Author's Note: Huh. Thirty chapters and over 200,000 words. That's ridiculous. Why are you even still reading this? Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, the longest of the Harry Potter books, was thirty-eight chapters and 257,045 words. And I feel like I'm going to beat that. Granted, part of mine has been author's notes, but still.

Speaking of Harry Potter, I recently found a story called "Harry Crow" that I've kind of fallen in love with. It's been exceptional so far, so check it out if you're a HP fan. One of the amazing things to me was that it had 17,000 reviews. My brain stalled for a second looking at that number. Seriously. It's also over 500K words, so I'm blaming reading that for my not writing much recently.

Going back, though, I have to say this story has come to mean a lot to me. And if you're this far in, I guess it means a lot to you, too. So I just wanted to say thanks. To the people that have followed me from the beginning. To the people that picked me up from the middle. To the people that are just joining us. And to the people who have yet to find this story. Thank you.

Also, if you want to check out the song beforehand, it's "Keep Your Head Up" by Andy Grammer.

Brittany pulled Rachel along by her unbraced hand into the back of the locker room where the shower stalls were. Rachel had only been there once, a few days ago when she'd showered after her run with the Cheerios. Christy had come in to check on her at Santana's request. Rachel kind of doubted she'd still want to check on her after today, after whatever Quinn was going to do to her sister. Quinn had promised not to hurt her, but that didn't matter. Of all the things Quinn had ever done to hurt Rachel, almost none of them consisted of physical violence. Unless you counted the slushees as assault, of course. Not that the school did. As Principal Figgins had said, "they weren't considered instruments of bullying". It was sad how the school board turned a blind eye in the name of profit.

Brittany pulled Rachel over towards the benches but didn't sit her down. Instead she went behind Rachel and bent down, saying, "Okay, Rachie, lift up your left foot so I can get your boots and socks off."

Rachel lifted her left foot, bending her leg at the knee to make it easier for Brittany.

"I said left, silly," Brittany said.

"That is my left foot."

"Oh," Brittany said. "Then I meant my left."

"Brittany, you're standing directly behind me," Rachel said. "My left is your left."

"…oh," Brittany said, sounding embarrassed. "Sorry. I always get them confused."

"I used to do that, too," Rachel said. "Just hold out your hands with your fingers out. On your left hand, your thumb and index finger will make an 'L'."

"Index?" Brittany asked. Rachel turned around to find Brittany looking at her hands. "You mean the pointer finger?"

"Yes," Rachel said. Sticking out her own index finger, she traced the curve of Brittany's finger down and across to her thumb. "See? It's an 'L'. It stands for 'left' hand."

"Oh!" Brittany said, excitedly. "Okay! I get that!" Then she hugged Rachel quickly before letting her go. "See? You always help me. Even before we became besties, when I was your secret ninja best friend. You've always been nice to me and helped me understand things in Glee. You're, like, the best person ever."

"No, Brittany, you are," Rachel said, smiling at her friend's exuberance.

"Well, yeah, duh," Brittany said. "But after me, it's totally you."

Rachel laughed at that for a moment before she got serious again. "I'm so sorry, Brittany. I shouldn't have said what I did. I really don't think you're stupid. I think you just… I don't know… think differently, maybe? You clearly know people better than I do. Better than anyone else, for that matter. You knew just what to say to me back there to get me to realize I was being selfish and stupid and-"

"Don't, Rachel, please," Brittany said. "I don't like it when you talk bad about yourself. It makes my tummy all gurgly and unhappy. Like when people fight."

"I'm sorry," Rachel said again. The last thing she wanted right now was to make Brittany unhappy. She just didn't know how to explain that Brittany's outburst brought her back from the edge like it did. Something about Brittany's usual happiness being replaced by worry and anger and sadness had gotten through to Rachel unlike Quinn ever had. It was just unnatural for the tall blonde to be that unhappy, and it shocked Rachel into caring about herself, even if just for Brittany's sake. "I just… thank you."

"No worries," Brittany said, smiling again. She went back around to behind Rachel and said again, "Now hold up your left foot."

Rachel did, and Brittany removed that boot and sock, and Rachel let her foot fall back to the floor. She repeated the process with her right foot until she was barefoot on the floor. She stood there shivering as the floor was really cold, and the slushee that had covered her had basically been colored sugary ice. She took a moment to look down at herself. She'd never let a slushee stay on her that long, but she'd found it hard to care about ruined clothes or sticky skin there in the hall. Afterwards, she'd been in no place to get cleaned up, not until Brittany and Quinn had calmed her down or cheered her up or whatever it was they had done. Pulled her back from the edge.

They had to be so sick of doing that by now. Maybe not Brittany as she seemed to care, but definitely Quinn. Except… Quinn had said she cared now. That she considered Rachel an actual friend. That she actually liked her as a person. And Rachel, much to her own surprise, was starting to believe her. Quinn had always been a master manipulator and deceiver, but this seemed different. Quinn asked questions, not looking for ammunition to use against her, but in seemingly genuine curiosity and interest. Quinn talked about herself and shared things she didn't have to. She seemed to want to get to know Rachel better, but also seemed to want Rachel to know her better, too. More so than she even did with Sam.

"Okay," Brittany said, coming back from putting her boots and socks into a bag. They were ruined, too. Her whole outfit had been ruined by the one hundred and sixty ounces of frozen ice, corn syrup, flavoring, and artificial coloring. "Time for your sweater now."

"My sweater?" Rachel asked, worried. "What? No, Brittany, I can get cleaned up if you'll just wait out there somewhere."

"But…" Brittany said, suddenly a mix of sad and worry. "Quinn told me to help you get cleaned up and… and I've already messed up once today. I need to help you, Rach."

"It's okay, Brittany, really," Rachel tried to assure her. "I'll be okay back here. And…" She paused, and in a smaller voice she said, "…and you shouldn't have to see me undressed anyway."

"Have to?" Brittany asked, suddenly confused. "I don't understand."

"Well, if I take off my sweater and jeans and… and anything else," Rachel explained, "then you'll have to see me undressed. I guess you could keep your eyes closed, but then I don't see how helpful that would be, though just having you around keeping me company would be-"

"No," Brittany interrupted, shaking her head. "I get the undressed part. I don't understand the 'have to' part. Like, why would you say it like that? Like, my mom makes me clean my room so I 'have to' do that. And I 'have to' take algebra even though I hate it. But I wouldn't 'have to' see you naked."

"But if I undressed in front of you…?"

"No," Brittany said, shaking her head again. "I mean, you say it like it's a bad thing. If I was lucky enough to see you naked, it wouldn't be 'have to'. It'd be more like a 'Yay! I get to!' It'd be like Christmas or my birthday, but better because at least those things happen every year."

"Brittany, you don't need to lie to me," Rachel said sadly, looking down at the floor.

"I'm not," Brittany said, walking up to her and placing a finger under her chin, raising her head until they were looking each other in the eye. "I don't like lying. I think it's bad for your heart. Like smoking. At least, it makes my heart hurt anyway… no matter how many Cheerios I eat. The cereal, not the people. Cannabis is wrong."

"Cannibalism," Rachel said automatically. "Cannabis is… something else."

"Right," Brittany said. "So I don't lie. I might not tell people stuff because they ask me to keep a secret or whatever, but I don't like lying. So when I tell you you're pretty, you should believe me because I'm, like, totally trustworthy and stuff."

"But…," Rachel started. Brittany couldn't be telling her the truth. There were so many people that hated her, that had called her ugly or big-nosed or fat. They couldn't have all been lying to her, could they? Brittany had to be the one lying. "I know what I look like, Brittany," Rachel said, turning away.

"Do you?" Brittany asked. "Are you sure? Because you know what I see?"

