Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the words.

Dave Karofsky had been a jerk since he could walk. He constantly picked on anyone smaller than him, and he was never afraid to demoralize others (not that he knew what the word demoralize meant). Usually, however, he was smart enough to not to pick on the girls. More often than not, he decided whether or not he'd taunt a girl base on her size and reputation. And when it came to Rachel, both her size and reputation were considerably small.

The day in 3rd grade that Rachel was meant to present her item for Show and Tell, she approached the front of the class empty-handed. People snickered and joked that she probably didn't own anything worth showing. Those who sat near enough to a certain blonde were silenced with a kick to the shins. No one could ever figure out who the culprit was, not even when they were all grown. The teacher shushed the class and attempted to ask Rachel about her "situation," pity clearly written across her face.

The small brunette held out one finger, meaning to momentarily halt the teacher's speech. It worked. She faced her peers and spoke. "Today I was going to bring one of my autographed photos of various stars, primarily in the musical genre, but I realized it would be better to preserve it at home, which would prevent your grimy fingers from causing it to be worth significantly less. I—"

The teacher cut her off. "Rachel," she began. She explained that it was for the best that Rachel not present that day because there wasn't much she could do to explain a photo and a signature. Rachel protested, claiming that she was well capable of doing so, but she sat down as the teacher would not have any of it.

Rachel would have thought it stupid if she didn't believe it to be an inane word to use.

Later that day, Rachel was eating next to Tina Cohen-Chang, but no words were exchanged. Still, Rachel was happy to not being sitting alone for once, especially when she caught Quinn across the room with a look of disgust plastered to her face. Ever perceptive, even as a child, Rachel noticed the way the expression faltered before the blonde turned back to her friends.

Once lunch was finished, they were released to recess. Rachel was alone. She most often took to the swings, but they were all taken by the older kids who were unwilling to give them up. So she settled on idly standing by the empty monkey bars, shifting her weight occasionally. It was evident that she may as well have been invisible, if the number of times she was bumped into or stepped on was anything to go by. Not too long into their release to play outside, Dave Karofsky approached her. She averted her gaze to the ground. Maybe if she pretended that he wasn't there, he would ignore her. Maybe he would just step on her like everybody else. Yeah, good plan.

She thought it worked for a while, because she had her eyes glued to the sand and Dave was not interacting with her. "So, why didn't you bring anything today, huh, shrimp?" He pushed at her shoulders a bit.

Shoot. "I explained it at the beginning of class. At least, I tried to. Had our teacher had the respect to allow me finish, you would have opened your eyes just enough to see what unfortunate human beings we live among, hence why I refused t—"

"Shut up, loser," he retorted in the middle of her sentence. With a sneer, he shoved little Rachel to the ground and laughed. Rachel gasped and look up with tears in her eyes, surveying the crowd of people that had not been there when Karofsky had first came over to her. She tried extremely hard to not to cry, but it was difficult.

She ended up losing the battle with her eyes as the tears streamed and she wiped at them roughly with her sandy sleeves. It only made her eyes hurt and water more. She glanced around nervously for someone, anyone, to save her form this. Her eyes landed on a single blonde girl sitting on the jungle gym, legs dangling over the edge. She was not with her stuck-up friends, but she was perched on the plastic platform alone, suspended in the air not too far from Rachel. Quinn stared. Rachel stared back, truly frightened. Did she really not care at all? Was that look Rachel saw in the cafeteria just a fluke? She had no clue anymore.

She turned her attention back to the group of kids in front of her after holding Quinn's gaze for a good minute or so. She still felt Quinn's eyes as they bore a hole in the side of her head. To Rachel's relief, the children had scattered. She pulled her legs in tight, folded underneath herself. The sand hurt her legs and she had sand in her skirt. It felt awful. Rachel self-consciously shifted to look back at Quinn, but the blonde was gone.

The tiny brunette stood and dusted herself off as best as she could before retreating to the bathroom. When she entered, another girl was in there, just sitting in the corner. Rachel shook her head and proceed into the stall; she wasn't about to ask Quinn why she was somberly sitting alone in a dirty bathroom. Rachel did the best she could to empty out all the sand. Quinn's presence was a little unnerving though. She didn't expect Quinn to peek into the stall or anything, but Rachel was horribly embarrassed about what happened only moments ago.

