Hi everyone. Heavy chapter, trigger warnings galore. More notes at the end.

"Daddy, that's Quinn."

Rachel nearly fell out of the car as she scrambled out. Frigid air hit her skin as soon as she opened the car door, and she hurried up to her half-frozen soulmate, her active imagination conjuring up all sorts of reasons for him to be here in the middle of February. "Quinn?"

A soft touch to his arm had his eyes shooting open, hazel eyes widening with surprise. "Rachel. I –"

"Quinn, what are you doing?" she demanded worriedly, sitting down next to him and rubbing at his arms. "It's freezing out here!" Her breath was misting in the air as she tried to warm him up. She glanced toward her father who was parking the car, impatiently waiting for him to come out and unlock the house. "You should have called me. I might have come home to an ice sculpture instead of a boyfriend!"

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, okay? I just couldn't – I didn't know where –"

Finally Leroy came up behind Rachel. "Hello, Quinn, what are you doing here?"

Quinn tensed, going completely rigid as he shrank away. Rachel inhaled sharply at the raw fear in his eyes as he nearly scrambled back against the bench in an attempt to get away from Leroy. Both Berrys were at a loss for words until Rachel snapped out of it. "Daddy, c-could you go inside?" she asked, her voice shaking. "We'll be inside soon."

Leroy nodded, his face serious. "All right, sweetheart. Don't stay out too long, okay? It's cold." At Rachel's nod he went into the house, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he vanished from sight, Rachel looked back at Quinn, who looked like he was about to be sick.

Rachel reached toward him. "Quinn –"

He flinched back involuntarily, and Rachel froze. Quinn stood up abruptly, running his hands through his hair. "I shouldn't have come here," he muttered. "I wasn't thinking, I should have just gone home, I shouldn't be here –"

"Wait!" Rachel shot up, afraid that he would bolt. "Quinn, wait. It's okay." She tentatively reached out again, and this time she managed to take his hand. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, trying so hard to convince him that he was safe. "It's okay," she whispered, holding him close. "You're okay."

His body shuddered in her arms before he nodded. "O-okay."

"Let's - we need to go inside," she told him. "We're going to get sick out here."

With a bit more coaxing, she managed to get him inside, sighing in relief at the warmth. Leroy had retreated to his office, and Rachel managed to get Quinn up into her bedroom for some privacy. She immediately grabbed her quilt, tossing it around her soulmate's shoulders as she pushed him gently onto the bed. He'd been out there for God knew how long, and he needed to warm up. "Wait here, okay?" she instructed. "I'm going to make us some tea."

Quinn nodded his silent assent, and Rachel hurried down to the kitchen to boil some water. Setting the electric kettle to boil, she puttered around distractedly, trying to sort out her frazzled thoughts. Blaine hadn't said anything about Quinn being this upset. Her soulmate's behavior was scaring her, and she didn't know what was going on or how to help him.

"Is Quinn okay?"

Rachel let out a tiny yelp, whirling around to see Leroy standing behind her. "Daddy," she whispered sharply. "Don't do that!"

"It's hardly my fault if you're unobservant," he sniffed. "But back to the important matters. Is Quinn all right?"

She exhaled softly as she turned back to the kettle, seeing that it was done. "I don't know." She busied herself with pouring the water out into three mugs with teabags. "I don't know what's wrong, and I don't know what to do."

Leroy nodded. "Hey." He waited for her to set the kettle down before pulling her into a hug, and Rachel shut her eyes, soaking his warmth and support. "Just go upstairs and talk to him. You'll figure it out."

"I'm scared," she admitted into his chest. "I feel like – no, I know this is going to be something bad, and I'm scared I'm going to do or say something wrong."

"You won't. Just follow your heart."

"You make it sound so easy." Rachel took a deep breath, nodding. "Okay. I can do this." She pulled back, smiling at him gratefully. She picked up two of the mugs, nodding at the third. "That's for you."

"Thank you," Leroy smiled. "Now go on," he nodded toward the stairs. "I'll give your Dad a text so he knows not to come barging in." He paused for a moment. "Quinn can stay the night if he needs to."

"Really?" Rachel stared at him.

"Just this once. He looks terrible, and it's starting to snow again." He leveled a stern look at her. "But no funny business, okay?"

"I promise," Rachel smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Daddy."

"I'm right in my office if you need me."

Rachel nodded, returning to her room with the two mugs of steaming liquid. She bumped the door closed with her hip, feeling that her dads would let it slide this once. Quinn was still sitting on the bed where she'd left him, staring blankly into space.

"Here." She offered him one of the mugs. "It's still hot, so you should be careful, but I think it'll help warm you up as I think your body temperature is still lower than I would like it to be."

"Thanks." His voice was quiet as he took the mug, and Rachel sat down next to him as she watched him sip at the tea. He looked small and sad, still huddled under her quilt, his eyes red-rimmed. She let the silence sit for a minute before finally asking.

"Quinn… what happened? Where did you go today?"

His nearly six-foot frame hunched further into itself. "I'm sorry I scared you," he mumbled, shutting his eyes. "Last night, with Finn. I shouldn't have started the fight. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Quinn." She sighed. "You didn't scare me. I'm not scared of you. I was shocked, certainly, but I know you wouldn't hurt me."

