Chapter Five

Rachel hasn't experienced an actual first day of school at Dalton Academy, and it's both what she imagined and decidedly not.

Predictably, Santana doesn't come knocking at her door to do her tie and, at six thirty, she meets the Latina in the dining Hall for breakfast. A select few of the prefects are expected to eat meals with the lower grades - the freshmen and sophomores - just to keep an eye on them, and the higher grades can supervise themselves at seven o'clock.

Or, well, they'll have the teachers with which to deal.

Of course, Quinn is already in the dining hall when the two of them enter. She's hopping from table to table, greeting students and checking their uniforms before they get to inspection during homeroom. Predictably, Quinn's uniform is impeccable, not a single thing out of place, and Rachel can't help but stare.

Santana nudges her forward to find seats. After a sophomore says Grace, they get into line for food and, yeah, a part of Rachel has missed Dalton's food. She's had to abandon her vegan life for school, which isn't the biggest sacrifice. She still maintains some form of vegetarianism when she's in New York with her mother, and she's sporadic about it on the estate - LeRoy's poutine is to die for: those fries and crispy meat pieces and gravy - but all bets are off here.

That isn't to say that Dalton's food is actually nice. They're the best at breakfast and brunch, providing a decent selection of cereals, yoghurts and fruits, as well as hot foods that usually consist of eggs, a type of gravy and some form of poultry. This morning is scrambled eggs, baked beans and bacon. It's a 'Welcome Back' kind of breakfast.

Rachel settles for some fruit salad and a side of yoghurt. Santana fills her plate with hot foods and her bowl with cold ones. Rachel doesn't mean to look but she does, and she sees Quinn eating what looks like half a grapefruit and... is that a protein shake?

"What time does assembly start again?" Santana grumbles around a forkful of eggs.

Rachel ceases staring - no, she's merely observing the girl - and turns to her friend. "We have homeroom from seven-thirty until ten past eight, and then assembly from quarter past until... whenever it's done, I guess." Then she chuckles. "I thought you were the one who's been here longer than I have."

"Which means I'm old, you know," she says. "Memory problems."

She just laughs in response, her eyes automatically sliding back to Quinn. It's turning into a problem, really, and it doesn't take Rachel all that long to figure out that her eyes are constantly searching for Quinn. The reason, she won't allow herself to say out loud, so she tries to catch herself every time. It does help that they're not in the same homeroom and she has to sit right beside her on stage for every assembly.

Okay, maybe that last part doesn't actually help at all.

Quinn is warm sitting beside her, and Rachel has to stay focused and not turn her head to stare. It's really important not to, because everyone in the Great Hall can see them.

Everyone.

So, Rachel sits perfectly still and listens to Mr Schuester address the students with practiced ease. He really is a little too good at it, and she absently wonders how it is he managed to find himself as the Headmaster of such a prestigious school. She doubts she would ever find out from him, but she supposes she could ask around. Santana would probably know a thing or two. That girl knows a lot of random things.

Mr Schuester's speaking voice is... oddly mesmerising. Even when he's discussing the school's Code of Conduct and his expectations for the upcoming year. There's an odd lilt in his voice that Rachel's never heard before, and it's both settling and overwhelming.

She feels... the pressure.

When Mr Schuester begins to address the new leadership positions, Rachel straightens. She shifts slightly, her knee brushing against Quinn's - no, don't you dare react - and pays closer attention.

According to their Headmaster, the new prefects are a Blaine Anderson and Lauren Zizes. They are vastly dissimilar people, and Rachel can't help smiling at their obvious shock. This is their moment, and she claps right along with Quinn, whose eyes are shining with something.

Sure, okay, so maybe Rachel is staring.

No, she's observing.

"They look so happy," she finds herself saying, and only Quinn can hear her over the applause.

"They do," the blonde agrees, her gaze remaining forward. It's all she says, but Rachel finds herself craving more in a truly dangerous way. She thinks she's been here before, sort of, so she should know how to handle whatever is happening inside of her, but she's failing. All she knows is this is going to end badly.

Hell, it's going to start badly.

If it even starts at all.

