Summary: Mike has an eating disorder and faints in the middle of practice. Special emphasis on the Mike/Rachel, Mike/Quinn and Mike/Matt friendship. Set in Season 1. Fill for a prompt in the Glee Angst Meme.

Prompt: Grace

There is no grace when Mike collapses.

He falls all the way from the back row, forward, to the floor, apparently knocking people over along the way. If he had been remotely aware, Mike would have been mortified. But as it is, the only thing he remembers is getting really lightheaded and nauseous. Then, everything went black.

When he comes to, Mike hears too many voices to make sense of. Mr. Schuester insists he go to the nurse. He shakes his head, pushing himself up and getting dizzy again.

"Easy," a voice at his side says. Matt.

But he can't. Nothing is easy. He hardly has the energy to dance anymore. Not that it matters. He's had to choose between glee and football. He's had to keep his grades at As. He's had to be a good son, a good friend, and he hasn't got anything left for himself. So, he can't admit that if, given the choice again, he would pick neither.

Because he would pick dance. Not that he has that choice.

Still, Mike takes a shaky breath and stands.

Matt walks him to the nurse. He doesn't say anything, which is fine because Mike doesn't want to hear anything. He's exhausted. He can't do this anymore.

But he can't stop either.

The next day, Rachel corners Mike the second he walks into school. "Are you okay?" she asks.

"Fine. Why?" he asks. He tries to be polite, but there's a hole in his gut and the cafeteria smells like eggs. And he hates eggs. But he would eat one right now if his brain would let him.

"Because you fainted and took out the whole first row," Rachel points out softly. "Why? Were your knees locked? You know, it's best to stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent."

"Is it?" Mike asks, though he doesn't care. His knees weren't locked.

"Yes. And, just a helpful hint, if you start to feel lightheaded, Mr. Schuester won't mind if you sit down preemptively. Neither will I."

"Good to know."

It's Quinn, though, who knows exactly what Mike is doing. She's a Cheerio; he's a football player. They have similarly unhealthy ways of dropping weight. He needs muscle for football, but also, he needs to stay lean so he can dance. Mostly, though, Mike needs something that he's in control of. School? His lack of a social life? Those are his parents' domains. Football? That's Coach Tanaka. Glee? That's Mr. Schuester. He knows that Quinn gets what it's like to be a product of the people you're around, rather than a person in your own right.

So, when she corners him before glee practice and drags him into a practice room, eyeing the bruise on his cheek disapprovingly, Mike lets her. When she says, "You need to stop this," he gets defensive. It's not really like him - but then - not much is like him these days.

"You're one to talk," he says irritably. "You've been on Coach Sylvester's Master Cleanse on and off since we were freshman."

"So? I'm not now. Thanks to this baby, I'm going to grow as big as a house," Quinn says, staring Mike right in the eyes.

"Just because you're gaining again doesn't mean we all have to," he insists, even though - more than anything - Mike wishes he could.

"You need help," she says plainly, as if it's that easy.

"And you need to stay out of my business," he retorts quietly.

"Listen, you either talk to Miss Pillsbury now, or I tell your parents," Quinn says evenly.

Mike would have fought her, but he has zero energy left for that. At least he knows Miss Pillsbury. Maybe she can help. He turns and heads out the door, toward her office, surprised to see Quinn fall into step beside him. Her hands unconsciously go to her stomach and Mike thinks of the baby she'll have by the time school's out. Then, he blinks and he's outside the door to Miss Pillsbury's office.

"Mike? What can I do for you?" she asks, and she sounds so nice…so understanding…that Mike almost loses it. He is so tired of fighting with himself.

He doesn't look, but he can sense Quinn still waiting by his side. He tilts his head toward her and asks, "Would you come in with me?"

"Yeah, of course," she responds and walks in, her head up, ready to take on the world.

They each take a chair on the opposite side of Miss Pillsbury's extremely clean desk and he waits. He doesn't know what to say.

But Miss Pillsbury waits, too, and that helps.

Mike squeezes Quinn's hand, and, to his surprise, she speaks first.

"Miss Pillsbury, I…I need to change my relationship to food. It's really unhealthy right now and I don't want to hurt my baby. Can you help me?" she asks. It's the bravest thing Mike has ever seen.

"Of course, Quinn," she says, and there's another pause.

He wants to say so much. How out of control he feels. How nothing he does feels like enough. How his entire life is being decided for him and he's just going along for the ride, but he can't say any of those things. What comes instead is simple, but honest.

"Will you help me, too?" he manages, staring at his lap.

"It's going to take work, but together, I think we can do it. What do you think?" Miss Pillsbury asks.

Mike just nods, grateful that Quinn hasn't let go of his hand.

It's just a start, he knows, but all healing starts somewhere.

The End.