Quinn sniffed, rubbing his nose and setting the mug of tea on the nightstand. "I, uh, what he said… he – he reminded me of something. Someone."

"Your dad?"

"No. Yes. I… God." He doubled over, arms around his stomach. He took a wheezy, painful-sounding breath, and Rachel didn't know what to do.

"Quinn, maybe – if you don't want to talk about this, we don't have to –"

"No." It took him a moment to straighten back up, taking a deep, shaky breath. "I told you – I promised we were going to talk about this today. And I – I have to. I can't not tell you anymore." He dragged his hand down his face.

"Okay…" Rachel studied him. "Is – is this about what Finn reminded you of? Or about what I remind you of, when we… do things together?" She wasn't entirely sure how yet, but she was sure everything was related.

Quinn stood up abruptly, upset. "I told you, it's not you. You don't remind me of – it's not –" He started to pace distractedly. "I know you're not him, I know –"

"Wait. What do you mean him? Who are you talking about?" A cold finger of dread touched Rachel's heart. He'd been adamant that he wasn't talking about his dad, so who was it? "Quinn, please talk to me."

He stopped in the middle of the floor, a horrified expression on his face. His jaw worked up and down, words trying and failing to come out. "I – I –"

Rachel swallowed, trying to tamp down her growing fear. No matter how she tried to put any of this together, there wasn't any way this would turn out well. She suspected she already knew what it was he was keeping from her, but it couldn't be. She didn't want it to be. Her stomach was churning, and part of her just wanted him to stop, say that there was nothing wrong. But she couldn't stand seeing him so upset, and her desire to help him overrode her own comfort. She took a deep breath, standing up only to freeze when he flinched back.

"It's okay," she said, raising her hands. "Quinn, i-it's okay. You can tell me as much or as little as you want. I know you said we'd talk," she said, interrupting him when he opened his mouth to say something, "but if you're not ready, then that's that. There's nothing wrong with that. Just know that whatever you tell me, I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be right here, and we're going to get through whatever it is, together."

Quinn breathed shakily, slowly backing away until his back hit the wall. Finding nowhere else to go, he slid down until he was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, head hung low with one agitated hand running over his hair. He was obviously trying and failing to get himself together, and Rachel perched on the bed, carefully keeping her distance. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down herself. She knew instinctively that she needed to be the strong one between them right now, and she took a moment to compose herself, steeling herself to take whatever he was going to say.

She couldn't let him down.

They sat there for an interminable time. Rachel kept silent, afraid to move or speak or do anything that might spook Quinn into shutting down again. Finally Quinn moved, his head coming up to rest against the wall, eyes shut.

"I don't know how to tell you," he said quietly, eyes still shut. "I've never –" He exhaled heavily, and Rachel wanted so badly to go over there and hold him. But she stayed still.

"How about you just start at the beginning?" she suggested.

He nodded, his head dropping again. He took another breath. "When I was little, I, uh, my parents got me into soccer lessons in the summer. I didn't, didn't really want to because I, you know."

"I remember. You told me wanted to stay inside because it was too hot, and you just wanted to draw."

He nodded jerkily. "I didn't think I was going to be good at it, but, but he said I was."

"Who? Your dad?"

Quinn's head shook, hard. "No. No, my dad thought I would be crap at it too." He swallowed. "I started the summer when I was nine, then my mom asked the next year if I wanted to do it again. That was after my grandfather died, and my father was getting mean and drinking more, so I said yes." He took a deep breath. "I had the same coach, and he was really great to me, and he told me – he told me I was the best kid on the team." Another deep breath. "The third summer, I was eleven, and I had him as my coach again."

Rachel tensed. She had been ten that summer, and that had been the summer everything had changed. That had been the summer he'd stopped talking to her. She leaned forward, all her attention on him.

"My grandmother got sick that summer," Quinn said, pulling his knees up to his chest. "So my – my mom went to Mississippi to help her for a few weeks. My dad couldn't pick me up after practice, so t-the coach offered to let me watch me after practice, then – then he'd take me home so my dad didn't have to pick me up." He let out a choked, bitter laugh. "He didn't have to, so that was awful nice of him, right?"

He paused, resting his forehead against his knees. Rachel's stomach clenched. She had a terrible feeling about where this was going, and she almost wanted him to stop. But she stayed quiet. She needed to know.

Quinn rubbed a hand across his face. "One day I, ah, I spilled something on my shirt," he said softly. "When we got to his house he got me to t-take off my shirt so I he could help me clean up, and he…" His words were speeding up, his voice pitching higher. "I didn't – he –" His voice cracked, his head falling forward again.

God. Oh, God. Rachel mind was spinning every which way, jumping to conclusions, begging desperately that he wasn't going to tell her what she thought he was going to. "Quinn…"

A dry, ragged sob tore from his chest. "He… he would do… things… to me," he said hoarsely. "He would… touch me, or – or he'd make me do things, and I – I –" He started to shake with suppressed sobs, his breaths coming shallowly. "I didn't want him to." His voice broke, the words ending in a whimper. "I told him to stop, that I didn't, I didn't like it. But he didn't, and…" He trailed off, shaking.

