A/N: So this is one of those stories that I've had semi written for a while but after Cory's passing really decided to actually work on. He gave so much to the community in general, and the arts in particular and I feel like this is the best way I, and we as a fandom, can honour his memory. It's my first time posting something on here so any reviews would be really appreciated :)

Rachel stared at Quinn, letting her hateful words course over her. It wasn't enough that Quinn had taken away the love of her life - she now had to rub it in, make it clear that regardless of her talent she was, and always would be, an outsider at McKinley. It wasn't really anything new – Sectionals had made that clear – the most she could muster from her team mates was a "I sorta like her" from Noah. Not even her own boyfriend was willing to stick up for her, claim that he liked her, the way she dressed or defend her against the hateful words of her peers. And yes she had endured worse and she knew how to handle herself and could and would defend herself when the need arose but it would have been nice to know that someone, anyone, cared enough to try and make the bullies back off.

She'd kind of tuned out but she could see from the angry set of Quinn's eyes and the vicious sneer that was spread across her face that she was done talking. She turned and willed herself not to cry until she was far enough away that Quinn wouldn't be able to see the damage that her words had caused. She made her way blindly to her car, grateful for the fact that Glee's after school practices meant that the parking lot was all but empty – she really didn't need to add any more fuel to the rumours that already spread like wildfire around the school.

Driving with tears blurring her vision wasn't her best idea, but she was too emotionally drained to care. Quinn's words were playing in stereo throughout her head and she turned the radio on and cranked the volume up full blast trying to drown out the words inside her head. It did no good though and no matter how much she tried to immerse herself in the songs playing throughout the car her mind remained focused on the events that had transpired earlier that afternoon. Pulling into her drive way she raced from her car, and inside her house, slamming the door shut behind her as she sprinted up the stairs and to the sanctuary of her room. She flung herself on her bed and let the sobs take over, her whole body heaving as her tears made puddles on her pillow.

When her sobs had eased somewhat she dragged herself up and pulled out a note book and a pen – Finn had told her she had to write about her pain – and god knows she had plenty to draw on, even if she hadn't been willing to acknowledge it earlier. Sometimes suppressing it was so much easier, but after the event sof today maybe she needed to channel all of her pain into her work. She hoped that it would clear her head and although it seemed a little out of her reach now, maybe it would be good practice for the future when her songs would inevitably win awards.

She sat on her bed, still sniffling and with errant tears making salty tracks down her face and began to write, the words flowing effortlessly out of her – straight from her heart and onto the paper. About every effort she had made to be the best she could be. She was already a great singer but she had tried so hard to be a good team mate, a good friend. A good girlfriend. But what did it matter now anyway? She was never going to get it right. It only took one look at her team mate's nonchalance and Quinn's hurtful words to know that it was true. Perhaps the worst of it was that Quinn wasn't the only one to send such hateful things her way. There were Jesse's words (and of course his brutal actions with the eggs), Mercedes's snarky comments, Santana's insults and Mr Schuester's blatant displeasure with her…

The knock on her door startled her – she hadn't expected her fathers to be home so soon and she tried to stop the relentless flow of tears, that had started up again as she had reflected on her situation, and tried to force a smile on her numb lips. For the most part she had done a good job of hiding the amount of torment she went through at school from her fathers. She'd always managed to get her slushied clothes washed and dried before her fathers returned home, the cruel notes ripped up and hidden at the bottom of her rubbish bin. The ugly names were easier to hide – nobody could see the scars on her heart, the thin cracks that only got deeper each time a "man hands", "hobbit" or "RuPaul" was thrown her way. She was an actress after all – and a talented one at that - and she worked hard to keep her head held high as if nothing anyone could say or do would bring her down.

More often than not it was easy – her fathers were frequently away on business trips and the rushed phone calls between their meetings were easy to navigate with feigned enthusiasm and false bravado, but time had taken its toll. Her already fragile heart had been obliterated by Quinn's words. She had thought they were a family – a group that looked out for each other – but she supposed it was wrong of her to assume that just because they were part of a group that she was included in it. It was clear all they wanted her for was her voice. And apparently even that had run its course. Mr Shuester had replaced her role in the club, unwilling to let her shine and uncaring that it left her floating and misplaced in a group of people who banded together against the cruelty of the rest of the student body, but more than happy to let her suffer at their hands.

The door cracked open and her Papa gasped as he saw the state she was in "oh Rachaela" he exclaimed, rushing towards her to wrap her up in his arms. He pulled her tight against his chest as she hiccupped and sobbed into his shirt and rubbed her back in gentle circles. Her Daddy returned moments later with a glass of water and she calmed own enough to take a sip, choking down air as she did, trying to regain some semblance of normality. Her fathers looked at her worriedly, questions swimming in their eyes and she ducked her head to avoid their probing gazes. She didn't want to talk about it – it was a moment of weakness and she would return to school tomorrow with her façade of happiness firmly in place, just as she always did, no matter how many pieces her heart was in. She would not let them see her fall.