"No…"

Brittany took Rachel by the arm and turned her around to face her again, keeping extraordinarily close to the brunette. "I see…" She ran her hands up to Rachel's head and pulled at her sticky hair. "Really nice hair. You know, when it's not all multi-colored and gross. I like it when you have those curls and wavies in it like you sometimes do." Moving on, she said, "And I see really pretty eyes. They're the same color as the coffee my dad likes with one cream and a lot of sugars. They look really sweet like his coffee, too. Like you just know that you're a really nice person just by looking at your eyes." Moving a hand up, she reached out and tapped Rachel on the nose with her index finger. "And your nose-"

"I know about my nose," Rachel said, pulling back. "It's big and gross and Jewish and-"

"It looks like a potato," Brittany said, stopping Rachel's ramble. "Like the little baby potatoes that you feel bad for because I thought they were taken from their mommy potatoes until mom explained to me where baby potatoes come from. P.S., it's from the ground, not other potatoes. Except your potato nose isn't red or white or yellow, it's perfectly Rachel-colored. And cute." Brittany bent down and placed a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose, causing Rachel to blush. She had been momentarily upset with Brittany for saying her nose looked like a potato of all things, but the kiss had sent whatever thought she'd had straight out of her head.

"Your lips," Brittany said, and Rachel suddenly realized just how close the taller girl still was to her. "They're so full and pouty and I just want to-" and then she was suddenly bending down and kissing a stunned Rachel there in the Cheerios locker room.

The people Rachel had kissed- passionately kissed, anyway- in her life could be counted on one hand. They were, in order: Finn, Puck, Jesse, and, most recently, Santana. And now Brittany. Brittany, who kissed unlike any of the others. Brittany wasn't demanding or sloppy or shy. She was inviting and warm and friendly, much like her personality. As if the press of lips or her tongue- and, holy God, her tongue was talented- was just a way of saying 'hello'. Not that it didn't mean anything. It just didn't mean the same things as everyone else's kisses meant. It wasn't passion (though it was passionate) or want (even though they both wanted more) or even love (though she'd heard Brittany say she loved her multiple times now). It was sympathy and understanding and compassion. It was the most pleasant passionate kiss Rachel had ever had.

Eventually the need for oxygen made them both pull back, and Rachel knew her face had to be dazed. "Wow…" she managed to say before her knees literally gave way and Brittany had to catch her before she fell to the floor.

"Yeah," Brittany said, clearly proud of herself. "I'm good like that."

After a moment, Rachel had recovered, and Brittany let her go. "Just don't tell Santana or Artie," Rachel asked her. "I wouldn't want to hurt Artie, and I think Santana might actually try to kill me."

"She won't mind," Brittany said. "She got to kiss you, so it's only fair that I get to. Kissing isn't that big a deal. And Artie… It's not cheating since you have girl parts and Artie has robot boy parts."

Rachel paused. She'd heard the rumor that Santana had told Brittany that but, surely… "You… you don't actually believe that, do you?"

The smile fell from Brittany's face as she thought about the question. "No," she said sadly. "But if I can pretend like I believe it for Santana then I can pretend like I believe it for you, too."

They were quiet for a minute before Rachel asked, "Brittany… if you like Santana that much and don't really want to be with Artie, why don't you break up with him?"

Brittany stayed with the sad look. "I do like Artie. I really do. And you know the very best part of dating him?" she asked, to which Rachel only shook her head. "It isn't that he's sweet or cute, though he's totally both of those things. It's that I'm his girlfriend. When people see us out, they don't think we're just friends. They see him hold my hand or kiss me or whatever, and they know I'm his girlfriend." She shook her head like she was unhappy with the thoughts inside it. "I know who I am. I know I'm not the best girl. I'm hot and I can dance, yeah, but I'm not smart like Artie is. Not like you or Q or San. But Artie's proud to be seen with me anyway. I like that."

This time it was Rachel who reached out and helped ruin Brittany's uniform by pulling her into a hug. Because, saying all of that about Artie, Brittany wasn't really talking about Artie. She was talking about Santana, and why Santana and she would never be together. Santana was afraid to be seen with Brittany as more than just friends.

After a minute, Brittany pulled away. "But we were talking about you, and how pretty you are. So do you believe me yet, or do I have to keep going?"

"Brittany, I… I don't know," Rachel said. "I mean, I want to believe you, but…"

"It's okay," Brittany said. "So I said all that nice stuff about your face because it's super cute, but you should see the rest of you, too. You have a hotty body. Like, you're skinny, but not too much. I bet…" She reached down and grabbed the hem of Rachel's sweater, looking into her eyes to see if it was okay. When Rachel nodded nervously, Brittany continued, pulling up the sweater. "Yep. You have a really nice stomach." With her other hand, Brittany fingers trailed over Rachel's abs, causing the smaller girl to shiver, though not from cold this time. "And I bet…" She pulled the shirt up even higher, exposing a lacy, once-white bra that was now multicolored from the slushees. "Just as I thought. You have really cute boobs, Rachel. They're not as big as mine or Santana's, but they're still really nice. I just want to…" and then she was trailing a hand up and over Rachel's bra, softly caressing her breasts and slowly making Rachel lose her mind.

"Brittany," Rachel said eventually, reaching up with her good hand to grasp Brittany's roaming hand. "Stop." She was nearly pleading with the taller blonde. "I… I'm… We're getting really close to having 'sexy times' and I'm… I'm not… I don't…"

"It's okay, Rach," Brittany said, removing her hand. "I'm sorry. I just get excited sometimes. You're so pretty. I'll be good, though. I just wanted you to see how beautiful I think you are. I wish you'd think the same about yourself."

After a long quiet moment in which Rachel attempted to get her body under control from Brittany's ministrations, she finally said, "Thank you." She then put her hands over her head, laughed at herself for getting so worked up, and said, "So if I agree with you and let you help me, will you stop feeling me up?"

"I'll try," Brittany said with a playful grin.

After that, things went more smoothly. Well… smoothly-ish. Rachel felt awkward getting undressed in front of Brittany but offering to cooperate kept Brittany from being any touchier than she had already been. Rachel felt even more awkward when Brittany got undressed, too, stripping out of her uniform, then out of her underwear. And she felt the most awkward she'd ever felt in her life when Brittany got in the shower stall with her and helped her get washed up. She tried to think of it in a completely professional capacity, like how the nurse had helped her get a bath at the hospital, but the way Brittany's hands lingered a little too long sometimes… Thank God Santana wasn't there because Rachel was pretty sure she'd be violently murdered by the short-tempered Latina. And even if she did, it might have been worth it. Brittany's hands were… amazing.

Thankfully Brittany talked about the most random things, and that kept Rachel distracted. Sea turtles came up for some reason. As did the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. Apparently they had scared Brittany as a child as much as they did Rachel. And Jurassic Park came up, too. That one was surprisingly relevant, though.

"I'm just glad you're getting better, Rachel," Brittany said as they were stepping out of the shower, wrapping towels around themselves. "You're dirt right now, but at least we know where the bones are. Not like Quinn."

"I… What?"

"The dinosaur movie," Brittany said, as if that explained everything. Seeing Rachel's confused look, though, she shook her head again. "Sorry. Mom says I need to use more words sometimes. Umm… It's the dinosaur movie where they make the dinosaurs from the mosquitos in the see-through rocks? On an island? They have cars on tracks and a water cup that shows the T-Rex is coming. I can't think of the name of it."

Rachel thought about it for a minute before it came to her. "Jurassic Park?"

"Right!" Brittany said, lighting up. "So, in the movie, at the beginning, they're looking for the dinosaur bones, and they shoot a thingie into the ground to show where all the bones are. You're like that. Right now, you have all the dirt on top, but everyone knows what you're supposed to be like. The old Rachel that liked herself and didn't care what anyone else thinks. That's the dinosaur bones. We just have to dig it back up. To make you the regular you instead of sad you. Sad you is the dirt."

"Oh," Rachel said because, yet again, Brittany was making a lot of sense in the oddest of ways. Then something stopped her. "But you said something about Quinn?"