Rachel was frozen stock-still on the bed, her hand tight over her mouth. It felt as though someone had ripped her heart out of her chest, leaving behind a hollow, aching void. She'd suspected, yes, but she hadn't let herself put it into words, and hearing it now… God. It was far worse, hearing it out loud. She didn't know what to think, what to say, what to do besides sit there, horrified and useless.

"He, uh, he kept doing it every time we went to his house." Quinn's voice was breaking and cracking with every word, his body curling desperately into himself. "He kept doing things, and it got worse and worse and I didn't want it, but – but –"

He was crying in earnest now, and his sobs broke through Rachel's paralysis. She was beside Quinn in seconds, wrapping her arms around him and thanking God that he didn't try to push her off. "Shh, Quinn, it's –" Her voice caught, because it wasn't fine, it wasn't okay. How could any of this be okay? Her soulmate had been violated in the worst way possible, and it wasn't okay.

"I didn't want to," he cried. "I swear, I didn't. I told him, I said I didn't want to, but he wouldn't – he kept doing it anyways –" His breathing was speeding up, his words coming out jumbled.

He cut off, and Rachel took a breath. "Quinn, did he – did he –"

She couldn't bring herself to ask, but a huge sob ripped from Quinn's chest, and she had her answer. She clamped her hand back over her mouth, trying to choke back the urge to throw up.

"He said – it was supposed to be our secret, and he said – he said – if my dad found out, he'd – I was so stupid, I should have – it was my fault, and I should have –"

Rachel couldn't take it anymore. "It's not your fault," she said desperately. "God, Quinn, none of this is your fault. You were a kid. You were an eleven-year-old child against a grown man. You couldn't have done anything, and that isn't your fault." She looked up, trying in vain to hold her own tears back. "I'm right here," she whispered. "I'm here."

"You're not going to want me anymore," he cried, his entire body shaking in her arms. "You won't – why would you want – he used me, and I'm broken and you're going to leave, and I can't –"

"No, no, stop," Rachel shushed him, tears streaming down her cheeks. She shook her head. "That's not true. I'm not going anywhere, Quinn. You're my soulmate, and I'm going to be here for you."

She shifted so that she was next to him, still holding him in her arms, rocking gently. The room was quiet except for his muffled sobs. He was inconsolable, and it was taking everything Rachel had not to break down with him. Suddenly he stood up, bolting into the bathroom and starting to throw up, crying the entire time. Rachel hurried after him, unable to do anything but stay there with him, stroking his back in a futile attempt to soothe him.

It was a long time before he even started to calm down, going limp and quiet in her arms as she stroked his hair. She managed to coax him into brushing his teeth, leading him out to sit on the bed. She started to move toward the door only to have him call out.

"Don't – where are you going?" His voice was soft and frightened, and Rachel could almost see the scared little boy he'd been years ago.

"Not far," she promised. "My dads said you could stay over, so I'm just going to get you something to change into, okay?" She put her hand on his cheek. "Do you want anything else?" He shook his head. "I'll be right back, I promise."

She left the room, pausing to wipe her eyes in the hall. She was feeling so much – shock, despair, rage, confusion – and she hadn't had enough time to process everything. But now wasn't the time, and she hurried to the laundry room for some of her Dad's pajamas and a spare shirt. Quinn was sitting on the edge of the bed when she returned, bent over miserably, and he looked up when she entered.

"I'm back," she said with a small smile. "I got you my Dad's clothes, since I think they're a little closer in size than my Daddy's. And there's a spare toothbrush in the cabinet in the bathroom." She paused. "I would definitely be amenable to you spending the night with me," she said gently, "but if you want to be by yourself, I understand. It's snowing, and I really don't think either of us should be driving at this hour, so if you'd prefer, we have a guest room."

Quinn looked down, exhausted and subdued. "I don't want to be alone."

Rachel nodded. "Okay." She suspected that when her Daddy had said Quinn could spend the night, he'd meant the spare room, but like hell was she going to let him out of her sight right now.

She used the hallway bathroom while Quinn used hers, and he was curled up under the covers by the time she came back inside She crawled in after him, turning out the lights. "How are you feeling?" she whispered, touching his cheek lightly. "What can I do to help?"

"I just want to forget what happened," he sniffled eventually. "And sometimes I can, but sometimes I remember, and I – I –" His voice cracked.

"Oh, Quinn." She hugged him close, starting to hum softly. As exhausted as he was, it wasn't too long before his breathing evened out.

Rachel, on the other hand, was a different matter. The only thing keeping her still was the thought that moving would wake Quinn, but soon it wasn't enough. She carefully untangled herself from Quinn, brushing her hand through his hair. Once she was sure he wouldn't wake up, she crept out of the room and down to the kitchen. Or at least, that was her intent. She wasn't even halfway down the stairs before her tears started to blur, and she just sat down on the steps, letting out all the sobs she'd held back upstairs.

She'd done her best to keep it together for Quinn's sake, and she'd been successful for the most part, but… God. What kind of sick, twisted monster could do that to a child? Quinn had never done anything to deserve this. No one deserved this. She couldn't stop crying; every time she thought she was done, she'd think of Quinn, eleven years old, being violated by a nameless, faceless man, and she couldn't take it.

