Chapter 3:

Will Schuester was defeated. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. How was he supposed to help his kids -hell, anyone- stay standing after something like this? Hadn't they been through enough?

He turned to face his glee club, conscious of the tears staining his cheeks. Santana and Puck were the only ones not still sitting down, appropriately so, he thought stiltedly. God he wished Eomma was here, holding him up like she always does. He didn't think he could do this.

"What happened? Who was on the phone?" Santana was tightly coiled, body so rigid and jaw clenched. Her words were barely audible. Puck's white-knuckled clutching onto her shoulder didn't seem to faze the stonefaced girl at all.

Will sighed brokenly, begging for someone else -anyone- to take this burden from him. Not finding any relief, he stepped closer to the duo. "That was Joe Hart; he said he's a student here?"

"Sophomore," Sam confirmed. His voice came out a hoarse whisper he'd never heard from his mouth before.

Nodding, Will continued. "Mrs Fabray had to be subdued, so he kept Quinn's phone." He took a deep breath, swallowing down the sob that threatened to escape when he said her name. "She couldn't..." Overwhelmed, the curly-haired man covered his face, letting the tears come in full force.

Santana grabbed his hands away, glaring fiercely at his wet face. "No! You don't get to break down until you're done! Okay? Now man up and tell us what the hell happened to Q!"

Puck stepped closer too, but didn't say anything. His gaze was as fierce as the seething cheerleaders, and there were tears welling in his eyes. Will nodded numbly, trying to even out his breathing enough to tell them the rest. It was the least he could do for them, for Quinn.

"They're at the hospital...Lima General," he said softly. Santana was back to her earlier stance, arms folded around her chest, holding herself together at all cost. "Joe walked her home. Quinn started drinking, heavily from what he's explained." He licked his lips, tasting the salty residue of his tears. Strangely, the more he spoke, the calmer he felt. He didn't hold out any hope that it would last though.

"I guess she was really upset after you guys left the God Squad meeting, and um...Joe didn't feel right just leaving her like that, alone. He said she was talking about her mom, and her dad. About Karofsky."

"Oh God," Mercedes whimpered. "Kurt-" she started, but couldn't continue. The boy let out a choked sob at her words, at Mr Schue's words. He held tighter onto Blaine, eyes imploring their teacher to do something, anything, to make the pain and guilt stop.

"Why didn't this Joe guy stop her?" Tina mumbled. "Who is he, anyway?"

Brittany wriggled a little closer to Mercedes, settling herself a little firmer in the black girl's embrace. She wanted Santana, but she could tell her girlfriend needed to feel strong right now. She answered Tina's question with a scoff. "Like anyone could make Q do anything."

Will looked over at them, but without any recognition. Things weren't making sense in this moment. He raked his hands through his hair. "It sounds like she started having some kind of seizure. Uh, I guess there was no one else around, so Joe called 911 and waited with Quinn until the ambulance came."

"Is she still alive?" At Rory's question, all eyes snapped to him immediately. The scrutiny made him blush, and he fiddled with Mr Schue's forgotten jar of peanut-butter to avoid it, waiting silently for the answer. Sam was reminded suddenly that the same had been asked earlier, by Joe no less, about someone else. Today was so messed up.

"Duh," came the response from Brittany. She sounded as serious as the gleeks had ever heard her, and everyone shifted uncomfortably. If the normally vibrant girl was so affected that she didn't even act like herself anymore, what about the rest of them? They didn't stand a chance.

"Brittany's right," Will said. "Thankfully, Quinn was still conscious when she was admitted to the hospital. She should be fine."

It was what Santana had been waiting to hear apparently, because as soon as Will finished speaking, the latina let out a shuddering breath. Puck pulled her into a hug, crying into her neck. She squeezed him once, roughly, before wrenching away. Will put out a hand to steady her, but she wasn't paying him any heed.

"Britt," she barked, already heading to the stage's exit. "Let's go!"

In a flurry of movement, the rest of New Directions also got to their feet. "Guys, wait!" Will called after them, but to no avail. He was soon the only one left, staring out over the empty auditorium. "Be careful," he sniffed, wiping his face clear of tears. "Please, be careful."

I have nothing left to give, I have found the perfect end

You were made to make it hurt, disappear into the dirt

Quinn sometimes hates her ability to 'read' people.