"Yep," Brittany said, running a towel through Rachel's hair. "Quinn is just like you, except I don't know what her bones look like. I know there's something under there, but every time someone brushes the dirt away and a little bit of bone sticks out, Quinn covers it back up. Like she's afraid someone will see something."

Rachel bit her lip in thought, enjoying the feel of Brittany towel-drying her hair. "So… you're saying Quinn's hiding something."

"No," Brittany said, stopping to come around and face Rachel. "I think she's hiding everything. I think she's hiding all of herself."

"But why?"

"I don't know," Brittany said, shrugging sadly. "There's too much dirt."

Once they were dressed again, Rachel in dark jeans and gray hooded sweatshirt while Brittany was in a fresh uniform, they stepped out of the Cheerios locker room and headed towards Sue Sylvester's office. She'd always dreaded going there (as most sane people in the school did). Even most of the Cheerios hated being called to her office. The only three people in the school brave enough to dare easily enter were her new best friends. Rachel supposed that it was only right that she join them in that insanity and get used to going to Coach Sylvester's office.

"I'll wait right out here," Brittany said, pointing to a bench outside Coach Sylvester's office. "Good luck."

"Good luck?" Rachel mumbled to herself, walking over and knocking on the door frame, alerting Coach Sylvester that she was there.

"Come in, mini-Barbra," Coach Sylvester said when she looked up and noticed Rachel standing there. "Shut the door and have a seat."

Rachel gulped and scratched at the new tendon brace on her wrist but did as she was asked. She wasn't used to this tendon brace, but the other one had been ruined by slushee. When her fathers had packed a new one in her emergency slushee kit, when they had even gotten a new one, she didn't know. Were they expecting her to get slusheed today, too? Had everyone been preparing for the eventuality except her?

Rachel sat down in the seat in front of Coach Sylvester, looking up at her as the woman took off her glasses and closed the journal she had been writing in. "Babs," she started. "I know you've probably been wondering to yourself why I called a cease-fire on torturing you on a daily basis. Now it's not because I don't think you deserve it. Show tunes are horrible and you seem to be made of show tunes and vegetables. What's with the vegetables, anyway? The ability to eat meat is what put us at the top of the food chain. That and opposable thumbs. And you've got both," she looked down at Rachel's braced hand, "well, one thumb, anyway, but you can still eat meat. Yet you choose not to. Pathetic."

Before Rachel could respond to that, before she could even try to formulate a response, Coach Sylvester went on. "Now, as you probably already know, my parents are famous Nazi hunters." She paused, looking expectantly at Rachel.

"…Thanks?"

"You're welcome. Now as they hunted Nazis, they left my sister and I in the care of our dear, yet enfeebled, grandmother. That meant most of the care for my sister fell to me. Not that I minded. My sister is the most caring, beautiful person you'd ever have the pleasure to meet. But, as she was painfully reminded of every day, she is different. My sister has Down's Syndrome."

"I'm sorry," Rachel said automatically to which Coach Sylvester merely glared at her until she looked down.

"So as I took care of my sister, I noticed people weren't as kind to her as I was," Coach Sylvester went on, ignoring Rachel's attempt at sympathy. "They didn't think as highly of her as I did, didn't look at her as if she hung the moon or whatever sappy saying you kids in Glee are using this week. They mocked her, made fun of her, made her so depressed that she eventually tried a similar stunt as to what you did. Thankfully her plan to take all of our grandmother's medicines was thwarted by child-resistant packaging. I still feel like I let her down, the way I couldn't stop those bullies from picking on her. It still kills me to this day…"

Sue paused, looking off into the distance while Rachel sat there, staring down at her hands. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to have that kind of guilt on your conscience. To feel responsible for someone else's life like that. To feel responsible for keeping that person from trying to end their life again as Coach Sylvester must have with her sister. Is that what Quinn felt about her? That guilt or regret or whatever it was… is that what Quinn was having nightmares about? Is that what she was doing to Quinn and Santana? To Brittany? To her parents? She didn't want them to feel like that.

Rachel had never seen her suicide as affecting other people, not really. If she thought about others at all, it was only that her death would be beneficial to them. She wouldn't be the reason her parents felt the need to stay together. She wouldn't cause Shelby to worry about her feelings of being replaced (not that she seemed to). She wouldn't hurt Finn anymore with her having cheated on him or being a terrible girlfriend. She could maybe even change some people's lives if they saw what their bullying had done to her.

Now, though, sitting in Sue Sylvester's office of all places, Rachel was finally starting to see what Dr. Richards had been saying the last couple of weeks. He'd told Rachel that the people that cared about her were as affected by her suicide attempt as she was, but she hadn't seen it. Her parents told her they cared about her, but they never said what their feelings were over her trying to end her life. Quinn, Santana, and Brittany all seemed to care about her now, and, sure, they had apologized for their actions in the past, but none of them (barring Brittany earlier) had said anything about how Rachel's continuing thoughts of suicide affected them. Then again, did they even know about those thoughts?

Rachel kept her continuing plans for her next suicide attempt (something she referred to in her head as her 'escape plan') private. She wasn't sure if anyone else would understand if she told them. It just seemed practical to her to still have one, though 'practical' seemed like such a horrible word for ending her life. Still, it was the best word she had. Rachel knew she had a breaking point. She had come close to it there in the hallway before the other girls had pulled her back from it.

Until today, she hadn't said the words 'she wished she'd died'. Not out loud, at least. It was as if something kept her going. Like waking up in the hospital had given her a second chance. A glimmer of something bigger. But the rest of life just kept making that glimmer darker and harder to find. There were flashes of it, though. Brittany ranting at her, telling her she loved her. Quinn singing to her there on the floor, arms wrapped around her. Santana treating her the same as she did Quinn and Brittany, as someone she actually liked. Her dads going to couples therapy, starting to share a bed again. It all felt like… like hope.

But then today, sitting in the hallway, Rachel just wanted to be done with it. It was the opposite of hope. Despair? Yes, despair was a good word for it. Like nothing would ever be right again. And if nothing was going to be right, why try at all? Why suffer the slings and arrows of these people calling her Suzy or throwing slushees at her or taking videos of her or even just laughing at her? Thankfully the girls had found her before she could use her 'escape plan' and shown her those glimmers of hope again.

And now, thanks to Sue Sylvester giving her some understanding of the other side of it, Rachel had to face the thought that she might be causing these people she loved that same kind of despair. That by Rachel trying to end her life, she may have caused these other people to give up hope. She couldn't have that. She may not have cared much about herself, but she did care about her fathers, her friends. She couldn't do that to them. And, damn it, that feeling was yet another thing keeping her attached here.

When Rachel had first considered committing suicide, she had started severing attachments from the world. She stopped participating in Glee, stopped going to her other clubs altogether. She stopped sharing as much with her fathers, not that they really noticed, wrapped up in their own arguments as they were. She had dropped out of her singing lessons and dance classes, stopped posting videos to MySpace. She wanted as little attachment as possible to talk her out of it. The birthday party that she had planned for herself had been a last ditch effort to try and talk herself out of the act. When no one showed, Rachel realized that she had accomplished her goals. Clearly, she had no more ties to the world.

Now, everywhere she turned, new ones were popping up. First Quinn, coming into her life and saving her against her will when Rachel was sure no one would care. Then her fathers who really did still love her. She'd been so sure they didn't. Then Quinn had brought Santana and Brittany into her life. Santana, who was so guarded with her emotions, was actually opening up and being nice to her… in her own way. And Brittany? She couldn't have asked for a better best friend than Brittany. The tall blonde truly made her happy to be around. Then Quinn brought her Babs who was possibly the most adorable kitten in the world. Not a cat, but a tiny little baby kitten, something that Rachel would have to take care of and protect.