And what about Quinn's parents? What kind of useless, neglectful parents would let that happen to their child? If she'd thought she was angry at Judy Fabray before, it was nothing compared to now. She had told Rachel herself that she thought something had happened that summer. Why hadn't she done anything? She had failed as a mother in ways even worse than Rachel had previously thought.

"Rachel?"

She looked up tearfully to see her Dad standing at the top of the stairs. "Dad. Why – why are you awake?" She wiped her eyes, trying desperately to compose herself. It was past midnight, and she'd thought everyone was asleep. Wordlessly, Hiram ambled down the stairs, sinking down so he was sitting on the step just below Rachel's.

"What happened?" he asked, facing her. "Daddy told me about our visitor. Did you find out what's wrong? Is Quinn okay?"

She started to cry again. "No." She swiped futilely at her face. "He's not… he…" She looked away, sniffling, her need to relieve this burden warring with her need to protect Quinn's privacy. She knew he didn't want anyone to know. "Something… someone did something, to him, when he was a kid."

Hiram was quiet for a minute. "His father?"

Rachel laughed, the sound harsh and choked and downright bitter. "No. It wasn't." What Quinn's coach had done to him was even worse than anything Russell Fabray had done, and Rachel cried fresh tears at the thought of how much her soulmate had had to go through. God, they were only seventeen. It wasn't fair.

Suddenly she was just so incredibly furious, and she knew if she had that monster in front of her, she could kill him without a single regret. "It was someone else," she said quietly. "And I hate him so much."

"Rachel…"

"It's true." She shook her head, hands curling into fists. "I hate him so much, Dad. I hate him so much it scares me."

Hiram took her hand, tearing her out of her dark thoughts. "Rachel," he said, "calm down. None of this is going to help Quinn, and you know it."

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, knowing he was right. It was useless to try to apportion blame; all that mattered now was helping Quinn. But, "I don't know what to do." She was so hopelessly out of her depth, it was paralyzing.

"Rachel, listen," Hiram said carefully, "After what you told us last night, I talked to one of the psychiatrists at the hospital. I can set up an appointment with him."

She cringed, feeling sick that she was making such a big deal out of Finn's actions when Quinn had gone through so much worse. She shook her head. "Dad, we can tackle that later, first I need to worry about Quinn."

"I could point out that you need to take care of yourself before worrying about others, but I know that won't help. I was just going to suggest that maybe Quinn should talk to the therapist too." He paused. "Is he safe?"

"He's safe now. His father is still in Illinois, and the man who…" Rachel swallowed, bile rising up when she realized Quinn's former coach could very well still be in Quinn's hometown. No wonder he didn't want to go back. "Quinn's safe now." Her eyes blurred with tears again. "I don't know how to help him."

Hiram brushed her hair back. "The important thing now is that he's told someone. He's told you. That means he trusts you. He's going to need your support, but the best thing now is to get him to go to some sort of counseling. He needs to work through it if he wants to heal."

Rachel nodded, wringing her hands. When she had gotten old enough to understand just what was going on with her soulmate, she had considered that Quinn would need some sort of help when they finally met. She'd done her research on child abuse, investigated how to support an abused partner, had prepared herself to attend therapy with him if he needed her to. But she'd never considered this.

"I don't know if he'll go," she admitted. "I asked him once if he ever talked to a therapist or anything, when he told me about his dad, but… I don't know." She was silent for a minute. "What if I can't help him?" she asked quietly. What if this was too much for them to deal with?

Hiram put his hand on her knee. "Rachel, you are the strongest person I know. We've raised you never to give up, and you never have, not on anything. Now, does that guarantee everything will work out? No. But I know that you'll do everything you can to help him. And that's more than enough."

Rachel shut her eyes, nodding again. "Okay." She leaned over, hugging her father. "Thank you, Dad. I… I needed that."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Just don't forget, you need to take care of yourself too, okay? Think about talking to the therapist yourself. And we're always here if either of you want to talk." She nodded, and he started to stand up, stretching his back out with a groan. "Remind me not to sit like this again."

She chuckled, wiping her eyes. "Okay, old man. Goodnight."

She returned to her room, careful to be as quiet as possible. Quinn was still asleep when she crawled back into bed, but he was shaking, a frown creased between his eyebrows, the way she'd seen him in his house two weeks ago. She reached out, pressing a palm to his cheek, and to her relief, he started to calm down. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and soon, she started to drift off.

Rachel woke up far earlier than her alarm clock the next morning, and as soon as she opened her eyes, she knew Quinn wasn't in the bed anymore. She shot bolt upright, frantically scanning the room for any sign of her soulmate. She was relatively sure she hadn't dreamed the whole thing up, but Quinn wasn't here, so where was he?

Then the door to her bathroom opened, and she let out a sigh of relief. "There you are."

Quinn froze, unable to look at her. "I… yeah."

"I thought you'd left, or…" She frowned, blinking. "Why are you up already? Are – are you leaving?"

He folded in on himself. "I can leave now," he whispered, exhausted and broken. "I shouldn't – you don't have to let me stay."

"What are you talking about?"

He chuckled, the sound coming out painful. "You don't have to say it, okay? After –" He choked on a breath. "After what I told you last night – I know you're not going to want me anymore. I told you I'm damaged goods, and now… now you know just how much. I just… I'm sorry you got stuck with me."

