AN: Holy crap, I wrote something. What a trip, huh? I told you all that my muse is a little bitch and I meant it. So sorry for the wait! On another note, I apologize in advance for the emo tone that this story has taken on. It's understandable given the circumstances, I think, but hopefully it doesn't come off as too over the top. I also apologize for the lack of Finn in this chapter but trust me, there is plenty of him to come.

Out of all her relatives, Rachel knew Sarah Puckerman and her two children the best. They lived in the next town over, a rural community called Lima, and every few months, they'd all get together, have a meal and share what was going on in their lives. Sarah was her Daddy's sister and the only member of his family that still cared to speak to him. The others hadn't been quite as understanding of his decision to share his life with another man.

Rachel liked her Aunt Sarah. She liked her little cousin Hannah, who was only eight; and she even liked her cousin Noah, who happily took every possible opportunity to be vulgar and obnoxious. In spite of his crude behavior, she knew that he was fiercely loyal to his family and friends, and she was happy to be counted among those he stuck up for.

No matter how well she liked them however, Rachel knew living with them was going to be strange. The change was going to be hard regardless of who she moved in with, because nobody would ever replace the feeling of coming home to her dads at the end of the day.

She didn't think she'd ever feel truly at home again.

Never the less, she understood that her Aunt was making a huge sacrifice by taking her in and she was determined to be grateful and make the best of it. Rachel repeated this mantra in her head as the social worker she'd been assigned to pulled up in front of a slightly run-down apartment building.

Since her fathers' death and her awful experience with Dustin Goolsby, Rachel had become accustomed to feeling anxious. It was something she struggled with from moment-to-moment, and she had almost gotten used to being constantly on edge. Dr. Fairchild had prescribed medication that helped numb those feelings a bit, but they were still constantly pulling at her like a weight strapped to her ankles.

The sort of anxiety she felt as she stared out the car window was different. It came with the realization that life was continuing on around her and now she was expected to leave the safe little bubble she'd been existing in and participate. She wasn't positive she knew how to do that anymore.

As soon as the older model sedan rolled to a stop, Rachel saw her Aunt Sarah fly through the glass doors at the front of the building towards them. It was obvious she had been eagerly anticipating their arrival. A wide smile was plastered across her face but the stiffness of her body betrayed her nervousness. Rachel could see it, even from fifteen feet away.

It took her a moment to work up the courage to step out of the car. By that time, Michelle, her social worker, was already lugging her two suitcases out of the trunk and exchanging greetings with Sarah. Rachel joined them at the rear of the vehicle, her toes hanging just off the edge of the curb and her head down.

"Rachel," Sarah exclaimed. "It's so good to see you, honey!"

Rachel tried to smile up at her aunt, but it came out far less genuine than she would have liked. Sarah didn't seem to notice, swooping her niece up in a tight hug.

"Thank you for taking me into your home, Aunt Sarah," Rachel said, her voice barely above a whisper as she used the manners her fathers had ingrained into her mind.

"Of course! I wouldn't have you anywhere else. Go on in and Noah will help you get settled. I just need to chat with Michelle for a minute."

Rachel did as she was instructed, picking up her two pink suitcases and starting off towards the apartment building.

In her other life, Rachel Berry probably would have brought a mountain of luggage with her, insisting that she needed to be prepared for any disaster. She had been dead set on having things just so.

The reincarnation of herself didn't care about hair product or having the perfect blouse. The new Rachel just wanted to spend the next ten years of her life sleeping.

It was no secret that the Puckermans didn't have a lot of money. Sarah was a single mother, supporting two children on the meagre salary she made working as a receptionist in a dentist's office, with Puck pitching in as much as he could. Their apartment was about a quarter of the size of Rachel's childhood home, with three bedrooms (one of which was actually meant to be a storage space), one bathroom and a large room that acted as the kitchen, living room and dining room. It was small and much different than Rachel was used to, but it was cozy and obviously well maintained.

