to interpret as kind.

"Thank you," she replied. She wasn't sure if she was expected to say anything else, so she didn't.

"Do you want to get going?" The officer asked.

"Sure."

"I would like to come along as well," Hiram said quickly. "Quinn has asked that I join her."

"That would be alright. Anything to make this as easy as possible for you, Quinn."

Quinn nodded and followed the officers and Hiram out to the police car parked in front. She was glad that the officer didn't attempt to make more conversation because she didn't know his name.

The ride was fast. Quinn's gut started to churn about ten blocks from her house. By the time they pulled up it was in all out revolt. She kept her face neutral but she must have looked green around the gills because Hiram asked if she was feeling sick when she didn't immediately get out of the car. She replied with a quick "I'm okay" before she followed the officers up to her door.

Her house loomed above her, feeling bigger and less friendly than ever before. She wanted to run in the other direction, but this might be the only time she could go and get her things, and there were things she wanted.

But when Quinn went to get her luggage from under the stairs, the officer who had addressed her like he knew her stopped her. "I'm sorry, Quinn, but the court order only covers items from inside your room. Nothing else."

Quinn stared at him, taking this in.

Her books. Her precious books, the ones that she kept in the library rather than in her room because her father thought they made her room look cluttered and like the room of a "spinster". Her friends throughout her childhood that had kept her together, held her up with their bindings and their words, kept her sane in a house of insanity. She wasn't allowed to take even one of them, unless she had forgotten to put one away and it was hiding in her room somewhere.

Quinn swallowed and blinked, trying not to acknowledge the ache, and turned toward the stairs to go to her room. Just another loss in a life full of them.

Her room had been ransacked by police looking for evidence. The bedding had been stripped from her mattress, her closet had been tossed. She heard Hiram say, "What on earth?" behind her and ignored him. This was her life, now. Disarray and disaster.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure how I'm going to carry out my things," she said in a hollow voice.

"The judge said you can fill up two of these with as much as you can," the officer said, pulling out… a jumbo sized garbage bag.

(garbage bag for a garbage girl)

"Thank you," Quinn said. She noticed Hiram frown slightly but turned away from him and began to put clothing into one of the bags.

Miraculously she found her copy of Sense and Sensibility wedged between her bed and her nightstand, the only book in her entire room. She tucked it lovingly under one arm and refused to let it go as she filled her garbage bags with her belongings. Mostly clothing and school supplies. There were no keepsakes, no mementos she wanted, except…

She pulled out her vanity drawer all the way and felt at the very back. Folded and tucked under an unused curling iron was an old photo of her, Brittany, and Santana their eighth grade year. She'd hidden it, banished it from her sight and hadn't looked at it in years, but knowing it was there had been a cherished secret. Quinn tucked the photo, unfolded now, between the pages of her book.

In the end, she did not fill up two whole trash bags.

As always, thank you so much for your continued support and patience as this story plugs along :)