As far as first days go, Quinn's goes quickly and extremely slowly all at the same time. She can't wait to get back into the thick of things: schoolwork and extracurriculars. She's looking forward to being so busy that she practically crawls into bed exhausted and manages to pass out without overthinking her entire existence or having nightmares.

It's all about the small mercies.

The entire day, Quinn has to direct freshmen to their correct classes. They're adorable in their confusion, wearing ill-fitting uniforms they have yet to grow into and asking endless questions. Quinn likes that they're not shy about that because, well, when she first arrived; she was somebody completely different. It's something she's always done. She reinvents herself at each new school.

Maybe, that way, her parents will finally love her.

Quinn's classes aren't taxing because most of the teachers are doing quick revision and outlining their plans for the semester. She's taking a full complement of subjects, majority of them Advanced Programme, which is dangerous and expected.

She's Quinn Fabray - there's a lot expected of her to accomplish.

It's while she's sitting in her double French lesson that Quinn feels herself relax for the first time. There's something to be found in immersing herself in her schoolwork. It's the one thing she can be sure of and in control. It's up to her, now, and she's able to find solace in that.

Goodness only knows she's been unable to find it anything else.

Rachel tells herself she's not disappointed when she gets to the second last period of her day, and she hasn't seen a sniff of Quinn. They didn't even cross paths during their first break or even during lunch. As far as Rachel knows, Quinn wasn't even in the dining hall. She would have known.

The thing is, Rachel knows it's unlikely she and Quinn will share any classes. They're in different homerooms and Quinn's focus is in the Sciences, while hers is in the Arts. There's very little room for overlap.

Which is why she's wholly surprised and borderline ecstatic when she walks into her AP English Literature class and spies a head of blonde hair sitting in the second row, already scribbling something in her notebook.

Rachel practically freezes, and the student behind her walks right into her back and then grumbles something. It catches Quinn's attention, and she looks up at Rachel and... smiles.

Rachel smiles right back.

Quinn glances nervously to her right side, the empty seat glaringly obvious to both of them. As popular as Quinn is, nobody is willing to approach unless she lets them. So, when she shifts her bag off the empty desk as invitation, Rachel isn't going to say no. She practically lurches forward, which, to her dismay, makes Quinn giggle.

Okay, so, maybe not dismay.

But, something.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks when Rachel hasn't said anything for a moment, living through her mortification.

"Just peachy."

Quinn angles her body to face her. "Rough first day?"

Rachel forces herself to take a deep breath because Quinn is actually engaging her in conversation. Why is she acting like a petulant child? "One could say that," she says; "how's yours been?"

Quinn shrugs. "It's just a day," she says. "I was a little nervous this morning, though. I was convinced I was going to trip over my own feet when we led onto the stage."

Rachel lets out a small laugh, her eyes sliding up to look at Quinn's face. There's a guarded look about her, but it's obvious she's trying. "You did well this morning."

"I didn't even do anything."

"Because you didn't have to, which really means that you did your job already."

She looks thoughtful. "I suppose that's one way to look at it."

"It's the best way to look at it," she says brightly.

At this, Quinn rolls her eyes. "Sure thing, Berry."

It's in the middle of Mrs Tobias' explanation of why she chose the play A Streetcar Named Desire for them to study first that Rachel starts fidgeting. She can't be sure what's gotten over her, but her fingers tap lightly on the desk and her knee bounces. It starts to irritate her rather quickly, so, when Quinn clears her throat, she raises her hand and requests to go to the bathroom. She doesn't actually need it, but she needs a moment.

Once in the bathroom, she stares at herself in the mirror. For so long, she hadn't been able to recognise herself and, now, once again, her reflection looks foreign to her. It's disturbing because why is this happening right now?

She's been fine all summer - okay, not really - and Dalton is supposed to be an escape from it all. It's supposed to be her safe place, away from all of it.

Rachel spends an obscenely long time trying to convince herself she's okay, which she's definitely not. She's probably going to have to call her father, or even her mother.

Maybe she'll have to call her therapist.

When she returns to class, Quinn sends her a worried look but doesn't ask her anything. Instead, she slides across a sheet of paper that must have been handed out while she was trying not to have a nervous breakdown. The blonde even took notes for her in the margins, and she smiles gratefully.