And now? Now Rachel was discovering that all these people she cared about, they were all experiencing the same level of despair and hopelessness that Rachel was feeling because of her. She was starting to understand that her actions, her suicide attempt, was causing this. She was sure her suicidal thoughts would only add to that feeling for them, too. Why hadn't they talked to her about this? Why hadn't they told her? Rachel was sure it was from some feeling of wanting to spare her feelings, but… they should have just told her. No one understood that but Brittany.

"So here's what I've decided," Coach Sylvester said, pulling Rachel out of her thoughts. "I've decided to offer you a highly coveted spot on my National Championship winning Cheerios. Now you won't actually be on the squad since I'm sure a suicidal girl knows nothing in the way of offering cheer, but you'll get a uniform and the protection that being a Cheerio offers. As I'm sure you've noticed, no one touches my Cheerios without losing a limb."

"That's…" Rachel started, stunned. "I mean, I'm thankful-"

"There's no need to thank me," Coach Sylvester said, smiling her proud-of-herself grin. "You must have noticed I didn't exactly get Becky Jackson because of her award-winning back-handspring somersault. Nor is she the most qualified of assistants, either. But no one touches her and lives to tell about it. And now, you'll have that same protection. It's the least I can do for someone who's quitting Glee will single-handedly destroy Will Schuester's dreams of taking that pathetic group of mouth-breathers to glory. Besides, I could use another viciously brutal mind obsessively focused on winning in my camp."

"What?" Rachel asked, unsure she had heard that last part right. "Viciously brutal? I've never even-"

"So you're not the girl that sent an opponent to a crack house rather than an audition?" Coach Sylvester asked with a smirk. "Not the same girl that quit the Glee club last year in a fit of pique when the solo that was rightfully yours was given to other Asian? Not the one who took revenge on one Quinn Fabray by outing the true paternity of her Cheerio-ruining bastard child? Speaking of, I understand that, when all those other musical miscreants were rushing her to the hospital, that you were the one to stay at the competition so as to better study your opponents and figure out how to destroy them. Is that correct?"

"I was… it wasn't like I was… I mean…" Rachel tried. Finally she went with, "We could have been disqualified if everyone left! No one even thought about that! They were just rushing out the door because Quinn was going into labor while my dreams were going up in smoke! How were we supposed to win if we weren't even there?"

"Exactly," Coach Sylvester said, smiling a smug smile. She had just proven her point. "That's exactly the same kind of 'take no prisoners' attitude that I'm looking for in my Cheerios. If it weren't for copious amounts of estrogen frying her little bleached-blonde head at the time, Quinn would have done the same. That's how she got rid of Melissa Stegman and became my youngest ever Head Cheerio. By never letting anything come between her and winning. I respect that attitude, Babs. And you have it. Almost makes me want to learn your name. So, what do you say? Are you ready to actually be someone at this school?"

Rachel was quiet for a long moment as Coach Sylvester stared at her expectantly. "No," Rachel said, somewhat scared of Coach Sylvester's response. "I'm honored, of course, but no. I don't think hiding behind a Cheerios uniform is what I should do right now."

"It seems to me that you're hiding behind three of them already," Coach Sylvester said. "And I could easily make it where that's not a possibility. Tread lightly when you say 'no' to me, Babs."

"I'm not hiding behind them," Rachel said, defending herself. "They're choosing to stand in front of me. That's what friends do. I'm sure it's no less than you would do for your sister in the same situation. And I doubt her joining the same group that had helped bully her would have been the best idea for her, either."

"Touché, Babs," Coach Sylvester said. She cocked her head to the side, staring at Rachel, seeming to study her. Finally, she said, "I have one compulsory, state-mandated good deed per month that I am required by law to do. Seeing as I've now fulfilled that obligation and have been turned down, you're free to go."

Now it was Rachel's turn to stare. "That's all?" Rachel asked. "I… I thought you called me in here to ask me who slusheed me so you could… I don't know. Punish them or something."

"Oh, that's already taken care of," Coach Sylvester said, putting her reading glasses back on and not even bothering to look at Rachel. "The four boys who slusheed you are already off the hockey team for the rest of the season, and, as I understand it, Quinn Fabray used my name to get Missy out of class to deal with her. I wouldn't be surprised if I'm down two Cheerios on account of this tomorrow. Missy, because Quinn will have killed her, and Quinn, because she'll have disposed of the body and fled to Cuba. It's actually lovely this time of year." Rachel only stared for a minute, mouth open, before Coach Sylvester said, "You're dismissed."

Rachel continued staring, but when Coach Sylvester said no more and handily ignored her, Rachel stood, muttered a "Thank you" and let herself outside Coach Sylvester's office.

Outside, she was met by Brittany who bounded up from the bench and was almost immediately by her side. "What did she want?"

Rachel shook her head, still slightly confused from her realization in Coach Sylvester's office along with her offer. "I… I think she wanted to make me a Cheerio."

"Oh, yay!" Brittany said, grabbing Rachel and hugging her. "This will be so much fun! You can come to practices and learn choreography and sit with me on the bus to games and we can play Doodle Bowling and, and, oh! Games! We can cheer at the games together and I bet you'll make a really good flyer because you're so small!" Eventually Brittany turned to Rachel, her excitement dying down. "Why aren't you happy? This is going to be awesome."

"Because I said no," Rachel said. She saw the 'hurt puppy' look on Brittany's face and immediately followed it with an "I'm sorry. I just don't think being on the Cheerios would be a good idea for me right now. I mean, who knows what Quinn is doing to Missy. Having me around could cause even more stress for the team. And most of those girls… Brittany, I love the way you and Santana and Quinn are all friends with me now, but that's because you're choosing to be. I feel like, if I joined the Cheerios, I'd be forcing those girls to be nice to me, and I don't want that. I'd rather them feel nothing towards me than them pretend to like me. I need people around me now who are going to be honest with me. All the falsities and fakeness… I just don't think it'd be a good idea." When Brittany was noticeably silent and unhappy in the quietness of the halls as they walked back to the Cheerios locker room, Rachel asked, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," Brittany said dejectedly. "I just wanted to have you around and be my best friend, like, all the time. You being a Cheerio would be awesome squared or something. But I get it. But I'm still sad, too. I really wanted to hang out with you more."

"Brittany, we'll still see each other all the time," Rachel tried to assure her.

"But you're quitting Glee club, too, right?"

"I am," Rachel said, "but we'll still have Art every day."

"Yeah, but I don't really like Art," Brittany said.

"Really? But your hippopotamus was so good," Rachel said. "If you don't like Art, why are you taking it?"

"Because of my mom and dad," Brittany said, opening the door to the locker room and ushering Rachel inside before following her. "I heard them arguing one night about how I was really good at art, and y'know. I don't like fighting, so I thought if I took Art they wouldn't yell. And I haven't heard them yell since, so it must have worked."

"That's…" Rachel started to say strange or weird or something like that, but these were Brittany's parents. Who knew what kind of parents raised a daughter like Brittany? All she could guess was that they were probably very loving. She finally chose to say, "That's really sweet of you, Brittany, putting their wants ahead of your own."

"I guess," Brittany said, shrugging. "But all me and you will have is Art now. And lunch. And study hall. And before school. And sometimes Cheerios practices after school when you ride home with us. And you said you might come to some of the football games and watch us cheer. So, see? We won't ever see each other."

Rachel sighed because it sounded like just the opposite to her. "How about if I come and spend the night at your house this weekend?" Rachel asked. "Just me and you. No Quinn or Santana. We can have a BFF night. Does that sound good?"

"That sounds great!" Brittany exclaimed, throwing her arms around Rachel and picking her up, spinning her around. The way she had just gone from sad to excited, Rachel couldn't help the nagging feeling that she had just been taken advantage of. 'Played', as some of the other kids said. "Oh! We can play Super Mario Galaxy that I got for Christmas, and I can show you how I beat the rock ghost thingie. And you can meet Lord Tubbington. I've told him all about you, and I think he's really excited to meet you. And we can pig out on junk food and stay up really late and we could make out some more and-"

"You can what!?" Quinn asked. Well… yelled. Apparently Brittany had been so loud and excited talking about their plans for the weekend that Rachel hadn't heard the locker room door open or Santana and Quinn coming back in. "You two made out? Brittany, what the hell? We weren't even gone that long!"

