A/N: Warning for heavily implied bulimia and using the word 'dyke' offensively, I guess.

Also, my headcanon is that Quinn was a little small when she came to McKinley, then had a (very late) growth spurt. This appears a lot in this story.

October 2008

Another week, another practice. Quinn can hardly believe she's managed to get through a month of school already. Between classes, family, friends and Sylvester breathing down her neck, it's amazing she hasn't just collapsed from exhaustion yet.

Today she's once again the last to get in the shower. It escapes her notice how quickly everyone left in the first place; she's too busy nursing her sore, aching body, which barely lets her move to raise her arms and take off her clothes. Halfway through trying to struggle out of her shirt she just gives up, finding it too painful. At least it's an after school practice – she can shower at home.

Just as she eases her shirt back down over her head, she feels what are unmistakably hands on her shoulders for second, before they push her back forcefully and make her collide, hard, with the wall behind her. Although she manages to prevent her head banging against the tiles, her bare back still hits it painfully and scrapes along its rough surface. To add insult to injury, Quinn also can't move her arms down thanks to the suddenly resistant material of her Cheerios shirt trapping her in.

She wrestles valiantly until the top is pulled down enough to finally allow her to see who the hell is holding it. To little surprise she finds Kelly keeping her at bay with her forearm laid across Quinn's collarbone, leaning down until their faces are inches from each other's.

'Get off me,' Quinn snarls with more bravery than she feels. She's well aware how idiotic she looks right now with her shirt wrapped around her shoulders, leaving her chest exposed to all the giggling cheerleaders. Even so, she's not going to cower like a loser, especially in front of someone like Kelly, despite how defenceless and humiliated she feels.

Kelly just raises an eyebrow. She digs her elbow into Quinn's shoulder slightly, pressing painfully on the hard bone of her clavicle. 'Fabray, c'mon. Don't be like that. We're friends, aren't we?'

'We're as friendly as I am to the mud on the soles of my shoes,' Quinn shoots back. It may be the wrong thing to say, considering the head cheerleader has the advantage of about 4 inches of height and a year or two more of Cheerios training to add to her strength. But Quinn is just too tired, too grumpy, too sick of the social hierarchy of the cheerleading squad to take this crap today.

'Fabray, Fabray. You might as well listen to me, or this'll be a lot more painful than necessary.'

'I thought I told you to get off me.'

'All I want is some help,' says Kelly patiently, ignoring her. 'Since you're small and kinda geeky looking, you're the perfect person to do this little job for me. No one will suspect you of anything.'

'What job?'

'Well, let's just say my friends and I have a test coming up, and we need answers to it. So what you're going to do is find Miss Peacock's classroom, saunter right in, and get them for us.' Kelly smiles at her. It's far too smug and doesn't reach her eyes.

'I'm not helping you.'

'Too bad, you don't have a choice.' Kelly smile turns grim. She pulls the shirt down properly. For a second the room goes dark before Quinn emerges through the head hole and is able to move her arms again. 'Or maybe I'll just go find your little friend in the disgusting argyle sweaters and make her do it for me, hm?'

Quinn's fists clench at her sides. 'Leave her out of this,' says Quinn sharply.

'Oooh, touch a nerve?' She glances over at her friends. Satisfied they're watching eagerly, she delivers a patronising flick to Quinn's forehead. 'Trying to protect your little lesbian girlfriend?'

She hears a few giggles and whispers from the vicinity of the showers. Quinn stiffens. 'We're not like that.'

'Really?' says Kelly maliciously. 'Well, that's funny, because that's not what your friend Santana said.'

A horrified gasp resounds from Quinn's right. Over Kelly's shoulder, she can just see Santana peering over at them, her eyes wide. 'Quinn, I swear I didn't –'

'Shut it, Lopez, unless you want to be the one running suicides for the entirety of next practice,'

Kelly snarls. At Santana's silence, she nods. She looks entirely too gleeful about exercising her power. 'I thought so.'

'Kelly, let me go or I swear I'll...' threatens Quinn.

'What?' says Kelly, snorting. 'What'll you do? What could a fucking five foot one dyke like you do to me?'