It's when she spies the little doodled bee in the top right corner that she feels the rumbling inside of her settle.

Slightly.

But, enough.

Owing to there being no extracurriculars running during the first week back, the second Quinn gets out of class, she retires to her room and spends fifteen minutes lying on her carpeted floor and staring at the ceiling. It's been a long day, and she's predictably exhausted. Her brain hasn't had to work that hard since she heard 'Pens Down' at the end of her last exam before the summer.

It feels good, but she's also getting a headache.

Grumbling something inaudible, she rises to her feet once more, changes into workout gear, and goes for a ride. Anything to keep her busy, really. Maybe, if she's lucky, she'll run into some other students on the trail.

Even as she thinks it, she realises she doesn't want that at all.

She doesn't want to see anyone.

Well, okay, even she can't ignore the fact there is one person she wouldn't mind coming across.

First days are just that.

First.

Rachel's second day is the same, but also different. As sad as it is, the highlight of her day is getting to sit next to Quinn for a double English lesson. It's one hundred minutes of shared body heat and tiny sighs. Quinn even gets asked to read out loud, and Rachel hangs off every word.

She has... a problem.

A really, really big one.

By Thursday, Rachel knows the problem isn't going to go away by itself. She has to do something. She's actually really irritated with herself because she spent her entire summer actively not thinking about Quinn Fabray and that haunted look in her eyes and, now, just a few days into the new school year, she can barely go a few minutes without wondering which version of herself Quinn is sharing today.

After classes let out, Rachel dumps her things in her room, and then walks down the corridor towards Brittany's room. Without living together, Rachel's sure she's going to be seeing less and less of her blonde friend. They don't share any classes and they're both so busy. Which is why she's not surprised to find Brittany spread out on her floor, stretching. Rachel marches into the room as if it's her own and throws herself onto the bed.

Brittany quirks an eyebrow. "What's eating you?"

Rachel doesn't even know how to respond to that, so she says nothing. Just lies there and takes in the familiarity of her first friend at Dalton. She might be spending more and more time with Santana these days, but Brittany will always be special to her.

Brittany's room is bright, in the shield your eyes sense and Rachel spent a lot of her time squinting whenever she looked across their shared room last year. This year is no different. Brittany's duvet cover is bright pink and orange, swirls and stripes and just very busy. She's a fan of those colours, neon too, and all of her workout gear is an eyesore. Rachel loves her, definitely, but she sometimes gets a headache just from being in Brittany's room.

"Do you mind if I just sit here?" Rachel eventually asks.

"Whatever you want."

They don't talk to each other as Brittany continues with her stretches and works on conditioning. Rachel has seen her abdominal muscles and good God, it should be impossible. Illegal.

Though, she's certain Santana isn't complaining.

She can't stop herself from wondering about Quinn's body. And then she groans because no. She's not doing this to herself. She can't.

Brittany sits up. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Definitely not."

"Do you want to dance about it?"

"Too exhausted."

"Then sing about it."

Rachel giggles softly, appreciating her friend's attempts to help. "In a minute," she says.

Brittany just shrugs, returning to her exercises and leaving her be. She's just going to sit here and not think. Again, she considers calling home and talk to one of her fathers. Or Emily-Anne. She would know how to handle all of this, right?

Somebody has to.

It's when she sees Quinn stalking down the corridor from her position on Brittany's bed that she jumps up, surprising them both. "I'll be right back," she quips before rushing after Quinn. She doesn't even know why she wants to talk to her, but she's not thinking about that as she calls out for the blonde.

"Quinn?"

Her steps faltering, Quinn glances over her shoulder. "Hey," she says quickly, shifting slightly. "Everything okay?"

Rachel blinks. "I was - umm - do you think we could talk?"

Quinn presses her lips together. "Is it important?" she asks, transferring her weight from her left foot to her right.

Rachel frowns, sensing something off. "Are - are you okay?"

Quinn chuckles lightly. "I'm fine," she says. "I just really need to use the toilet."

"Oh," she says, smiling. "Right. Oh, that explains your awkward dancing."