Rachel shook her head, standing up. Then she moved right up to him, slowly, giving him the chance to move away, and when he didn't, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug before giving him a soft but firm kiss. "Does it look like I'm in any way disgusted with you?"

He swallowed, eyes shut. "How can you not be?"

"I'm not," she insisted. "Quinn, w-what happened to you was horrible, and I hate so much that it happened to you. But you have to know that it wasn't your fault. You didn't ask for any of it to happen, not your coach, not your dad… None of that matters to me, okay? I still see you as the amazing person who sang for me on my birthday, who likes comic books and M&Ms and who is an extremely talented artist. You're the thoughtful person who buys me flowers and – and remembers that I'm a vegan, and who believes in me even when I don't believe in myself. You're still the person who's kept me safe since we met. You –" She shrugged helplessly. "You're still the person I'm in love with."

They were both crying by then, and when Rachel pulled him into another hug, this time Quinn's arms wrapped around her.

"You must think I'm such a girl," Quinn mumbled with a wet chuckle. "Crying all over you like this."

"The idea that boys shouldn't cry is an example of toxic masculinity. Letting out your emotions is healthy." She gripped him tighter. "I'm glad you feel safe enough to let it out in front of me."

She tugged him onto the edge of the bed, the two of them sitting side by side. "Do you… do you want to talk about what happened?" she asked, voice tiny. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the details what had happened to him; she wasn't sure if she could take it. But if he needed to… "You can tell me as much or as little as you want. I'll listen."

His breathing hitched. "I… no. I just want to forget about it. I don't even remember all of it, but…" His eyes shut tight suddenly. "I don't want to."

Rachel didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. "Okay. But if you ever need to, I'm here." She paused for a moment. "This is why you stopped talking to me, isn't it? When we were little?"

He nodded minutely.

"You could have told me."

"You couldn't have done anything."

"Maybe not, but…" She sighed. This was so incredibly messed up, she didn't know what to say. "Maybe it would have helped to have someone to talk to."

He stood up abruptly, running his hands over his arms. "I couldn't tell anyone. Not just because – because it was supposed to be out secret," he spat out, "but – I told you, I was too ashamed that it was happening, and – I was scared of anyone ever finding out, because what if –" He swallowed. "What if they thought I liked it? What if someone found out, and they thought I was gay? My dad already hated me, if he ever thought I was…" He shuddered, hunching into himself.

"What happened to you doesn't make you gay," Rachel said gently. "I will be the very first to say that if you were gay, there's nothing wrong with that. But what happened to you doesn't define your sexuality. Only you get to decide that."

"I'm not, okay?" Quinn said, his voice a bit harsh as he turned to look at her. "Your dads are great, but I – I'm not like them, okay? I'm straight. I don't like guys like that. Okay?"

Rachel nodded. "Okay."

Her simple acceptance seemed to make him relax a bit, and he moved over to her desk, picking up Mr. Snargles the purple octopus. "He told me it was a secret," he said after a moment, stroking the toy's fur. "That first day, before – before things happened, he let me watch TV, gave me some ice cream. I wasn't allowed to at home, and he said… he said we'd make a deal." He swallowed. "Anything that happened in his house would be our secret. A-and then later, he said that if my dad found out, my dad would be so mad at me." He shuddered before sinking back onto the bed, perched on the edge next to Rachel. "I didn't want you to know," he whispered. "It – what was happening, I didn't want you to – It was bad enough that it was happening to me, I didn't want you to ever have to feel like that. And when he…" He shuddered.

"What?"

His hand moved up to his neck, scratching at the skin. "When he – one time he –" He breathed out. "He didn't usually leave any marks, if I didn't – if I didn't fight him –" Rachel barely held back a sob. "– But a few times he… he left some. With – you know, with his mouth…" Quinn swallowed, the plush octopus squeezed tight between his hands. "And I remember feeling so sick that you were getting them too, and I…" He dragged in a shuddering breath.

Rachel bit down so hard on her lip she almost drew blood. She remembered that, remembered getting strange bruises around her shoulders that summer, but she hadn't known how Quinn had gotten them and by then she'd stopped showing her dads. She hadn't given the small round marks a second thought back then, but she knew what they were now. "That's why you panicked when you gave me that hickey," she said quietly.

Quinn couldn't look at her. "I'm sorry," he said, voice tiny. "I didn't want – God, if I could have stopped you from getting them back then, I would have."

She shook her head, grabbing his hand and waiting for him to look at her. "It wasn't your fault."

He blew out a breath, looking up at the ceiling. "It was so stupid, I just –" He shook his head. "I should have done something to stop it, I shouldn't have let him –" His voice choked off, and Rachel grabbed his hand, holding it tightly.

"It wasn't your fault," she repeated, wanting so badly for him to believe her. "It wasn't your fault. He's the one who did that to you. You didn't do anything wrong."

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "It's been coming back more recently," he said quietly. "Since…"

"Since we met?"

He shook his head rapidly. "No, since – since that night at the party, with Finn."

"Does Finn remind you of – of your old coach?"

