"I was three when he died." Quinn opens her eyes, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she tries to sit up, but Rachel's hand on her arm stops her and she just ends up curling into her girlfriend like the night before.

At the thought of the previous night, she grins stupidly. She swears that she can still feel Rachel's fingers dancing along her stomach and arms, Rachel's lips leaving kisses all over her exposed skin, and she can still smell the wonderful smell of Rachel, the pure her. So intoxicating, so fulfilling.

"Quinn?" The voice that she cannot erase from her mind, that she does not want to erase, forces her out of her thoughts and that is when Rachel's first words register in her mind, the words that woke her from her peaceful sleep.

"He who?" she asks, confused, her brows furrowing slightly because she doesn't understand and she's starting to think that maybe she never will.

But then again, she thinks maybe this is Rachel's way of throwing her a bone and she should probably catch it before Rachel changes her mind and shuts off again.

"My father." Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper and Quinn decides to lean closer, wanting to hear every word that Rachel says, wanting to take it all in because she wants Rachel to know that it is important. She wants Rachel to know that she is important.

There is a brief pause between those words and the words Rachel says next. The blonde does not talk. She lies with her girlfriend in silence, wanting to give Rachel the time she needs, needing to give her the time because Rachel possesses a fragile soul. She presents herself with a tough exterior, and Quinn understands that because she does also, but in a different way than Rachel. Her tough exterior is masked by hostility and a bitchiness that pushes those the high school social ladder convinces her she cannot associate herself with away.

Rachel's, on the other hand, is masked with a quiet toughness and an aura of false confidence that can be seen through if one looks closely enough.

She pushes those who want to care about her away in a gentle way that does not really appear to be pushing, but is pushing regardless of its appearance and it is the subtle air that makes it appear easier.

"He was a police officer. A great one, according to the town I lived in." Her words break the silence, but the dramatic pauses between her words make Quinn feel like she is starring in a film Noir; the mystery is heart-stopping and keeping her on the edge of the bed. So to speak. "I do not remember much about him. I wish that I could. I wish I could remember the happy times because, after his death, they were few and far between."

Rachel is talking quietly and she sounds like she is telling a story rather than the facts of her life. She seems separated from that girl, the Rachel from the past, the girl she is fighting so hard to escape from and bury.

Quinn feels her heart breaking and she grabs Rachel's hand underneath the covers, trying to comfort her in a small way, in any way, but she feels like it is not enough, like nothing can be enough.

"After my dad died, a part of my mother died with him. The good part." Quinn tries to pull Rachel closer, but she pulls away, squeezing Quinn's hand tighter afterwards as if sensing Quinn's disappointment. "She was still a mother. She still took me to head start, she still made me breakfast in the mornings, she still braided my hair, but her smile was never as beautiful and it used to be so beautiful.

"All her teeth would show and they had been white, white as snow, and it had reached her eyes, eyes that she used to tell me are the same as mine and hold the curiosity and the pureness and the pain and the beauty of the whole world in them. She told me never to listen to anyone later on in my life if they tried to tell me that brown eyes mean that I am full of shit," Quinn manages a small chuckle at that, but it is weak because she can feel the pain and the loss in the words, "and I listened to her because I looked up to her, but then she met him. The first Joe."

Quinn feels even more confused after that last sentence. The first Joe. She thinks over the statement but she cannot decide what it means and she supposes she will not know until Rachel tells her, if she ever does.

And she does. "His name really was Joe, unlike the men who came after him, but I'll get into that at another time." Her tone is so matter-of-fact, so business sounding, and Quinn wishes she would stop and just feel, but at least Rachel is opening up to her a little bit. And a little bit is better than none, no matter how the opening up is being done. Even without the feeling, it is enough. It's a start.

"I don't remember him much. I was only four when she brought him into our lives." By this point, Rachel isn't looking at her; she is staring straight ahead at the wall. She wants to make the brunette look at her, she wants to see what is in those doe eyes of her girlfriend's, but she won't push. They're finally getting somewhere and she fears if she pushes, it will stop.

"She started doing drugs, picking up on the life she had before she met my father," Rachel continues with her story, her tone more distinct, louder. Still monotonous. "He sold drugs. He was a horrible man. He would lock me in my room and force me to fend for myself when he was babysitting me while my mother was off at work. Five months into their twisted romance, my mother lost her job and we were forced to move in with Joe on the wrong side of the tracks, far away from my home in Phoenix.