Quinn shakes her head in amusement, her smile in place. There's a beat of silence before she reaches forward and closes her fingers around Rachel's upper forearm, sending her heart into overdrive. "Come to my room," she says casually, as she tugs on Rachel's arm. "We can talk after I've relieved my traitorous bladder."

Rachel merely nods, allowing Quinn to drag her a few feet, and she almost whimpers when the girl releases her hold when she realises Rachel can manage on her own.

Only, she can't, though she can't exactly say that, can she?

When they reach Quinn's room, the blonde barely acknowledges her as she throws open the door and rushes through the room towards her bathroom. Suddenly feeling awkward, Rachel pauses in the doorway. This is the first time she's seen Quinn's new room - let alone been inside it.

Breathing deeply, she steps further into the space, trying to take it all in. It's a standard room, really. It's almost... boring. Her bed is neatly made, her duvet cover white with a green patterned embroidery. Her desk is neat, every book and pen in place, and her shelves are stocked with notebooks, work files and novels. They're almost spilling over, and she takes a moment to study the titles of the recreational books.

That is until her eyes settle on the pin-board above Quinn's bed. For the large part, it's empty. As far as she can tell, there's only the blonde's class schedule and... a single picture. Subconsciously, Rachel steps closer to get a better look. It's obviously an old picture, a little faded around the edges, and she absently wonders why it's not being protected by a picture frame.

The picture itself portrays a blonde girl with a toothless smile, perched on a leather couch with an uncomfortable-looking baby sitting in her lap. The girl isn't even looking at the camera, her eyes solely on the baby's face. She's smiling, that much Rachel can tell, and it's obvious she's just taken with the bundle in her arms.

Rachel can't tell which one, if any, is actually Quinn, but she likes to imagine Quinn was once looked at that way, or that she had enough love to look at someone else that way.

And then her dangerous mind forces her to think she wouldn't mind having Quinn look at her like that.

Rachel nearly jumps out of her skin when the bathroom door opens and Quinn steps out. A slow smirk spreads across her face at the brunette's reaction, but then disappears entirely when she sees what Rachel has been looking at.

Rachel clears her throat. "It's a cute picture," she says.

Quinn just steps towards her desk. "You said you wanted to talk."

If she's a little thrown by Quinn's formality, she doesn't show it. "I just - I was wondering how you were feeling about tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"The Induction Service."

"Oh." Quinn turns around and leans against her desk. "Fine, I guess," she says. "Is there something I'm supposed to feel?"

"I don't know."

God, this is so awkward.

Quinn sighs. "What about you?" she asks. "How are you... feeling?"

"Honestly?"

Quinn nods.

"I'm a little nervous."

"Why?"

"I know it doesn't look that way but I'm a little uncomfortable with... attention, at the moment."

Quinn chuckles in disbelief. "Says the girl who ran for Head Student."

Rachel flushes instantly. "That's... different. Those were my teachers and my peers, but these are parents."

Quinn can hear something very specific in her tone of voice, but she wouldn't be able to figure out what is for the life of her, so she's not going to bother. It's doubtful she would explain if she were to ask, anyway. "Are your parents coming?" she asks.

Rachel hesitates. "Uh, no," she says, forcing calm. "They can't make it."

Quinn eyes her carefully, realising there's an untruth somewhere. "Neither can mine," she says, joining the lie. "We can be each other's parents," she says before she immediately backtracks because that's totally weird, Fabray. "I mean - we can - umm - "

Rachel lets out a laugh that seems to settle them both. This entire conversation feels uncomfortable and forced, as if they're both trying to be people they're not. It would help if they actually did know who they were.

"You know what I mean," Quinn grumbles, rolling her eyes.

"I do," she says, smiling. "We'll support each other."

"Like true Head Students."

Rachel sighs, deflating instantly. "Exactly."

"Britt says something's up with you," Santana says when they walk into the dining hall for breakfast the next morning. Admittedly, Rachel is antsy, but it has very little to do with Quinn, right this moment. It's a miracle, really.

"What?"

"She says you've been acting mopey."

"Mopey?"

"It's her word."