It could be the insult on her height. It could be just being fed up with Kelly and her shit. Or maybe – most likely – it's the word 'dyke'. Just the thought of the word makes her see red. Whatever the cause, it causes Quinn to struggle violently again but time she does it with enough force to finally make Kelly lose her hold on Quinn; her arm breaks free and manages to smack the taller Cheerio around the face with all the might in the blonde's body.

Which is to say, not much. Her limbs were already weak and tired from practice so the blow barely fazes her – but her skin immediately turns pink on that side.

Kelly's eyes lower into slits.

Her anger fades. Quinn sinks back into the wall, trying to make herself seem as small as possible.

The next moment Kelly's right in front of her, grabbing the collar of her shirt and nearly lifting her off the ground. An easy task when Quinn's legs seem to have lost their power of keeping her up. 'You dirty little bitch!' she howls, sending spit flying onto Quinn's face. 'I didn't even hurt you and you go and punch me? I can't fucking believe you! You're going to regret ever touching me, Fabray!'

Kelly sinks her fist into Quinn's gut with enough force to double her over. A second slap to side of her head makes her crumbles to the floor, arms wrapped protectively around herself to protect her searing middle from further damage.

In the distant, ringing recesses of her mind she thinks she hears someone shout, 'What the fuck, Kelly?!' Next moment, she sees Kelly drop to the floor next to her, clutching her nose. There's hurried footsteps, then she's hauled to her feet, Brittany's strong arms keeping her upright when she nearly topples over again. The pain is still strong, the burning throb only getting worse as she gasps for breath.

'I can't believe you just hit meas well!' Kelly yells back in disbelief, her voice muffled from her hand over her nose. Her eyes are filled with tears and she suddenly looks very, very small, like the sixteen year old she is.

'Y-you deserved it, for hitting Quinn.' Santana's shaking, clenching and unclenching her fist. Her face is tight in a grimace of pain. Quinn feels Brittany jerk next to her, as though she's about to leave her side to go to Santana, but then is interrupted by the door banging open.

'What is going on here?'

Kelly's head snaps to the door, looking panicked.

'Coach! W e were – we were just –' She flounders helplessly. But with Quinn still clutching her stomach and Kelly's nose bleeding through her fingers, it's blatantly obvious what has just transpired.

'Get the heck out of this locker room or you're off the Cheerios. All of you!' she barks. 'You stay,' Sue says to Santana and Brittany. 'Kelly, get yourself cleaned up, then go wait in my office.'

There are no quick-witted insults from Sue this time and for some reason it's even more ominous. Kelly staggers to her feet and throws a hateful, yet tearful glance at Quinn on the floor before following the other girls out. Sue's rubber soles squeak on the floors of the locker room. She bends down, frowns at the blonde bent over in half, breath only now starting to return to normal.

'Explain,' she says sternly. Both Santana and Brittany both leap to help, but she cuts them off with a raised hand. 'Not you. You.' She points at Quinn.

Quinn bites her lip. Breathlessly, she makes an attempt to stand upright, despite the pain in her gut. 'Kelly said something about Rachel. So I hit her, but not hard, then she punched me in the stomach. Santana was just defending me.'

Sue grunts noncommittally. 'I see. Who's Rachel?'

'My – my… friend.' Quinn tries not to catch Santana and Brittany's eyes.

'Ah. The one who wears all the argyle and shrieks all day in Ryerson's sham of a glee club?'

Quinn scowls, but doesn't comment. 'Yes.'

Sue nods, then folds her arms. 'Well, then, you'd better get yourself to the nurse's office, Q, before we find out you've damaged your internal organs and someone blames me,' Sue says, her voice still hard but uncharacteristically caring. 'Lopez... Brittany. Take her.'

'But Coach,' Quinn finds herself protesting, 'aren't we in trouble or something?'

'I'll thank you not to tell me how to be a teacher,' Sue says sharply. 'I will deal with it. Now, go.' Brittany helps her to walk along and Santana takes Quinn from the other side, wrapping an arm around her waist to manoeuvre her through the door.

'I can walk, guys,' Quinn says, secretly glad for their help.

'We know. Santana just wanted to hug you,' says Brittany.

'No I didn't,' Santana says immediately. But she squeezes Quinn's shoulder s a little anyway, taps her temple against Quinn's affectionately. 'But, I did just want to mention I never said anything about you and Berry to Kelly. You know I wouldn't do that, Q.' She pauses. 'And if you wanna be friends with her, that's cool with us... Even if I still think all her clothes should be burnt and she was secretly a Munchkin extra in the Wizard of Oz film.'