"There... Joe started beating me." She says the words hesitantly. It is almost like Rachel is thinking that if she says the words too quickly, or too loudly, she will conjure him up and he will be in her room, hurting her again. Abusing her.

Quinn feels like her heart has dropped into her stomach. Rachel has been beaten. Her Rachel. Her sweet Rachel who does nothing but care for her friends, her family, and has so much love in her heart to give and expects none of it in return.

The blonde Cheerio starts to hum, a tune entirely too familiar to her; something her mother used to sing to coerce her into sleeping at night when she was too fussy or too sick or too emotionally wounded by the bullying (bullying which, in turn, caused her to be a bully).

"It will be all right," she sings softly, running her fingers through Rachel's tangled bed hair. She hears Rachel hum contently and she sees the weak smile pulling at the girl's lips. It may be weak, but at least it's there. "Don't cry, my darling. Smile and it will be all right in the morning." Her mother used to be awful at rhyming; she feels sadness at the thought of her mom, her mom who she misses terribly even though she abandoned her. But that's not the point because she's family and family is family, through thick and thin. Through blood and tears.

"Just smile my dear and don't shed a tear," she continues to song. She sees a single tear trail down Rachel's cheek and brushes it away with her thumb, stroking her cheek gently. "For I am here, I am always here," she finishes and she means the words with everything she has because she will always be here for Rachel. Always.

Rachel blinks, her eyes adjusting to the light and her vision slightly blurred as she tries to make out the numbers blinking on her alarm clock.

When she awoke earlier, it had been slowly approaching dawn; it had still been dark outside. Bright light is now peeking in through her blinds, trying to fight its way into her room and she is fighting to ignore the brightness because she is only half-awake.

She looks at the clock again, finally able to make out the numbers. It is past noon on a Sunday. She hardly ever sleeps in this long; actually, she never sleeps in this long. She has a strict routine starting at six a.m. every day, but she thinks today is a suitable enough day to make an exception. Especially after the night she had.

She grins a lopsided grin at the thought of her night. She doesn't feel much different. She has been told many times in her life that sex changes a person, morphs them into someone else. She feels tingly all over and she feels lighter somehow, but that is about it.

Maybe that's because she hadn't let Quinn touch her, not below the waist. She had tried to let her, she had wanted to let her, but... she just couldn't. Not yet. It is too soon, too hard.

So, she had touched Quinn. All over. She closes her eyes, picturing Quinn in her mind. She has memorized every scar, every bump, every bruise, every curve... everything.

She scoots over and that is when she realizes that she is alone. Her heart sinks and she swallows hard because oh god, she screwed it up, but then she looks to her right and Quinn is sitting at her computer desk with just a t-shirt on and she licks her lips because that shirt definitely looks better on Quinn than on her.

"Hi," she says shyly as hazel eyes meet her brown eyes. "How long have you been up?" she asks, sitting up on her bed and pulling the covers over her body as a way to protect herself even though she does not need protecting because she is aware that Quinn has no intention of harming her or hurting her in any way.

"A few hours," her girlfriend says with a shrug of her shoulders. "Your Dads saved you a plate at the breakfast table. They went out grocery shopping and wanted me to tell you that they should be home by two," she adds, tossing Rachel her bra, shirt, and boy shorts.

Rachel catches the articles of clothing and sends her a grateful smile before starting to dress herself under the blanket. "Is..." She pauses. She wants to ask, but she is terrified of the response she may or may not receive. "Is she here?" she finally asks, deciding that, regardless of the answer, she needs to know. She has to know. Her sanity depends on it.

Quinn shakes her head, but despite the obvious no the action tells Rachel, there is a look of regret on Quinn's face. She doesn't have to ask what that means. She knows. She has a knack for reading people. Unfortunately. "She'll be back, won't she?" Her girlfriend nods.

"Yeah," she sighs. "She was asleep on the couch when I woke up. Your Dads told her that she should probably leave for a bit, but she asked if she could come back later. They told her they don't mind so long as she doesn't push you to talk and waits until you're ready."

"I hate her," Rachel says simply and she thinks she's telling the truth, but she isn't completely positive because it has been three years and people do change. But that doesn't matter, does it? Because the things her mom did to her, the things her mom allowed to be done to her are unforgivable.

"I know," Quinn whispers in response as she stands from the computer chair and starts walking towards the bed. She climbs onto the bed and crosses her legs Indian style, instantly taking both of Rachel's hands in her own. "You don't have to see her. Your Dads will listen to you if you tell them that you don't want her here."