"I'm fine," she lies. When Santana shoots her a disbelieving look, she sighs. "It's nothing, really," she says. "I just kind of picked a fight with my dad because I didn't want him to come to tonight's service, and now I feel like the worst daughter in the world."

Santana smiles in sympathy as they find their seats to say Grace. "Is there a reason you don't want them - umm, him - here?"

Rachel nods, but doesn't elaborate.

Santana sighs. "I still know nothing about you."

Rachel just shrugs, offering nothing.

"Look, I'm sure you have your reasons, whatever, so the guilt will eventually go away, okay?" she says. "It's not the end of the world. It's just a stupid Service anyway. I'm sure lots of parents aren't coming."

If the words are supposed to make her feel better, they don't. She doesn't say so, though, and just gets on with breakfast without thinking too hard about how her fathers reacted to her words. They'll forgive her eventually. They'll forgive her whenever she figures out how to explain herself properly. They love her.

She hates being this person. She hates that there's a part of her that's ashamed. She despises it with every fibre of her being.

And yet.

Santana, thankfully, moves them along once they're settled with their food. Though, where she does move the conversation onto is less than ideal.

"So, random guy with sex hair is eyeing you," she murmurs, sidling up beside Rachel. "Four o'clock."

Even though she doesn't want to, it's automatic for Rachel to turn her head and, indeed, there's a boy practically staring at her. He's a senior, she can tell, even if he's having an early breakfast, and he's not bad looking. It's just, well, she's really not interested.

"Five bucks says he asks you out before the end of the day," Santana says.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "He is not going to ask me out."

"He so is, and five bucks says it's happening today."

She sighs. "Well, he's going to be disappointed."

"He is?"

"Well, yes," Rachel says, shooting her friend a slightly incredulous look. "You don't actually think I would agree to go out with him if he were ask me, do you?"

Santana shrugs. "Why not?"

Rachel blinks. It's a good question. "I'm - there's - I don't - "

Santana studies her face. "Is it to do with you, or is it to do with him?"

She frowns. "I don't know what that means."

"You look so uncomfortable with the idea of him asking you out," she points out, noting the flush in her friend's cheeks. "Girls would kill for a Jake Gyllenhaal lookalike to leer at them like that."

"Even you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm a special case," she immediately says. "I appreciate both the male and female form and, right now, I'm very into a very specific one."

Rachel giggles in response. "When are you going to ask her out?"

Santana bristles. "We're not here to talk about me. We're talking about you. Why wouldn't you even give the poor boy a chance?"

Rachel licks her lips. "Because I'm not interested."

"Why?"

"I'm just not," she repeats, her voice catching slightly.

Santana's eyes narrow. "Berry, are you not interested in him because you're interested in... someone else?"

Quite suddenly, Rachel can barely catch her breath. "What? Where did you get that from?"

"I'm good at reading people," she answers. "What is it? Has someone else caught your eye?"

Rachel does all she can not to look in Quinn's direction. It would just be... awful to do that because, no, Rachel is not interested in anyone else. She clears her throat. "I just - I - " she struggles before she practically blurts out: "there's someone back home."

Santana gives her friend her full attention. "Is there?"

Rachel swallows nervously, dropping the volume of her voice. She hasn't brought this up to anybody at Dalton - not even Brittany - and she's a little wary of doing so to Santana. It's not as if she thinks the other girl will judge her or anything, but her private life is something she wants to keep as private as possible.

As far as she's concerned, her life outside of Dalton doesn't exist within these walls. It's one of the reasons she decided not to have any of her family come to tonight's induction service.

Rachel doesn't know how she's supposed to explain... Finn. She doesn't even understand what they are or whom he is to her. They spent a lot of time together over the summer, but then she went to New York and he didn't bother to contact her.

Again, she finds it difficult to blame him - there's a part of her that believes it's what she deserves for what she put him through - so she really doesn't know where they stand. How is she supposed to tell Santana any of that?

"There is," Rachel finally says. "We dated... before, and then we broke up. Obviously."

"Why obviously?" Santana practically growls.

Rachel sighs. "I was in no state to be in a relationship," she says slowly, feeling both defensive and guilty over Finn. He didn't do anything wrong - not really - and she wants to clear that up, but those words don't come out. Because, if she's being completely honest with her self, he did do something wrong. Lots of things, actually.