The bell rang, signaling that it was time to line up. Rachel whimpered and sniffled, trying to keep her tears in. She'd never had to zip this skirt up alone before; her dad's always helped her at home, and she never used the school bathrooms because they were filthy. And now the bell had gone off and she could get her skirt to stay on. She bent down onto her knees, and look under the stall door. Quinn's feet were near the sinks and the water was running. She wasn't alone.

"Q-Quinn?" Rachel was hesitant in even speaking to the girl, but she had already lost so much today. What was a little more?

"What?" Quinn's voice was surprisingly normal. She wasn't yelling or spitting the words at her. Her tone was simply casual.

"Can… Okay, I come out of the stall, will you help me? Please, I don't want to be late. I can't get in anymore trouble today."

"Yes."

Rachel faltered for a moment. She had expected Quinn to ask why or what she would be entitled to help with. "Okay," she breathed. She unlocked the plastic door and opened it, clutching the skirt around her hips with one hand.

Quinn eyed her as she opened the door. Rachel wasn't able to tell what Quinn was thinking, not by the look on her face. It was oddly blank. The blonde gestured for Rachel to come closer. She obeyed.

"Turn around." Rachel complied with her instruction. Quinn lifted the back of Rachel's sweater, brushing some sand off the smaller girl's back in the process, and zipped up the skirt. "There."

Rachel stood still and muttered, "Thank you, Quinn."

"You're welcome." Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand and pulled her towards the door. If they didn't hustle, they would be tardy. Quinn dropped Rachel's hand the moment they left the bathroom and took off towards the teachers, leaving Rachel behind.

Luckily, Rachel still made it in time, albeit at her own, non-athletic pace.

In 5th grade, people, began to understand what it meant to be gay. And everyone knew about Rachel's fathers. Everyone knew and their parents knew and they told their children about how disgraceful it was. They believed that God believed it was wrong. Rachel never understood their hate. Everyone is entitled to the right to pursue happiness, so why did they think that didn't apply to her fathers? If God was so against homosexuals, why did he create them? It didn't make sense to Rachel, and Rachel went by her simple logic and understanding.

Quinn hardly spoke to her, but the blonde was always there to pick up the pieces after Rachel was humiliated. It seemed like a coincidence the first few times, but really, how many times can it be coincidence in a matter of two years and counting? Rachel never suggested anything, nor did she ever push for answers. Someone taking the time to help her just a bit was all she could ask for, even if that person was Quinn.

After a particularly nasty case of bullying, Rachel retreated to the restroom like she always did. Once again, Quinn was there. Rachel found no strength to move. It was horrible. They had thrown her down repeatedly, yelled at her for having gay fathers, called her an abomination, said they wished she was never born, kicked sand at her, and took jabs at her. She finally gave up in trying to fight back, taking her position in the sand like usual. The group dispersed about as soon as they had come. Rachel felt dirty, worthless, and defeated. She took a chance and looked up. Quinn's eyes were glued to her and Rachel could do nothing but stare back helplessly. It was devastating and embarrassing, especially the way the sand got into every nook and cranny of her clothing, making it increasingly painful to get out.

Rachel averted her gaze from Quinn but found she was unable to move when that was all she wanted to do. Quinn unfolded her arms and stood. She made her way over to Rachel and wrapped her arms around the small girl, holding the brunette as she cried. Quinn was gentle when Rachel was hurt. She was gentle with her speech and her hands. Small bruises and cuts decorated her body, some with sand ingrained into them. It hurt her just to watch the way Rachel reacted, but Quinn had always been there when Rachel needed her. She just never stepped in. It made her feel like a coward not to do anything to help the girl, but in the end, Rachel would cry in the bathroom and Quinn would let her soak her shirt with her tears. It was a ridiculously pitiful pattern, considering what it sprang from, but Quinn couldn't help it. She was as helpless as Rachel was. To Quinn, something felt right when she was holding Rachel and rubbing her back soothingly. It was strange; however, if anyone else were to hug Rachel and comfort her and wipe her tears, Quinn would cause them bodily harm. It was just a fact.

"I'm stupid. I'm worthless," Rachel sobbed into Quinn's shoulder. After so much bullying, it was only plausible that it stick eventually.

"No. No, you're not, Rachel." The brunette shook her head furiously against Quinn. "Rachel, look at me." The girl refused, pulling away and turning her head to the side. "Rachel." Quinn gripped the brunette's wrist with one hand and her face with another. "I said look at me." The blonde let go carefully when Rachel listened and kept her focus on Quinn. "You are not worthless, no matter what they say. They're stupid. They're worthless. Not you. You're amazing. You're special, Rachel."

"No, I'm not," the brunette choked out, clinging to Quinn in a tight embrace once more.

