A/N: Thank you to everyone for your encouragement and continued patience in the reviews. I hope this chapter was worth the interminably long wait. Please read the following information CAREFULLY before you proceed with this fic.

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Nothing is explicitly played out in this fic, but the following triggers are present - child physical and sexual abuse; rape; physical violence. Please take care in reading this; I wouldn't want anything I write to hurt anyone.

"Baby?"

"Mm?" Quinn hummed, cuddling Rachel closer to her as they lay together on the bed in Quinn's room. This was a new development in the relationship; one that Quinn was slowly getting used to. It had been two months since Quinn had found out Rachel had been researching, and that Santana had kept that a secret. Two blissfully content months of holding hands, kissing, tentatively and nervously making out on the couch, and now holding each other close on the bed. And even though Santana had barely spoken to her since that day, Quinn's hurt was somewhat eased by the way Rachel always snuggled into her, her face pressed against Quinn's neck.

"Can you tell me something?"

"Tell you something?"

"About it."

Quinn tensed. "It?" she said, her mouth suddenly dry.

Rachel, feeling the change in her girlfriend - Quinn loved that word - sat up slightly and ran her hand through Quinn's hair. "About you. About it. We don't really talk about it."

It. When Quinn had first been diagnosed, it had been hard for her to talk about It. She felt as if It should always be capitalized, something important but not important enough to give a name. Important, but she wanted to keep It at a distance, not accept that she actually had something that set her so apart from everyone else. Because if she was being honest, her disorder made her feel like an It. Something unreal, inhuman, not whole. But Dr. Jones had helped Quinn see that by naming It she took away some of its power. Dissociative identity disorder. But that didn't mean she was eager to talk about it all the time, and even in therapy she had to be drawn out. She knew there were certain things that Dr. Jones wouldn't talk about, or try to get her to revisit, and for that Quinn was grateful. She'd apparently blocked out a lot and she wanted to keep it that way, and everyone in her life had learned not to ask. Most people wouldn't be able to deal with the answers anyway, she knew.

"We don't really talk about it because it's depressing," Quinn said with a chuckle.

It was true; she and Rachel talked about everything but that. Books, musicals, television, Santana, Brittany. School. The weather. Rachel had told Quinn everything about her life in Cincinnati, about her dads and how hard it was to grow up the child of gay men. It made Quinn want to build a time machine so she could go back and kick the asses of everyone that hurt her girl. Some of the names they'd called Rachel, the things she'd been put through… It was a lot like what Quinn had experienced, and it was easy to talk about that part of her life. But like Quinn, Rachel wasn't too keen to revisit her high school life every time they talked. So they'd usually talk about the most mundane things, but always in the back of her mind – and she knew it was in the back of Rachel's – was the fact that Quinn was different. Quinn knew that Rachel wanted to know the harder things; Rachel was always hungry for knowledge about anything, but especially as it related to the people she cared about. She'd asked a few questions, but Quinn had always been good at deflecting. She'd perfected it over the years, and though it made her feel guilty to use it against her girlfriend, she only hoped Rachel could understand that it wasn't her. Quinn was like that with everyone. Still, she wanted Rachel to be different. She was different, and had proved that in everything so far.

Rachel smiled and leaned up to kiss Quinn's lips. "I don't mind being depressed," she pointed out. "Not when it's about my girl." She shrugged. "Talk about it. Or you. Or your family… the Fabrays."

Quinn pulled back from Rachel and turned away. "I don't want to talk about them. They're not my family."

"I want to see her."

"Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Fabray, but you can't. And if you insist on coming by here every week I'm going to file a restraining order. Please leave."

"I didn't want to give her up," Judy Fabray said, her voice distressed. From her position watching through a crack in the hall closet, Quinn raised her thumb to her mouth, then slapped it away with her other hand. She was thirteen, damn it, not a baby. As much as she told herself that though, she also told herself that only a baby would dive for the nearest closet as soon as they heard a particular someone's voice. She hadn't heard that voice since that day 3 years ago.

"I didn't want her to leave us, but he… he said…"

"Yes, he said," Papi repeated, his voice angry, even as Mami reached her hand out and squeezed his upper arm. "You did everything he said. You did everything you were supposed to do as his wife, and nothing you were obligated to do as Quinn's mother."

"You don't understand what it was like!" Quinn heard Mrs. Fabray plead, and for a moment, she felt sorry for the woman who used to be her mother. No one had known what it was like, for any of them. The two things that Quinn remembered clearly from her time with her biological parents were her father's anger, and her mother's tears.