"I only did it because I wanted Rachel to feel pretty," Brittany said. "And I was jealous that Santana already got to."

"Britt!" Santana yelled at the same time Quinn turned to Santana and yelled "What!?"

"Oh," Brittany said to Rachel in the deafening silence. "I guess she didn't know that part, huh?"

Study hall was awkward for them all as they worked on homework in the library. After putting the fear of God into Missy, Quinn and Santana had gone to their A.P. English class and gotten whatever work they had missed, citing Cheerios issues as the blanket excuse for why she, Santana, and Rachel had missed class. They'd then gone to Brittany's class to pick up her things and, after a phone call to Hiram to let him know what had happened, had taken them back to the Cheerios locker room. And that was where Quinn had found out that basically the rest of her little group had all made out with each other at different times. Not that she cared. Or was jealous. Not in the slightest. So what if both of her closest friends had both made out with Rachel? Nope, she wasn't jealous at all. It was just… weird.

At the end of study hall, the four of them had made their way to all their lockers, putting books away and getting their backpacks from the morning (why did they even carry them, again?). When they got to Rachel's locker, Missy was standing there waiting for them.

As they approached, Quinn could feel Rachel tense up beside her, and it made her want to carry out everything she had said to the girl there in the bathroom.

"Missy," Santana said as they approached, acknowledging the girl. Missy kept a wary eye on Quinn and Santana, Quinn especially. Well, not so much wary as terrified. Good.

"Hi, San," Missy said. "Captain. Britts. Rachel." Beside Quinn, Rachel seemed to be trying her best to tuck herself behind Quinn without actually making it seem like that was what she was doing. Maybe she wasn't even aware of it, like a subconscious move. Turning to more fully face Rachel, Missy said, "Look, I just wanted to apologize for what I did. It wasn't cool, and I'm sorry. Okay?"

"Okay," Rachel said.

"Okay?" Santana asked from beside her. "That's it? You don't want her to beg for forgiveness, maybe do a little groveling? Because everything you were feeling in the locker room? That was her fault. You don't want a little revenge?"

"No," Rachel said. "Revenge doesn't help me get better, nor does publicly humiliating her. As for begging forgiveness, it doesn't matter. If she doesn't mean it, it doesn't matter what words she says."

Quinn turned to Rachel, locking eyes with her. "Rachel. If you want her to do a better job of apologizing, if you want her slusheed, anything. She'll do it. Whatever you need her to do to make you feel better. Just let me know."

Rachel looked at Quinn for a moment like she wasn't sure of her, almost like she was afraid of her, and, okay, that kind of hurt. Quinn was doing this for her. But whatever her thoughts on Quinn at the moment, she didn't voice them. Instead, she said, "There's nothing I want. I'm trying not to think about her at all."

"Okay," Quinn said. Turning back to Missy, she said, "You're free to go. We're good here."

"And everything you said…?" Missy asked.

"Forgotten," Quinn said simply, sounding almost bored. She stepped closer to Missy, though, threateningly close. Missy tried to back up only to find Santana there behind her, blocking her way. "But I swear, if anyone comes near Rachel," Quinn said, voice dropping down to that ice cold HBIC tone, "if I hear a whisper of anything that has your name attached to it, if you don't help spread the word that she's off limits- and I'm talking Becky Jackson levels of off limits here- then everything I said and worse will happen to you and yours. Understood?"

"U-understood," Missy stuttered out.

She looked ready to bolt before Rachel said, "Wait." All eyes were on Rachel, and she looked up at Missy. "I do have something I want." She paused, and Quinn felt like she was doing it just to add drama to the situation. Not that she could help it. Rachel Berry was living drama. "I want to know why."

"Why what?" Missy asked.

"Why have me slusheed? Why pick on me at all?" Rachel stepped forward as Quinn stepped back, though her presence was far less intimidating. "I understand that everyone- or nearly everyone, at least- picks on me or talks about me to some degree, but you've taken it further than that. Ever since Quinn stopped bullying me last year, it seems you've been there to pick up her slack. Why?"

Faced with Rachel rather than Quinn, Missy went back to her usual routine of irritable petulance. "I don't know. I guess that's what all the girls were doing, and I just wanted to outdo them, maybe."

"Okay, but you never did anything to me before Quinn's pregnancy," Rachel said. "Why start as soon as she stopped?"

Quinn watched as Missy's eyes cut down the hall for just a second, and she followed her gaze, landing on Finn Hudson. Her cheeks tinged just the slightest bit and she looked away, back towards Rachel, then down at the floor. It clicked instantly for Quinn. Brittany might be the best person at reading people, but Quinn was a close second. Hers was just geared more towards using that information to hurt people.

"Santana, get Finn down here," Quinn said from behind Rachel. Turning to the shorter brunette in question, she asked, "Rachel, quid pro quo time here. Honestly, you and Finn are over, right?"

"HUDSON!" Santana called out, getting the tall teen's attention. When he looked over at her, she made a 'get over here right now or I'll cut you' hand gesture. Well, the cutting was implied. It usually was with Santana.

"We are," Rachel said, some kind of sadness that Quinn couldn't comprehend taking over. She just couldn't understand being upset over losing Finn. Sure, he was sweet and caring when he remembered to be, but mostly he was just slow and dull and boring and kind of stupid. He was Lima, Ohio. Rachel was New York City. He was mediocrity. She was stardom. Outside of high school, they'd never even exist in the same circles. "Why?"

Then Quinn watched as Rachel looked at Missy who was starting to blush, down the hall to an approaching Finn, and it was like watching a light bulb come on. "Finn? Really?" Rachel asked Missy. "This has been over Finn? I didn't even know you liked him. It wasn't about Quinn stopping bullying me and you taking up her role. It was about Finn and I dating."

Missy stayed quiet, causing Quinn to say, "I'd answer her, Missy. Finn's coming, and I won't hesitate to ask again in front of him. If you think you're embarrassed now…"

"Yes!" Missy whisper-yelled. "Yes, okay? I like Finn. I have since kindergarten."

"Aww…" Brittany said, smiling sweetly. "That's kind of sweet." Then her expression hardened up, as much as it could for Brittany anyway, and she added, "But I'm still mad at you. Not cool, Missy."

"I'm sorry, okay," Missy said as Finn approached. "And Meghan's really sorry, too. For your picture."

"What picture?" Finn asked, walking up.

Quinn instead ignored that, because it was just easier and she was used to ignoring much of what Finn said. "Finn, hi," Quinn said, using her charming voice. "You know Missy, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "She's a Cheerio, right?"

God, did seeing her in the Cheerio outfit tip you off, genius? How could Rachel love you? Seriously! But Quinn kept all that to herself, and instead smiled and said, "She is. And her car is way out in the parking lot and B here is worried she might get lost or attacked by bears or something, right Britt?"

"Um… yes?"

"Right," Quinn continued. "So we were wondering if you would walk her out to her car, maybe make sure she gets there okay since you're just the biggest, sweetest, most noble guy around. You wouldn't mind that, would you?"

"Uh… no, I don't mind," Finn said. "But we have Glee in a few minutes."

"It'll be fine," Quinn assured him. "You know Mr. Schue is always late. He won't even notice."

Finn nodded, agreeing with her, and smiled at Quinn. He then turned to Missy and held his arm out, taking her bookbag from her as she latched onto his other arm with a shy grin. As they started down the hall towards the school's exit, Quinn heard Finn say, "I'm pretty sure there aren't any bears in this area" to which Missy just giggled and held his arm a little tighter.

Of course there aren't any bears, you idiot. We're in the middle of the freaking town. Moron! But again, Quinn kept this to herself.