"Hey," Quinn whispered, lifting Rachel's face to meet her eyes. "You're gonna be a star, Rach. Remember?" She turned the girl around, wrapping one hand around her waist, and made a flourish with her hand. "You're name is going to be in huge, big, bright lights on the tallest building in all of New York City. And you're going to be in the best shows and make loads of money and just be awesome. Okay?"

The gestures and words made Rachel smile and laugh. "Okay. Thank you, Quinn," she murmured as she snuggled up against the blonde again.

"You're welcome." She stroked Rachel's hair absently as she rubbed Rachel's back to calm her down some more.

"Quinn?"

"Hm."

Rachel swallowed and whispered, "Why do you never stop them?"

Quinn froze momentarily, not sure how to explain it to Rachel. "I'll stop them next time, okay?"

Before Rachel could answer, the bell rang, and Quinn shot out of the restroom like a bullet out of its barrel.

What was she supposed to say? That she never did anything because it meant Rachel always came crawling back to her afterwards? Yeah, that would go over well.

Later on in their 5th grade year, Quinn got a boyfriend. His name was Finn, and he was very sweet. He was sort of dim-witted, but he tried to be charming, and he surely meant good in everything he did. He was a gentleman.

Unfortunately for Rachel, Quinn no longer paid her any attention, not even when she was being pushed around and bullied. Rachel cried endlessly the day she had sand in her skirt and no way to zip it up because it was one of the ones that were difficult for her. She consequently missed class and, Quinn, having the same teacher, noticed her absence. And then she realized why Rachel was gone, or why she figured. She had worn one of those skirts that day.

"Shoot," she hissed under her breath, hand going up in blatant disregard of the fact that her teacher was speaking at the time.

"Are you okay, Quinn?" Finn look at her worriedly.

"I'm fine, idiot," she snapped.

The teacher called on Quinn, "Yes? Quinn."

"I'm going to the bathroom." And just like that, she stormed out. No explanations, no questions, nothing but her statement, followed by her exit.

She ran down the halls quickly, not caring that she didn't grab the bathroom pass or sign out. She simply ran as fast as her legs could go, and she burst into the bathroom, crying out, "Rachel!" Quinn knew Rachel would be the only one there, so she banged on the one stall that was closed.

Rachel jumped from the loud noises. She had started to nod off a bit, being left in the bathroom for so long. "Q-Quinn?"

"No, it's Santa Clause! Yes, it's me. Open the door!"

"I—" Rachel looked down at her hands, ashamed that, even as a 5th grader, she still was unable to zip all of her skirts on her own.

"Rachel," Quinn pleaded, her voice sounding almost desperate. "I'm sorry! I—" She furrowed her brow and reminded herself to give Finn a speech about not helping out when Rachel was being bullied. It would be hypocritical, but Quinn didn't know that word and doing that felt safe. "Dang it," she muttered, leaning her forehead against the door. "Rach, I'm sorry. I didn't—" Quinn had no idea how to fix this.

"You weren't there. You weren't there last week when it happened either. You have always been there, but you weren't there, Quinn. I—I needed you. I still need you," she confided, trailing off near the end.

"Rachel, open the door," she pleaded. "Please."

"I can't do… my skirt," Rachel admitted, tears making their way down her cheeks.

"I know, Rach. I know. That's why I—I know, okay? Open up."

Reluctantly, Rachel stood, clenched her skirt in one hand, and opened the door with her free hand. She couldn't meet Quinn's gaze.

"Turn around," Quinn prompted gently, sounding like she had when this whole messed up routine started two years ago.

"You didn't do a very good job of getting the sand off," Quinn noted as she brushed a multitude of it off the girl's body.

"I didn't feel like it."

"Sorry."

"You weren't there. You said you would make it stop, Quinn. You said you would get rid of all my pain. I trusted you."

"I know, and I'm- Don't cry! Aww, no! Don't cry! Rach, Rach, come on. I'm sorry, don't cry. Stop crying, s-stop, Rach…" Quinn tried to wipe at Rachel's tears but only ended up crying herself her own river.

Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn and sobbed endlessly, not sure what to do but content being in Quinn's arms.

In 6th grade, Quinn Fabray learned the "F-word" and realized it had consequences, but it was a trend and she thought it made her seem bad-ass, so she used it now and then.