"No," now Papi's voice was soft. "I don't understand what it was like. I don't understand what it was like to be married to him, to have that life with him, for him to beat my child." Quinn winced. "To not know that he was ra-"

"What's she doing here?"

Quinn smiled a little, hearing the venom in her sister's voice.

"She was just leaving," Mami said, and her tone brooked no disagreement. "And she won't be coming back. If she really loves Quinn, if she really wants to protect her… you won't come back, Mrs. Fabray."Quinn watched as Mami reached out and rested her hand on Mrs. Fabray's shoulder, a sympathetic but firm look on her face.

"Quinn is ours now. She's our daughter. We love her, and she's happy and well-taken care of. Please, for her sake."

There was silence, then a brokenness as Mrs. Fabray spoke again. "I-I won't come back. I do love her, I did love her, she's my baby… Will you give her this? Please? So she'll know I love her."

Quinn opened the door a little wider, and her eyes fell upon the doll in Mrs. Fabray's hands. From her position on the floor of the hall closet… Beth screamed.

"All right, baby, all right," Rachel soothed, kissing Quinn again, fingers running once more through her hair. "You don't have to talk about them, I'm sorry." Her brown eyes were full of concern as she regarded Quinn. "We'll talk about happy stuff, angel, whatever you want."

She was so sweet, Quinn thought, as Rachel fell silent and simply held her. She'd been to Rachel's apartment over the dance studio a few times, and each time she'd seen a different book on what Quinn had and experienced. Luckily for Quinn Rachel hadn't gotten anymore firsthand knowledge: the weather had been unseasonably pleasant lately, and any time Quinn felt nervous about their intimacy Rachel was quick to slow down or put a stop to what they were doing altogether. Quinn was beginning to settle into the reality of a stable relationship, and their days were filled with classes, going to the nightclub for Rachel to sing, or just cuddled up on the couch watching Rachel's musicals or Quinn's cartoons.

Quinn slipped back down on the bed, resting her head on Rachel's shoulder. "Is Brittany still mad?"

She knew from a brief talk with Santana that Brittany hadn't reacted well to Santana keeping the truth from Rachel. Quinn didn't want to get involved but she knew part of the reason why her sister could barely speak to her was because she was hurt, and annoyed with herself that she'd upset someone that was slowly coming to mean a lot to her. Quinn had told Santana to talk to Brittany, to explain herself; even though remembering Santana calling her a freak hurt more than anything Quinn had ever felt before, Santana was still her sister. She'd fix it all if she could.

She was curled up in bed, facing the wall with Colley pressed close to her chest, when she heard the knock on the door. "Come in," she mumbled, not bothering to swipe away the tears that were still on her cheeks.

Seconds later, the bed dipped as Santana sat next to her. "Q, I'm sorry."

Quinn shrugged and rolled over to look at Santana. "It's true. You didn't sign up for this."

"Did you?" Quinn shook her head, and Santana reached over to brush the tears away with her thumb. "Neither one of us signed up for anything that's been handed to us, Q. And it sucks, you know? It fucking sucks." Santana sighed, a faraway expression on her face. "It sucks that people make fun of you. It sucks that I have to constantly watch you to make sure you don't switch or beat up somebody. It sucks that your dad was an ass and your mom was too scared to help you. It sucks that your brain can only deal with it by splitting you up into pieces, it-"

"I get it, Santana, all right? I'm fucked up. We know."

"Probably could have stopped halfway through that, yeah, sorry." Quinn offered Santana a half-hearted smile, and Santana leaned down and kissed her forehead. "But do you know what would really suck?"

"Santana…"

"Not having you," Santana said firmly. "Yeah it makes family photo day a little weird, you're like a vampire in a field of… okay that analogy doesn't work." She grinned when Quinn giggled. "Blonde hair, hazel eyes, and then there's… us. Brown hair, brown eyes… totally in love with this kid who showed up when she was 7 years old." Santana smiled sadly at Quinn. "My sister. And no I didn't sign up for it, but if someone asked me to, right here, right now? I would."

Quinn sniffled and moved so that her head was resting in Santana's lap. Santana sighed and patted her sister's back. "I don't like punching people when they call you names. Well, I take that back, I love punching people. And I'll do it, every time. I told you I'd take care of you."

She looked down at Quinn and smiled, a genuine one this time. "I promised."

Rachel shook her head, brushing her lips against Quinn's. "I don't think so; she's been over to the studio nearly every day last week. Plus I'm pretty sure I heard bed springs-"

"Okay that's good, babe," Quinn interrupted, making a face. "I don't need to hear anymore." She squeezed Rachel close when her girlfriend laughed, then Quinn said seriously, "I don't remember anything."

