A/N (1) : This story has a number of WARNINGS: It will discuss the following: Transgender issues such as transphobia and gender identity, abuse by peers, and self-hatred and attempted suicide. And remember, Reader: If you hate yourself or have suicidal thoughts, you're a beautiful person. And you should always feel free to be yourself.

A/N (2) : This chapter is short but the following won't be. Or, at least, they shouldn't be. This'll be mainly Faberry, but I might mix in some other things.


Rachel knew something was different as soon as she stepped into school.

There was a sort of commotion, a new whisper rustling its way through the school.

At first she wondered what it was, but she knew as soon as she stepped into class: A new girl, blonde and cute, although pale and with a small scar on her cheek. Her eyes flickered up to Rachel's and fled. So Rachel sat down next to her, murmuring, "Hello."

"If you want any friends at all," said the blonde, "walk away now."

Rachel shook her head, even more determined because of that sentence. "Who needs friends? I'm Rachel."

The blonde looked up at her for a second, lips parted slightly and looking confused, and then her gaze dropped again. "I'm Quinn," she said quietly, and Rachel smiled warmly at her before settling in and getting her caught up on the class.


Quinn hasn't ever known anyone quite like Rachel. The girl was a force of nature, a tiny brunette typhoon. She could fill a space effortlessly, and just as easily fade into the background. And if she wanted to hug you, there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it. Unless you were Quinn, of course. The first time Rachel hugged her, she blushed and asked Rachel not to do that, please, and Rachel acquiesced. Quinn was afraid. Quinn was always afraid.

She had a secret, one that she didn't want to give away.

Rachel had immediately introduced Quinn to the Glee Club ("I don't sing," Quinn had protested. "Doesn't matter," Rachel had shot back with a grin. "You don't have to.") and her boyfriend, Finn. It was barely a disappointment. Quinn was used to not getting what she wanted.

The reception to her in the club was lukewarm, at best. Rachel guided her to a seat next to a Latina and a blonde that were sitting very close, looking at each other with a fond tenderness. They barely noticed Quinn, which was fine by her.

After a minute, everyone stopped noticing her, began focusing on songs and singing. Quinn didn't sing; she hadn't sung for years. They all sounded lovely, though.

She was almost entirely relaxed when a male voice said, "Quinn?"

Quinn turned to face the door, the anxious face of her father. She hopped up and ran over to him, suddenly guilty as she realized she hadn't told them where she'd be. They were probably so worried. "I'm sorry," she muttered as she hugged her dad. "My new friend, Rachel, she dragged me here and I forgot to send a text."

"It's okay, kid." She pulled away as he added, "Are you thinking of joining?"

She would have said no, but she glanced back and saw Rachel's earnest, worried face, and her no turned into a resounding "Maybe, dad." Quinn turned back to him. "Are we going?"

"If you want to. I can come pick you up when this is done, if you want."

Quinn deliberated for only a few seconds. "I think I'll stay, today. To check it out."

By the time she got back to her seat, they had all begun to sing again, and Quinn lost herself in the sound. They practiced and bickered and choreographed until they were done, and then they left. Quinn was about to get up and leave as well, but Rachel stopped her. "I want to hear you sing," she said quietly. "Please?"

And Quinn was helpless.

She didn't really like her voice. She used to sing a lot, but not much anymore, not since puberty. In the auditorium, she confesses that to Rachel.

Rachel just blinked, obviously confused. "Why?" she asked, making her confusion official, placing it out into space.

Quinn coughed quietly and forced the words out: "Can't you tell? Just from looking?"

"Tell what? You look nice."

A thrill ran through her entire body. She can't tell. But Quinn had to tell her; she had to know if she could have an ally. "I'm—I wasn't always Quinn. I used to be a boy." Years ago. She'd transitioned when she was eleven. It was hard, but she'd did it.

It clicked in Rachel's head; Quinn saw it happen. Rachel's eyes widened and she let out a little "Oh." that made Quinn want to run, but she forced herself to stay planted.

She knew what happened when she tried to run.

And fighting would be easier if she was in a single position.

Rachel grabbed her hand and said, "I won't tell anyone."

And Quinn dissolved into tears.