Rachel's gaze hardens. "They won't, Hazel Eyes," she argues. "They invited her back without having the decency to even ask if that is what I want."

She feels guilty for speaking badly about her Dads. They have never been anything but sweet to her. They gave her a place to live, they gave her a sense of hope and of family, and there are not enough words in this world to describe how grateful she is for them, but right now, she is hurt and inviting her mother over is not going to make her feel any better. Or safer.

"Did she ever...?"

Rachel does not have to ask her to finish her question. She knows what Quinn is asking, and the answer is no. No, her mother never laid a hand on her. There had never been any physicality, but had she hurt Rachel? Yeah, she had because it had been her fault. She had dated the men, she had invited them over... and she had never believed her daughter.

She lets go of Quinn's hands, removing the blanket from her body and standing. She shivers. The weather has been getting colder and what she has noticed about this house is that the furnace does not work all too well.

"Never physically," is Rachel's vague response. "Want to tag along to Sam's? Kurt will be there. He wants me to meet Blaine and apparently, Noah wants to relive our 'star' moment at Sectionals."

She's changing the subject and she can see that it is bothering Quinn, but Quinn doesn't say anything. She feels terrible, but she is nowhere near ready to tell the whole of the story. What she told Quinn last night isn't even the half of it. There is so much more and the more is worse.

"Who's Blaine?" Quinn queries as she reaches down and picks her jeans up off the floor. She stands and puts them on as Rachel walks over to her closet and starts searching for something presentable to wear.

"A boy Kurt met when he was spying on the Warbles," Rachel answers her as she pulls a light pink sweater and black skirt from her closet, along with a pair of knees socks and her black flats.

"A boy, hmm?" Rachel pulls her sweater over her head and steps into her skirt before moving back to her bed. "Someone special?"

Rachel nods while straightening out her knee socks. "He denies any romantic interest whatsoever, but I happen to be intuitive and I am far from naive. Blaine is definitely someone Kurt considers to be very special," she replies knowingly, slipping her feet into her black flats.

She skips over to Quinn, literally, and links arms with her girlfriend. "Ready?"

"For the chance to tease Kurt mercilessly and make him blush while making myself look like the Head Bitch in Charge with a good heart?" Rachel laughs, her lips twitching as she fights back a grin. She nods.

"Of course!"

X

"Noah, I really don't-"

"Come on, babe, there is no harm in singing in the rain," Noah interrupts her, taking her by the hands and pulling her up out of her seat.

Sam, Santana, Kurt, and Blaine appear amused. Quinn, however, looks immensely annoyed, which is to be expected because she has made it clear that she does not appreciate Noah's attempts at "stealing" her girlfriend.

Though, such a scenario shall never happen because she is not interested in Noah, for several reasons. The main one being that he is a womanizing asshole.

"Quit calling my girl babe," her girlfriend snaps, glaring at Santana when she lets out a laugh.

"Rachel, I watched yours and Noah's performance of Little Talks at Sectionals and you guys did amazing. You should totally perform for us and Kurt and I have discovered that singing in the rain is not so horrible," Blaine chimes in which momentarily renders Rachel speechless because he has barely said three words since she arrived over half an hour earlier.

Of course, his lack of talking may have something to do with Quinn's nonstop questions and the crude sexual remarks she and Santana keep sending his and Kurt's way every ten seconds or less.

"Fine," Rachel huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. "But if I leave here and wake up deathly ill, I am blaming you and having my Dads mail you the hospital bill," she mock-threatens as she follows him out the back door, the others following behind her.

Sam takes both Santana and Quinn by the hand and pulls them out into the rain, twirling them around as Noah begins to play.

"I don't like walking around this old and empty house," Rachel sings, jumping off the porch and into the grass, the rain instantly soaking into her pink sweatshirt and chilling her to the bones, but it feels good against her skin as she dances around with her friends and sings along with Noah.

"Some days I can't even trust myself. It's killing me to see you this way," she sings and Quinn is mouthing the words with her as they dance with each other, and the look in her eyes is saying so much that Rachel feels like her heart is being squeezed and her chest feels so tight.

She wants to be okay. For Quinn, for her Dads, for Denise. She wants to trust and let someone all the way in because she does not want to spend the rest of her life shut off. Such a life is too lonely and she cannot survive alone.

She snaps out of her thoughts as Noah takes her away from Quinn, twirling her under his arm like he did on stage at Sectionals and she laughs, her mouth falling open and she just feels lighter. It amazes her that Noah can make her feel okay, that he can make her feel free because on her first day of school she had sworn to stay away from him. He had frightened her, the way he was so persistent about getting into her pants and the way he seemed to constantly be fighting to will her clothes off with his eyes.

