Murphy's law is an adage or epigram that is typically stated as: "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong"

Fabray's law (Created by Special Agent Ryan Peterson of the FBI) is almost word for word, it states that: "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong... and it will probably happen to Quinn."

Disclaimer: Own not. Profit not. Sue not.

AN: If you haven't read "Littlewood's Law" you will be confused. You can find that fic here: fanfiction dot net/s/7169934/1/Littlewoods_Law

There were very few times that Ryan Peterson actually hated his job.

For the most part, despite the things he saw and the things he sometimes had to do, he loved working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Just as he'd loved being in the Marines. It was in his blood, it seemed, because the only time he felt right, the only time he felt at home, was in the service of his country.

He'd left Marine Force Recon for a good reason, the only reason he'd ever need: his soul. As much as he loved it, loved everything he stood for in that uniform, he couldn't take the weight of the lives.

So he left and in doing so left a large piece of himself behind. Never the Corps - that would always be with him. A darker part, a large part of who he was and still could be; he'd hung that up along with his uniform.

The FBI was perfect for him. He didn't even consider anything else. Instead of being someone that others might see as a monster he got to catch the real monsters. He may have been a killer before, in the name of duty, but now he got the satisfaction of catching killers on his home turf. It was a new kind of thrill, protecting other citizens of his beloved USA when he could actually see them. He wasn't chasing nameless terrorists in the burning sands of Iraq; he was handcuffing assholes who stole lives on the streets of New York, of Boston, DC - as far out as California and Seattle, Washington.

Ryan had found purpose, which is all any good Marine wants.

Rarely did Ryan ever find cause to hate his job, but on this day, delivering this news, he truly hated what he did. What he had to do, what he was about to do to someone. It hit too close to home and he knew that when they shattered it was going to take everything he had in him to be the strong one.

They needed him to be the strong one.

His hand felt unbelievably heavy as he lifted it and knocked lightly on a ridiculously fancy apartment door.

Normally he would tease the inhabitant for such decadence. Not today.

Rachel Berry appeared as the door opened, a bright smile on her face which immediately faltered when he couldn't bring himself to smile back.

It was like she knew.

He watched her struggle to gulp in a breath, watched her big coffee colored eyes well and overflow with tears. One small hand lifted and clutched tightly at the gold charm at the hollow of her throat - the one Quinn had gotten her for their first anniversary. It was shaped like a star and while he didn't know the story, he had seen Rachel's reaction and knew Quinn had gotten it right.

Whatever it was.

"Rachel," he started and she fell into his arms. He rolled his eyes heavenward, quietly asked God why it was that things like this always happened to them and wrapped the diminutive Broadway diva in his arms.

"Please," Rachel sobbed against his chest, little fists curled into his dress shirt, pulled at his skin. He lifted a palm and cupped the back of her head, astounded when he realized how it fit in his hand. She was just so damn tiny.

"She's not dead, Rachel," he soothed and slowly eased his body forward, herding her back into the apartment without ever letting her go. "There's a situation."

He wasn't supposed to be doing this - it was against all sorts of rules. Very big, ass-in-a-sling for breaking them type rules. But he couldn't not do it, because it was for Q. He'd do anything in the world for his partner. She'd do the same for him.

Ryan looked around Rachel's apartment, a little confused. He hadn't been there often enough to really know the layout. He walked them forward in the direction he thought the living room was in and silently congratulated himself when he found a couch.

Taking Rachel's chin in his hand he pulled it up as carefully as he could, forced her teary eyes to look at him. He hadn't braced himself enough to be ready for those damn eyes of hers, and his chest constricted painfully at the sight. He knew then that she'd earned every one of the awards she'd won.

"She's not dead," he repeated firmly and tried not to crumble when her chin trembled against his hand. "She's not. Sit down for me, okay?"

She collapsed, like her legs had given out and stared up at him.

He knelt, towering just a little less over her now and took both of her hands in one of his.

They both fit.