As they watched Finn and Missy walk away, Quinn could tell there was something wrong with Rachel. It was like her Rachel-senses were tingling… and, God, she had been spending too much time around either Sam or Santana. Usually Quinn kept that nerdy side of Lucy under wraps and wouldn't even have thought of it.

Quinn reached out and lightly tapped Rachel on the arm to get her attention. The brunette shook her head and looked over at her. "What's wrong?" Quinn asked, offering Rachel a smile.

"Nothing," she said, shrugging.

"Well that's an obvious lie," Quinn said, grinning to let her know she was only joking around. But as the grin slipped away, her face returned to its previous look of concern. "Seriously. What's up?"

"Well, I just…" Rachel shook her head and actually chuckled a little. "I know it's stupid, but… I think we just hooked up my ex-boyfriend who I cheated on and the girl who hates me for dating him. I can't help but think they're talking about me, you know? Probably starting an 'I hate Rachel Berry' club."

"Oh, like we had back in sixth grade!" Santana said from beside them, suddenly excited about the memory. "With the buttons and the bracelets and the theme song! It was…" She paused, taking in the Rachel's dejected appearance along with the glare from Quinn. "You know what? Never mind. Totally not important."

"Come on," Quinn said, trying to get Rachel to ignore Santana. "Get your books and we can head to Glee."

Quinn hid her smile as she waited for Rachel to open her locker. This little plan had been almost a spur of the moment thing. Quinn had known today would be difficult so during homeroom that morning she had spent the twenty minutes working on a little pick-me-up for Rachel.

"What's this?" Rachel said, lifting the folded paper from her locker. She first looked to Brittany, but the taller blonde had only shrugged. She then turned to Quinn who could no longer hold her smile in. "Quinn?"

"Sorry," Quinn said. "I don't know what the whole 'letters' thing you and Britts have going on is, but I thought I would just… you know… kind of throw in with that. I assumed today would be hard- not as hard as it has been, mind you- and I hoped this would be a little something to cheer you up." Nerves got the best of Quinn while Rachel stared on, and before the other girl could even unfold it, Quinn was already making excuses. "You know what? It's probably stupid. Just give it here," she held out her hand, "and I'll just throw it away."

"No," Rachel said, pressing the folded paper to her chest like Quinn would physically try to take it from her. "I want it." Doing her best with one good hand, Rachel unfolded the paper to discover a bible verse written in almost a calligraphic style, surrounded by a flowing border of lines and curves that wound in and around itself.

"Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the Lord holdeth him upright with His hand," Quinn recited the verse as Rachel read the words over and over. "Psalms 37:24. It's a verse that was close to my heart last year after my parents kicked me out. I just thought it was-" She was cut off as Rachel threw her arms around her, accidentally knocking them both back into the lockers. "-inspirational."

"Thank you," Rachel said. When she pulled back, Quinn could see she was doing her best not to cry.

"Hey," Quinn said in faux warning. "No tears. Now come on. Let's get to Glee." Quinn took Rachel's hand, wrapping her arm around Quinn's so that they were walking arm in arm. Sure, there were some looks, but Quinn didn't care at the moment. Let them stare. Rachel was her friend. Two friends could walk together like that if they wanted to. Santana and Brittany did more than that and… okay, bad example. Still. It was totally normal. And besides, Quinn was happy. Rachel was well on her way to being protected at school, Hiram had set up an extra therapy session that afternoon, and, most importantly, she had made Rachel genuinely smile a couple of times. She'd consider that a win for today.

"Hola, clase," Mr. Schuester said, coming in and putting his man-purse… sorry, 'over the shoulder briefcase', down on the piano. He received an irritated glare from Mr. Brad for it, but he, as always, was too oblivious to care. "Welcome back everyone. So glad all of you," his eyes lingered on Rachel, "were able to make it back to school for the brand new semester. Has everyone had a good day so far?"

"Oh my fucking God," Santana mumbled under her breath, causing Brittany to laugh from beside her while Quinn just rolled her eyes from the other side.

They were seated in the front row because that's where Rachel always sat. It was odd for the Unholy Trinity, but since they were an 'Unholy Square' now (Quinn mentally grimaced at that term), they'd sit where Rachel wanted for now. It was her last day and all. Plus, sitting up front would make Quinn's volunteering to sing later a little easier.

Rachel sat in the middle of the front row, Quinn on her right with Sam sitting behind Quinn. Brittany sat on Rachel's left with Artie to Brittany's left with Santana sitting behind Rachel and Brittany. The 'Unholy Square' plus two boyfriends did make up a rather large chunk of the Glee club. It felt almost odd for them all to be clustered there together. It gave the rest of the club an 'us versus them' feel that Quinn didn't particularly care for. These were all her friends to some extent. She didn't want any of them to feel left out.

As Mr. Schuester blathered on about… something, Quinn zoned out, again going over the song in her head. It had only recently come out and wasn't quite ingrained in her head yet. Especially compared to all the other classic songs the Glee club did. Most of those were so old she couldn't help but know them. Not that Quinn minded. Thanks to her parents, Quinn had a somewhat eclectic taste in music. Her mother had listened to and instilled in Quinn a love of country music growing up while her father had favored the classics: the Beatles, James Brown, Buddy Holly. Frannie had been her outlet for pop and rock until she had gone to college. And the churches she had gone to had implanted a love of choral/gospel music with a little Christian pop and rock mixed in. So Quinn was good with pretty much anything… usually. This song was making her nervous, though. Or, okay, not the song as much as who she was singing it to.

Singing to Rachel at the hospital had been a fluke. Quinn had done her best, but Rachel was just getting used to still actually being alive so Rachel not criticizing her had been understandable. The other night at her house had seen all of them joking around while singing. That hadn't been anything serious, so Rachel couldn't possibly have held her to any kind of standards there. And in the locker room, Rachel had actually asked for Quinn to sing to her so she couldn't have possibly been critical of Quinn then. Now, though? This was all on Quinn.

Forget singing in front of her parents, singing in front of her church, singing in front of a crowded Sectionals audience. Her biggest performance anxiety came from singing to Rachel. Quinn held Rachel's voice, her performances, her talent, to the same level that Rachel seemed to hold Barbra Streisand or Celine Dion. Quinn could look at her and tell that the little broken Jewish girl to her left was going to be a star someday. This was Quinn's closest brush to stardom, sitting there getting goose bumps while accidentally brushing her bare arm against Rachel's hoodie. The thought of singing for her made her crazy/ excited/ nervous/ exhilarated and a hundred other emotions. Thankfully, Quinn had a long history of withholding her emotions.

"So the theme of this week is 'encouragement'," Mr. Schue said, writing the word in marker across the white board. "Especially in times when we feel that we might like to give up. When life has us down."

"God, is this so not the right thing to use as a lesson," Santana leaned forward and mumbled so the other three could hear her.

Quinn looked over to Rachel who had her head down, seemingly trying to disappear into the hard plastic chair. "Agreed," Quinn said quietly. Raising her hand caught the attention of everyone as she had almost never volunteered anything in here. Still, someone had to say something, and if this was left to Santana to do it, it could get a lot messier.

Mr. Schue finally turned and noticed Quinn's raised hand, cutting himself mid-stride in whatever sappy speech he had been trying to feed them and said, "Yes, Quinn?"

"While I applaud what you're trying to do here, Mr. Schue," Quinn said, reaching over and giving Rachel's arm a squeeze for which she was awarded a smile, though Rachel never looked up. "I have to wonder if this is the right time for it. From what I've read, as I'm sure Ms. Pillsbury-Howell can tell you, when someone at a school…" she paused, forcing out the words "attempts suicide…" Rachel looked over at her with a mix of shock and pride for finally saying it. "…it's my understanding that they should be treated as if coming back from a sickness. Considering we're all, today, coming back to school and no one being sick over the break would even have been noticeable, wouldn't it therefore make more sense to not even really mention it? I'm fairly certain that while Rachel is glad to be back at school, she doesn't want to be the center of attention." Mercedes scoffed from somewhere behind Quinn, drawing the blonde's angry gaze and causing the girl in question to visibly flinch. Turning back to Mr. Schue, she added, "Not because of this, at least."