"So, you're not together?" Santana asks, frowning in confusion.

"We are," she hurries to say. "Sort of. I think." It's her turn to frown. "We kind of started something up again when I went home, but we never really defined it. It's... complicated."

Santana nods in thought, and Rachel can only imagine what's going through her head. "It does sound complicated."

Really, Santana has no idea.

Quinn feels awkward and out of place at the head of the table in the boardroom. She's rehearsed what she wants to say several times, and yet she still feels unprepared. All she can hope now is that it'll get easier the more rime passes.

She clears her throat to get their attention. "Good afternoon, everyone," she says, ignoring the plate of food just to her left. It's wrapped in clingfilm, looking as appetising as leading this meeting makes her feel. "Welcome to our first meeting of the year."

Thankfully, she gets a tableful of answering grins, and it helps settle a few of her traitorous nerves.

The first thing she does is verbally congratulate them on the work they've been doing. She appreciates the updates they send to the WhatsApp group, which she knows will dwindle in frequency as the year progresses. They discuss the upcoming induction service, confirming times and venues.

And then they finally discuss the portfolios. Quinn and Rachel won't belong to any specific one, but they will be overseeing all of them. It sounds like a lot of work but Quinn has plans to make it as easy and pain-free for all of them as possible.

"So, I did receive a few emails these past few days regarding chosen portfolios, and I was able to make assignments accordingly," Quinn says. "I'm hoping there won't be any disputes because I did say to let me know if you have preferences, so, at the moment, the portfolios that are complete are Spirit, Birthdays, Farewells and Community Service." She looks down at the page in front of her. "I thought maybe we could just go through the list, and you can throw your name in when you want to." It's a suggestion that receives collective nodding.

The group learns that Kurt is already part of the Spirit portfolio with Blaine, and he's also part of three members working on Community Service, namely Artie Abrams and Suzy Pepper. Blaine also takes on the role of Cultural Liaison, and Quinn doesn't miss the narrowing of Rachel's eyes when that's decided. She has to hide her smile, because she's just coming to learn that Rachel Berry is heavily involved in the Arts.

Unsurprisingly, Santana opts to be on the Discipline portfolio with David Karofsky and Robert Cresswell. Joe Hart raises his hand to spearhead the Litter portfolio with a girl, Tracey Smith. The Tuckshop will be handled by Lauren and Matt Rutherford, who will also act as the Sport Liaison. Shane Tinsley and Rick Nelson will deal mainly with Lost Property and Farewell. Candice Lewis and Kimberley Lavigne are in charge of the Environmental and the Health Awareness portfolios, and Christopher Lin will act as the Senior Year Liaison.

By the end of the meeting, Quinn is the only one who hasn't eaten her lunch, so, when she dismisses them, she hangs back.

So does Rachel.

It's a little uncomfortable in the beginning because it's obvious Quinn doesn't really know what Rachel is doing there. Well, they're in the same boat, at least. As expected, it's the brunette who breaks the silence, talking to ease her own discomfort.

"That went well, didn't it?" Rachel questions, smiling encouragingly.

"It did," Quinn agrees after she's swallowed a mouthful of food. "I actually wanted to discuss something with you."

"Oh?"

"So, now that the portfolios are done, we can hand out the written expectations of each portfolio. I was thinking we could make each prefect a special, umm, book with their names and portfolios and expectations all inside. It can also serve as their prefect notebook for all these meetings, you know."

Rachel nods, believing she's following. "I think that's a great idea."

"Are you just saying that?"

"Oh, Quinn," she murmurs. "I think you'll come to find that I very rarely just say things."

"Dad, I'd like you to meet Quinn Fabray," Kurt says, guiding Quinn towards a man without actually touching her. Just in the short time she's allowed him to get to know her; he's learned that she's not much of a fan of being touched, so he's being careful. "She's our Head Student."

Burt Hummel, quite predictably, smiles widely and sticks out his hand. "Burt," he says.

Quinn can't resist returning his smile. "It's nice to meet you, Sir," she says, shaking his hand. "Kurt's told me a lot about you."