Rachel deserved to know something, at least.

Rachel tilted her head in confusion. "What don't you remember?"

"Anything," Quinn said again. "When I switch. I mean, sometimes I do, but… I don't know." She shrugged. "I guess it's my brain protecting me, keeping me from remembering everything I do when I'm… someone else, but sometimes I'd just like to know. I wish I could stop it. I mean, I've hurt people, Rach."

She didn't want to think about it. Some people she knew she'd been at least a little justified in hurting, like Karofsky. But she knew she'd said things that had hurt Mami and Papi, Santana. She wished it was easier, she wished she didn't have to lose parts of herself all the time, she wished… she wished she was just normal.

Rachel hugged Quinn tight. "Don't, baby," she whispered, kissing Quinn gently. "I don't think you've hurt anyone as badly as you think you have."

Quinn's brow furrowed in disapproval; Rachel really had no idea, but it probably wasn't her fault. It wasn't like Quinn talked about everything, after all. But Quinn was distracted by Rachel's lips on hers; she returned the kisses eagerly, feeling an urgency building in the pit of her stomach.

Rachel was gorgeous. They hadn't done anything more than making out and some light petting over clothes, but everything about Rachel Berry was amazing. Quinn knew she was falling for the petite brunette with the huge voice, and the feeling exhilarated and terrified her. She'd never felt this way for anyone before; there'd been a few other girls but they'd all run away when Quinn dared to tell them even a little bit of her history. Rachel was different, Rachel with her research and determination, her songs and her hand gentle and soft in Quinn's as she raised her voice through a storm. Rachel was breath and memory, sound mind and understanding. She was, Quinn thought as their kisses became more heated, everything she wasn't.

"S-sweetheart," Rachel murmured against Quinn's lips. "Maybe we ought to slow d-"

"Uh uh," Quinn whispered, not letting up with her kisses. "I don't want to, Rach."

"But Quinn, I don't want you to feel like you have to…"

"I want you." She pulled back and looked deep into Rachel's brown eyes. "I want you, I want this, I want us." She kissed Rachel again, searching until her tongue found the other girl's, but she sighed in frustration when Rachel pulled away.

"You're sure?"

"Baby if you don't make love to me tonight, I'll probably explode."

Rachel laughed. "Well, can't have that, can we?" she said, her eyes sparkling.

Quinn nuzzled her face into Rachel's neck, kissing the pulse she found there, while her fingers searched for the buttons on her shirt. She pulled back, meeting the other woman's gaze with hers. "Rachel," she whispered. "Rachel…"

Her breath was coming deeper now; her eyes were almost black as she stared up at Quinn, biting her lower lip. Quinn pulled Rachel's shirt apart, and her own breath stilled in her throat at the sight of the lacy bra, the smooth tanned skin, the way Rachel's chest rose and fell in time with the beat of Quinn's heart. For a split second Quinn was reminded of a song that Rachel had sung the other night at the club, something that seemed to sum up everything she was feeling at that exact moment.

For you have suffered enough, and warred with yourself, it's time that you won…

It was time that she won. She stripped Rachel's shirt off, leaning down to kiss the swell of her breasts, hearing Rachel's small sighs in her ears as she tangled her fingers in Quinn's hair. It was time that she won. Everything she'd been through as a child, her father, her mother, adjusting to a new home, the alters, Beth… It would all be worth it for this, this moment. With Rachel.

"Is it… is it okay?" Quinn asked, her fingers at the front clasp of Rachel's bra. Rachel nodded, and with an expertise she didn't know she had, soon Rachel was laying exposed in front of her. Quinn stared in awe. She was… completely beautiful.

"Beautiful," she whispered, her mouth descending, and Rachel arched with a gasp, her fingers now a little rough in blonde locks. Quinn felt a familiar shiver at the base of her spine; she ignored it.

This was it. This was her chance. She'd waited so long. Years for it all to come together, days and weeks and months of just wanting… one chance. To have what she wanted. And with Rachel, she'd have it.

Finally.

"Quinn…" Rachel's voice was low, and Quinn felt herself shiver again. Rachel smiled at her, an inviting, slightly predatory smile… just as she flipped Quinn over so she was on top.

Quinn's eyes widened.

