Summary: Sequel to Dirty Little Secret

Pairing: strong Rachel/Quinn

Notes: Quinn-centric chapter. Rachel's not the only with pain.

Warning: TRIGGERING Mentions of blood, vomit, and suicide. (Please see A/N)

Disclaimer: I won nothings but the random rambling of which occur in my brain. Glee and any other copyrighted content used belongs to the respective owners.

Everyone has fears. Everyone has guilt. Everyone has secrets. No one is immune to these things, not even her. She couldn't bring herself to tell these things to the young woman she would one day call her wife and she was thankful that it was one of the few things her best friend hadn't figured out about her. She knew it wasn't healthy, keeping this to herself but there were only two people she actually trusted to talk to and she couldn't tell either of them because she knew how they would react, what they would say. Her best friend would berate her and lecture her about bottling things up before smacking her up the side of the head and instructing her to talk with her fiancee. Her fiancee would be consumed by guilt and blame herself for something she had no control over. She didn't need to be told things she already knew nor did she need a smack to the head and she would not under any circumstances inflict that kind of guilt on the woman she loved so deeply. She prayed that no one ever would find out. Everyone knows that Rachel has nightmares, it's a truth that there is no escape from, but no one knows of her nightmares. The ones that plagued her for months. The ones that like to resurface with no warning. The ones that remind her how it could've all been so very different.

They're always different. Never the same. But it all comes back to the same thing. They all start on the same day. They always have the same outcome. They all leave her with a searing pain in her chest.

She knew back then that she loved the annoying diva, she honestly did, she just wasn't ready to deal with her feelings and she certainly wasn't in a place where she'd be able to handle what she thought would be the inevitable rejection that came along with them, not just from the diva but from her friends as well. She knew that it was those feelings that had sent her searching for the brunette that day, that she had been determined to get the truth out of the girl so she could let her know that she wasn't alone, that she would help her through it the way Rachel had once offered to be there for her. Instead she told herself a lie 'remember she ruined things for you and Finn', it wasn't even a good lie but it had been enough for her to push through with what she needed to do, for her to try and get Rachel to admit the truth so that she could be there for her. She should've faced it then that she loved the girl, she had even told Mercedes how it hurt her to think of what had happened to the diva the night they had found out the truth, even now she didn't think that Mercedes knew just how much it had hurt her but it didn't matter then and it didn't matter now because it wasn't about her, it was never about her. She would never make it about her.

It felt like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then. It was hard to believe that it'd only been a year since she first stood in this room. A year since she had learnt the awful truth. A year since her prayers had changed from seeking guidance on raising her daughter to desperate pleas to be equipped to be what Rachel needed to get through this in order to survive. A year since she learnt that the monsters of the world don't care who you are, they can and will come for you.

It occurred to her that there was an ironic symmetry in her using the sound of the rushing water to mask her pained cries when a year ago it was the sound of sobs drowning out the water as it fell from the shower head, and that it was the same shower. She dared not look down at her feet, too afraid that she'd find the water stained crimson. She needed the shower. All day it felt as though her clothes were damp and heavy from a body pressed against her. She needed to rid herself of this feeling, of these thoughts, they were of no use to her, she needed the tears to stop falling, she needed to go back to being ok so she wouldn't worry her fiancee and as selfish as it was to her, she needed to not have to deal with this. But that didn't stop it. It didn't stop the outer body experience of watching it happen. It didn't stop the images burning in her minds eye. It didn't stop each nightmare playing themselves out for her to see as though they had happened, as though her current reality wasn't reality at all but her brains way of dealing with the devastating loss.

Sometimes it was accidental. Sometimes it was on purpose. It didn't matter how it happened. Each time it destroyed her. She was thankful for the nights when she woke up alone, even though she was filled with the need to call the girl her nightmares had been about so she could check that it had been just that, a nightmare, those were the nights she could allow her tears to fall freely, those were the nights she was allowed to grieve. The nights where she woke up with the girl beside her were the hardest, those were the nights she had to bite hard into her lip to stop herself from bawling, those were the nights that she had to resist the need to pull the body beside her as close as possible and hold on for dear life because she didn't want to wake the girl.