She thinks, on her more philosophical days, that it is the (inevitable) precursor to the thing which she wants and hates the most: being like her father. It's the real connection she shares with Puck, even if he didn't -would never- know. They were both struggling with their father's shadows. Only she could never decide whether she wanted to stay in it. puck on the other hand, was always fighting to get out of it. She finds their situation (a sneer, because really? It's kinda pathetic) tragically ironic. At least no one had thought of forcing them to get married 'for the baby'. One of the few things she'd found to be grateful to her father for, that year.

Three weeks into the summer before Junior year, she'd written a letter to him. Her mother hadn't known, of course. Quinn had sent it off and then spent the rest of that day staring at Beth's sonogram; her and Puck's attempt at outrunning their fathers. Russell had not replied, naturally. Quinn cried. Judy noticed, but didn't ask why. The summer dragged on.

When school starts, Quinn begins to actively use her observational skills. She finds the results disappointing, but she had predicted that they would be, and it doesn't hurt that much. This doesn't explain why she attacks Santana, and even in the middle of it she's questioning her actions. Brittany's reproachful eyes gives her pause until they don't anymore, and Quinn realizes it's herself she hates in the end. The thought gives her a strange clarity, and she rethinks it ad nauseum.

While her 'self' is examining the dimensions of her hatred (and the accompanied loathing) the rest of her auto-pilots her way to Sam. He is somehow both like and not like Finn, and therefore both like and not like Puck. It's refreshing. She's fine with him until she's not, and then she's kissing Finn again. Santana is unhappy with her, she can tell that much across the distance left to grow between them, but her reflection doesn't care. Quinn wishes the feeling would be realer, last longer. But it doesn't.

Lauren Zizes turns out to be good for Puck, and Quinn feels a sort of gratitude towards the other girl. It is of course filtered through the ever-present hate (and loathing), and inevitably it emerges jaded on the other side. When miserable Lucy smiles at her from mere inches away, she sighs. Outside, she paints panic and rage and mortification. Outside, she promises retribution. Outside, her dreams are shattered. Quinn is reminded of this moment's fallacy when Finn dumps her at Jean Sylvester's funeral. She cries. He notices, but doesn't ask why.

Carry me to heaven's arms, light the way and let me go

Take the time to take my breath

The drive to the hospital is strangely soothing. Santana doesn't speed, doesn't attempt crazy shortcuts to get them there faster. The radio is playing some Top 'Something' countdown that Brittany is sitting-down-dancing to. When they get to the venue, Santana parks efficiently in the first space she sees, turns the car off, and exits. Brittany extends her pinky, and they enter the hospital together without hesitation.

Puck lags behind, hoping to shore up some strength to survive their continued weirdness. While he's been wiping his tears away every other second, and Brittany's had ceased the minute they'd gotten into Santana's car, the latina hadn't cried at all. He is simultaneously amazed and freaked that he'd noticed. It makes him think he never knew her as well as he thought.

Once inside the hospital, the girls drag him into an elevator. They seem to know exactly where to go, and Puck makes a conscious decision to follow, without doubt or question. This is trust, he thinks, absently watching the floor numbers light up. This is what I couldn't give to Quinn. He feels a fresh wave of tears gathering when it hits him that she never asked it of him again.

I will end where I began

Judy Fabray is staring straight ahead (at nothing) when the trio arrive. She smiles at Brittany, whom she absolutely adores (for Lucy), but only nods at Santana, whom she merely tolerates (for Quinn). The boy remains unacknowledged until he sniffles. If anyone is startled by the hug, they don't mention it.

Joe Hart rounds the corner with two soda cans, and falters when he sees Judy isn't alone anymore. Quinn's earlier ranting had been a jumbled mess, mostly, but he recognized the mohawk.

"You're Noah," he says once he's close enough, voice strained. He's heard far too much about the people in Quinn Fabray's life, and the descriptions of their offenses crawl around in his mind, seeking a foothold.

"Puck," the boy corrects, smirking at the other boy's subtle flinch.

"That's what she said," Joe explains, and then frowns at the inelegant snort coming from the tan-skinned girl. Santana, he names her silently, forcing his body not to bristle. They're in shock, he tell himself. Give them a break. Give them a chance, Quinn's broken voice sneers in his memory. They'll prove you wrong everytime.

"What?" he asks her, mildly annoyed by her snickering. These are your closest friends? he questions the girl lodged in his heart. These unaffected children?

"Nothing," the blonde girl -Brittany, he knows- answers. "She's just in scared that Quinn's gonna die. I'm Brittany." The girl tilts her head, looking suddenly younger when she asks, "Did Q say why she was mad at me?"

Finally, Joe thinks, staring into Brittany's innocently trusting eyes. Someone understands.