Quinn fixed his eyes on the purple octopus. "I know it's not him. I know it's different, and he wouldn't –" He swallowed, twisting his hands around the stuffed animal. "But you were asking him to stop, and he wouldn't, and it made me remember about –" He shuddered. "About how I wanted him to stop, and he – he –"

"He didn't stop," Rachel surmised quietly.

He was quiet for a moment. "He kind of… reminds me of my father too," he said softly, still staring at the toy. "When my father got mad, he'd lash out, and I couldn't –" He shut his eyes. "I couldn't stand seeing him do that to you."

"Oh, Quinn." Rachel was starting to see just why Quinn disliked Finn so much. Her ex-boyfriend reminded him of the two people he hated most in the world.

"… Are you mad at me? For starting the fight?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm not mad. Besides, it's arguable that you didn't start it at all. I mean, Finn did shove you first, and he was being extremely antagonistic. I'm actually impressed you didn't snap at him sooner. I thought you were going to hit him back when he pushed you."

"You didn't want me to." He shut his eyes, hands tightening on Mr. Snargles. "I wasn't going to, I swear, I mean, I know Finn isn't –" He swallowed. "He's not my coach, and I know that. But – but then he said –" He cut off abruptly.

Rachel thought back, unable to think of just what Finn had said to make him snap. "What did he say?"

Quinn was silent for a moment, twisting a plush tentacle around his finger. "M-my coach had a nickname for me," he said softly. "He used to call me Hotshot, because I was the one who scored most of our goals when we played."

Wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in front of your girlfriend, would you, Hotshot?

Rachel wanted to murder Finn for reminding Quinn of what had happened to him, even inadvertently. "I'm sorry." He didn't seem to have anything to say to that. "What happened to him? To your coach?" she asked. "Is he still in your hometown? Is that why you don't want to go back there?"

He shook his head. "After that summer, he got a job somewhere else. I don't even really remember. I never saw him again." He shut his eyes, rubbing his head distractedly. "I was just so relieved he was leaving, you know?"

The fact that this man, this monster, was still out there didn't settle well with Rachel, but she didn't know what she could do about it. "So you never told anyone else?"

He shook his head. "I told you, it was supposed to be a secret, and by the time I figured out it shouldn't be, I… I couldn't."

Rachel bit her lip. "Have you ever considered talking to someone about it? A professional?"

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "My father said that only useless crybabies need to talk to a shrink."

"That's not true," Rachel argued. "I've talked to a therapist a few times, and it can help. I…" She took a deep breath. "I told my dads about what happened with Finn."

"You did?"

"Yes. And I feel a little better."

"Did they tell you it was Finn's fault?"

"They did."

"I told you so."

Rachel smiled slightly. "Yes, you did. Anyways, Dad asked around, and he can get us an appointment with someone he knows. Maybe…" She licked her lips. "Maybe you should try to talk to him."

Quinn was quiet for a moment. "Are you going to? Talk to the therapist, I mean?"

"I…" She took a breath, nodding firmly. "Yes." If she needed to lead by example, then she would. "I could be there with you, if that would make you more comfortable."

More silence. Then… "Do you really think it'll help?"

She nodded. "Yes. I do."

He rubbed his head, quiet. He was quiet for so long, Rachel thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he swallowed, taking a deep breath. "O-okay," he said softly. "I'll try it."

Rachel let out a sigh of relief. "Good. That's good, Quinn. I'll, um, I'll have my dad set up an appointment."

Quinn just nodded, screwing his eyes shut as he rubbed his head again. "Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"Can – can we not talk about this anymore?"

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. Of course we can." She took a breath. They both needed time to think about this. Both of them were undoubtedly still in shock. She knew she was. "Do you… want to go home?"

"Do you want me to?" he asked, sounding a little lost.

"No," she said immediately. "Of course not. You're always welcome here, Quinn." She glanced at the clock, which read 6:30 in the morning. She started to get up. "Come on. I don't think we're going to get anymore sleep, so – how about you come downstairs with me, and we can make breakfast?" Something simple and mindless and completely normal, because she needed to know that they were still okay. "Maybe we can make waffles."

He latched onto her offer eagerly. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go do that."

..

A few minutes later the two teens were downstairs, still in their sleepwear as Rachel taught Quinn how to put together a vegan version of waffles. There was an unspoken agreement between them not to bring up what they had talked about, and Rachel thought maybe it was doing them good. Quinn was extremely quiet, but he wasn't pushing her away either, and she thought that was a good sign.

"Here, go ahead and mix that up," she directed, giving him the wooden spoon so he could stir the batter.

"Okay."

Rachel absently watched him work, thinking. Ever since she'd met him, her soulmate had been such a mystery. The mystery had started to unravel slowly as she got to know him, bits and pieces of who he was coming together. She'd gotten a big piece of the puzzle when he'd told her about his father, one that she had already expected. This new piece, though, was completely unexpected, and she didn't know what to say. So much started to make sense, and it made Rachel sick at heart.

"Don't look at me like that."

Rachel blinked. "What?"

Quinn shut his eyes briefly. "Like you feel sorry for me. I don't…" He took a deep breath. "It happened, it's over. I know – I know this changes things, but I just… I want things to stay the same." He started to stir again.

"Nothing has to change between us," Rachel said softly.

He sighed softly. "If you say so."