"Rachel, there's a situation and Quinn's involved. I can't tell you a lot, alright? I'm already doing too much right now." He searched her face, gently wiped tears off her heated cheeks. "Q had court today, did she tell you that?"

Rachel nodded.

"I don't know all the details either. I do know that there's a hostage situation and that Quinn is involved. I don't know how many assailants there are, I don't know how it happened or what their demands are. Quinn is being held hostage in a courtroom, that's what I have."

That lower lip started trembling again and he couldn't survive seeing that again so he cupped her face and put his thumb against her lips. "Rachel, I don't know what her status is, and I'm sorry that I can't tell you more. Quinn will either beat me for telling you all of this and worrying you or she'll thank me."

She cut him off, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Ryan sighed and held her, let her cry into his shoulder, closed his own eyes and rocked her.

Eventually she stilled and then pulled back, but not all the way. He was surprised but didn't say anything, just brushed her dark hair away from her sticky face and tried to smile. Even a little.

"I want to go with you," she said.

He shook his head immediately and tried to untangle her from his neck. She held fast and grabbed his face with both her hands.

"Ryan I know you're going there, you can't stay away any more than I can. Take me with you."

He groaned and succeeded in getting away from her, "Rachel, I can't. It doesn't work that way. You know I can't do that."

She stood up and moved right into his space, all five foot two inches of her right up against his six foot two frame. She poked a dainty finger right into his chest and glared up at him. "You love her too, I know that. You're going there and you're going to take me with you because you know exactly what it will be like for me if you leave me here."

Unable to keep himself from it he barked a laugh and scrubbed his hands over his face. His best friend's girlfriend set her jaw, daring him to argue, even as her fingers gripped his suit jacket pleadingly.

"You do exactly as I say without question once we get in the car, you understand me?"

"Yes," she hugged him again, arms around his waist, face pressed into his stomach. He shook his head in disbelief.

In the back of his mind a smug voice whispered, 'Like you didn't know this would happen the second you got the phone call'.

"Go get a coat, it's cold outside."

They left the apartment together, Rachel's hand curled around his thumb. Ryan prayed quietly that for once in her life Quinn was staying quiet.

"Wade," Quinn spoke slowly, carefully thinking out her words, and lifted her bloody hands. "Hey, calm down, alright? Everything will be fine if everyone stays calm."

The young man in front of her, Jeremy Wade, laughed nervously and scrubbed his free hand against his eyes. In his other hand he held tightly to his stolen pistol. He was sweating heavily, jerking when he moved, and his hands were shaking so hard she wondered if he'd have the strength to pull the trigger again.

Not that she was planning on testing that theory any time soon.

"No, nope, no way, you know what, how about you shut up. Shut the fuck up. I'm in charge now, me, so you can just stop talking." He sneered and waved the pistol around to point at her chest. Crazy blue eyes flickered all about the room, checking windows, the doors, before landing back on Quinn. She straightened just a little bit more and kept her eyes trained on his.

"Yeah, you're in charge," she soothed and risked a glance at the shaking muzzle aimed haphazardly at her heart. Out of the corner of her eye she also checked on the other hostages. The defense attorney, Dallas Something-or-Other, he was closest. He was on the floor, under the table, biting his fist. Quinn smothered a sigh and smiled reassuringly at Wade. "You're in complete control, Jeremy."

"Shut up! Don't call me that!" He snapped and lifted the weapon to her face. "You were going to lock me up, you frigid little bitch. I should just blow your pretty little face off, is what I should do? Maybe that would finally shut you up." He grinned at her and set the muzzle against her forehead, brought his face in close. She struggled to keep from cringing away when he bent in close and sniffed her hair. "How 'bout that?"

He licked the side of her face.

Quinn closed her eyes, breathing hard, pushed aside her anger bubbling in her stomach at his words and her revulsion at the saliva drying on her face. "You do that and they'll kill you for sure. You know that, you're a smart kid. So come on, let's think this through. You don't need to hurt anyone else to get what you want." When she opened her eyes she could just see the court reporter over Wade's shoulder, inching her way towards the dead officer's pistol. "Be smart Wade, think it through with me."

