"Quinn, are you going to open the door?"

Gritting her teeth, the blonde finally forced herself to turn the knob, open the door, and enter the waiting room of Rachel's psychologist. The room itself was some bizarre mix of warm and cold, coolly professional and cozily homey. Or, Quinn reminded herself, it may well be the standard of home decorations she had been bought up to understand as homey; black and white photographs of beaches, clear glass vases with white flowers, white washed walls. The snort that emitted from behind her let Quinn know Puckerman clearly didn't approve. Despite his audible objections, the mohawked boy slunk over to the seating area, throwing his feet on the table loudly. Like a mother, Rachel first frowned at her friend, before turning and mouthing 'sorry' to the receptionist, who simply shrugged and provided a small smile in return.

Taking a seat next to Noah, Quinn found she was no longer surprised when Rachel quickly sat beside her. She was, however, caught off guard by the sensation of Rachel's hands resting on her thigh. The brunette rubbed small circles with her thumb into the blonde's knee, the movement changing pressure with every circle. It seemed to be Rachel's way of distracting herself, as she was clearly on edge, scanning the room while her own legs jittered beneath her; not that Quinn minded, of course. The soft sensation of the brunette's hand on her bare leg was like fire and ice at once, exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Despite this, the taller girl felt her heart flutter sympathetically at the thought of Rachel being nervous. Not really knowing what else to do, Quinn simply placed her hand over Rachel's. It was amazing, the way their hands fit together. Long slender fingers found their way into the gaps of the others, sliding perfectly into place. She didn't have to look at Rachel to know she was smiling, that slight smile the brunette reserved only for Quinn.

"Noah Puckerman?"

A taller, dark skinned man stood in the doorway, a single piece of paper held in his hands.

"What, just me?" was Noah's response, head swiveling around to look to Rachel.

"I thought you might be able to talk more easily if you went in on your own, Noah. If not, I'm more than happy to go with you."

The mohawked boy seemed to consider his options. Quinn could tell Noah hadn't planned on taking this seriously, but the opportunity to talk alone to someone who just had to listen, without judgment, would be good for him. The football player seemed to come to the same conclusion as he slunk out of his chair, shrugging a shoulder as he did so.

"Nuh, I'm fine. See you ladies on the other side."

The doctor ushered him behind closed doors, but not before the blonde heard something to do with 'I'm not gonna stare at blobs, doc.'

Quinn grinned, turning her attention back to her hand on Rachel's hand on her knee. This shouldn't feel as good as it did, she knew that, but that didn't stop her from enjoying it. As if hearing her thoughts, Rachel shuffled closer and lay her head on Quinn's shoulder, the brunette's soft brown hair tickling as it lightly fanned across the sensitive skin of her shoulder. Quinn relaxed into her seat, closing her eyes while pressing her cheek against the top of her friend's head. Had Rachel's shampoo always smelt this good? As always, the soft wash of strawberries wafted over her, and never before had Quinn felt as intoxicated as when she was around that smell, the way her mind buzzed and span and the stupid smile she couldn't prevent from tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Miss Fabray-Berry?"

Quinn hummed to herself. Fabray-Berry, she liked the sound of that. Faberry.

Oh.

"My apologies, Dr. Jansen, but the appointment is actually for two people. Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry?" said a rather embarrassed looking Rachel. Quinn could have sworn she saw the beginnings of Rachel's ears turning a startling pink.

"Right, sorry girls. Come right in," smiled back a red headed woman, ushering them into the room with the sweep of a hand.

Taking a seat, Quinn had never felt the way she felt right now. All at once the crushing insecurity of the mere idea of opening up and letting out all she had been working so hard to keep inside came together with the relief her very bones felt at the idea of sheading this weight would be a godsend. Two large, plush armchairs faced another of the same description, leaving Rachel to sit beside her while Dr. Jansen sat right in front of them.

"So, Miss Fabray. As I understand it, you have been through some trauma?"

Quinn bit her bottom lip. Rachel could do the talking, she always could.

Instead, she felt Rachel's warmly intense gaze resting on her. Looking to her friend, Quinn raised an eyebrow, motioning with her head for the brunette to answer the question.

"Quinn, this is your appointment. Your time. I'm only here for moral support and, to be quite honest, I knew you'd need someone to push you to answer Dr. Jansen's questions."

Reluctant, with her pride somewhat wounded, Quinn answered the question. And so it continued for the next forty-five minutes, and with every question, the blonde could feel her mask slipping further and further. This would be uncomfortable enough, but the experience was made all the more difficult with Rachel sitting beside her. Undoubtedly the girl had her best interest in heart, and she really did appreciate it. That knowledge, however, didn't make it easier to voice her fears, nightmares and low points, though it did help her ease sharp pain in her heart that until now had gone untreated.

"We do only have a short time left, so if you don't mind, Miss Berry, would you mind waiting outside while Quinn and I wrap things up here?"

Though she did her best to hide it, there was no denying the flash of surprise and reluctance that danced across Rachel's face. It was sweet, that Rachel wanted to be there with her, but Quinn secretly appreciated the doctor's suggestion. There were some things, many things, that she would rather Rachel not hear. With a small nod and a quick shoulder squeeze to Quinn, the brunette snuck out of the room.

