Chapter 1
Author's Note: I swore I would never write a story. However, recently I've had all these ideas flitting around in my head about what I want to see out of the show, things I know will never happen, so I decided to take it into my own hands.
So, this is going to be slightly AU. In my world, Rachel and Jesse never dated, they were just good friends. After Jesse graduated he sort of stayed around in Ohio doing community theater and hanging out with Rachel a lot. Finchel is a distant, distant memory. Brittana are happily together. For the most part though, everything is as it is in the show. In the general timeline, though, especially in terms of ages, this is probably around the middle of Season 2.
Warning: This story deals with the aftermath of non-consensual sex.
Also massive, massive thanks to my beta/life coach/grammar nazi/tattoo encourager, Autum (Texaswatermelon).
This morning is wrong.
She's not sure why or even how she knows, but everything feels off. Her elliptical sitting motionless in the corner mocks her, reminding her that it's past six.
She sighs in defeat and begins her day- sliding her legs from under the covers and swinging them over the edge of the bed, feeling the chilled hardwood underneath her toes, trudging slowly to her en suite bathroom… only to open her eyes to the depressing realization that she's still in bed.
After an intense mental debate and complicated negotiation, she decides to forego her cardio routine. The sense of foreboding twisting itself into a tangled knot in her stomach is enough to ensure that she won't need to burn any calories today, as she won't be eating.
As a self-professed control freak, she is furious that she can't control her own mood. No amount of talking herself through her day (It's been three months. You won't even see him. You were fine yesterday.) can negate the feeling of dread and despair pressing down on her chest. The mere thought of the next nine hours almost sends her crawling back underneath her covers to sleep away the day.
x x x
She isn't sure how she does it, but 7:30 finds her downstairs on a barstool in the kitchen clutching a steaming mug of black coffee. Her messy bun of wet hair drips down her back, soaking into the hoodie she threw on after her shower. The rising steam swirling up from her coffee pulls her into a memory. A memory of warm breath and hands and teeth and slurred, drunken panic. Her heart beats faster and eyes clench tighter as she tries in vain to banish the unwanted thoughts.
The intrusive honk of a horn from the driveway jolts her out of her trance, sending her to the sink to dump her coffee with shaking hands and collect her school bag before sprinting out the door and down her front walkway to meet Noah Puckerman at his truck.
As she hoists herself up to the ridiculous height of the passenger's seat, Puck greets her with a mumbled "Hey, Rach." For once, she's glad that he's not much of a morning person. She's more than content to sit in silence on the short ride to school.
They've had this arrangement for a few months now. One morning, a morning where she was feeling confused and hurt and embarrassed and full of dread and at the same time wondering how the hell she was supposed to get to school while her car was in the shop, Noah Puckerman answered her call. He showed up on her doorstep, helped her into his truck, and informed her that he'd gladly transport her as long as she'd have him. No prying questions about her abrupt shift in demeanor that morning or her sudden lack of a ride to school, no pitying looks or hugs or condescension. Just Noah and his truck- an arrangement that lasted long after her transmission was repaired and her car returned to its usual spot in the driveway.
As they pull into the McKinley High parking lot, Puck breaks the silence. "You still coming to that party at Santana's tonight?
Rachel mentally cringes. She'd forgotten that it was Friday. That she'd promised Puck she'd accompany him to Santana's party. But she certainly hasn't forgotten that the last thing she could possibly want to do is spend her night with high-school boys in the presence of alcohol. Again.
"Yes, of course. Are you still picking me up?" She gives a weak smile to make up for the obvious uncertainty she's sure comes across in her tone.
"Yeah, sure. I have to miss Glee today so I'll find you a ride home, but I'll be by to pick you up tonight."
Rachel thinks she cares but can't find the energy to muster up a real reaction. It's like she knows what her emotions should be but just can't feel them. So she just nods and smiles. "All right, Noah. Thanks for the ride."
x x x
After an uneventful morning of classes, Rachel wrenches her locker door open. She's thrown herself wholly into her note-taking and group work all morning in hopes of distracting herself and covering up the despair and confusion gnawing its way through her chest. She thrusts her book bag into her locker and is about to grab her money for lunch when she feels a large hand on her shoulder. Her blood runs cold and entire body freezes. All she can feel are his hands on her. The rough edges of his fingers as they circled around her wrist. His giant palms, sliding down…
"Rachel! RACHEL!"
She's jolted out of her thoughts by Finn frantically waving his hand in front of her face. She vaguely registers the word "party" and some sort of drinking gesture that looks ambiguously obscene before she turns away abruptly and sprints towards the girls' restroom.