Evidently her fathers didn't have the same idea. "Racheala, what's wrong?" her papa murmured.

"Nothing" she replied, her voice wavering on the last syllable as she tried to keep her tears in check.

"Don't you give me that" her papa said firmly "I want to know who hurt my baby girl".

She shook her head, unwilling to divulge the whole story. It was her mess to deal with. She had always known she was disliked at school – hell she had the MySpace comments, the slushy facials and defaced locker to prove it – but for a while she had felt like the Glee club had actually liked her. She thought that the loneliness was behind her and that she had finally gotten it right. She had had a boyfriend who said he loved her, who for the most part was kind and caring and gentle and the snarky comments directed at her had somewhat diminished. Maybe she should have realised that people were continuing to say hurtful things about her, even if they were no longer directed at her face. At least when they were said to her face she had no doubts as to where she stood. But no, what hurt the most now was the fact that for a fleeting moment she had felt like she had it all. She had felt loved and safe and included (even if in hindsight there were glaring differences between her assumptions and reality) and it had all come crumbling down. She supposed it started when Santana had exposed the truth about her and Finn so bluntly and from there everything just continued to unravel. When everything was said and done she was still that lonely, Jewish girl that everyone either loved to hate or wished would disappear.

It played on endless loop around her head "he slept with me you know."

"Everyone just pretends to like you."

"You'll never get it right."

"You don't belong here."

Maybe that one hurt the most – she thought she had been making progress with the club – well some of them. She was too realistic to expect Santana to suddenly be nice to her, and Brittany's loyalty to Santana ran far too deep to contemplate a friendship there either. But she had thought she and Tina had bonded over Project Runway, and she had thought she Mike had gotten closer after all their discussions about proper Dance technique. Most of all though she had he thought that Finn had loved her, that he cared enough about her to stand up for her and not be embarrassed to be associated with her. He'd proved her wrong on numerous occasions – the missed dates, the tuning her out, the reluctance to be too close to her in the school hallways – and she had made excuses for him (or maybe they were for herself). He had a busy schedule. He didn't want to cheapen what they had by showing PDA in the corridors. But looking back on it she could see how delusional she had been - it seemed that maybe he had only pretended to like her too.

Another sob ripped from her throat at the thought – she'd been so open and honest with him and she had genuinely thought he felt the same way about her. Him sleeping with Santana and letting the truth come to light the way it did – his ability to easily return to a relationship with Quinn without even a second thought or a shred of regard for her own emotions had proven her irrevocably wrong. Her sobs became increasingly hysterical as the pain that she had thought she had worked through over Christmas break resurfaced, its barbs adding to the new cuts caused by Quinn's words and accumulating on top of years' worth of cruel names and physical abuse. Her fathers shared worried glances and continue to whisper comforting words until she regained some composure before they started in on the questions again.

"Rachel, baby, please tell us what's wrong" her Papa implored, his voice soft and his eyes full of worry.

Her father's insistent questions wore her down, she didn't have anyone else to open up to and she had been keeping it all in for so long. The whole story came tumbling out – of two and a half years of being the school punching bag. Of how on the first day of Freshman year she had received a slushy to the face and, feeling dazed and blinded by the stinging in her eyes, had stumbled to the bathroom and sat in the cubicle trying to hold back sobs until she was certain that the hallways would be empty. Then once she was sure that everyone was in class, how she had hurried home- despite the fact that the clothes that she had painstakingly picked out over the summer were now stained a deep blue, and that her arms were sticking to her body. What was worse was that it was only the first of many and by the end of the year if she go through the day with only 3 in her face she considered it a good day. She told them of how she would walk down the halls only to find the find herself tripped or pushed to the floor, her belongings scattered around her whilst the cheerleaders and jocks laughed and pointed. How the rumours would be spread around the school about her so that when she walked in a room it would go eerily silent as the rest of the class tried to suppress their laughter.

She told her father of how hopeful she had been about the glee club. How with every passing week she felt like they were moving forward as a group, both in their music and in their friendships. Then of the crushing realisation that maybe her hope was premature because no matter how much she thought things were getting better, the reality was starkly different. All she had to do was walk into the school bathrooms to find her name scrawled alongside pornographic pictures with added personal insults that could only have been written by fellow glee members. So what if they had endured similar bullying at the hands of the student body? Whilst everyone banded together she was once again watching from the outside and destined to be beaten down again and again and again.

He fathers expressions changed with every word, from worried and concerned to angry and infuriated as they let Rachel speak without interrupting, gasping and grumbling when the tales became particularly brutal – neither one of them liked to think of their daughter suffering so much. What parent does? And their hearts clenched as guilt washed over them that they hadn't noticed it sooner.

Rachel finally finished speaking; her throat raw from trying to hold back sobs, and her heart still feeling like it was torn to shreds. Her fathers murmured that they'd talk about it in the morning and tucked her into bed, just as they had done when she was a little girl, each giving her a kiss on the forehead before letting her fall into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

As it turned out sleep wasn't the peaceful oblivion she had longed for, all night the angry, hurtful words ran circles around her head, flashing up with the jeering faces of her fellow glee club members that morphed and changed into one another multiple times. Her sleep was restless and she tossed and turned and whimpered as she tried to escape the words.