'Thanks, S,' says Quinn, rolling her eyes slightly. 'I appreciate that. And thanks for coming to my defence.' Quinn rubs her tender stomach, grimacing. 'But next time, could you punch her before she gets to me?'

'You're late,' says Rachel accusingly, when Quinn finally hobbles her way outside to meet her. She glances at her watch pointedly. 'The other Cheerios left about fifteen minutes ago – I was about to leave without you.'

Quinn shrugs absently, still feeling a little out of it. 'Sorry, I got held up.'

Rachel regards her with suspicion for a few moments. 'Well, you're here now. I suppose that's what matters.' She wraps her hand tightly around Quinn's arm, tugging her along the road at a quickened pace to make up for lost time.

They're standing particularly close today; their hips are almost colliding and Rachel's pink trolley case sometimes bumps against the back of her feet. Quinn can't bring herself to care. Instead she just follows and nods whenever she thinks she's being asked a question, content to let Rachel's voice fade into a comforting buzz in the back of her mind.

Quinn is brought back from her reverie by a sharp poke in the ribs.

'Huh?'

'I said, are you alright?' Rachel repeats. 'You're very quiet, and you keep touching your stomach with a weird look on your face.'

'Oh. Yeah, I'm fine.'

Rachel makes a noise of disapproval. 'Quinn, I consider myself to be adept at telling when someone is lying. You definitely are, so you may as well skip that part and tell me what's wrong instead.'

She scuffs the toe of her shoe across the ground, kicking a stone sullenly into a small pile of browning leaves as they walk. 'Just a bad day.'

'You seemed fine earlier.'

'It's possible the things that made it bad happened in the last hour,' Quinn growls. She draws the collar of her Letterman jacket higher, protecting herself from the chill wind. Her legs are freezing – while the skirts might be useful for drawing the attention of boys, they really don't help during the colder seasons.

Rachel gently brushes her fingers over the inside of Quinn's arm. She barely feels it. 'Practice, then?' she says softly. 'Were the other Cheerios particularly awful today?'

'You could say that. You could also say that Kelly was being the bitch she usually is, and that I might've hit her. And that Santana did too.'

The other girl stops dead in the road. Quinn breaks out of her grip and keeps on walking. As expected, a few moments later Rachel's tiny footfalls indicate she's running after her. 'Quinn Fabray!' exclaims Rachel, grabbing her arm again and spinning her around. 'You actually hit her? What happened?'

'She... wasn't happy. Obviously,' she says, with a wince and another touch to her stomach.

'She hit you back?' asks Rachel, frowning with concern at Quinn's midsection.

'It was my fault, anyway. I shouldn't have done anything.'

'What made you do it?' Rachel's hand reattaches itself to her bicep. Quinn finds herself feeling grateful, since her arm seemed unnaturally cold without the contact. She sighs, leaning into the brunette at her side. They're of similar height so it's a little uncomfortable to lay her head against Rachel's, but she does it anyway.

'She was asking me to steal some test answers for her. I should've just listened and gone along with it, but honestly – I was just so fed up. I got angry, and then she said something that really got me going. And I hit her.'

'What was it she said?'

Quinn falls quiet at that.

And no matter what Rachel does, how ever much she prods and whines and scolds, she keeps her mouth closed about the matter and her eyes averted to the ground all the way back to the Berry house. She continues even when she's inside and sitting on the couch, and after Rachel insists on getting an ice pack for her to place on her stomach.

After a while, Rachel seems to get that she doesn't want to talk about it. But neither does Quinn want to talk about anything else, and apparently Rachel hates silence: when it's there, she absolutely must fill it. Quinn actually listens this time (if only to keep her mind off her aching muscles), smiling at the way Rachel babbles cutely about any topic she can think of.

'I've always had difficulty hitting that note so I was a little hesitant, but my singing teacher just said "Go for it, Rachel!"'

It's adorable, how passionately Rachel can talk about her singing and acting. Quinn wishes she had something that she got so excited about, but sometimes it feels like her life is just devoid of all such things. Cheerleading? She loves it, but since coming to McKinley, it's just not the same anymore.

