If there are mistakes, I apologize.

RCV

Santana trudged down the stairs to investigate the incessant banging going on in her kitchen. She came around the corner and stopped when she saw Puck sitting on her counter, drinking a glass of orange juice.

"Why are you in my house? Better yet, why are you in my house before eight a.m.?" she asked sleepily.

Santana absentmindedly registered the fact she was falling backward, but any panic she felt vanished when the wall caught her fall. She yawned, and just as her eyes began to droop close, Puck's next words had her wide awake.

"What?"

"I said I heard Rachel singing today. I went to school early to get away from all the noise at the house, and I was passing the auditorium when I heard singing. Of course, I already recognized the voice. She made sure I would never forget it, and I saw her sitting at the piano."

"You broke into my house to tell me you heard Rachel, Rachel fucking Berry, singing?"

"One, I didn't break into your house. I know where your Dad puts the spare key. Two, think about it, San, when was the last time you heard Rachel sing?"

"I dunno, maybe the week before she left. Why?"

There was a ding. Puck hopped off the counter and poured fresh coffee into a mug. He added a little cream and an unhealthy amount of sugar before he passed it to Santana. She grunted her thanks and shuffled to the bar where she sat down, not bothering to wait before she took a massive swallow of the hot liquid.

"When Rachel got back, she was off in a lot of ways. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but the Rachel I knew and the one that came back are two very different people. Again, not saying it's a bad thing, but this Rachel, this version, don't sing. I swear to you I have not heard her sing, hum, whistle, or anything like that since she came back."

"Still doesn't explain why you're here and why you're so jittery. You don't drink coffee that much, so it isn't that."

"Rachel used to have that Broadway feel to her songs, right?"

"Mhm."

"Well, this morning, I didn't hear any of that. And, dude, her voice even cracked."

Santana looked up from her coffee and gave him a look. "See, now you're fucking with me," she said.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.'

She scoffed. "Rachel's voice doesn't crack."

"I thought that, too, but it did today. It sounded like she was trying to keep from crying. Oh, and I ate a couple of donuts before I drove over here."

Santana frowned and took another sip. She thought about that time Sue shut down Quinn's idea of Rachel joining the Glee Club to prove a point. Back then, it didn't faze her, but the more she thought about it, Sue seemed dead set on not pushing the issue. Shaking her head, Santana said, "Rachel not singing shouldn't be a topic of conversation this early in the morning, but it is, and I can see why you're so gung-ho about it. She obviously has something else going on in her mind-

"Which is why I came here," he interrupted.

"Explain."

"You and Quinn are the only ones who can get Rachel to talk. Find out why she stopped singing."

"Is this some half-dick attempt to get her back in the Glee Club?"

"Why the fuck would I care about her getting into the club? We all know Rachel's life is singing, whether it's Broadway or Pop. That girl needs to sing to live, and so far, it looks like she's keeping it bottled up. I care about Rachel. She's the only family I give a fuck about and if something's wrong, something deeper than whatever happened at that restaurant, then we have to find out before it gets worse. She sounded incredible on that stage. Insanely powerful, more than before she left Lima, but it also felt like she was holding back and that scares me. What is keeping her, Rachel fucking Berry, from doing the one thing she loves more than anything?"

Santana stared at him, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth, but it was obvious from the fact he risked getting a size eight house-shoe stuck in his ass for waking her up that Puck was genuinely concerned for Rachel. She sighed and put down her coffee, getting to her feet.

"Give me fifteen minutes to shower, and we'll go," she said softly.

"Go where?" he asked. "You're suspended, remember?"

"No shit. I wanted you to drop me off at Sue's. Emma took the day off to stay with Quinn while she recovered from last night."

"Does this mean I have to go to school?"

"You want to graduate on time?" she deadpanned.

Puck sighed. "Fine, but I want all the information when I come over later," he said.

"Whatever. My plan is to go over there, talk to Quinn, and see if we can come up with a way to get Rachel comfortable enough to talk. If what you're implying is true, then maybe there is something wrong, and as much as it pains me to say this to you, I love Rachel. I'll do whatever I can for her."