Eventually she gave up on sleep and padded down to the kitchen to make herself a hot chocolate. She sat at the kitchen table, cradling it in her hands as she let the warmth radiate through her body finding a small sense of serenity as she watched her drink swirl around the cup. Her fathers found her staring into the empty mug when they arose later that morning and pressed a kiss to her cheek before they busied themselves in the kitchen.

"Pancakes for breakfast Racheala – you're favourite!"

"Sounds great Daddy" she murmured, giving a weak smile before she dropped her gaze back to her mug.

He placed the plate of blueberry pancakes on the table a little while later and her father took seats opposite other as they both dug into the stack.

"Now Bug, we were thinking about what you said last night" her papa began, "And we thought about what your options might be. Now we think that if we went to Figgins-"

"No" Rachel exclaimed, panicked by their suggestion "It'll just get worse – give them even more reason to hate me. I've been doing fine – last night was a temporary lapse in judgement. But I'm fine really! I just needed to get it off my chest. But I really do need to go and get ready for school." She made to leave the table, her chair scraping on the tiles.

"Rachel please let us talk about this first" her Daddy said calmly, gesturing to her seat which she sat back down in with a sigh.

"We can understand that you don't want to go to Figgins, so you're papa and I were thinking. Maybe McKinley isn't the best school for you" Rachel looked up and began to protest but her Daddy interrupted her.

"We know that you're strong Rachel and that you don't want to look like you're running away from your problems. But two and a half years is a long time to put up with such bullying. You've been so brave and so strong and of course your grades are perfect and your voice is still amazing but there's more to a person then what test scores they get or how wonderful their voice is.

"You deserve to be safe, and happy and surrounded by people who actually love you and don't just pretend to. You're worth that – we know that and if that school, that glee club and that boy can't see that then they don't deserve to be around you. You are going to be a star of Broadway one day – but you're already our star and you deserve to be treated like one!"

Tears were welling in Rachel's eyes again (how she wasn't sure she was certain she'd cried them all last night!) as she continued to protest.

"What about Glee Club Daddy? I can't just abandon them – I'm their Co Captain. And what about Finn -"

Her Papa cut in gently "Racheala we listened to everything you had to say last night, and going back to that group – do you really think that's what's best for you? Your voice, your talent and you as a person with everything else that you have to offer deserve more than what they've given you!"

Rachel nodded and looked at her Dads, "Can I have some time to think about it?" she asked quietly. Her fathers both nodded, their eyes soft.

"Take as much time as you need Bug, and we're right here if you need anything."

She got dressed in a haze, her father's words whirling around her head. As she brushed her hair out she thought about everything that had happened during her high school years. Most of the memories she had ended with her in tears or sitting by herself as she tried not to let her isolation bother her – she had to focus on being a star and everything and everyone else was only a distraction. What she hated most though was the Glee had changed her, whether it was for the better or not she was still undecided on. She now knew what if felt like to be included, to not have to sit by herself every lunch and to have plans for after school that involved her hanging out with other people (granted she usually just tagged along with Finn and whatever he was doing but he had never seemed to mind).

Her stomach turned painfully as she thought of Finn. Despite everything that had transpired between them she couldn't help but still have feelings for the tall, handsome quarterback. He had been her first love – and one does not simply forget their first love even if he had been so careless with her heart. She knew that she shouldn't base her decision on one boy. Especially one that so obviously did not have the same investment in a relationship as she did. She knew that being in a relationship with her wasn't easy. She was abrasive and self-absorbed but she still deserved to be loved– and not just for her voice but for the person she was as well. She didn't think it was that much to ask.

Her fathers were right of course - She was going to be a star she had known it since age 4, but Glee had also shown her that being a part of something special did make you special – but maybe that didn't necessarily mean being a part of this particular glee club anymore. She only had to look at Kurt to know how true that was. He was still able to sing to his heart's content and have fun in the Warblers, but now he didn't have to contend with people trying to bring him down. Her friendship with Kurt was only just beginning but even she could see how much more relaxed he was, happy to be himself without fear of being hurt in the process. No one thought he was weak for changing schools – in fact most people had supported him, herself included. So maybe she hadn't had any direct death threats like Kurt had, but at the end of the day things shouldn't have to get to that point before action had to be taken. No, she rationalised, maybe it was smarter to get out before things ever got that far.

Now fully dressed and with her makeup flawlessly applied Rachel wasn't so sure that she actually wanted to go to school. Or rather she wasn't sure she wanted to go to McKinley. With her mind made up and already feeling much lighter she walked down the stairs to find her Dad's still sitting around the kitchen table. They looked up when she entered, and though she was fairly sure the nervous smile and her wringing hands gave away her answer she spoke anyway.

"Dad, Daddy. I want to change schools."