Well, maybe there's one thing in her life that she still loves. Since that day in the choir room with Rachel she's started playing the piano again, much to her mother's delight. Judy always did love showing her off at parties, clapping and exclaiming 'Isn't she wonderful!' as though she were a performing animal. Still, it hasn't dampened her love for it. A faint smile comes to her lips as she remembers Rachel playing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' for her on that first day.

'And although at one point I thought I was going to fall flat, I didn't –'

'She said something about you,' Quinn says suddenly. At Rachel's confused look, she clarifies, 'Kelly. It was about you and she was saying... stupid things. Insulting stuff. That's why I hit her.'

For short time, Rachel is absolutely speechless.

Privately, Quinn begins to think that she should defend Rachel more often if it gets her to shut up.

All too soon, Rachel regains control of her mouth, although she still looks completely gob smacked. Her cheeks are tinged red. 'W ell,' Rachel says, a tad shakily. She clears her throat. 'I'm surprised you'd do that for me. Not many would choose to defend for my honour like that: I'm very flattered. So. Thank you.'

She shrugs. 'Don't mention it.'

Really. Don't.

'I wish you hadn't gotten hurt for me, though. And I wish I could repay you somehow. Is there nothing I can do for you?'

Quinn shakes her head, trying not to think of all the things Rachel could "do for her". 'Nothing that I can think of right now. I'm going to get a glass of water.' She stands up but sits back down almost immediately when her stomach throbs again. 'Okay, maybe not...'

Rachel picks the icepack up, shifting it from hand to hand. 'Is it really bad?'

'Feels it.'

She stares at Quinn for a moment before placing the icepack on the table. 'Show me?'

Quinn hesitates, but reaches for the hem of her Cheerios top. She shivers at the feel of her chilled hands on her bare skin but pulls it up above her belly button anyway.

Rachel sucks in a sharp breath, gazing down at the darkening bruise covering Quinn's abs. 'Quinn, that looks nasty.'

'It feels pretty nasty too,' says Quinn drily.

'W e can't let her get away with it. You don't deserve that sort of treatment just because she thinks she's better than you, not at all.' Rachel puts her hand on Quinn's stomach again. Her hand is warm and a lot more soothing than the ice pack there a few minutes ago. She sighs, her fingers flexing slightly on her skin. Quinn tries to remember to breathe. 'Quinn, you're way too skinny to be getting into fights.'

'What?' Quinn laughs incredulously. 'Are you serious? No, I'm not. Look at the other girls on the team – that's skinny. I'm the dumpy, fat freshman that's shorter than the rest of them.'

Rachel rolls her eyes.

'Really,' Quinn insists. 'I'm not even that much taller than you right now.'

'Hey,' says Rachel, affronted. 'I happen to be of average height.'

'Average – for dwarfs.'

'I'm going to ignore that insult because I know you're simply trying to avoid the topic.' Rachel's nails start to absent-mindedly scratch over Quinn's stomach in a way that startlingly nice. 'Quinn, you must know you're very pretty. Gorgeous, even. However, I can feel your stomach under my hand, and I'll tell you right now that there's practically nothing on you.'

'Really?'

'You really shouldn't sound pleased about that,' says Rachel, rolling her eyes. 'Seriously, you need something inside you.'

It's probably the way Rachel is looking at her so intently, her brown eyes questioning and worried. Those eyes always get her to say things she doesn't want to, but apparently her mind is only caught on one part of the sentence. She blurts it out before she can censor her thoughts

- 'Are you propositioning me?'

Both their mouths drop open at the same moment from the outburst. Quinn's cheeks immediately turn scarlet, shooting back to the other side of the couch so Rachel isn't touching her anymore. Rachel doesn't chase her, because her hand is pressed to her mouth to stem the flood of giggles threatening to erupt.

'Quinn Fabray!' says Rachel, her voice shaking with the effort of not laughing. 'Did that honestly just come out of your mouth?'

Quinn groans, snatching up the cushion and smothering her face with it. 'I don't know where that came from!' she says, voice muffled. 'You're such a bad influence. I never said stuff like that until I met you. I don't even know what that meant!

She hears Rachel chortle. The couch dips a bit as Rachel crawls forward and presses on the cushion in an attempt to lower it, her lower body flush with Quinn's knees. 'I'm pretty sure the ability was "inside" you already.' The mischievous emphasis on "inside" makes Quinn groan. 'I had nothing to do with it.'