Once her bags had been deposited in her new room, which she discovered she would be sharing with Hannah, the four of them had sat down for what Sarah had dubbed 'a nice family dinner'.

It was awkward from the moment they began eating. They were treating her like she would self-destruct at any moment, as if she were teetering on the edge of a high cliff and getting ready to jump. Rachel felt far from her old self – she wasn't sure if she'd ever feel like the old, self-assured Rachel Berry – but she also hated how her family was walking on eggshells around her. They obviously didn't want to push her, she knew, but honestly, Puck being so civil was making her more anxious. She hadn't thought he was capable of chivalry.

Instead of telling them their behavior was unnecessary however, Rachel remained silent in her chair as Puck and Sarah made forced small talk, eyes intently fixed on the mostly untouched meal in front of her.

"Momma," her younger cousin piped up suddenly. "What's wrong with Cousin Rachel?"

Sarah's face flushed and she spent a flustered moment stammering.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" she finally asked, choosing the easier route – denial.

Rachel was very familiar with that route herself.

"She's all… quiet. And why does she have to come live with us? Her house is awesome," Hannah questioned innocently.

At eight years old, Hannah had only a rudimentary understanding of what had happened to her uncles. She knew they were dead, having attending their funeral, but that was about the extent of her knowledge. How they had died remained a mystery to her.

"Well, since your Uncle Hiram and Uncle Leroy are… no longer with us," Sarah replied, glancing nervously at her while she tried to pretend the reference to her dads didn't cause her stomach to twist painfully. "Rachel needs our support. Don't you think sharing a room with Cousin Rachel will be fun? You guys can get to know each other so much better and become the best of friends!"

"Yeah, I guess..." Hannah hesitantly responded.

Her aunt was trying her best to put a positive spin on the whole situation, but no one in the room seemed to be buying it. Out of her periphery, Rachel could see Puck shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Hannah still seemed to be wrapping her brain around the change in her living situation as she poked at the rice on her plate with a fork, her tiny brow furrowed slightly.

Unable to bear the awkwardness she had brought upon her own family, Rachel pushed her chair abruptly back from the table, the scrape of its legs almost deafening as it broke through the silence.

"Um… may I be excused, Aunt Sarah?" she whispered.

"Are you sure? You barely ate anything, sweetheart."

The worry etched deep into her face made a wave of guilt rise up inside Rachel. It was a lot to handle on top of her relocation and the anxiety that never seemed to grant her a moment's peace.

"I, uh, I'm not very hungry. And I'm kind of tired," she said, not being entirely untruthful. She simply left out the part where she felt awful about bringing her issues into their home.

Sarah chewed her lip and briefly studied her niece, looking for, Rachel assumed, a sign that she was not going to completely loose it when left to her own devices.

"Alright. Just let me know if you need anything," she urged before taking a poignant pause and then continuing in a soft, sad tone. "We're all here for you, Rachel. Whatever you need."

All Rachel could do was smile tightly at her, overwhelmed as she was by life in general. She could almost hear her fathers in her head, reprimanding her for such poor manners, as they often had when she was a child and had gotten a little over zealous or bossy. The memory made her desire to curl up in a ball and sleep more pressing.

"Thank you… for everything," she managed.

Eyes on the worn hardwood floor, Rachel fled towards the room she now shared with Hannah.

It was a typical set up for an 8-year old girl - walls painted pink, flowery bedding and Barbies and various stuffed animals littering the beige carpet. Two twin beds were squeezed into the small space, leaving just enough room for a plain white, somewhat beaten up dresser. In lieu of a closet, there was a metal rack in one corner of the room to hang clothes on, half of which appeared to have been emptied for Rachel to use.

Rachel noticed, gratefully, that her bed had been made up with brand new sheets and she immediately sank down onto it, staring up at the ceiling.

She had never shared a room with anyone before, having been an only child that was spoiled rotten to boot. How little it bothered her came as a complete surprise. What was the point in getting upset over something as trivial as a room? She was actually kind of glad she wouldn't have to be alone at night.