"Has he, now?" Burt questions, eyeing his son, who's starting to blush. "What's he been saying, huh?"

Before Quinn can respond, Rachel taps her on the shoulder and she spins to face the brunette, startling. "Sorry," Rachel says, eyes widening at Quinn's startled expression; "but they want us inside."

Quinn merely nods, waiting a moment for her heart to stop beating so quickly. "We'll be right there," she says, and then smiles politely at Burt. "It's about to start, so we should probably find our seats."

"Of course," Burt says, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "I'll see you after, okay?"

"Clap really loudly," Kurt teases, and then follows after Quinn. He manages to fall into step beside her, and he immediately senses her tension. She carries a lot of it in her shoulders and neck, and he wonders if she manages to get any sleep at all.

Still, he's not going to say anything because he knows it'll just make it worse. Even though they've just started this unlikely friendship, he can tell she's been on edge all day. Earlier, he suspected it was nerves, but he knows it's something else now.

When they reach their pew, Quinn halts and allows him to enter. She and Rachel are going to be sitting on the end, closest to the aisle, in order to be the two prefects closest to the podium when they lead out. Quinn even has to give a short speech and an 'I will' before they read out the Mission Statement.

Whoever said Dalton wasn't about tradition… lied.

When Rachel slips into the pew, she gives Quinn a beaming smile that the blonde can barely return. It makes Rachel frown and, once Quinn is seated beside her, she leans into her and drops the volume of her voice. "Are you okay?"

There's an unwelcome fluttering in her stomach, but Quinn still manages to nod. "Just a little nervous," she answers.

"Are you panicking?"

"No," she snaps, which makes them both flinch. "Sorry," she immediately says, hanging her head. "But, really, I'm not panicking. I'm fine."

Rachel doesn't look convinced but she doesn't question her further. Instead, as carefully as she can, she touches the backs of her fingers to Quinn's hand resting on her own thigh, and she doesn't mistake the sharp intake of breath from the blonde. It's the first time Rachel's actually initiated touching her skin and it sets her beating heart into overdrive.

As shocking as it is to both of them, it's enough. Because, when Quinn rises and steps into position, she feels... strong and confident.

Until she looks out into the pews and sees a pair of faces that completely throws her. She stumbles over her feet before she stumbles over her words, the panic rising from deep within her abdomen. Why are they here? It can only be something bad.

Somehow, by some miracle, she survives the service, managing to force out her speech, her 'I will,' and her Mission Statement. The applause at the end should bring her a sense of relief, but all she's feeling is dread. Her palms are clammy and her heart is racing.

Why?

Why are her parents here?

Just when Rachel thinks she's managed to settle Quinn, the blonde gets infinitely worse. She practically trips over herself, which is so unlike her, and she's trembling as she stands there and says words. Rachel tries to shield her as best she can; tries to give her some form of support.

Whether Rachel helps or not, Quinn gets through it. They all do.

And then Quinn practically disappears.

Rachel isn't afforded much time to dwell on the missing blonde because Santana drags her into the courtyard to indulge in refreshments and to introduce her to her parents. Of course, she's deathly nervous about it because she's come to assume that everyone just knows her history.

But, no. Maribel and Julio Lopez are all happy smiles and complimentary words. Apparently, Santana told them quite a bit about her over the summer, and Rachel finds it amusing that the Latina blushes.

And then she practically turns into a tomato when Brittany joins them.

They chat and mingle and eat and drink, and when Santana freezes; they all notice. Rachel follows her line of sight to where Quinn has just entered the courtyard, looking stiff and passive. It's a new look, and Rachel knows she doesn't like it.

"Oh, fuck," Santana suddenly says, and her mother immediately admonishes her, though she's not paying attention. "No, no, no."

Rachel watches Quinn as she walks towards Mr Schuester, with a man and woman trailing behind her. A man and woman who, combined, probably produced Quinn Fabray. Her parents.

Russell Fabray is tall and broad, a hard look in his eyes, as if he's loved and lost in all the worst ways. The woman, his wife Judy, looks exhausted. It's a look Rachel has seen on Quinn before. They're both smartly dressed, heads held high and Rachel instantly hates them.