She doesn't notice the hazel eyes of Quinn Fabray, peeking their way from around a locker door six lockers down. She certainly doesn't notice them widen as she escapes from Finn and runs down the hallway and through the restroom door.
x x x
Rachel shrieks in frustration and slams a bathroom stall door shut behind her. The clanging metal offers little catharsis for her anger and hurt. Unable to hold back any longer, a tear squeezes out from behind her closed eyelids. Another follows and before long her tears are streaming down her face, accompanied by deep, heart wrenching sobs tearing their way from within her chest.
Her strangled gasps and the almost inhuman cries escaping her throat camouflage the small click of the bathroom door opening and the soft squeak of rubber on linoleum caused by the soles of Quinn Fabray's cheer shoes. She's too consumed with her own pain to notice the presence of her enemy.
That's how Quinn finds Rachel when she pushes open the unlocked stall door; curled into the back corner of the tile wall, on the verge of hyperventilation.
Quinn stands frozen for a moment, shocked by the sudden vision of Rachel Berry with her guard down. A girl who survived, head held high, through taunts and slushies and solos snatched from under her. But now… Quinn had never seen someone look so utterly defeated and broken. She's not sure what she expected to find once she reached the bathroom, but honestly she hadn't thought much about it. Her gut instinct told her to follow Rachel… and that instinct promptly ceased helping her after that point.
Rachel's head lifts from her hands up towards the stall door where Quinn is still rooted to the ground, wide eyed, brows creased in concern. With a sharp but shaky breath, Rachel stands up straight and attempts to compose herself, wiping her tear-streaked face with the backs of her hands and focusing on breathing steadily. She makes a move to walk past the cheerleader, out of the stall and out of the bathroom.
Quinn, acting entirely on impulse yet again, steps in front of Rachel and after only a split second's hesitation envelops the smaller girl in her arms. She's not sure why she feels the sudden need to protect the girl she's invested so much time and effort in torturing, but the sight of Rachel's tear-streaked face and sound of her sobs has impacted her more than she'll probably ever be comfortable admitting.
For a few short moments, Rachel stands wrapped in Quinn's arms next to the toilet in a dingy bathroom in the middle of the junior locker hallway at McKinley high. She lets herself soak in the security and comfort of burying her face into a warm shoulder and relishes the arms wrapped tightly around her upper body, hand cradling her head. Then she remembers. She remembers the slushies and the insults and the put-downs during Glee. She remembers that the entire purpose of her perfectly crafted façade was to keep people like Quinn Fabray out. Out of her head, away from her feelings. If she couldn't reach Rachel's worries and insecurities then she couldn't hurt her.
Before Quinn has completely registered all that just happened, Rachel is pulling away. And by the time Quinn has opened her eyes back up and turned around, all she sees is a flash of plaid and the bathroom door swinging closed behind Rachel as she escapes to the hallway.
All traces of concern disappear from Quinn's face and are replaced by a clenched jaw and pursed lips. Angry with herself for letting her own guard down just because Rachel's was compromised, she vows to ignore Rac- Manhands from now on. She doesn't need to be involved in anyone else's problems.
Flooded with resolve, Quinn leaves the restroom with a huff and heads to join the rest of the Cheerios at lunch. She often finds that discussions of hair dye, lipgloss, and 5 for $25 panties at Victoria's Secret can take her mind off of almost anything.
x x x
Rachel rushes straight from the bathroom through the empty halls to the auditorium. Collapsing into a seat in the last row of the dark theater, she allows herself to finally relax and reflect on the disaster that her day has been. She's not sure where these moods come from but once she wakes up she knows. It's a sinking feeling in her stomach that follows her around for the entire day. It brings memories she'd rather not recall and causes mood swings of disastrous proportions.
She groans internally as she remembers what just happened in the girls' restroom. What was that? She's frustrated at herself for not locking the stall door, for not pushing past Quinn once she appeared, for allowing herself to collapse into Quinn's arms for those few short seconds. Her enemy has just seen her at her weakest and most vulnerable… then hugged her. She's really not sure what to make of what just happened. She's deathly afraid of walking back out and facing the school. She's sure everyone knows. She's certain there was some sort of ulterior motive behind Quinn's actions and she can't help but cringe at the thought of what it could be.
Her eyes widen at the thought and she decides to hide out in the auditorium until Glee. It's probably a bad idea given what's just happened and the number of jocks and Cheerios in Glee club, but she's willing to take the chance. Rachel Berry does not miss Glee club.
Well, there it is. Chapter 1. This is my first story… EVER. Review and let me know what you thought? Even if its one word! I live off of feedback.
Thanks so much for reading.