"Quinn, I don't-"

"And speaking as Rachel's friend," Quinn went on, cutting him off, "I think it would be best if maybe we did another topic this week. Though, again, we all recognize that you had nothing but the best intentions at heart."

Mr. Schue stared at Quinn, but she was finished. For now. Turning to Rachel, he asked, "Is that really how you feel?"

"Yes," Rachel said quietly. "I just want everyone else to get back to normal and forget about me." Quinn turned to Rachel and met her eyes, giving her a sad, worried look. "Not forget. Just… don't worry about me." Louder, to the rest of the class, she added, "I'm getting better. Thanks to Dr. Richards and my dads and the Unholy Square-"

"Yay!" Britany said excitedly from beside her while Quinn added, "We're not calling ourselves that."

Rachel smiled. "Thanks to them… I'm getting there. But I don't need a week dedicated to me, despite how you might try to sell it to the rest of the class as some kind of 'mutual-encouragement-whatever'. I know how everyone feels about me. It's been made abundantly clear over the past two and a half years. I don't think a week of them lying to me via song will change anything."

"That wasn't what-"

"Now that that's settled," Quinn said, again overriding whatever Mr. Schue was trying to say. "I do have a song that I wanted to sing for Rachel. I knew today would be difficult for her so I've been working on something for the past few days. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Schue? It even fits our abandoned lesson plan."

Mr. Schuester just threw his hands up, having lost control of the class for now as he sometimes did. In the past, it had generally been Kurt or Rachel wresting control of the class away from him to do some performance or make some speech. Usually both. Never had it been Quinn to do so. Those two were amateurs compared to Quinn, though, and the ease with which she had taken over proved that point.

Rising from her seat, she pulled the sheet music from her backpack, handing it out to Mr. Brad and the rest of the jazz band that accompanied them. Quinn marveled for a second at the talent it took to look at a piece of music for the first time and be able to play it as well as this band did. It wasn't impossible, but Mr. Brad had to be drilling them all the time for them to get that good. Thank God he was in charge of the jazz band and not someone else. The Glee club might not even exist if not for him.

Quinn stepped in front of the class, in front of Rachel, and opened her mouth, the words pouring forth. She just hoped Rachel would smile again because of this song. If she did- if she got that adorable little happy, barely-there smile that Rachel had been doing more and more recently that meant she was actually happy- then Quinn's day was made.

"I've been waiting on the sunset
Bills on my mindset
I can't deny they're getting high
Higher than my income
My income's breadcrumbs
I've been trying to survive
The glow that the sun gives
Right around sunset
Helps me realize
This is just a journey
Drop your worries
You are gonna turn out fine
Oh, you'll turn out fine.
Fine, oh, you'll turn out fine"

As she got to the chorus, Santana and Brittany rose from their chairs and joined Quinn at the front of the room, dancing along with her. They bopped along to the music as the jazz band played. They hadn't rehearsed anything, Quinn didn't even know they were going to join her. She hadn't even told them. They just knew.

"But you gotta keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh
You gotta keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh
I know it's hard, know it's hard
To remember sometimes
But you gotta keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh

I've got my hands in my pockets
Kicking these rocks
It's kinda hard to watch this life go by
I'm buying into skeptics
Skeptics mess with the confidence in my eyes
I'm seeing all the angles
Starts to get tangled
I start to compromise
My life and my purpose
Is it all worth it?
Am I gonna turn out fine?
Oh, you'll turn out fine
Fine, oh, you'll turn out fine"

But you gotta keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh
You gotta keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh
I know it's hard, know it's hard
To remember sometimes
But you gotta keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh

In the background, Brittany and Santana had taken over the "oh-oh"s and the "eh-eh"s, making Quinn smile. She looked over at Rachel and found a mirror of her own smile. It was beautiful. In that moment, Rachel was so fun and so free. She was the Rachel that Quinn wanted to see there again. It made her heart soar.

Only rainbows after rain
The sun will always come again
And it's a circle, circling
Around again, it comes around again
I say
Only rainbows after rain
The sun will always come again.
And it's a circle, circling
Around again, it comes around

Quinn danced forward, stopping in front of Rachel, and gently tucked her hand under the brunette's chin, raising her head so that she was looking up directly at Quinn before removing her hand. Looking down, she sang right to Rachel.

But you gotta keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh
You gotta keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh
I know it's hard, know it's hard
To remember sometimes
But you gotta keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh

Quinn went back to the front of the room to finish the song with Brittany and Santana who were dancing around and acting silly. She loved them for that. She knew them acting like the normal, stupid teenagers they were would do more to get Rachel back to a healthy state of mind than anything else they could do. Yes, today had happened, but it wasn't the end of the world.

Keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh
Keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down, eh
Keep your head up, oh
And you can let your hair down"

As she finished singing, Quinn took a couple of deep breaths as everyone clapped, including her "backup dancers/singers" and a certain diva in the front row. A certain diva that was smiling up at Quinn as if she had written the song just for her.

"See," Mr. Schuester said, moving to the front of the room as Quinn, Santana, and Brittany made their way back to their seats. "That's the kind of positivity and encouragement I'm talking about. Thank you, Quinn for giving us an excellent example of what I was saying." He went over to the board and erased the word 'ENCOURAGEMENT' and instead wrote 'FREE WEEK'.

"But your song was a perfect example of something else, too," Mr. Schue continued. "I thought, instead of our original lesson plan of 'encouragement', we could instead do something that will hopefully be just as exciting. We can celebrate what Glee club is supposed to be about: the music and having fun."

Mr. Schuester walked over to the plaque of Lillian Adler that had adorned the wall since the beginning of the New Directions. "Mrs. Adler said 'By its very definition, Glee is about opening yourself up to joy'. And that's what I want us to do this week. Sing songs that make us happy. That excite you or inspire you or, yes, even encourage you. Whatever you want. Sing your favorite song, a song by a favorite artist, a song you've always wanted to try. Open yourself up to that joy."

God, okay, she'd admit it. Sometimes Quinn could give Mr. Schuester a hard time about being a terrible teacher. It took her about three minutes inside the Lopez household before she realized he was horrible at Spanish. And most of his lessons were crap. And they put off practicing for competitions until, like, the week before. Or the week of, sometimes. But sometimes…

This lesson was just what Rachel needed. Maybe if she was allowed to sing whatever she felt like, or even not sing at all and just enjoy everyone else being happy and singing, then maybe she wouldn't quit Glee club.

"Okay," Mr. Schuester said. "We've heard from Quinn. Would anyone else like to follow that performance? I know no one else probably has anything they've been practicing, but this week isn't about technically accurate performances. It's about having fun, being filled with joy. With Glee."

No one said anything, so Mr. Schuester tried encouraging them. "Come on, Puck. Don't you want to break out that guitar and sing something? Mercedes? I'm sure there's something that you could sing on the fly and blow us all away." Everyone seemed excited for the assignment, but no one wanted to go first, to follow Quinn's practiced performance. Still, Mr. Schuester was trying, and you had to give him credit for that. "Finn? Tina? Suzy? Artie?"

There was a pause in the room as everyone registered exactly what Mr. Schuester had just said

Some of the people in the room gasped in shock, but Quinn's first response was to look over at Rachel. She was her first concern. Her only concern. So, looking at her, it wasn't hard to miss the way the smile fell from her lips, the way her head tucked in, the way she looked down at her hands now folded neatly in her lap. She physically withdrew into herself as much as she could, making herself smaller in the hard plastic chair. Quinn knew on some level it was a defense mechanism, a way to make herself less obvious, less noticeable. Less there.

From behind her, Quinn heard Santana lean forward and say to Brittany, "You know how we jokingly made bets about when Quinn would start serial killing? I think today's going to be that day."