But he's harmless. He's like a lion being tamed and she never thought she'd want his friendship, but she aches for his friendship like she aches for Quinn's heart. She wants to be like him and Santana to an extent (because while they are awesome and so free-spirited, she would rather not spend the rest of her life with no tact); she wants to not have a care in the world and to be free-spirited because she lost her spirit a long time ago and she feels like the glee club, especially Noah and Quinn and Santana, are returning it to her.

They are making her feel okay again.

"Shut up, you idiots," Rachel snaps playfully and Quinn rolls her eyes adoringly. Sam, Blaine, Santana, and Kurt keep insisting that they don't want to intrude on dinner with Rachel and her Dads and Rachel keeps having to repeat herself (something Quinn knows the tiny diva despises), saying that her Dads honestly don't mind and "Samuel James Evans, you know this already."

"Rach, I think Quinn is turning you into a shorter version of herself," Sam teases her and Quinn smacks him upside the head for his comment because seriously?

"I would watch your mouth if I were you, Sam, because I can ruin your reputation at McKinley forever and you know it," the blonde threatens, but she's only half-serious. He's merely annoying her and she wants to make it clear that she has the power.

Quinn is glad to see when they enter Rachel's that Rachel's mother is nowhere in sight. She can hear Rachel's Dads in the kitchen moving pots around and preparing dinner.

"Chill out, Ice Queen," Sam says, sticking his tongue out at her before plopping down on Rachel's couch. Rachel tells Kurt, Sam, Blaine, and Quinn that they can take a seat while she goes upstairs to fetch her little sister and most likely change out of her soaked clothing.

Quinn waltzes into the kitchen, where Rachel's Dads are now preparing salad. "Would you like some help?" she asks kindly. Yes, she is trying to suck up to the parents because she wants their approval, but she also likes Timothy and David Berry. They are the sweetest of any gay men she has ever had the pleasure of meeting, Kurt included, and they treat her with a kindness that not even her own parents have ever done.

At the thought of her parents, her smile fades. Timothy, the one she is convinced is always sweet, no matter what kind of day he is having, quirks a brow, seemingly worried. "Everything okay, sweetheart?"

"Just thinking about my parents," she tells him honestly because she trusts Rachel's Dads and knows that they do not judge and they only push whenever they feel pushing is necessary.

She walks over to David and offers him a smile before taking over the action of tossing the salad, adding balls of tomatoes and cut up carrots in the process. "Have you tried speaking to either of them since you left?"

She appreciates that he does not say "since they made you leave" because she does not like the reminder. She isn't going to lie, she has thought about talking to them, asking them why, but she likes to think of herself as an intelligent young woman and she knows why.

Her parents have spent their entire lives being told that homosexuality is wrong, that it should only be a man and a woman. She can understand, but she shouldn't have to accept their reasoning because she is their daughter and their only job is to love her. And they don't.

"No," she answers quietly, stepping away from the salad bowl. "It would be pointless, anyway. They won't talk to me. I betrayed them, after all."

Timothy tries to grab her arm to stop her from leaving the kitchen, but she is out of the kitchen before he can. Denise comes skipping down the stairs not even minutes later with Rachel in tow. Her girlfriend looks like she wants to hit her head off a wall and she smiles at the cuteness of her bemused expression.

"Rach is going to perform dinner theatre with me!" Denise exclaims happily, clapping her hands together as she jumps up and down in the center of the living room.

She hears Rachel groan and Timothy and David's laughter coming from the kitchen.

"Well, I guess I get to be happy for a little while," Rachel whispers as she wraps her arms around Quinn's waist.

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Why a little while?"

"Denise said the stranger lady will be here in time for dinner," she tells Quinn and the blonde sighs sadly. She feels for her girlfriend, she does, and she wishes that she could do more.

"I'm here, okay?" Quinn assures her.

"Yeah, I know," Rachel concedes before kissing her sweetly and Quinn can hear the unspoken words about how they aren't going to talk about Rachel's mother for the rest of the evening until they absolutely have to.

She's okay with that. And she's only okay with it because at least Rachel will be happy for a few hours.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, they had sex and it was an iffy decision, but it was mostly Rachel touching Quinn, not the other way around... for reasons that will be revealed later on. This story is slowly approaching its end. There are a few more things that need to be revealed and an issue Quinn needs to take care of before it can, but it'll get there.

Thanks for the reviews.