"Quinn, let me know if I'm totally wrong here, but I can't help but feel there was a lot you were holding back. I normally don't have non-family members sit in on sessions, but your friend Rachel made quite the convincing case. You've always been a bit reserved with your feelings? She suggested you come from quite an emotionally stunting, even abusive, household."

The doctor sounded concerned, pen poised above the paper. Despite it clearly being her job to care… Quinn could tell this woman really did care, and she really would listen. Maybe even help if she could. And that was certainly what the blonde needed now.

No sooner had Quinn opened her mouth to respond, a large crash and bang rattled the walls of the room. The blonde flung herself across the room, tackling the skinny redhead before her to the ground.

Then nothing.

Her cheeks had reddened before she even consciously noted her embarrassment. Detangling herself from long limbs and a white coat, Quinn offered her hand to her doctor and helped her to her feet.

"Fuck this, and fuck you!"

The anger in Noah's voice was unfortunately familiar. The curses were followed by even more loud rattles, finalized by a door slam.

Silence.

"Well, Quinn… I'm sure you won't be surprised that your heroic actions will go noted by myself. Clearly, we have a lot to talk about. For now, though, I think your boyfriend needs you."

The snort was warranted.

"Noah? Puck? My boyfriend? He's… no… I mean… I'm not… I don't…" Quinn stumbled, choosing to instead pause, gather her thoughts, and offer the perfect pageant-winning smile that came to her so easily now.

"Noah Puckerman isn't my boyfriend, Dr. Jansen. That's actually something I'd like to get the opportunity to speak to you about next time."

The doctor broke into a sudden smile.

"So there will be a next time?"

She nodded as she walked to the door, calling over her shoulder as she exited the room.

"Yes, doc. See you next time."

Quinn hadn't been surprised to learn that Noah had stormed off, without saying a word to Rachel ("How could he, he knows how much I worry!"). All her years of experience dealing with the often moody boy allowed her to understand that Puck needed his cooling off time, which mostly involved a combination of throwing dirt into pools or eating his weight in Twinkies while watching 'Schindlers List'. So she gave him a few hours to finish the movie, dropped Rachel back home, returned to her empty home, kicked off her shoes and dialed her baby's father's number (of course, on speed dial).

"What."

"Puckerman, have I ever let you know that your manners are your most charming feature?"

"Look, Fabray, if this is about-"

"You know what this is about. I know it was hard, but it was hard on all of us, Noah! Poor Rachel was practically in tears after you-"

"I'm not going back to that place, those dickwads are idiots."

"Rachel really wanted-"

"'Rachel', 'Rachel', 'Rachel'…"

Quinn sighed, flopping backwards onto her bed.

"Do you have a point, Puckerman?"

"Look, I'm sorry, I like Rachel. I do. But I'm not gonna have some dude talk to me like he knows what's going on in my head."

"We all went through the same thing, Puck. I know how hard this-"

"No. No you don't. Don't fucking tell me you know how hard this is."

The anger and spite in his voice caught Quinn off guard. Hackles raised, she sat up on her bed to fire back on the defensive.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were the only person in that corridor that day."

"Shut up, Fabray, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Awww, was it extra hard on you? Were you the one who held Chang's head in her lap? Had your hands over Finn's throat?"

"Don't you say his name!"

"What the hell is wrong with you, Noah?!"

"Because of me he's dead!"

Silence.

More silence.

Quiet voices now.

"What?"

The change from roaring anger to a voice struggling, wavering, made a chill run through the ex-cheerleader's bones.

"I saw the gun. I saw the gun, Quinn, and I freaked. I hid behind the lockers as soon as I saw him. Some guy had a gun pointed at my best friend's throat and I pussied out."

"Noah…I don't know what to say."

"Don't."

"No, really, you have to know it's not your fa-"

Dial tone. He'd hung up on her.

Quinn allowed her body to fall back onto the bed, staring unblinking up to her roof. After all this time, she realized she'd never really talked to anyone else about what they had experienced that day. Maybe a little with Rachel, but even then, it was all surface talk. There was no way Quinn could have known her friend was carrying around that kind of baggage. Noah Puckerman, football player and badass extraordinaire, when faced with a serious threat… hid. It wasn't cowardice in her eyes; after all, none of them had the chance to see what was happening until it was too late. There was no way of knowing if they would have done the same. Though she doubted any of that would have been any consolation to the boy. It did, however, explain why he'd stormed out of the appointment earlier today. The doctor was probably edging closer and closer to a point Puck really wasn't ready to accept.

The girl rolled over onto her side, phone in hand, and did the only thing she knew how to do when it got too much. She reached out to Rachel, using the two words that had come to summarize all that had been and all that would, in the selfish attempt to quell her pain by knowing someone else was hurting, too.

Q: 'It hurts'

It only took a few seconds for her phone to buzz to life with the reply.

R: 'It hurts'

"It hurts," Quinn mouthed, so as if to remember.