"I'm so sick of your bullshit," he snarled.

Out in the main lobby Rachel stood at Ryan's side, cuddled up in Quinn's Georgetown sweatshirt.

She wasn't really sure what was going on, other than the fact that Quinn was still inside. She chewed on her finger and stared at the elevator doors, wanting to laugh for some reason she didn't quite understand. She also wanted to cry until she physically couldn't anymore.

Quinn was in there, of course, because where trouble was God knew Quinn wouldn't be far behind.

Rachel closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to hold herself together.

There's a situation.

Ryan's words. They bounced around her head and refused to be ignored. She'd known the second he showed up at her door looking the way he did that something was horribly wrong. It was a constant nightmare she had: someone showing up at her door with a badge and a gun to tell her that Quinn's heroics had finally gotten her killed.

She loved Quinn for who she was, for what she did. Quinn would always be that person, the one to jump in front of bullets, the one who'd race inside a burning building to save that last person. It was just Quinn.

The 'what-ifs' were a constant plague on her life. They taunted her from safely inside her own head, the one place she couldn't escape from. Every time Quinn left in the middle of the night or came home with a new set of bruises and cuts - it was never ending. Rachel could honestly say she fully understood why Quinn had such a hard time keeping a stable relationship before her. It was hard. Not knowing when she'd come home, if she'd come home, what the damage would be this time. It was never just physical with her either; Rachel had watched Quinn down whiskey and stare at the television with the faraway look of someone who's seen too much. She'd never forget the time Quinn had come home early for once, barely spoken a word but grabbed her and held her for what seemed forever. Even when she'd finally let her go she'd spent another long silent moment doing nothing but touching her face, her hair, her neck. It was one of the strangest, most tender, moments they'd ever had together - and Rachel had no idea what had caused it. The sheer weight of the emotions behind Quinn's eyes had nearly toppled her.

Now here they were again, but this time she got to be involved and while it was scary, she felt like she could understand Quinn better now.

Closing her eyes Rachel burrowed a little deeper into Ryan's side, inhaling his faint cologne and feeling the safety of his arm around her. No matter where her thoughts went she couldn't seem to stay away from one in particular.

What if she's dead?

They had no way of knowing. All she could do was keep telling herself that it was just fear, that Quinn was fine - because Quinn was always fine.

Except when she was lying on the floor of a godforsaken karaoke bar, bleeding out after being shot. Rachel could still see her like that, eyes wide and staring into hers, her blood seeping through her fingers.

Her eyes popped open as she tried to escape the frightening memory. Ryan shifted against her and then his blue eyes were close to level with hers, searching her face worriedly.

"Hey, you okay Tadpole?"

"I - memories," She admitted and saw him set his jaw, clearly remembering the same thing.

"She's going to be okay, Rachel," he said softly and pulled her tightly into his side. His large hand slid up and down her arm, working heat back into her. "She'll be alright, you'll see."

Rachel covered her mouth and nodded, fighting back the urge to sob into his side. As it was she was already crying again, silent tears that slipped down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. She looked up and saw Ryan studying her. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say to her.

She wondered if that was covered in the FBI Hostage Situation field manual - how to calm distraught loved ones.

"Rach -"

The sound of gunfire interrupted him.

Quinn stood stunned, blood splatter warm and sticky all over her face and staining the white of her shirt.

Jeremy Wade swayed before her, open-mouthed and as shocked as she was, staring at the gaping holes in his chest. He choked, dropped the pistol on the floor with a startling clatter and reached up to touch one of the wounds. Finally he looked up at Quinn, his disbelief morphed into a smile.

The dying man barked out a laugh and spit a mouthful of blood at her before his eyes rolled over white and he dropped to the floor.

She couldn't move, couldn't believe that she was still alive.

Behind Wade's feebly shifting body was the tiny court reporter, no bigger than Rachel, still holding out the pistol and shaking all over.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Quinn hadn't joined the dead man on the floor. She couldn't get over it. The bullets had passed through his body, creating the gory, shredded, holes in the front of his body - but they had missed her and slammed into the window and wall behind her.