'You had everything to do with it.'

'Are you saying I corrupted you?' Rachel manages to wrestle the cushion away and fling it onto the carpet. Her grin is steadily widening, and she's been crawling closer the whole time until now, she's nearly on top of Quinn.

'That's exactly what you've done,' retorts Quinn.

'Like you mind,' Rachel shoots back.

Quinn reaches out to poke Rachel's sides and the girl giggles, squirming away. It turns into an impromptu tickling match, with Rachel trying to grab Quinn's hands and Quinn attacking from every angle.

'Stop!' Rachel pants. Somehow she gets hold of Quinn's hands and holds them by the wrists above her head. The brunette's face is flushed but she's grinning, towering above her; Quinn can feel the soft puffs of Rachel's irregular breath on her cheek, see her fluttering pulse in her throat that slows to its regular beat as they calm down. Or rather, Rachel calms down – Quinn can still feel her heart thumping wildly and inexplicably. She worries that Rachel can feel it too.

With an exuberant laugh, Rachel buries her face in Quinn's neck, giving her an affectionate nuzzle. 'Oh, Quinn,' she says, still chuckling. 'You're a lot of fun, did you know that?'

Quinn swallows, and is far too aware of how Rachel's nose is pressed against that moving part of her throat. 'You sound surprised?'

'I am a little,' Rachel admits. She shifts her weight so the length of her body presses along Quinn's side; it's a little awkward on this narrow couch and the distribution of weight on her chest is bordering on painful, but Rachel seems comfy so she decides not to say anything. 'You can be a little… standoffish, sometimes.'

'And you can be really tactless sometimes,' replies Quinn, a little bit hurt.

'I didn't mean it in a mean way!' Rachel shifts again, moving lower and jamming her leg between Quinn's and the back of the couch. Unfortunately she places her hand on Quinn's stomach and presses down to allow her to move, and the sudden shoot of pain makes Quinn gasp and her body jerk. 'Oh my God, I'msosorry! I forgot!'

'It's okay,' says Quinn through gritted teeth. 'Can you get off me though?'

'Of course, of course.' Rachel swings her leg over Quinn's body to the floor and hops away, careful not to touch her. Grimacing, Quinn sits up and rests her back on the armrest. Rachel watches her, wringing her hands in distress. 'I'm really sorry, Quinn.'

'Never mind, I forgot as well,' she lies.

'Even so.' Rachel's pouting now as she sits back down, careful to leave distance between them now.

Quinn nudges her thigh with her toe. 'Stop pouting.'

'Never.' Rachel huffs and crosses her arms, leaning back on the couch. 'Can't believe I did that.' She seems genuinely upset to have hurt her. Quinn frowns, unsure what to do; she pokes Rachel with her toe again, and then after a moment, digs it into Rachel's side, just where she now knows she is most ticklish. 'Hey!' Rachel yelps.

'Well, stop punishing yourself then. C'mon, you're not being a very good host when you're sitting there sulking.'

Rachel perks up a little at this. 'True. Did you want something to eat? We have lots of snacks.' Quinn barely resists making a face – she's sampled the Berry "snacks" and they contain far too much granola for her, and various kinds of berries. She supposes Rachel and her fathers think they're being funny. Instead she politely declines.

'We're having some big family dinner tonight, anyway. Wouldn't want to ruin my appetite for the meal my mom slaved over all day.'

'A family dinner?' Rachel settles herself more comfortably into the couch, picking up Quinn's feet and putting them in her lap. She almost purrs when Rachel runs her nails over the underside, through her sock. 'That sounds nice.'

'I'm sure the family dinners at the Berry house are lovely, social affairs, but at the Fabray house it's mainly just a chance for my dad to gloat about whatever ass-kissing he's done at work and whoever he's fired that day. I didn't say stop,' she says, poking Rachel again with her foot.

'You know, most people wouldn't put up with you abusing them with your feet.' As Rachel continues her ministrations, Quinn lets her head fall back onto the armchair, saying, 'Yeah, but you love me.'

'Mmhm…'

'You do.'

'Whatever you say, Quinnie.'

'Hey,' says Quinn warningly. 'Do not call me that. That's what my family call me, and I hate it.'

'Then whatever shall I call you, Quinnie?'

