The first time Rachel walked into glee a little stiffly, Quinn Fabray turned to Santana and remarked that the stick must be a little further up Rachel's ass today. They laughed while Brittany curled her lip, either in disapproval or not knowing what Quinn meant. The blonde head cheerleader would come to regret her comment, but not yet. She was too wrapped up in her own life to understand Rachel's daily routines, and too enamored with herself to even care.

Ever since seventh grade, Rachel awakened at 6 a.m. every morning. A quick trip to the bathroom, and then she allowed herself to be enveloped by the harsh rhythm of the elliptical that would help propel her to stardom. Afterwards, she got into the shower, a part of her routine that had remained unchanged until a month ago. Now, she would lean against the tile and hiss when the heated spray hit a particularly tender spot on her skin. But each time she felt the sting, Rachel would smile, because she knew what it meant: that she was loved. And for a teenage girl who for so long had nothing, that meant everything.

Rachel would dry off – carefully – after the shower, then put on her favorite, soft pink robe, letting it slip around her like a hug from a favored grandmother. Usually her dads would be gone by the time she went downstairs to grab a quick breakfast, which she would then carry back upstairs to her bedroom, because it was the next part of her routine that took up the most time, and required the most precision.

The bruises faded quickly, for the most part, but not always. She would survey herself in the mirror, first, taking in which bruises were gone, and which still remained, before lining her makeup products on the edge of her bed. She'd taken to wearing a lot more makeup now. Puck said it's because she's a fox, and he waggled his eyebrows at her appreciatively. Kurt approved, while the rest of the glee club – except Quinn – was just indifferent.

Quinn had stared at her every day for the past month with something in her eyes, something beyond her eyes that Rachel didn't understand.

It was okay though; she didn't need Quinn, had never needed her.

And now she had Dave.

Quinn remembered the first time she saw Karofsky – he is never Dave – be nice to Rachel Berry. She had been at her locker, and turned just in time to see Rachel take a face full of grape slushie. Quinn shoved down the part of herself that felt guilty at Rachel's shocked expression, and allowed her mind to revel in the fact that Rachel Berry plus slushie facials equaled Quinn Fabray back on top of the social pyramid that was William McKinley High School. It had been a year: a year of lost homes, lost boyfriends. Swollen belly, sore breasts, soft kicks and baby weight. Birth that made Quinn swear off sex for the rest of her life, then watching as the product of feeling fat was handed off to her new mother, who would be able to love brown hair and eyes like Puck's.

But summer had been good to Quinn, at least in terms of getting rid of the baby weight, and moving back into her mother's home. It was weird, not having her father there, but Quinn was glad. No more suffocating presence, no more worrying about playing a role that required entirely too much practice. It didn't even feel like her home anymore; sometimes she found herself missing the familiarity of Mercedes' house: the constant smells of something divine cooking, the laughter of Mercedes and her family as they sat around the kitchen table, Sundays at a church where she was the only white girl but no one cared, and where she began to learn what that kind of love actually was.

Not that she applied that love when she started the next school year, though. Outside was one thing; inside William McKinley High School, Quinn was more than happy to play the role set before her. It was the only one she knew, and it only required one costume: red and white, black letters on the front, with a ridiculously short skirt showing off ridiculously gorgeous legs that kept football players hanging on.

So she was… disconcerted could have worked, but in reality Quinn was pissed… when she saw, just after Rachel Berry received her customary baptism by corn syrup, Dave Karofsky bend down and pick up the books that Rachel had dropped in her shock. Quinn knew that Rachel was shocked because before she'd given birth, Quinn had managed to maintain a friendship with Rachel that was at least cordial, if not directly friendly. So naturally Rachel must have assumed that the slushie facials would stay away once the new school year started.

She underestimated Quinn's feelings about the petite diva with the huge voice.