For a few weeks, everything seemed fine. Quinn and Finn were still together, even though they never went anywhere. They just held hands and sometimes hugged and hang out together, both their groups of friends merging. It wasn't like a real relationship where they went out and did stuff together. Quinn didn't really ask Rachel, nor did the blonde notice it, but it was one more relationship than she had.

Eventually, as both Rachel and Quinn figured was inevitable, the bullying started back up again.

Quinn was there the first time, much to Rachel's relief. Karofsky and some guy named Azimio or something were up to harassing Rachel because they obviously had no life. Quinn figured Finn wouldn't be back for a good twenty minutes, so she stood up for Rachel.

"Hey, jerks," Quinn spit out, shoving herself in front of the boys before they could lay a finger on Rachel. "Why don't you get out of here if you know what's good for you?" She set her hands on her hips, daring them to try something.

Dave was stupid enough to lunge for Rachel. Quinn jumped, but she was recovered enough to shove him out of the way, albeit with trouble because he was still pretty big as a 6th grader. "Really, Karofsky? Get out of here before I kick your ass," she growled, kicking sand in his face. Rachel shifted behind her. Violence against violence sort of frightened Rachel, but she was too afraid of running off, so she stayed behind Quinn obediently.

He scrambled to his feet, but Quinn swung a fist before he could. She hit him in the face pretty hard, enough for him to stumble onto the ground again. "Go, Karofsky! Get the fuck out of here!" Quinn lunged forward to hit him again, but small arms wrapped around her waist, and that was enough to snap her back into reality. She realized what she had said and froze. She hadn't meant to say that, but she did. All the kids scattered quickly; Quinn guessed they were going to rat her out to a teacher for what she said. Karofsky was up and running in no time, and Quinn sighed as soon as everyone was gone. "I shouldn't have said that," she muttered, chastising herself.

"It's not your fault, Quinn."

"Yes, it is." Quinn pulled Rachel by the hand into the bathroom where they would usually meet after Rachel was bullied. Quinn didn't realize that Rachel would have obliged and followed if Quinn had simply asked her to; she didn't need to be dragged. However, it was beginning to sink in that they might not ever meet up there again.

"No, it's not. You kept your promise, and that's what is most important."

"Right." Rachel smiled up at Quinn and the blonde shifted slightly to avoid looking at her. "Look, Rachel. I need to tell you something, okay?"

"Okay."

"I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"This," Quinn said, gesturing to the entire bathroom as well as the two of them.

"Oh," Rachel whispered, clearly defeated. "What if-?" She was referring to her wardrobe malfunctions on days like these but had no real way to voice it confidently.

"I'll still fight for you. I promise." Quinn lifted a hand to cup Rachel's cheek with a smile. "Okay?"

Rachel nodded.

"Come here." Rachel stepped forward as Quinn enveloped her in a tight hug. After a few moments, she let go. "See you around." With a forced smile, Quinn made her way out of the bathroom.

That night, Rachel cried herself to sleep from the blunt force that she had no chance at anything with Quinn.

In 8th grade, after nearly two years of no contact, Quinn approached Rachel in tears. They stood awkwardly in the hallway for a few minutes before Quinn's pride took over as she pulled them into an empty bathroom.

"Finn broke up with me," she sniffled.

"Why?"

"I don't know! Something about Tommy flirting with me, but Mrs. Jamison made us be partners, so it's not like either of us had a choice! He's being so stupid!" Quinn rolled her eyes, wiping at them with the back of her hand.

Rachel wasn't sure why, but she was obviously not as sympathetic for Quinn as she should be. She was actually slightly happy, which was sort of a bad way to feel when one of her favorite people was just broken up with. "I'm sorry," she finally said, not sure if she really was sorry or not. She took one look at Quinn and decided she was not sorry that Quinn was single again for the first time since 5th grade.

"I don't know what to do, Rachel," she choked out, clinging to the brunette in a strange embrace.

Rachel felt a strange twist in her stomach, but she ignored it and held Quinn as she cried, not caring that they would be late for class.

From that day on, Rachel never questioned why she felt relieved whenever Quinn dumped someone or was broken up with. Even when she felt like a pawn that Quinn only used when it was convenient for her.

8th grade year was coming to a close. Rachel was in choir and the school's cheap theatre program. Quinn was on the cheer team, which was fairly average and could place now and then. They were supposed to consider their electives for high school and start filling out the applications and forms.

Rachel and Quinn had each chosen Honors courses, but neither girl was aware. In the two years since Quinn had used the 'f-word' for the first time, the two girls had grown apart. Quinn always managed to find Rachel and drag her around when she was upset, but they weren't on civil speaking terms. Things were strained because Quinn was changing.