After a few minutes of trying to power down her racing mind, Rachel finally fell into a fitful sleep.

She could distinctly remember the sickening smell of his cologne as he towered over her, his breath hot on her face. He had always worn too much. It seemed to coat her throat and nose, smothering her.

Her head was spinning, too muddled to make sense of her surroundings. She tried to open her eyes, absolutely terrified of what would meet her when she did. Why was she so afraid? She was too dizzy to remember.

Why was her head pounding?

Her eyes grudgingly opened, eyelids almost unbearably heavy. His face was mere inches from hers, expression set in an unsettling mixture of affection and impatience. The corner of his mouth was twitching, hinting at the destructive storm that seemed to be constantly raging just below the surface.

It all came rushing back to her. Coming home, finding her dad and hearing her Dustin and her daddy…

Rachel couldn't control it; she screamed - a long, impossibly loud and anguished sound.

One hand closed over her mouth to stifle the noise. His other hand smoothed her bangs back from her face.

"Welcome home, Rachel."

Rachel jerked awake, her eyes snapping open as she quickly sat up in bed. It took her a beat to realize that she was in her cousin's room, safe and sound. The only sound in the room, other than the creaking of old pipes in the walls, was her own heavy breathing.

Glancing over to the other bed, Rachel could just make out the shape of Hannah snuggled up in her blanket, sleeping soundly.

Rachel couldn't help but feel a little envious.

For the first month she had been at the Lennox Center, Rachel had woken up every single night screaming bloody murder, plagued with nightmares about Dustin Goolsby. It got so she dreaded the sight of her bed and she would do everything in her power to avoid sleeping. Over time, the nightmares didn't wane, but she grew accustomed to them. Waking up in the middle of the night became something of a routine.

As she felt around the side of the mattress for her purse, Rachel rubbed her eyes and flung her legs over the side of the bed. She located it with relative ease and tip-toed toward the door, bag in hand. The door let out a fairly loud creak of protest as she eased it open, but Hannah remained blissful unaware of the world around her and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief when she was safely in the hallway.

She made her way towards the bathroom, which was conveniently located on the opposite end of the hall, but came to a halt when she heard the hushed voices of Sarah and Puck in the living room.

"She's really freaking me out, Mom," Puck was saying. "I don't even recognize her anymore."

Sarah let out a long breath and said, "I know, Noah, but that poor girl has been to hell and back. What did you expect?"

"It's just hard to relate the Rachel Berry I know to the person she is now. It's like she's not even a person anymore, just an empty shell. Her eyes are all… blank and weird."

"Just give her some time," Sarah replied, her tone soothing. "That's all we can do for her until she asks for more."

Rachel didn't want to listen any more. It hurt to hear the truth about how she really seemed to others. These were the people whose opinions mattered to her most and apparently she wasn't doing a very good job of putting their uneasy minds to rest.

It also hurt, so badly, to be privy to a conversation taking place between a child and parent. She'd never get to have a conversation like that again; the sudden realization tugged violently at her heart.

Before she could draw attention to herself, Rachel slipped into the bathroom and shut the door slowly and soundlessly, flicking the lock into place. She rooted through her purse and found the anti-anxiety medication that Dr. Fairchild had prescribed to her for moments such as that one, when she felt that everything was simply becoming too much. Eagerly fishing out two of the pills, Rachel tipped her head back and swallowed them, using some water from the sink to wash them down.

When she straightened up from where she had leaned over the sink to reach the faucet, Rachel caught sight of her reflection in the small mirror on the wall in front of her.

Noah was right. She looked completely different. Her brown eyes, once teeming with energy and enthusiasm, were dull and hollow. Her long hair fell limply around her gaunt face where she had left it after stepping out of the shower that morning.

"This is the new Rachel Berry", she told her reflection in a bleak murmur.

And everyone - including her - was just going to have to get used to it.