Alright guys, here's part deux :) Sorry for posting it in two parts, I was about to fall asleep at my desk last night. Hope ya like it! :D xx

Warning: I use the phrase 'warm glow of friendship' a few paragraphs in. If this is to much for you to handle, please skip paragraph five.

Chapter Three, Part Two

"Rachel." She spun towards Santana's voice – and slammed her eyes shut when she saw the blue slushy being thrown in her face. When she was sure it was over, she rubbed her eyelids clean and gaped at the spot Santana had just been.

Santana sauntered away, a smirk playing across her face to hide her guilt. The dwarf didn't deserve it, but she needed to remember that she was Rachel Berry, not Santana's New Best Friend. Okay, so she hadn't said anything to her yet. But she would've. Oh yes, she would've. After all, who wouldn't want to talk to her?

Rachel grabbed the extra shirt she always kept in her locker and made her way to the bathroom, almost knocking over Quinn when she shoved the door open. When she saw the state Rachel was in – drenched, angry, chewing on her quivering bottom lip – she rushed to help clean up. "Oh my God, Rachel, who the hell-"

"Santana," she muttered, locking herself in a stall so she could change her shirt and wallow in her self-pity.

"What? That's – I'll talk to her," she growled, and Rachel felt the warm glow of friendship for a second before she realized that one, she and Quinn were not friends, and two, messing with Santana was not a good idea.

"No, no, it's okay, Quinn," she reassured her, then paused for a second to pull the shirt over her head, "I'm used to it by now." She came out of the stall and found Quinn scowling with her hands on her hips. "I mean, it's not like it's unexpected, right?"

"Well, it certainly shouldn't be expected!" she cried. She considered Rachel a friend – sort of, in a weird way – and friends don't let their friends throw slushies at their other friends. "Rachel, Santana's your... well, she's not your enemy, not anymore. Either way, you can't just put up with it!"

"Santana's a Cheerio, I'm in glee. I completely understand her perspective, it's really okay." Rachel wished she'd just drop it – of course she didn't enjoy being slushied, in fact it was rather detrimental to her self esteem, but it wasn't worth fighting against.

"She's in glee, too! And so are Brittany and I! But you don't see her slushying herself, do you?" Quinn had a good point, but Rachel wouldn't accept it. The situations were just... different.

"But you guys make up for it by cheering, and being pretty, and dating a bunch of people..." Quinn's expression clearly told Rachel her logic was flawed, but she thought it made sense. Being a Cheerio automatically changed everything.

"You know what?" she half-shouted in Rachel's face, "You should join the Cheerios!" Rachel thre her head back and laughed at the idea – although she knew Quinn was serious. "I'm not kidding! You can obviously dance, you've shown that in glee, and yeah, Coach kinda hates you, but she can't ignore talent!"

Rachel considered it halfheartedly for a minute, but she could only think of problems and reasons not to. "I'm really not the cheerleader type, Quinn."

"What are you talking about? You're spirited and energetic, you're a dancer, you'd be a perfect cheerleader!" Quinn had left out the most important part – looks. Rachel couldn't be a cheerleader – she wasn't pretty enough, she wasn't skinny enough. She could never compare. But yet there Quinn stood, clasping her hands together with her most convincing smile. "Come on. You could have any guy you want."

"Red's not really my color..." she protested weakly, and Quinn knew she'd won – of course. "Okay, okay, I'll join."

"Yay!" she squealed, grabbing Rachel for a hug. "You can come to practice today, Coach'll never deny you if I recommend you, and we're starting a new routine so you'll fit right in.

"That sounds... great." It actually sounded scary and intimidating, but she wouldn't admit that. "Quinn...why are you being so nice to me?" It had been bothering her since the moment Quinn had invited her over. Before this, she'd just been an obstacle on the way to getting Finn.

Quinn was silent for a while, picking her words carefully. "There has been nothing but animosity between us for so long, and it's all because of some stupid boy who doesn't treat either of us right. I figured it was time to end this feud, or whatever it is, if not for us, then for glee. I never hated you, Rach. I just want this to be over."

Rachel didn't know whether to smile, or cry, or just stand still and let herself explode with emotions. Eventually she forced herself to speak. "Then it's over. I don't want this, either.

They hugged just in time for the first period bell to ring and the bathroom to fill with girls fixing their makeup before class. Rachel was about to shove her way out when Rachel grabbed her shoulder and smiled. "Meet me at my locker after glee."

!-!-!-!-!-

"I feel really uncomfortable, Quinn," Rachel mumbled, pulling her skirt down as far as she possibly could without showing her stomach. She felt exposed and self-conscious without her usual turtleneck and long skirt. She would have to wear this every day?

"Come on, just one practice. If you hate it, you can quit." Rachel sighed, but agreed. Quinn linked their arms and burst into the gym, dragging the other girl with her and ignoring the other cheerleaders' surprised and confused looks.

Quinn led the team through some stretches, then a quick warm-up, then launched into the new routine. Rachel was pleasantly surprised to find that it was a lot like learning choreography for glee, except faster paced, and more cheer-like, and generally a lot more difficult. She was a bit behind the other girls, and was pouring sweat by the end, but she (somehow) enjoyed herself.

"So?" Quinn asked as they all shuffled back to the locker room, "How was it?"

"Honestly? It was great."

!-!-!-!-!-

"Kurt, what's wrong?" He didn't answer or even look at Rachel. He just sipped his coffee nonchalantly and pretended to people-watch. Sure, Rachel was his best friend, but he just... didn't know what to say. Or where to start. Or anything. "Kurt. Something's been bothering you all day. What is it?"

"I shouldn't tell you," he insisted, but he pursed his lips the way he always did when he was about to give in. "I'm serious, Rachel. It's not my secret to tell. The only reason I know is because apparently, I was in the suicide note."

Rachel felt a jolt of shock run through her body when what he'd said finally registered. Someone was dead. But – suicide note? Someone – someone-"

"Well, no. He tried, but... they found him in time. And he won't let anyone tell me what was in the damn note." Rachel was still staring at him in horror as he grumbled.

"Kurt! Who was it?" She couldn't quite read his expression as he turned to face her.

"Dave."