'How about just "Quinn?"'

'Fine, "just Quinn". Or perhaps,' says Rachel, suddenly grinning, 'I should call you "Charlie".'

Quinn groans at this unwanted reminder of their first embarrassing encounter, wishing she could reach the cushion to smother her face in. 'Don't. I'll stick with "just Quinn" if that's the alternative.'

'But you were so cute that day!' Rachel coos, either unaware of Quinn's mortification or wanting to rub it in a bit more. 'In fact, if I wanted to pick a word, I might say "bashful" or "shy".'

Quinn retracts her feet, now sitting up on her knees. 'You're on thin ice, Berry.'

'Oh, Berry,' Rachel teases. 'I'm so scared.'

'You better be.'

They smirk at each other for a few moments, before Rachel suddenly lunges for her. Disturbed, Quinn dodges out of the way until she realizes Rachel is just trying to hug her. Slowly, she relaxes, although not without some trepidation.

Rachel wraps her arms tight around Quinn, careful to dodge her injury. 'You're so lovely, Quinn,' says Rachel, and the tone of absolutely giddy adoration in her voice and the graze of Rachel's lips on her jaw make her cheeks flush wildly.

'Thanks,' she mumbles, smiling shyly.

Later that evening, Quinn has her "family dinner" with her father and mother. Russel sits at the head of the table, directly across from Quinn, still pours her water for her, still barks at her if he feels she hasn't eaten enough or dished up enough potatoes. Her mother, the opposite side, makes sly comments about the amount she's eating

Her father asks about school and Cheerios and scoffs about the fact she's not tried hard enough to become head cheerleader like her sister yet. Scoffs about the fact she's still friends with those "odd" girls, Santana and Brittany.

He has no idea she's friends with Rachel. And nor will he ever. It's as though when she's with Rachel she's in a little bubble where nothing can hurt her, she can forget she comes home to this. To mix the two worlds would mean she had nowhere to escape from.

Her mother casually remarks, when she's halfway through her plate of food, that Quinn seems to have gained a little weight.

Neither of her parents have noticed, or, if they have, asked, about her injury.

Judy Fabray pours a little more wine and sips it while Quinn pushes her plate back, excusing herself to her room because she suddenly "feels rather nauseous".

She manages to lie there for ten minutes, thinking of Rachel, thinking of her mother, hating her parents, before she slowly gets up and goes to the bathroom.

Even later that night, with her throat burning and the smell not quite gone from her clothes and hair, she tosses and turns before eventually falling into her first dream about Rachel.

It's not the last. Within a month, they'll be a regular feature of her night. She'll come to hate them, but secretly, love them.

Not long afterwards, she wakes up and throws up for the second time that evening from the sick realization of what is going on. She can still feel the shame, the want and the need for Rachel coating her thighs.

She lays her head on the cool edge of the toilet and cries – for some reason, wishing her sister was there more than ever.

December 2009

Rachel's freshman year passes in a blur of Slushie facials, namecalling and general abuse. Most of them probably don't even remember the original reason she became a target, particularly the stuttering and apologetic freshman sometimes forced to do it as some sort of twisted hazing ritual. By now she's just Rachel Berry, that girl who gets doused in corn syrup and ice every morning and sometimes in the afternoon as well.

Quinn never administers the Slushies herself. That's for someone else to do, but the messengers never fail to remind her who they're from. It hurt the first few times, but now she's learned to just get herself to the bathroom, change her clothes and get on with her day. It's what comes after that really gets to her.

There's the looks (hateful glances in the corridors, in classes, outside classes).

The nicknames (masculinising terms, dulling every compliment she's ever paid to her. "Man Hands". "Treasure Trail". "RuPaul").

And the MySpace comments – although they're left via a Cheerios account and knows they're not all Quinn (judging by the atrocious spelling), it still bothers her not knowing which ones came from her. Even Santana and Brittany, who previously treated her with indifference or simple dislike, seem to be enjoying joining in and throwing insults at her whenever they can.

It goes on like this until sophomore year, when Sandy Ryerson is fired from the position as the glee club director and Mr Schuester takes over. Glee club gains its required 12 members and suddenly... she's part of a family. A dysfunctional, backstabbing, incestuous family. But she's part of it nonetheless, and so is Quinn. Within the glee club, the next few months fly by even quicker, but with a vital difference. Although the Slushies haven't disappeared completely, she's no longer getting abused left right and centre from the entire student body.