"I do say so." She watched as he looked back down into the bowl of batter he was mixing. She thought for a moment before taking a pinch of flour. "Hey, Quinn?"

He turned to face her, and just as he did, she flicked the flour into his face. He blinked, and she had to giggle at the sight of his nose covered in flour. He huffed, cracking a tiny, reluctant smile. "Real mature."

"It worked though."

"What?"

"I just wanted to make you smile."

He looked down, but Rachel could see a tiny version of the smile she loved so much on his face. She put her hand on his, stopping his work on the batter.

"Hey." She waited for him to meet her eyes. "I… I meant what I said earlier. About…" She cleared her throat. "About how I feel about you."

"Rachel…"

"You don't have to say it back," she assured him. "I just want you to know that despite everything you've told me, it doesn't change how I feel. If anything, it makes me admire you more." She shook her head at his disbelieving look. "For you to have gone through all that and still come out as wonderful a person as you are… You are so incredibly strong, Quinn, and I admire you so much for that."

Quinn cleared his throat gruffly. "O-okay."

Rachel brushed a hand against his cheek, smiling when he leaned slightly into the contact. Stepping closer, she tilted her head up and gave him a slow kiss. It took him a moment to respond, but then he sighed deeply, pulling her closer. The kiss was soft, tentative, and Rachel let him take the lead, let him take what he needed, take as much or as little as he wanted.

It was a relief, in a way. She knew intellectually of course that he was still the same person. But at the same time, some part of her was afraid, afraid to do anything that would hurt him or scare him. She was afraid that he wouldn't want this, not after what he'd been through, and the last thing she would ever want to do was to force him.

God.

But this, being with him… it just felt so absolutely right. And she hoped he felt it too.

Spotting movement over Quinn's shoulder, and she gave him one last kiss before clearing her throat. "Hi Daddy."

Predictably, Quinn jumped, pulling away from Rachel in surprise. He spun around quickly to face Leroy, who was lurking in the doorway. "M-Mr. Berry," he stumbled nervously. "I – I'm sorry about last night, I didn't –"

"Relax, Quinn, it's fine," Leroy assured him. "I certainly wasn't expecting to find a human popsicle on my porch, but I'm glad Rachel was able to thaw you out properly." He peered at Quinn carefully. "Are you alright?"

Quinn nodded rapidly. "Yes, sir. I…" He glanced at Rachel. "I'm okay."

"Daddy," Rachel said quietly, shooting her father a look. She was pretty sure Hiram had told Leroy about what their midnight conversation, and if he hadn't, then he would later today. Leroy just nodded gravely. "We were just making breakfast," she said. "Waffles."

Leroy smiled. "Thank you, kids, it's nice not to have to cook. Your Dad probably won't be up for a while, he got in late last night."

"I know. I'll call you guys when breakfast is ready, okay?"

"Got it." Leroy left the kitchen, and Quinn breathed out softly. Rachel looked at him in concern.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded jerkily, looking back at the waffle batter. "Yeah. Fine."

Rachel studied him for a moment before nodding, turning on the waffle iron. Whenever he went into one of his quiet spells, he also became a little jumpier, becoming upset if she ever mentioned it. "So, do you think that's ready?"

"I guess." Quinn carried the batter over the iron, and soon the smell of cooking waffles filled the kitchen. "Smells good." His stomach gave a loud rumble. Rachel frowned.

"When's the last time you ate?"

He fidgeted. "I had some biscuits at Blaine's yesterday."

"And before that?" she prompted.

"I… I don't know." He sighed. "Probably at the party."

Rachel stared at him. "That was two nights ago." And he'd thrown up most of whatever he'd eaten. Quinn just shrugged, and Rachel eyed him a bit more closely. This wasn't the first time, and she added his sporadic eating habits to the list of things she and Quinn needed to discuss in the near future.

When the waffles were done, Rachel headed upstairs to call her parents down, and soon the Berry family plus Quinn were at the breakfast bar eating the waffles. Rachel had warned her dads not to question Quinn too much, and they complied, keeping the breakfast conversation fairly light. Halfway through the meal, Rachel made a quick trip out of the kitchen to grab a package of paper towels, and when she returned, she paused at the door when she heard her Dad talking.

"So, Rachel told us you got in a fight with Finn Hudson," Hiram said, nodding at the darkening bruise on Quinn's jaw. Rachel shook her head, ready to go in and rescue Quinn, but his calm, even voice stopped her.

"Yes, sir. It was just… a misunderstanding."

"She also told us what exactly happened."

"What he's trying to say," Leroy interjected, "is thank you. For protecting our baby girl."

Quinn was quiet for a second. "She said she told you what happened. I just… I didn't want her to get hurt. Not like that. Or any other way. I'll do anything to keep that from happening. I promise."

Deciding that was enough eavesdropping for now, Rachel made her entrance, smiling lightly. "So, what did I miss?"

"Nothing, sweetheart," Hiram said, smiling back. "Just asking Quinn here about that bruise." He turned to Quinn. "Does it still hurt? When you move your jaw or anything?" Quinn shook his head. "Well, that's fine. I'm sure it'll be back to normal in a few days. If it isn't, you tell me, and we'll have a closer look. You're not hurt anywhere else, are you?"

"No sir."