Quinn watched, lips tightened in thinly-veiled anger, as Karofsky had picked up Rachel's books, then arranged them in a neat pile, holding them out to her. Rachel, to her credit, looked at Karofsky suspiciously; he'd been one of her primary tormentors – on Quinn's orders. But Dave actually smiled and said something to Rachel, which made her laugh, and Quinn seethed. How dare he disrupt the routine? She'd have to knock him down a peg later. Then she was given the second surprise of her life (second only to finding out she was pregnant) when Dave offered his arm to Rachel, and she allowed herself to be escorted to her locker to get her clean-up supplies.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Santana said from her position at Quinn's right shoulder.

"How should I know?" Quinn snapped. "I'm not Berry's keeper."

"You sound like you don't like it," Brittany said perceptively, and Quinn had to agree with her.

She didn't like it one bit.

Every morning for the past month, Rachel ate her breakfast while mapping out the most strategic route for covering herself; her makeup collection now rivaled that of a counter at Bloomingdale's. Concealer and blush, lipstick and powder; Rachel never used to wear this much before. Dave liked her in makeup; he said it made her look like his special angel. Plus, well, she needed all of it.

Rachel liked that he took such interest in her looks. He was a little silly, but romantic. He played "Earth Angel" for her once, in his truck when he took her home, and sang along. She'd never tell him that he couldn't sing, though. When he'd asked her out after a week of escorting her to and from classes, she'd been a little wary, but for some reason, Dave had this disarming smile that had made her feel like she was the only one in the room. And after going unnoticed by everyone for so long, Rachel was so glad to finally have someone who made her feel wanted – even if it was Dave Karofsky.

The makeup routine would take thirty minutes before she was satisfied, once again surveying herself in the mirror. Blue and purple fading shades of green and yellow have given way to creamy, tan skin, and she would smile, tracing a tube of pink over her lips. A quick curl of her hair, settling it onto her shoulders the way Dave liked it. She had given up on her sweaters – Dave didn't like them; so she started wearing simple button-up shirts and jeans. She always made sure to pack an extra outfit, and to put her Ziploc of makeup into her little pink rolling case. She was always prepared… for anything. She'd finish it up with her favorite, well-worn shoes, and Rachel Berry was ready to face her day.

On some days, at least one of her dads was still home to take her to school. On most days, Rachel walked. She liked those days, when the weather was good; liked being able to feel the wind in her hair, hear the birds sing, smile and wave at neighbors – who don't even know her name – as she passed by. She loved the freedom.

But no matter how she arrived to school, she always walked in the front door the same way: head held high, chin jutted out in defiance, and a smile on her face. It was the only way she'd get through the day. But now Dave was always waiting for her when she got there, and he made everything better.

Karofsky had never called Rachel his girlfriend, because he'd never really officially asked her, but she knew he loved her. He hugged her every time he saw her, and he always kept his arm around her when they're at school. His kisses were soft and gentle, and he didn't pressure her for sex – which was a little bit surprising to Rachel. But she was grateful for it; after the fiascos with Finn, Puck, and Jesse, she wasn't ready for that.

She loved the way Dave took care of her. She loved the way he started texting her every hour to make sure she was okay. She loved the way he sometimes took her home after school, and that he cared enough to stay with her for a little while before her dads came home. She confessed to herself that even though she doesn't like disobeying her fathers about "no boys" while they're not home, it made her feel good that she has someone to come home with. Someone who cared about her as much as Dave seemed to. She liked it that he emailed her all the time, and would find her on instant messenger late at night "just to check" on her. It was nice to have someone who wanted to sit with her at lunch and walk her to all of her classes.

Dave was sweet in the way that he kept others away from Rachel, because he knew how much they'd hurt her – he'd been one of them, after all, even though he'd never apologized for the role he played in tormenting her. He was really good at making sure that she didn't talk too much, because he said that she doesn't need to let glee and Broadway take up so much of her life, when all she really needed was for them to be together.

And she did need them to be together.

Everyone else had left Rachel. She didn't want Dave to leave, too.

So she didn't mind that walking to class that day hurt a little bit more than normal. It was a reminder, the constant ache of just how much Dave loved her. And so maybe she did suck air through her teeth when she sat down and her back touched the hard plastic of the chair, but at the same time, it made her heart swell.

She noticed Quinn watching her.

