Hey guys. So I haven't written in like 2 years. But, I've had a LOT happen, starting with the death of my best friend in the entire world, and then family problems. I've finally gotten back into the no sleep writing flow, and this idea popped into my head for a book, but I'll twist it into a Finchel fic as well, since the Break Up is promising to depress me. Anyway, this is a tear jerker. Hang on for the ride and enjoy. Updates may be spastic, guys. I'm a competitive dancer, straight A student, and a softball player. I don't have a social life.

Now she knew what Twilight filmmakers felt like. Not in the sense of the sparkly hero boyfriend, or the hot werewolf, but of the hovering shade of grey. Everything around Rachel Berry carried a grey presence, from the headstone, to the sky, to the casket.

She wanted to scream. Seeing that beautiful blonde hair and that perfectly proportional face disappear from her sight forever was enough to make her go insane forever.

Eventually, everyone leaves. Some hug the small brunette, others sadly look upon her. She doesn't want their pity. It can't bring her best friend, her Q, her other half, back onto this Earth. Looking at the headstone, she fell to her knees, letting her sobs overtake her. Her best friend wasn't here. She had chosen to leave, taken her own life for God knows what reason, and now Rachel is alone.

*flashback*

"Quinn! I'm home! You'll never guess what.." her voice trails off, not finding Quinn in her usual spot on the sofa. She calls out again, hearing no response.

She checks the calendar on the wall, the one they use to keep up with one another's appointments, finding the day only scrawled in signature Rachel pink, not Quinn's soft purple.

Slowly, she walks into Quinn's bedroom, and as soon as she sees the lifeless body on the bed, she screams. Checking her pulse, finding nothing, she calls 911. The only clue comes in a single note, which simply says: "Rachel and Puck. I love you. I'm sorry. But this is too hard for me now."

*end flashback*

"Rachel."

Her head jerks up, her eyes finding the familiar soft brown ones of Noah Puckerman, Quinn's boyfriend. The man who was Quinn's boyfriend, anyway. She doesn't say anything. Her eyes ask the question for her, her voice not trustworthy at the moment.

"She left this for you. I couldn't open it."

She nods, understanding. She hasn't been in Quinn's bedroom since.

"Listen, Elle." She softly smiles at Quinn's name for her. "This is going to be hard for both of us. But listen, if you need anything, you know where to find me."

She nods up at him, taking the note from his hands. He carefully bends down and embraces her, tears streaming down both of their cheeks.

They're not okay.

Soon, he pulls away and walks off, and she is alone again. Slowly, she pulls her exhausted body from the ground and heads to her parent's house. Having traveled from New York to Lima for the funeral, she has opted to stay one more night before heading home. Her fathers are extremely worried for her, but she just brushes them aside, assuring them she's fine. She isn't fine. She'll never be fine.

She goes home and stares out the window before heading back home the next morning. Puck has beaten her there, having already cleaned out all of Quinn's things. He's made her food and taken care of Shasta, the girls' German Shepard.

Rachel's German Shepard, now.

He forces food down her and puts her to bed, and when he goes to leave, she whispers "Stay."

"Listen Elle, I love you and all, but Q.."

"Puckerman, this isn't about that!" It's the first time her voice has passed a whisper in a week. "I just need the only person who can be a brother and a friend here. I don't trust myself."

He thinks it over, the shaky girl breaking his resistance. "Alright then, Rachel. I'll stay."

Within the next 2 days, he is moved in to the spare bedroom.

She goes back and forth, one day the bottle of pills in her hand, the next trying to live for Quinn, until one day the pills disappear and Puck starts watching her like a hawk.

"What did the note say?"

"What?"

"The note I gave you. From Quinn. What did she say?"

She stares at him, and goes to retrieve the sealed letter. She carefully opens it and begins to read, staring at Quinn's soft cursive in her signature lavender pen.

Rachel,

I'm so sorry. By the time you read this, I'll be dead and buried. Don't blame Puck. He didn't know. And for the love of God Rachel, don't blame yourself. You cannot blame yourself this time. I love you like a sister, you know that? You're precious. You're small and cute until you open your mouth, and then you become this loud, goofy, beautiful person. But, Rachel, there's something you and I both know you regret. Finn. You loved him, Rachel, and he loved you. Don't do what I did and spend your life regretting one decision. GO. GET. HIM.

I love you dearly.

Quinn

Quinn's handwriting was barely readable at the end, but the point was made. A train pass to Baltimore fell out, along with directions to a public school, into the choir room, and another set of directions to an apartment complex with the number 287.

She looks at Puck, and slides the note over to him, shifting slightly as Shasta climbs up beside her to comfort her through her tears. She's rubbing the dog's soft head when his words startle her.

"He hasn't dated since he put you on that train, Elle. Maybe a visit could help."

She runs out of the room and crawls into her bed, feeling the dog follow her in.

"Mr. Hudson?"

He smiles up at his favorite student, a blonde, curly haired sophomore named Bentley.

"Yeah, Bent?"

"Who's this singing with you in all of these pictures?"

He looks to where she's pointing, seeing all the pictures of Rachel. Every single competition had sprouted a picture of the two of them smiling fondly at each other, and he proudly displayed them on his desk.

"That was my high school girlfriend. Her name was Rachel Berry. We were engaged."

"What happened, Mr. H?"

"She had dreams bigger than me, Bent. She'll be a star one day. And one day, I hope to find her again."

"I wish Jackson would look at me that way."

He smiles softly, thinking of his two leads. Bentley had developed a crush on the Glee club's male lead, Jackson Ames, her freshman year. While Bentley was soft and pretty, she was on the lower levels of the Lincoln High School food chain, and Jackson was the starting quarterback for the football team. Jackson's girlfriend, Lauren, was the cheer captain. While Rachel had been overwhelming in high school, Bentley was soft enough to simply be overlooked.

"I'm sure it'll work out someday, Bent."

She smiled softly back, going to a picture taken of Finn, Puck, Quinn, Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine their senior year. Everyone was obviously laughing, and looking in the direction of Quinn.

"Who's the blonde?"

"That was one of my best friends. Her name was Quinn Fabray. She passed away early last week."

The petite blonde turned around, eyes questioning. "What happened?"

"It.. It was suicide Bent. I talked to her boyfriend. Nobody knows. She had a baby her sophomore year, but by the time she graduated, she had come full circle.." he trails off, his voice failing and his head clouding over. "Rachel had been living with her in New York. From what I've been told, she found the body." A single tear rolls down his cheek, pain setting in. Ever since his mom had called to tell him, he'd pushed it to the back of his mind, throwing himself into his job. Bentley was one of the few students who cared enough to understand the hurt. And Rachel-god. His poor little Rachel had found her dead best friend. They haven't spoken since he put her on that train, but her wedding band rolls around in his fingers every day. It's not like he was giving up on her- no, he loved her. He just needs her to be able to make it on her own first. Everyone thinks he wants her to just be a star, but really, he needs to know that if something were to ever happen to him, she'd still be Rachel. Rachel Berry, with the shining eyes, the perfect hair, the all business attitude, and her cute Jew nose. What wouldn't he give for fifteen minutes with her, just to assure himself that she's okay.

Suddenly, his phone rings, snapping him back to attention.

"Hello?"

"It's Rachel, man. She's not okay. None of us are okay."

Feedback is always great. :) The next chapter should be up in a few days. Happy reading!

-Laureline