As time went on and their relationship evolved the nightmares hurt more. Her heart would ache for her friend. Her heart would break for her girlfriend. And now? Now her heart would stop for the woman she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

She'd spent the weekend trying to formulate new ways of getting to the root of the truth, of getting the frustrating girl to open up. By the time Monday had rolled around she knew that she wasn't going to just give up, no matter how hard it was proving to be, she wasn't going to walk away from this, she cared too much. She was almost certain that Rachel was avoiding her, but with more success than she had had on Friday. Not once had she spotted the brunette, not in the hallways, not in the classrooms, she'd even gone to check if she was hiding away with the piano again but had found the room empty and unnervingly quiet, she hadn't even seen the brunette go to her locker. It was all very unsettling. She waited in Glee, hazel eyes never tearing themselves away from the door. Something was wrong. Mr. Schuester was more than ten minutes late by the time he arrived, he lacked his usual enthusiasm, for the first time the blonde found herself thinking that their teacher looked old. "Guys..." he didn't know how he was supposed to do this and any thought of continuing with the words lodged in his throat was interrupted by Finn's voice, "Shouldn't we wait for Rachel, Mr. Schue?" She saw it in the eyes that so many considered to be a father figure and she knew, she didn't need to his words as he tried to break the news to the group because she could see it and she knew. Even as Mr. Schuester started to speak, she didn't hear a word he said, too stuck on the words in her head. The last words that she'll ever exchange with the girl she had once terrorised. "I'll see you at school then." "Yeah, see you at school." How could their last words have been so empty and meaningless? Why didn't she stay? Why didn't she fight harder to help when she'd gone over to the Berry house? Everything was askew, she felt sick, it all felt so distant. "This isn't happening." She'd never get to tell her how truly sorry she was for all the awful things she had done. She'd never be able to explain that she cared about her. They'd never get to be friends. Rachel was gone. She had failed to help her. She may have even made it worse as far as she knew, she could've pushed the starlet towards this. She'd never know. All she knew was that nothing would ever be ok again.

She sits on the carpeted hallway, all she can hear is the water in the pipes as it spills from the shower head mixed with broken up sobs. She's vaguely aware of the hollowed clatter but can't place what it is, perhaps a knocked over shampoo bottle. She hears gagging and retching, all it does is confirm her suspicions and she finds herself wanting to go into the bathroom to comfort Rachel, to tell her it's normal, that it'll pass, all the things she hadn't had anyone tell her in the beginning but she doesn't move, too filled with the notion that she can't just bust in on the girl while she's in the shower. She doesn't know how long she's been sat there, how long she's been listening to the heartbreak, she's about ready to give up, to go back outside and call Puck and ask what on earth was she doing but then she hears it. It's always the same. The definitive thud of body collapsing against tile. It was always the motivator, the thing that flooded her with panic and propelled her from the floor. She almost collides with the door, the handle not moving in her grip. "Rachel, are you ok?" She waits for an answer. "Just tell me you're ok and I'll leave." Nothing. "Rachel!" Her panic amplifies. All she can picture is the look of fear in swollen, blood shot eyes. She can't ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach, the one commanding her to find a way in. She continues frantically wiggling the door handle as she attempts to ram her body through the wood. She hits the door so hard she feels and hears her shoulder pop, somewhere in her mind she's struck with the thought that she should be feeling pain but between the constant jiggling of the handle and the force of her throwing her weight she's found a way in and she stumbles through the door, barely just managing to not end up a sprawled heap on the floor. She sees the brunette on her haunches as she continues to heave. A small part of her is relieved, but she's still fuelled with adrenaline and the need to make sure she's ok. She opens the shower door, she just makes out the hint of damage on olive thighs, for the briefest moment Rachel is able to look at her, and she can't read the girls expression, it's one she's never come across before, on the diva or anyone else but leaves her with a sinking feeling. She notices how the expression shifts and twists and even though she knows what's coming next her brain doesn't seem able to tell her feet to take a step back out of the line of fire. She felt for the girl, she really did, she remembers how awful this was, how unpredictable it could be, how sometimes it felt like it wouldn't end, she knew this. Her eyes seem to be working of their own volition as they track the path of the projectile, settling on her feet. Her white sneakers are staining with splatterings of scarlet. Hazel eyes widen in horrified realisation. She didn't know this, this wasn't morning sickness. Nothing makes sense. She doesn't understand. She feels like her eyes are as wide as saucers, taking in every image as though she has one-eighty degree vision. That's when she notices it. The strange items in the shower. Brillo pads. Blades. A bottle cap. It takes a moment before she registers the abandoned blue plastic bottle in the basin resting against a foot. Her heart feels like it's going to break free of her ribcage as her mind adds all the images together and reaches an understanding of what's going on. She doesn't understand. She can't fathom why someone would do this to themselves. She doesn't know what to do. Too consumed by blind panic to form logical thought. It feels like an eternity passes before she is able to move, able to do anything. She tries to keep Rachel upright, stop her from curling in on herself out of fear that she'll choke on the fluids she's bringing up. They need help. They desperately need help. She tries to focus on what she needs to do, on helping Rachel because right now that's all that matters and even though she feels clueless and completely helpless she still somehow finds the sense to fumble for her phone and dial nine-one-one. She can barely hear what the operator is saying, she can barely make out her own words, it's like her head is stuck under water. As she waits for the paramedics she has broken fragments in her mind. "My friend she...oh God, what did you do?...there's blood..."