"Can I help you?" Rachel asked politely.

Quinn was the queen, she was a commoner; formality was the rule.

"Are you all right?" Quinn was surprised that she even asked the question. "You look like… you're in pain?"

A flicker of something that Quinn couldn't place slid over Rachel's eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. "Of course," Rachel said easily, "I'm fine. Thank you," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Glee proceeded on as normal, with Rachel dominating the conversation and the ideas, and singing along boisterously, as usual, with whatever song Schuester had chosen for the "lesson" that day. But she didn't dance. She didn't get up out of her chair, and even though her voice was soaring and fresh, Rachel never moved an inch.

Quinn briefly wondered why she had even stared at Rachel long enough to notice that.

Dave was waiting for Rachel after glee, standing across the door, against a locker with his arms folded over his chest and a smirk on his face. Quinn got to him first, deciding that a month of this bullshit was enough.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snarled.

"I could ask you the same thing," Rachel said, coming up next to Dave and tucking a small hand into the crook of his arm.

"Stay out of this, RuPaul," Quinn snapped. She fixed her glare on Karofsky. "Have you forgotten who's in charge here?"

Dave snorted. "Shut it, Fabray. Unlike you, I actually care about people."

"Since when?"

"Quinn, I simply cannot stand here and allow you to speak to Dave that way," Rachel began, faltering when Dave shook his head at her. "No, Dave, I'm not going to let her." She turned back to Quinn, not seeing the way the boy's eyes darkened in her direction.

"I'm sorry, Quinn, that you find it so hard to believe that someone actually might show an interest in me, especially since you've made it your mission, throughout my high school experience, to 'show me'" – Dear god, Quinn thought, she even did the air quotes – "that no one gives a damn about me. But Dave does, and you're just going to have to accept that, and move on with your life."

Dave grinned at Quinn, then turned back to Rachel. "Ready to go home, baby?"

Rachel's heart skipped a beat; it was the first time Dave had called her that. "Sure, sweetheart," she agreed, and allowed Dave to grasp her arm with his fingers, propelling her towards the front door. If Dave's fingers were a little tight and his pull a little rough, Rachel didn't say anything. She knew no one would notice anyway.

But she was wrong. Someone noticed, and that someone didn't understand why she felt a little stab of worry, watching the brunette girl disappear into a sea of students.

The first time Dave had hit Rachel, it had been because she'd talked to Finn. She knew that Dave didn't like Finn for several reasons, the most important one being that he was Rachel's ex-boyfriend. She tried to explain to Dave that she'd only talked to him because they had a routine they needed to work on for the next meeting of the glee club, but Dave was angry and his years as a hockey player had given him strength that more than matched his size.

He cried afterward, as the bruise started forming along Rachel's jawline. He said that he was sorry, he just wanted her to know that no one could ever love Rachel the way he did, and that she shouldn't talk to Finn, because all Finn wanted to do was get inside her pants, and then he'd leave Rachel again, just like everyone else had, and did Rachel want that?

No. Rachel definitely did not want that. Her life had just been one long string of being left behind: her fathers were barely present, Finn, Puck, Jesse, then Finn again – they'd all left. And her mother? The donor of her DNA? That had hurt the most; that had been almost visceral, especially since Shelby had given up Rachel in order to adopt Beth, the daughter of Rachel's worst enemy. But Dave was here, even though her jaw hurt something fierce, and he promised that he wouldn't ever leave.

So she wrapped her arms around Dave and soothed him, telling him that it was okay, she understood, and that she loved him so much for looking out for her and keeping her away from the people that would, in the end, only hurt her.

The next day, Dave brought her flowers to school. She hated roses, but it was the first time anyone had ever done anything like that for her, and she had to fight to keep the tears from running down her face, reminding herself that crying would ruin her makeup. And when Finn came up to talk to Rachel, she simply wrapped her hands around Dave's protective arm and told Finn that she was no longer his friend, and to please not talk to her outside of glee. Finn stared after them, befuddled, as they walked away, and he turned around just in time to catch Quinn's eye. She shrugged at him, and he wished that she cared, for once.