Puck gave a short nod. She could see he wanted to make some smart comment, but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut. Santana jogged back up the stairs and immediately went into her bathroom. Deep down, she knew Puck was right. There was something off about Rachel, something brewing in the background, but Santana avoided bringing it up because she didn't want to overstep.

"Well, so much for not overstepping," she muttered.

Quinn was mid-bite of her sandwich when the kitchen door opened, and she frowned when Santana and Puck came inside. Santana poked Puck in the stomach and pointed out the door. He groaned and left the house, closing the door behind him.

"Jeez, it's like having a child," Santana muttered.

"Uh, what are you doing here?" Quinn asked, a mouthful of food.

"Good morning to you too," Santana said.

Quinn blushed and looked down. Emma came into the kitchen shortly after, wielding a bat, and the two teens held up their hands. Emma huffed when she saw Santana and put down the bat.

"I could have seriously hurt you," Emma said.

"I can see that, Jeter. We tried calling, but you weren't answering your phone and Quinn's went straight to voicemail," Santana said.

Emma blushed. "I was busy," she said, lowering her bat.

Quinn snorted and swallowed her food before she said, "Sue took the day off too."

Santana made a face while Emma smacked the Quinn's un-injured arm. The counselor fixed her robe. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but why are you in my kitchen?" she asked.

"Puck broke into my house though he claimed to use a key. Anyway, Puck says he heard Rachel singing today."

Quinn waited for the rest, but when none came, she said, "Okay, and? Rachel always sings." In the corner of her eye, she saw Emma shift uncomfortably before she added, "Or maybe not. Are I missing something?"

"Well, that's a complicated question to ask. In short, yes, but it isn't what you think," the woman said, but she was cut off by Sue coming around the corner.

"Next time you pick the lock on my door, I'll change the locks and have you arrested," Sue said to Santana.

"Empty promises."

"But in response to your comment, the truth is Rachel hasn't sang in eighteen months. Trust me when I saw Puck is not the only person who noticed."

"Eighteen months?" Quinn asked. "You're joking. She sang in the bathroom while she washed her hands. She even has a damn song for it."

"She has a song?" Emma repeated. "Are you serious?"

Quinn sighed and sang, "Wash, wash, wash my hands, gently while I can. Cleaning, Cleaning, Cleaning, cleaning the nasty off my hands. She would sing that twice and then washed the water off. If she missed a beat or skips a word, she starts all over again. I've watched her do it three times because she was scared I would slushy her while she was doing it and lose her concentration."

"Wow. That's-

"Insane," Santana sighed. "Then again, I expect nothing less."

"Moving on," Emma said. "Why hasn't she been singing? It's not like her to go...silent."

Sue shrugged. "Leroy doesn't know. He said that he asked Tori if she sang in Seattle. She told him Rachel never sang around the house when they were in Washington. She didn't even participate when they did the family karaoke night. Rachel just doesn't sing anymore."

"That can't be a good thing," Emma said.

"I agree, but every time he asks her about it, she shuts down."

"Can I point out how crazy it is we're standing around your kitchen worrying about why Rachel is singing when not even two years ago some of us thought her voice was annoying to hear every day?" Quinn asked.

"You never thought her voice was annoying," Santana huffed. "You always said it was the most beautiful thing to look forward to every day."

"And you thought she sounded like a damn angel," Quinn snapped. "My point is that it's crazy that we're all super concerned like she committed murder or something."

"She came close," Emma muttered.

"The point isn't that Rachel isn't singing, it's that something happened to where she stopped singing," Santana said.

"And I agree with you."

"Then help me figure out why."

"We will. Let's just ask her first, see what she says, and then if we don't get the answer we want, we'll ask Leroy again and hope we get some answers that way. Deal?" Sue said.

Santana held up her hands in surrender, and they changed the subject to something less tense. Santana eventually sat beside Quinn and stole the other half her sandwich while Emma washed the dishes. No one said anything about the scratch marks on Santana's arm when she rolled up her sleeve, and Quinn tried not to notice how many times Santana stared at the bruising around her face. Despite the light-hearted mood, the group was still struggling with their own demons, and Quinn knew they only latched onto the Rachel thing because they didn't want to focus on anything else.