Santana's nails dig into Rachel's forearm. "What are they doing here?" she asks nobody in particular.

Rachel clears her throat. "She mentioned they weren't coming."

Santana's eyes snap towards her. "They just showed up?"

"It looks that way."

Santana grows pale. "Fuck."

"Santana!" her mother hisses, and she's, once again, ignored.

Somehow, by some miracle, they manage to get back to conversation, but it's obvious Santana is still on edge and, frankly, so is Rachel. From the looks of things, Quinn is quiet and timid, speaking only when spoken to. It's unsettling to see because this isn't Quinn. It's not.

When Quinn's parents leave, she walks them out and doesn't return. Rachel can practically feel the tension rolling off the Latina, and the worry she feels is almost palpable. She can practically taste it.

"Go," Santana suddenly says.

"What?"

"You have to go," Santana says, meeting Rachel's gaze. "Please, Berry. Go after her. Now."

There's a certain desperation in Santana's voice that has Rachel nodding dumbly, already stepping back. After a beat, she spins and rushes from the courtyard, knowing that she needs to find Quinn immediately. Her own panic sets in and she feels something dark settle over her as she forces herself to run.

She has to find Quinn.

Now.

Rachel almost bursts out laughing - or crying - when she gets to Quinn's room and finds the blonde sitting on the edge of her bed, her skirt lifted to reveal her pale thighs and her fingernails digging harshly into her smooth skin.

She's marking herself, leaving angry red lines.

She's drawing blood.

It looks like it hurts, and Rachel realises belatedly that that's the point.

Still, Rachel rushes forward and drops to her knees in front of her, though she doesn't even seem to notice Rachel's presence. "Quinn?" she says. "Quinn? Stop it. You have to stop. You're hurting yourself."

The blonde practically snaps to attention, her fingers stopping their rough path along what is perfection to the brunette. "Rachel," she says, sounding strangled.

"Quinn," she breathes, seeing the utter devastation on the girl's face.

"I keep doing everything wrong," she says, and she sounds broken. "Even when I do it right, it's still wrong. I just - I can't get it right."

Rachel has no idea what to say to her, her mind spinning and her heart aching for this lost, little girl.

For the longest time, Quinn just stares at her, slowly coming back to herself. It's sudden when it happens, and she straightens immediately, making Rachel flinch. She covers her thighs, hiding the evidence of her... Anger, turmoil, anguish, something.

She smooths out her skirt and slowly rises to her feet.

When Rachel sees her walk towards her closet and start removing her running gear, Rachel frowns. It's almost ten o'clock. "What are you doing?" she asks, somewhat unnecessarily.

Quinn suddenly bristles at Rachel's tone, a scowl on her face. "What does it look like I'm doing, genius?"

She frowns. "What's wrong?"

Quinn's eyes flash dangerously. "Nothing is wrong."

"That's a lie."

"I don't care."

Rachel sighs. "Quinn," she murmurs. "Let me help."

Quinn just laughs humourlessly. "Don't you see, Berry?" she says darkly. "You can't help me. Nobody can."

There's a moment, Rachel has realised, when life kind of just loses its sparkle. If she's being entirely honest with herself, she would say it happened for her a long time ago. There's only so much a person can endure before the world loses its colour.

If Rachel can go the rest of her life without having to see that haunted look in Quinn's eyes again; she would live a great one.

When Quinn leaves on her run, Rachel doesn't bother to return to the courtyard, and she figures the evening is over when she hears sounds and movement in the corridors. She's not surprised when Santana comes to her room, leaves the door open and sits beside her on her bed. The two of them just sit, staring determinedly at the only door they can see from their positions.

Rachel has so many questions, but she holds her tongue. They're waiting for Quinn in silence.

"We'll give her another fifteen minutes," Santana says quietly.

Quinn moves into view thirteen minutes later, her chest heaving and her eyes withdrawn. If she notices the two brunettes in Rachel's bedroom, she gives no indication to it. Instead, she slips into her room and closes the door, and Rachel feels the tension in her body relax minutely.

"What was that?" Rachel asks in whispered disbelief.

Santana swallows audibly. "That, Berry, was Quinn Fabray."