Dave started to always bring her something the day after he hit her. Rachel couldn't believe that he was so thoughtful; none of her previous boyfriends ever did anything like that for her. And he did make somewhat of an effort to find out just what she liked, she told her fathers – who don't like Dave for some reason, but Rachel chalked that up to over-protectiveness. He bought Rachel Broadway cds that she already had, she had an entire room full of "I'm sorry, I love you" cards now, and he bought her stuffed animals. She didn't really like stuffed animals after that stupid Lady GaGa performance, but when she innocently told Dave he backhanded her and called her ungrateful, and she had to Google how to cover up a busted lip.

So she accepted all the stuffed animals with a smile, just like she smiled when Dave insisted that she take down all of the glee club pictures in her room. He helped her take them down, even though he'd rather she threw them away, but Rachel said she'll just keep them in the box under her bed. He kissed her then, telling her that he was so proud of her, and that she was his special angel, and once again saying that no one in glee could ever care about her the way he did.

She knew he was right. No one in glee ever gave her a second look.

After the encounter with Dave in the hallway, Quinn resolved to step up the attacks on Rachel. It was less to punish Karofsky than it was to remind Rachel of her place: she'd always be on the bottom of the dumpster pile, and any attempt to rise above that place would have to be met with harsh resistance.

Except… Quinn didn't follow through with it. In fact, she didn't even start it. She didn't call off the slushie attacks, either; after all, she had to make sure there was no pretense of her even caring about manhands. Even if her heart did clench every time she saw the ice and liquid make contact with Rachel's face, which made her scrunch up her face in confusion, and so she forced herself to laugh each time.

If Quinn was being honest with herself, she would have admitted that she was worried about Rachel. There was something… wrong. Santana, of all people, had been the first one to notice.

"Have you seen the way Rachel's been acting?"

Quinn shut her locker door and stared down the Latina with what she hoped was her best "bitch" look, because the question unnerved her. "Of course I haven't," she said. "I don't make it a habit to notice losers."

"Uh-huh," Santana shot her a withering look. "I'm just saying, something's… different."

"I don't care?"

"Quinn," Brittany admonished gently. "Do me a favor."

"What?" Quinn sighed, knowing that when Brittany's lower lip jutted out, everyone in her path was powerless to deny her whatever she wanted.

"Just watch Rachel in glee today, please? I know we don't like Rachel and we've been pretty mean to her." At least Santana had the decency to wince along with Quinn, at this point. "But I really do think something's not right."

"Fine," Quinn sighed again. "But you're paying for my optometry bills when I go blind from looking at her."

"Okay," Brittany chirped happily, and Quinn couldn't help but laugh.

At first things hadn't seemed that different. Rachel was still her obnoxious self, traipsing into the glee room with a confident smile on her face. She greeted everybody in turn, even casting a glance and a small, barely perceptible nod in Quinn's direction. Rachel ignored Finn's lifted hand, and Quinn felt sorry for the boy; he'd been trying to get Rachel to acknowledge him for weeks now, to no avail. Still, Quinn thought she detected a hint of sadness in Rachel's eyes when the other girl saw Finn's hand, but it was gone when Rachel simply turned around and sat in her chair, away from the others.

That was weird, too, Quinn realized. Even though most of the glee club – her included, she thought, not fighting the guilt this time – hadn't ever really cared for Rachel, except maybe after the egging incident (and even then Quinn suspected the only reason they cared was because they hadn't thought of it first), Rachel had always made it a point to sit next to or near at least one glee kid. Now, her chair was slid to the left, at least a foot away from anyone else. Quinn leaned across Brittany and met Santana's eyes, tilting her head towards Rachel. Santana followed her gaze, and years of being Quinn's second in command paid off when she knew exactly what Quinn was thinking, and she nodded.