"We told you to stop calling us sir," Leroy admonished, a teasing twinkle in his eye.

"Sorry, si – sorry." Quinn glanced helplessly at Rachel, who smiled at him, taking his hand.

"Dads, leave him alone, okay?"

"Okay, sweetheart."

..

Quinn spent the rest of the day at the Berry house. He and Rachel were both mostly quiet, binge watching old episodes of FRIENDS from the Berry fathers' DVD collection. Rachel's dads went out to run some errands, and it was mid-afternoon when Rachel's phone chimed. She smiled slightly when she read the text.

"Who's that?"

Rachel glanced up at Quinn's inquiry. "Oh, it's Tina. She was asking how I'm doing. She came over yesterday, and we talked a little and she kept me company while you…" She paused. "Well, she kept me company. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone anything confidential, okay? Your secret's safe with me for as long as you want me to keep it."

Quinn nodded, looking down. "I'm sorry for disappearing yesterday."

"It's okay. I told you, if you need space, I'll understand. Thank you for replying to my messages." She smiled at him. "That's all I ask, okay?"

"… Okay."

Rachel sent off a quick text to Tina to tell her that she and Quinn were talking again, and she received a smiley face back. It was a wonderful feeling to have a friend.

A few minutes later Rachel realized that she was slowly starting to lean into Quinn's side. She'd spent most of today fairly conscious about his personal space, not wanting to encroach, but she just gravitated to him naturally. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah." He lifted an arm, wrapping it around her, and she snuggled into him, the position familiar by now from the many times they'd spent watching TV together after school. They fit perfectly.

A new episode started to play, and Rachel watched absently, not really processing the story. It was soon apparent that she wasn't the only one not paying attention to the show. Quinn wasn't reacting to anything that happened on the TV, and Rachel suspected he hadn't been paying attention for a while. When the credits started to roll, she stood up to take the DVD out of the player and turned the TV off. Then she sat back down, drawing her legs up under her. "Quinn, are you okay?"

He didn't answer for a minute. "I don't know."

Rachel stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched out, neither of them knowing how to break it. Eventually, it was Quinn who broke first.

"I just… I don't really understand," he said, not looking at Rachel. "How are you okay with this? How can you look at me and not…" He swallowed. "I don't understand."

"I'm…" Rachel sighed. "I'm not okay. I'm not okay with any of this. I absolutely hate that all of that happened to you, Quinn, and I hate that I couldn't do anything to help you. I am so angry at the people who hurt you, and wish more than anything that none of it had ever happened to you. But I also know that none of this was your fault, okay? You didn't do anything wrong."

"You make it sound so simple."

"That's because it is."

Quinn pulled his knees up, hugging them to his chest. "Sometimes it is," he said reluctantly. "But sometimes… some days I can't look myself in the mirror."

Rachel's heart broke for him all over again, and she scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "We'll get through this, okay? I – I just want to help you. If you'll let me."

He buried his face against his knees, dragging in a shuddering breath. "Okay."

Rachel pulled him in more tightly. "Okay."

Rachel sighed as she dried herself off with a towel after her shower. She had been at the park half an hour ago, playing quietly on the swings, when Noah Puckerman had showed up with Dave Karofsky. The next thing she knew she was in the dirt under the swings, the two boys laughing as they walked away. Rachel's Dad, who had accompanied her to the park, hadn't seen the incident, and when he asked why she was so dirty she just said that she'd tripped. At ten years old, she'd figured out that it didn't really matter, the other kids weren't going to stop bullying her and telling on them would just make it worse.

"Rachel, let's go, we have to pick Daddy up!"

"Coming!"

The ten-year-old glanced perfunctorily in the mirror as she passed. Then did a double-take, looking at her reflection a bit more closely. There were a couple of small, round bruises on her right shoulder, and another one where her neck met her shoulder. And if she craned her neck a little, there was one on the back of her left shoulder too. She frowned, not sure where the bruises had come from. They must be from Lucas. Getting dressed, she picked up a pen.

'Hi Lucas. What happened to your shoulders?'

She tugged the collar of her shirt down, looking again. Lucas had gotten bruises on her shoulders before, almost like someone had squeezed too tight, but these were different. She waited for a moment to see if Lucas would respond. He hadn't spoken to her since last week, and she was starting to worry.

"Rachel!"

"Okay, okay!"

She glanced at her arm, disappointed when no message was forthcoming. She glanced at her reflection again. She didn't want to have to explain the bruises to her parents, but fortunately, her blouse hid them just right. Shaking her head, she went downstairs.

So that's Quinn's big secret. I'm pretty sure most of you have guessed at it by now, and I hope you're not disappointed by the reveal. It's a very sensitive topic to cover, and it's nowhere near over. Quinn and Rachel have a lot to deal with. But they'll get through it. Hopefully.

You were probably hoping to see what happens with the whole Finn situation, but Quinn and Rachel's talk needed its own chapter. They'll be back at McKinley in the next chapter though, so the fallout's coming. Any ideas for what should happen to Finn?

Regarding my update schedule, I don't really have one. I try to update every two weeks at least, but life gets in the way. I'm working full time while going after my master's degree, so I don't have quite as much time to write as I'd like. So that's all for now, and I'll see you next time.