Rachel chalked it up to a new attitude so that people would like her in high school. As much as she wanted to believe that, Quinn's now-icy stares and harsh words conveyed anything but. It hurt, more than Rachel could truly understand, but the brunette simply went about her life. She looked up and stared at the ceiling when things became hard to bear, always imagining Quinn would be sitting up on the ledge of the jungle gym again, her silent savior.

Rachel was sure Quinn didn't notice, but she began to wear skirts she knew she could zip up by herself. It was kind of childish; she was in 8th grade now. She should be able to zip herself up just fine. But the scars of her rough childhood ran deep, forever scared of losing Quinn and being unable to go to class should history decide to repeat itself. The strange, quick looks and held stares from Quinn did nothing to help Rachel get over her. She couldn't place whatever the feelings were yet, but she wanted them to go away. Quinn was a jerk to her now. The sooner she smothered the flame the better.

By the time they entered high school, Quinn was quite above Rachel in every way. The brunette was perpetually tiny, while the blonde seemed to have grown still. However, everyone once in a while, the two would be the only ones in the bathroom and pieces of their past slipped into their current situations.

It was their first day as freshmen, and Rachel was a little nervous, if she were being honest, She went to the bathroom to freshen up when she found Quinn reapplying her make-up. It was smudged, almost like she had been crying, expect Quinn Fabray doesn't cry.

"Quinn?" Rachel had asked. "Are you okay? Were you crying?"

"Don't touch me, man-hands," she spit back. "Of course I wasn't crying. I don't cry."

"It's okay to cry. I cry."

"I'm the last person you would need to tell that to," she retorted. "I've seen you cry." Quinn quickly shifted her frown into a pucker, erasing their past from her mind.

"I-I… Right. But it's still alright to cry sometimes." Rachel approached and set a hand on Quinn's shoulder. The blonde froze.

"Rachel," she breathed.

"There's the Quinn I know." Rachel couldn't keep the pain out of her voice, but she hoped Quinn hadn't noticed.

Quinn noticed. "Rach..." The blonde shifted, staring down into Rachel's doe-eyes, chewing her lip thoughtfully. She didn't say anything else, just pulled the smaller girl in for a hug. Rachel returned the embrace, holding on as tight as she could.

"I have to go," Quinn mumbled. She disentangled herself from the brunette and grabbed her bag, making a bolt for the door.

"Don't go," Rachel pleaded, just loud enough for Quinn to catch it. The girl had grabbed a hold of Quinn's wrist. "Please."

Quinn shook her head and pried Rachel's fingers off her skin, skittering out of the bathroom in a hurry.

Rachel crossed her arms and went on with her day, lulled by the dull numb left by Quinn's body against hers.

Halfway through the year, Rachel made her final decision to not join the glee club at the school. Mr. Ryerson was creepy beyond belief, and she didn't want to put herself into that position. Quinn had determined that she would be a cheerleader.

The next year began, and Quinn was positioned as head cheerleader. Mr. Ryerson had been fired early on, and with a new glee club instructor, Rachel felt comfortable trying out of the club.

She hurried to the sign-up sheet and signed her name with ease, plopping a gold star-shaped sticker at the end of her name. Rachel turned away from the sign-up sheet triumphantly, only to have a jock throw a slushie in her face. She blinked, not believing what had happened and partially numb from the ice cold temperature her body was inevitably dropping to. Her eyes stung with tears that she stopped from falling.

She turned around slowly to find numerous students snickering shamelessly. It didn't take long to pick out Quinn from the crowd. Heartbroken and cold, Rachel shuffled to the Nurse's office in hopes of retrieving a change of clothes. The school day hadn't even begun yet, and she was already the laughing stock of the school.

With a heavy heart and an odd-fitting outfit, Rachel stepped carefully towards her first hour with her head down. Maybe if she made herself as small as possible (which really wasn't that hard considering her size), people would pay her no attention. It seemed to work because she made it to her English class slushie-free.

Up on the board was a seating chart, with no particular order or pattern to it. Rachel assumed the teacher had used the randomized seating feature. She scanned it for her name and found it to be right next to Quinn's, who had already located her seat. The brunette swallowed hard and approached what was meant to be her seat. Fear settled in quickly, and the small girl averted her eyes so as not to draw attention to herself, especially any attention from Quinn. Unfortunately, Rachel caught the way the blonde's eyelids fluttered as she bit back a chuckle. The action caused the other girl to fight tears for the second time that day.