Then there was the makeup. Rachel hadn't necessarily been… ugly, Quinn conceded. Well, her nose was too big and her clothes were horrific, but… she had a nice smile. Her eyes were really pretty too, and when she was happy they seemed to light up and sparkle. Quinn sat up straighter in her chair, as she tried to remember when she'd started thinking about Rachel's eyes enough to know that they did that. But as she looked at Rachel's eyes that day in glee, she noticed that there was no sparkle. Rachel's makeup was heavy, and it would have been considered garish on almost anyone else, but she seemed to know how to put it on that least, and so, while it was a lot, it looked nice. It just didn't look like Rachel.

Quinn preferred the Rachel with hardly any makeup, just a hint of lip gloss and a natural blush to her cheeks that sometimes stretched all the way up to the tips of her ears.

She tried not to think about why she "preferred" Rachel that way at all.

Her clothes had changed too, and that was the only thing that Quinn could really concede had been for the better. Gone was the hideous argyle and disgusting owl sweaters, replaced by blue jeans and mostly tee-shirts, although sometimes Rachel wore long-sleeved blouses. In fact she was wearing a deep purple long-sleeved shirt today, even though it was seventy degrees outside.

Other than that, glee went about as usual, with Rachel actually standing up while she participated this time, even if she did seem more subdued and stood off a little ways from the others. But she laughed as they all spent the last few minutes joking around, and Quinn was relieved to see a little bit of light return to Rachel's eyes – but not at all relieved to realize that she smiled because of it.

She was rescued from her own thoughts, though, by what happened next.

Rachel actually cracked a joke at some point, and though Quinn was so lost inside herself she didn't hear what it was, she was jerked back to reality by the loud laughter of the friends around her. Mercedes smiled and said something sarcastic to Rachel, and swatted the girl's arm with the back of her hand.

Rachel cried out and backed up so hastily against the wall she thumped against it, causing her to cry out yet again. The club fell silent and turned to her. Rachel was wide-eyed, breathing heavily, and looked… positively terrified.

"Rachel?" Mercedes said, and took a step forward. "What-?"

"Don't!" Rachel said sharply. "Don't, please don't…"

"Rachel, what the hell?" Kurt said. "You act like we're going to beat you or something."

Rachel just took another look at them, and spun out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Brittany looked at Santana, who looked at Quinn, who looked down at Rachel's purse and books, still on the floor by her chair.

"Should we go after her?" Puck said.

He was met by a series of "I'm not going," and Quinn found herself huffing.

"I'll go," she said, and glared at the others, who stared at her in disbelief. "What? She… she left her books." She gestured weakly, then picked them up.

"You don't even know where she went," Finn pointed out.

Quinn rolled her eyes. She knew Rachel was in the bathroom. That's where she always went, after… Quinn wouldn't let herself think about that. Not right now.

She made her way to the abandoned bathroom and cautiously opened the door, tucking her head around the gap and peering in, unsure of what she would find. She laughed at herself a little, feeling like a girl in a horror movie about to get slashed to death. Quinn sobered though, when she saw Rachel, hands gripping the middle sink and shaking.

"Rachel?"

She jumped and whirled around, taking a deep breath and clenching her fists to steady them, upon seeing Quinn.

"You left your books and your purse," Quinn said awkwardly, holding them out.

Rachel sniffed and then drew herself up to her full height – which wasn't saying much. Her chin lifted and she nodded, accepting her purse and books.

"Thank you, Quinn."

"Rachel," Quinn took a step forward, nervously twining a golden blonde ponytail around her finger. "What happened back—"

"Nothing," Rachel said, a little too loudly, wincing as it reverberated in the silent acoustics of the bathroom. "Nothing," she said again, quieter. "I just got startled, that's all."

"Why?"

"I just did," Rachel exclaimed, then closed her eyes. She reopened them and took a deep breath.

"Quinn, I appreciate your… concern, although I have to admit I'm more than a little reluctant to regard your attention as noble. After all, you have not, since last year, shown any kind of concern for my wellbeing, so I'm rather mystified as to why you'd start now."

Quinn was about to interrupt yet another instance of Berry word vomit, but, customary to Rachel's style, she plowed ahead.