He'd seemed quiet. He hadn't said much, just "thank you, ma'am," and "no, sir," a voice polite and sweet. But his eyes… she couldn't shake that there was something in his eyes. Something that reminded her…

"Rachel…"

Rachel kissed her, deeply, slowly; Quinn's hands rose to rest at the base of Rachel's spine, just above the fabric of her shorts. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband, and drew them down slowly. Rachel lifted herself to kick them off, and she was completely naked on top of Quinn.

The door to Quinn's room was never quiet. Papi kept saying he'd fix it, that he'd get rid of "that blasted creak," but to be honest, Quinn enjoyed it. It was comforting, almost. It meant that at 10 p.m. Mami and Papi would come to say good night, that at 7 a.m. Santana would come to say good morning. It was like a clock, sounding the end and beginning to every day in Quinn Lopez's life.

It wasn't supposed to creak at 1 a.m.

"You're beautiful," Rachel whispered, and Quinn closed her eyes, dizzy with it. She was beautiful. Someone thought she was beautiful, she was normal, she wasn't a freak. Rachel's hands were on her own shirt, button by button, slowly, methodically, little kisses on her lips as each one was freed.

He was taller than she'd ever known anyone to be. He stood at the foot of the bed, and she could see his eyes glinting in the moonlight. Blue. Cold. She saw a flash of white as he smiled. And suddenly…

"Rachel…"

"So beautiful." Rachel's mouth was on her neck; Quinn squeezed her eyes tight.

Everything would be fine, she thought, as Rachel's hands moved to the waistband of Quinn's jeans; she ran her fingers down Rachel's back and the girl shuddered at her touch. Rachel was whispering things into her ear, things about feeling good, things about love, special…

Rachel's hand had slipped into her jeans; Quinn's eyes flew open.

"Rachel!"

The air was stifling; she was dizzy. Her hands fell away from Rachel and grasped at the sheets underneath her; she clenched her teeth against the growl coming from deep within her chest. Rachel chuckled at the sound.

"Like that, baby?"

"Stupid freak." She heard the zipper of his jeans slide up; she curled onto her side and drew her knees to her chest. Her eyes flashed like lightning; her cheeks were wet with tears.

Her body went rigid. Rachel stilled, and drew back to look at her.

"Quinn? Baby, it's all right, okay?" She leaned down to kiss her. "Don't be nervous, I'm right here. We're going to share this together, my love. You're so beautiful…"

"Quinnie? Look what Daddy has for you, baby girl."

A doll. Or a book. A Barbie house that towered over her, with an elevator that worked. A bicycle – without training wheels, because she was a big girl and didn't need those, Daddy was just so proud of her.

She didn't want it. She didn't want any of them. She didn't want pink pajamas and a room with Jesus on the wall and a door that opened late at night. She didn't want the shadow standing over her bed, watching her; she didn't want Mommy's sad eyes in the morning as she woke her up and kissed her. "Time to get up for school, Quinnie."

Daddy loves you so much, Quinnie.

You're daddy's special girl.

Special girls don't get their daddies in trouble, remember?

Remember…

She was a good little girl. A good little girl with perfect hair, perfect clothes, remember your manners, Quinn. Why can't you be a good girl, why do you make Daddy so angry all the time? Daddy doesn't want to punish you but you need to learn, young lady, you need to learn how not to be such a bad girl. Don't say anything to anyone, Quinn, or your daddy will have to go away and you don't want that do you? You don't want to make mommy sad and daddy have to go away and not see his two favorite girls again do you?

No daddy I love you, I'll be a good girl, I promise.

That's my special girl, come on, do you want to go to the store? Daddy will buy you and mommy a present, you'll like that won't you?

"Get off."

"Quinn?"

"Get… off!"

"Asshole! How could you? Fucking prick, you're going to pay for this!" She could hear bone crunching, someone yelling for her to stop, Santana's voice, angry and cold. Quinn curled further into herself.

She felt dizzy, but peaceful. Her fingers flexed in and out as if full of an energy that she couldn't explain. She felt like she was smiling, but why would she smile? Santana sounded far away; Papi daling 911 may as well have been in another country, Mami wasn't in the room trying to get her to "say something, Quinn, it's all right, mija, come back to us, what happened?" The house was alive with lights switching on and brothers and sisters running around; Mami pleading and him blubbering like Miguel if you took away his favorite toy.

But Quinn didn't hear anything. Except…

Just before the world went dark, she heard a voice. A voice that was hers, but not. A male voice, arrogant and angry.

No one's going to hurt you like that again.

"Quinn? Quinn, sweetheart, i-it's me, it's Rachel, it's okay, baby, you're okay…"

"Get off of her!"

The world went dark.

She didn't hear Rachel cry out.