Pure fucking luck.

Dallas finally decided to be a man, his movement drew Quinn's focus, he stepped over the body and took the pistol away from the quivering woman. She threw her arms around him and started to sob in earnest.

Quinn stayed where she was, staring at the dead twenty-one year old on trial for drug trafficking, and wondered when the world had gotten so fucked up. Swallowing back the bile threatening in her throat she turned to the wide-eyed faces of her fellow hostages and conjured up the last bit of strength she had.

"Everyone stay calm, it's all over."

Ryan clutched Rachel tightly, both for her sake and for his own. She had both hands clamped over her mouth but he could still hear the slight keening noises she was making in the wake of the gunfire.

He kept thinking about Rachel's 'biggest fan' and a dying Quinn lying in her diva's arms struggling to tell her that she loved her.

It seemed like everyone was holding their breath as the painful silence stretched. Every single person in the courtroom lobby was staring at the elevator, they all inhaled in unison as the lights blinked - indicating movement. Ryan moved Rachel easily, she didn't even protest, to stand behind him as other officers rushed forward, weapons trained and ready.

The doors opened with a merry ding! and Ryan would have screamed in outrage at the mocking sound had he been able to - but the moment those doors opened he forgot how to breathe.

Quinn stood in the elevator, her shoulders slumped, staring at the floor. She was so pale, even for her; it made the blood smeared across her features stand out in stark contrast. But she was alive.

Alive.

She looked up then and behind him he felt Rachel stiffen, looked down at her and saw the brunette still had her hands covering her mouth. He reached down for her, pulled her back around in front of him, but she backed up into his body and he heard her sob. Dumbfounded he wrapped his arms around her again, let her quake against him as she muffled everything with her palms.

Tears landed on his hands.

He watched Quinn wearily show her badge to the officers crowding around her, heard her speaking lowly to them. Her sad hazel eyes never once left the small woman trembling against him.

Rachel sucked in a huge breath, jerked out of his arms and bolted forward.

Quinn met her halfway with open arms, caught her as the diva all but tackled her and clutched her fiercely. Ryan felt like he was intruding on something intensely personal but he couldn't look away, it almost burned him to watch them together but he wanted to see it.

Rachel was sobbing openly into his partner's neck, bunching her bloodstained shirt in tiny fists. Quinn smoothed her girlfriends long raven colored hair, had her lips against the smaller woman's ear. They shook together but stood strong, an island in the sea of chaos around them, as other hostages came down in the elevators.

He could just hear Quinn over the dull cacophony of other voices and sounds in the lobby.

"Rachel, it's okay," she was saying, her voice clogged with obvious tears. It almost undid him to hear that. Quinn so rarely cried, and never in public. "It's okay sweetheart, I'm okay."

Rachel pulled away and Quinn kissed her, and this time Ryan did look away - trying to give them at least some privacy. Even if it was only from one set of eyes.

"It's alright," he heard her say again. "I'm here."

They were tangled together again, so close that he was certain that Rachel had somehow found a way to meld herself with Quinn. His partner didn't seem to notice or care that there were other people around. She was rocking them back and forth, back and forth, like they were the only two in the universe.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward, towards the little island of Fabray-Berry and reached to touch Quinn's shoulder.

"Q," he said softly and wasn't the least bit ashamed of the gravel in his voice. She closed her eyes and nodded, her head rubbing against Rachel's hair with the motion.

"Rachel, I have to give my statement," she whispered, "It could be awhile."

"I'm not going anywhere," Rachel said firmly.

His partner smiled up at him, eyes watery and smile lopsided.

"Okay, let's go."

Together they turned, Rachel's hand securely tangled in Quinn's, and headed towards the flash of camera lights and patrol cars.

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck and watched them go, took in a deep breath and held it for a second before he expelled it and all the tension he'd been holding since he got the phone call.

The only thing he could hope was that someday he could love someone the same way.

END