"But I assure you that I am perfectly fine. Perhaps I've not been getting enough sleep, or perhaps I need to perfect my diet a little bit more, to ensure that I'm not as… jittery, tomorrow. But nothing happened, and I am fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, Dave is waiting outside to take me home." She pushed past Quinn and walked towards the door.

"Is he hurting you?" She was barely able to conceal the venom in the question.

She didn't know where the question had come from, and apparently neither did Rachel, judging by the way the girl stilled and her fingers tightened, just briefly, around the door handle.

"Of course not," Rachel said, recovering. She opened the door, not looking back at Quinn. "Dave loves me."

Quinn watched Rachel's retreating back, then stormed out of the bathroom and headed back towards the glee room. She needed to talk to Brittany and Santana. She had a hunch.

She hoped to God she was wrong.

The next day, though, Quinn's jaw dropped in shock when Rachel stood in front of the club, and informed them that she was quitting.

"You're what?" she said; feeling everyone's eyes on her, she swallowed hard and tried to affect an air of nonchalance. She failed, miserably.

"Rachel, why are you leaving?" Mr. Schuester asked. "You know that we need you."

"You need me," mumbled Rachel, so low that Quinn had to strain to hear her. "But you don't want me."

"That's not true," Mr. Schuester said. "We all want you to stay. Don't we, guys?"

They grumbled their assent, in a detached way that made Quinn sick to her stomach. She found herself staring at Rachel, trying to telepathically send her an apology… and a plea. To stay.

Why did she even want her to stay? This was perfect. She'd finally have manhands out of her way, for good. Except that the thought made her want to throw up, rather than cheer.

To Quinn's surprise, Rachel smiled at her a little, a knowing look on her face. She knew they didn't want her, knew Quinn didn't want her, and… she was accepting it. Graciously, because Rachel Barbra Berry didn't know any other way.

Hold your head high and smile, even if your heart was being ripped out of your chest while it was still beating.

"It's in my best interest to leave," Rachel said softly. "I know that all of you will be just fine without me, and you'll probably be glad that I won't be hijacking all of the solos anymore."

"Well, that will be a plus," Kurt admitted.

Quinn wanted to slap the smirk right off of his face. She wanted to slap all of them. Including herself.

Rachel nodded at Kurt, still smiling a little. "I wish all of you luck at sectionals; I look forward to hearing that you've kicked Vocal Adrenaline in the balls." She turned to Mr. Schuester. "Thank you for being such a great teacher, Mr. Schuester. I'll see you in Spanish class tomorrow."

"Rachel, wait," Mr. Schuester said, his hand reaching out, but Rachel jerked out of the way of his touch, then settled herself as her smile widened, turning and leaving the room.

She had to get to the bathroom and wipe the tears away before it ruined her makeup and someone saw the bruises. Then, she needed to find Dave. Rachel needed to find her Dave, and let him know that she'd done as he'd asked of her.

She'd left behind the most important thing in her life: glee.

But it was okay. She only needed Dave, and he was waiting for as she walked out of the school, a beaming smile on his face. The smile disappeared, though, when Rachel made the mistake of saying that she hadn't really wanted to leave glee.

Dave cried on his knees in front of her in the parking lot, as Rachel stared above his head, trying not to taste metallic blood in her mouth. But she forgave him. She always forgave him.

Back in the glee room, everyone else filtered out, quiet with confusion and a little shame at how easily they'd let Rachel leave. Quinn was left behind with her thoughts, interrupted only when she felt Brittany and Santana sit on either side.

"As much as I hate to say it," Santana said, tilting her head against the back of her chair and closing her eyes, "This isn't right. I don't like Rachel, but I hate that Neanderthal boyfriend of hers, and I can almost bet you that he's the reason she left."

"We should do something," Brittany suggested.

Santana shook her head. "Nothing we can do, B."

Quinn lifted her head then. A rush of images assaulted her: Rachel's eyes, mournful and dull; Rachel's white knuckles as she clutched a door handle; Rachel, pressed up against a wall in fear.

Karofsky.

She had to find out. Quinn hoped she was just overreacting. But if she wasn't… she was going to kill him.

She wanted not to care.

She couldn't do anything but care.