The reason? They have a new target: Quinn. And with all the lies surrounding her situation it's only a matter of time before she completely falls to the bottom.

Rachel had thought, despite everything, she would enjoy seeing Quinn fall. She's only human after all, and Quinn made it her goal to ensure Rachel's life was consistently a misery. She always prides herself on always (within reason) taking the higher ground but Rachel has her limits.

Watching Quinn break down should feel good – Rachel ought to be enjoying finally getting revenge, however small, on Quinn Fabray. It should be satisfying to see her hurt after everything she's done to Rachel so far, the number of times she's made her cry herself.

She should be feeling bad for Finn because of the way his own girlfriend and best friend lied to him outright, and maybe even a little pleased since now she can begin to work on becoming his girlfriend. He's nice to her. She likes that.

As time goes on, however, Rachel begins to think whatever part of her brain that ought to be enjoying revenge on Quinn ifaulty. Because although she knows inwardly, everything this moment should be to her... when she sees Quinn's face crumple with tears and the utter fury unleashed by Finn in reaction, it doesn't feel anything but completely wrong.

She doesn't go after Finn; almost immediately after Quinn leaves the room, her feet start carrying her after her.

Mercedes grabs her arm as she passes, spinning her around.

'Woah! Where d'you think you're going?'

'I have to go after her.'

Rachel receives a look as though she's crazy. 'Hello, Earth to Berry?' exclaims Mercedes. 'Rachel, this is all your fault in the first place!'

She wrenches her arm away. 'I know. And I need to apologise to her for everything.'

With that, she stalks away. Dramatic, maybe, but that's what Rachel's known for. 70% of her exits from a room since the age of six have been storm outs or accompanied by a one-liner that would be fitting for a 9 o'clock drama.

Rachel locates Quinn quickly on a bench a few corridors away, hidden away in a small alcove. Her eyes are glazed over as she stares into space, a hand protectively over her stomach and the other cradled in the material of her skirt. She barely reacts when Rachel makes her way closer.

'I'm so sorry.' Rachel's voice is trembling slightly, especially when Quinn raises her gaze to hers. Her eyes are red - rimmed and puffy, and distract Rachel briefly before she continues in a rush, now starting to believe it was probably a bad idea to come out here. 'I fully understand if you want to beat me up. If you can, just try and avoid my nose.'

Rachel squeezes her eyes shut tight, inhaling sharply in preparation for the incoming blow.

It never comes. Instead she hears Quinn whisper, 'I'm not mad at you.'

Her eyes snap open and take in the blonde who has looked away again. 'All you did was something I wasn't brave enough to do... tell the truth.' Her voice, slightly nasal and thick from crying, lacks all the viciousness that is all Rachel has heard from the girl for the last year or so. In that moment she can see Quinn the way she was before being promoted to head cheerleader. It's been a long time since she's caught even a glimpse of that girl.

'I ...' She shuts her mouth and descends into the spot next to her. Quinn is looking ahead and avoiding eye contact once more. 'I was selfish when I told him.' Rachel knows that saying what she's about to say might only make things worse, but she needs Quinn to know the whole story. The other girl barely reacts. 'I wanted to break you two up so he would want to be with me.'

'And now, neither of us have him.' Rachel tries to subtly move her head to meet the other girl's eyes, but she stares straight ahead. 'I have hurt... so many people,' Quinn breathes, shaking her head slightly.

Including you, are the unspoken next words.

Rachel sees the struggle Quinn is facing on whether to open up displayed on her face; the slight crease between her eyebrows, the downward tilt of her lips. Quinn's shutting down again, and shutting her out as a result.

Right on cue, Quinn's head snaps around abruptly. 'Can you - go now?' Her voice cracks and fades into a whisper. 'I just really wanna be alone.'

She blinks slowly, heavy eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheek in such a morose way that Rachel's heart aches a little. A single tear trickles down.

Rachel nods. She wishes she could reach out and hug Quinn, but instead she reaches out - and after a moment of hesitance, pats Quinn on the shoulder. She lingers only a moment before she slides off the bench and walks away, leaving the girl on her own.

A/N: Quinn and Rachel's awkward teenage crushes are the best things to write.