She forces her face up into the spray, she doesn't want to remember the rest of the dream, she doesn't need to, she knows the words that are missing, she knows how it plays out, she knows how it ends. She wishes the water could wash it all away, the dreams, the memories, the tears. She knows that this is all at the forefront of her mind because of the day. She knows that tonight she'll lose her again. She's lost count of the ways that it happens. The faces belonging to the voices with the words she doesn't want to hear. The way the plastic chairs in the hospital waiting room always seem to be either blue or orange. The times Rachel would slip away in her arms. The times when she couldn't get the bathroom door to open at all. The times she had watched as someone would wordlessly clean out Rachel's locker before anyone had made the student body aware that she was gone. There were so many things to it all. Things she would never reveal to anyone.

She doesn't want to remember today, but it's better than the nightmares because at least that way Rachel would still be here, would go on breathing no matter how much she was hurting. Her palm itches at the memory of the scratchy brillo pad as she pried it from frantic fingers, how she had tossed it aside as though scorned by it when the truth was she just wanted it as far out of the brunettes reach as possible. The towel was such an opposite to the wiry ball and yet it was that that had caused Rachel to freeze, completely rigid, it was that touch that silenced the diva. She remembers Mercedes looming over them with wide eyes, "Please tell me she didn't..." Even now it struck her as odd. She had no idea how she managed to stay so calm, how she had known to reach for the towel. What confused her even more was why had she called Mercedes? Why hadn't she thought to call for an ambulance? Maybe if she had Rachel's scarring wouldn't be as bad as it was because the wounds would've been treated properly as opposed to her patching the girl up and maybe the truth would've come out sooner and she would've started receiving help earlier than she had. The what ifs made her head hurt. Were there other things she could've done? Could she have stopped Rachel from ever getting into the shower to hurt herself the way she had? Should she have-

A knock on the door broke into her thoughts, "Quinn?"

She tried to clear her throat, thankful that she could blame the croakiness to her voice on the steam filling the room and that no one would know she was crying unless they came in, "Yeah?"

"Are you nearly done? Dinner's almost ready," Rachel announced, "and I think Daddy might eat it all if we're not careful."

"I'll be out in a minute." She presses her face against the tile of the shower wall as she tried to reign herself in, no one needed to know about these things, this she needed to keep to herself.

Author's note: There are a million and one ways when it comes to Quinn's nightmares but I only covered a couple because anymore would've been overkill. I did do some research into this stuff and I know that people are going to say it's not accurate or find something wrong with it but here's the thing, I can only do so much research into this stuff without putting my own health at risk so if it's not up to standards or whatever, I apologise but I'm not putting myself at risk for the sake of a story. ANYWAYS! Moving swiftly on, we've had our happy little bubble, the girls got engaged, they're moving to NY, all good things but all good things must come to an end because I am evil and there's a very special place reserved for me in Hell lol erm...oh, heads up, in all my evilness my brain has decided it's about time that I pick on Quinn a little (as you probably gathered from this chapter) and I've got more in store for Quinn. Next chapter is written so you might get that tomorrow but I'm not happy with it so I might try and rework it or something. Sorry for the long ass A/N. Hope you're all ok and if anyone is affected by this chapter and needs someone to talk to please don't hesitate to message me, I can't promise I'll have the answers but I can promise that I'll listen and that I'll care.

P.S. Hope this clears up confusion about the timeline, not sure if you guys remember much from DLS but Quinn found Rachel in March, I just never specified when in March.