"Oh, God, Rachel," Mr. Schuester said from the front of the room, finally realizing what he had said. "I am so sorry. It just… slipped out. That was completely inappropriate. I didn't mean that. I am so, so sorry."

"It's okay," Rachel said quietly, not bothering to look up at him. Beside her, though, Quinn again had her hand in the air.

"Yes, Quinn?" he asked, acknowledging her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Again people gasped. They'd never heard the prim and proper Ice Quinn use that kind of language before. "I'm… I'm sorry?"

"I said, are you fucking kidding me?" Quinn repeated. "You're supposed to be a fucking teacher, and yet you call one of your students a name like that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Quinn," Mr. Schuester said, trying to regain authority over the situation. "I'm going to need you to watch your language-"

"Watch my language?" Quinn asked, astonished. "My language? Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"Quinn, that's enou-"

"No!" Quinn yelled, cutting him off. "No, it's not enough. Not even close. Do you know why they've been calling her 'Suzy'? Did you even bother to find out?"

She paused, waiting for him to answer, putting him on the spot. Sheepishly, he admitted, "I assumed it had something to do with Suzy Pepper and how she tried to… kill herself."

Quinn stared at him. "So even after thinking it might have something to do with her suicide attempt, something that's probably the worst day of her life, you still chose to call her that horrible name?"

"Quinn, it was an accident," Mr. Schuester said, trying to defend himself.

"The reason they've been calling her that is because Coach Sue Sylvester- not you, not Ms. Pillsbury, not even Principal Figgins but Sue Sylvester- put a stop to people bullying and slusheeing Rachel. After every horrible thing Coach Sue has done to this club, she still cared enough about the students in it to try and help. And even after that, they still came up with that name for her. It's short for 'Suicidal Suzy'. A little reminder of the worst day she's ever had. The day she tried to end her life. And you go and fucking call her Suzy? Are you fucking stupid?"

"Quinn!" Mr. Schuester yelled, trying again to get control as the rest of the class watched on. "You need to go to the principal's office right now."

"Fine!" Quinn yelled back. She picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, marching rapidly towards the door. Turning back, she said, "I'm happy to go to Principal Figgin's office. He should know what kind of… person… he has teaching his students, a person that would call someone who has just been through a suicide attempt names. I'm sure he'll love to hear all about that."

"It was an accident!"

"Okay, yeah," Quinn said. "And have you ever 'accidentally' called Mercedes the n-word? Have you ever 'accidentally' called Brittany stupid?"

"I would never do that," he said.

"That's right," Quinn went right on. "You'd never do that because you respect them enough to think before you talk to them. It's a shame Rachel doesn't warrant that same level of respect." She paused, thinking. "You know, all those times Rachel would accuse you of trying to ruin her career, I just thought she was being… Rachel. Melodramatic. Now, though? So, yeah, I'd love to go to the principal's office."

Rachel stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and walking over towards Quinn. Quinn and Mr. Schuester both looked confused.

"Rachel?" Mr. Schuester asked. "You don't need to leave, too. I really am sorry."

"I know," Rachel said. "But if Quinn is going to the principal's office, the least I can do is go with her."

"Wait," Mr. Schue called as they both started out the door. He sighed, probably wondering how everything had gone to hell so quickly. "No one needs to go to the office. This was all a misunderstanding. Rachel, Quinn, I really am very sorry for what I said. It was a slip of the tongue, but one I should never have made. I'm very, very sorry."

"It's okay," Rachel said again as Quinn only glared. "And Quinn is sorry for what she said, too."

"I am?" Quinn asked. It was news to her. She could still only see red.

"Yes, you are," Rachel said. Turning back to Mr. Schuester, she added, "Quinn's been very protective since she saw me bleeding to death in my downstairs bathtub and saved my life. Apparently if she saves it two more times, she owns me."

Rachel's attempt at humor failed miserably, unless Santana following it with "Wanky" was what she was going for. Hell, knowing how close those two were getting, it just might have been.

"What? No!" Rachel hurried to say, blushing. "It's like in that movie. The one with- Ugh! Never mind!" She crossed her arms and stomped a foot, pouting there in front of the class. It was cute enough to force Quinn out of her rage and back into 'caring for Rachel' mode.

"No, Rach, what movie?" Quinn asked, voice going soft in only a way Rachel, Brittany, and Santana had seen her. It clearly shocked everyone else in Glee club, none more than Sam. Even dating her for months, he had never seen this side of her.

"I don't know," Rachel pouted. "I think it was the one with Richard Gere where he was a knight, but I only saw it once when I was little, so I don't remember. But I think they said something like, if you save someone's life three times, you own them."

"Well, I'm personally against people being considered property," Quinn said, smiling. Again, it was something the rest of the Glee club wasn't used to seeing. Not this genuine smile of Quinn's, anyway. They were used to the charming, manipulative Quinn Fabray. Not this one that was acting… nice. "So no worries there."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment before Rachel said, "Oh!" and took off her backpack. Setting it on the floor, she kneeled down and started going through a folder until she found what she was looking for. "I was going to do this after Glee, Mr. Schuester, but… well… I don't see us being in here much longer today, so I thought I'd give you this now. It's a formal letter of resignation from the Glee club effective immediately. I'm sorry. I wish you all the best at Regionals, but I just don't feel it's something I can be a part of right now. Maybe next year, if… things… are better." She paused. "No. If I'm better."

"You're quitting Glee club?" Finn asked the question that everyone was thinking. Rachel only nodded and smiled at him sadly before picking her backpack back up, throwing it over her shoulder again, and staring at the group as they digested that bit of information. They only stared stupidly at Rachel. She was their star and they all knew it. What would they do without her?

Quinn leaned over to Rachel. "I think this would be our exit," she said. And as the rest of the Glee club stared on, they made their way to the door. Quinn watched as Rachel gave a backwards glance to them. They had been the closest things to friends until she had gotten actual friends in Quinn, Santana, and Brittany. Mr. Schuester just stared on, baffled at the entire exchange.

Taking her hand, Quinn pulled Rachel away from the door and down the hallway. "So that went well," Rachel said, giggling as they both replayed the entire exchange in their heads.

"As well as could be expected," Quinn said. "I'm really sorry he called you that, Rach."

"It's okay," Rachel said. "He's been jealous of my inevitable stardom since last year, and my apparently 'badassness' towards his married girlfriend this morning probably didn't help any. Thanks for standing up for me, though, Quinn."

"That's my job… apparently," Quinn said. They walked on in silence for a minute before Quinn said, "So… speaking of therapy sessions-"

"We weren't."

"-you have one today."

"No," Rachel shook her head. "I have them Monday and Thursday. Today's Tuesday."

"I know," Quinn said. "But I called Hiram after talking to Missy today, and he agreed that a special session would probably help after everything that happened."

"I…" Rachel started to disagree, but then seemed to change her mind. "You're probably right." She was silent as they walked down the hall and out into the parking lot, finding Hiram waiting there near the entrance.

Before they got to him, though, Rachel stopped them, pulling Quinn aside. "Two things. First, please don't let Mr. Schuester's lapse in judgment cause you to quit Glee, too. I really do believe he meant no harm by it. And they need you. Maybe between you, Tina, Santana, and Mercedes, you can make up for my missing star power."

Quinn laughed. "Wow, no shortage of confidence from this one." She'd didn't tell her that she'd actually been thinking about quitting ever since Rachel had said she was quitting, too. Mr. Schue's 'slipup' today was pushing her towards quitting, but… Quinn sighed. "For you, Berry. Only for you."

Rachel smiled a huge smile at those words and gave Quinn a hug before letting her go. "Thank you."

"And number two?"

"Are you ever going to tell me what you said to Missy?"

Quinn didn't even have to think about it. "Never."

"Keep Your Head Up" by Andy Grammer

Also, because I forgot last chapter, the song used was "You'll Be In My Heart" from Disney's Tarzan