After school, it'd been almost thirty minutes when they last saw Rachel.

"Dude, where is she?" Tori asked.

She and LJ walked up and down the halls. They'd checked every bathroom, every classroom, and the locker rooms. Rachel was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, isn't that her phone?" LJ asked.

Tori ran over and picked up the device on the ground. The screen was cracked, but it was still usable. Though the phone wasn't the issue.

"Okay, you have Santana's number, right?" she asked.

"Already on it."

LJ typed out a quick message to Santana while he and Tori ran down the halls. Tori called out her name while LJ re-checked the rooms. He should've known not to leave her alone. All day it felt like something was brewing.

It seemed like no matter what they did, Rachel was having the worst day. She didn't have the detractor of Santana and Quinn, students weren't afraid of Puck anymore, and it seemed like LJ and Tori were also targets. LJ still had slushy on his shirt and Tori was still annoyed at the fact her shoes were ruined. Sue wasn't there nor was Emma. By the time lunch came around, Rachel had been slushied four times, LJ three, and Tori twice. Rachel broke after the third one, and spent the rest of the her day crying in the auditorium. Tori and LJ had no idea what to do.

It felt like everyone was trying to get Rachel to her breaking point. Funny enough, not one member of the Glee Club came to her rescue. When it happened, none of them were ever around. It pissed him off to know they were still treating her like she was expendable. With Tori screaming her lungs out, LJ strained to keep his fear under control as he dialed Santana. She hadn't seen his text, so he figured a call would get her attention faster.

Puck was driving down the street, almost back to Emma's house. He pulled up to a stoplight and a familiar car pulled up behind him. He cursed and locked his door. The driver's side door opened and Puck was tempted to gun it, but there were children crossing the street. He controlled his breathing. He turned to the side as the person walked up to his window. They were screaming, drunk mostly, but Puck kept an eye out for the last kid. He waited, and waited, but suddenly, shards of glass hit the side of his face as a fist crashed through the window, aimed for his head.

Santana glanced at her phone, saw LJ was calling and put him on speakerphone.

"Hey, weirdo. What-

"We can't find Rachel!"

Emma, Sue, and Quinn stopped their conversation, and she put up her hand to keep them from asking any questions.

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

"Leroy let Rachel take his car this morning. She left at the crack of dawn so me and Tori drove her car. We were waiting for her in the front while she ran back to get something from her locker. She never came back and we can't find her! There's no Glee today, her car is still here, and we found her phone outside the second-floor bathroom. We've checked all the classrooms and closets on the first and second floor. We tried texting and calling Puck but he isn't answering. We didn't know who else to call that wasn't our father. Please we need your help."

"Okay, okay," Santana said quickly. "We're on my way."

There was a dial tone, and Santana was up with her keys in hand. She heard footsteps, turned around, and saw Sue behind her.

"Come on, I'll drive," Sue said, taking the keys from Santana. "I can get away with speeding, you can't."

"Whatever, let's just go."

"Keep us updated!" Emma shouted, holding onto Quinn.

Santana could see that Quinn wanted to come, but her injuries kept her from doing anything more than getting up and going to the restroom.

"You better find her safe," Quinn said.

"I will," Santana promised.

Sue and Santana left the house. Sue had the vehicle in drive before Santana even closed her door.

LJ was in a state of panic. They still hadn't found Rachel. He and Tori looked everywhere and ran into Santana and Sue during their second sweep of the first floor. Santana suggested the basement, and LJ practically dragged her to the stairs. The four of them ran down the halls, peeking into abandoned rooms, and even found the old art room. They were at the end of the hall, and there were only two doors left. LJ had barely put his hand on the doorknob of the last storage closet when he heard shuffling and a muffled shout from inside. He waved his hands to get their attention before he yanked open the door. Inside, they found Rachel on the floor, but it was the person standing over her that caused all Hell to break loose. Three things happened that would always stay with LJ:

Tori wasn't the first to react.

LJ wasn't the first to land a punch.

And neither one would ever admit to being terrified of Santana at that moment.