The two miscreants snuck back down before the bell and Puck deposited Quinn in front of her locker, explaining with arms raised defensively, "Rachel said to bring you here before Spanish, she wants to walk you herself." Quinn's protests that she wasn't a child only made Puck laugh and ask her if she wanted to argue that with Rachel.

Quinn had ended up standing there and waiting.

Before Puck had left her he'd given her his cell number, telling her to call if things got bad at home. She spent the time waiting for Rachel toggling between the Delete conformation and Pucks' number as she kept pressing delete and then cancelling. Puck's was the second student number in her phone. The third overall not counting the Voicemail and Data Usage numbers. It felt like her phone was getting heavier with these additions. Rachel and Puck, the temptation to reach out. It was dangerous letting herself keep the possiblility open. But it was almost a comfort, too.

She also had a Child Helpline pamphlet tucked under her mattress. It was sort of the same principle. It had been there since she was eleven and she'd never called it. Just had it.

Puck would never really answer any call for help, anyway.

Rachel, on the other hand… that was a real risk.

Her cell buzzed and, speak of the devil, Rachel had sent her a text. Quinn opened it.

Sorry, can't meet, sent someone else!

Quinn glared at the text in the hopes that her anger could be felt over the phone. Sent someone else?! Quinn didn't need anybody at all. She started to walk towards class on her own when a panting Finn fucking Hudson jogged up, smiling his weird goofy smile. "Sorry, I'm here!"

"What is this, sic the footballers after Quinn day? You're the third one!"

"Well it wasn't supposed to be me, but Coach Sylvester called Rachel in for an emergency Cheerios thingie, and I was sitting next to her so I got tagged." Finn shrugged a hulking shoulder. Quinn felt a little claustrophobic around the guy. He was so freaking tall.

"That's great, but I don't need you. Tell Rachel that if she wants to send her Direction dorks after me, I don't want the jock trolls!"

Confusion fell over Finn's face, and there it was, a Finn Hudson easily recognizable. "You don't like jocks?"

"Seeing as jocks tend to be the ones who assault me and mine, no, I don't fucking like them!" Quinn yelled, loud enough that other kids started to turn their way.

"Whoa, that's not fair, not all of us are like that!" Finn protested loudly back, confusion battling it out with anger in his voice. "Those are my friends you're talking about, and you can't just write off a whole group like that!"

Hysterically laughter bubbled at the back of Quinn's throat and she almost put her hands to her lips to hold it in. "I have absolutely earned the right to, with all the shit I've seen go down in these halls! You have no idea!"

"Look, I'm sorry about Ritter and Brody, but it's only two guys, and they're trashbags! We're not all like that."

"It's not just two, you complete ass!" Suddenly Quinn felt her throat start to close and her eyes burn. How could he think that, how could anyone- "It's not two, it's never two. Kids get hurt around here all the time, and girls-" Quinn thought of Mack, the look on her face when Quinn had found her. She thought of Rachel in that situation, of Santana.

She pictured her dad on Brittany without even meaning to. Something that had never happened but haunted her as if it had.

You couldn't trust guys, you just couldn't.

Finn looked honestly mystified and his anger at her slowly changed course. "More guys? Well, who are they? Tell me, let me at 'em!" He pounded his fist into his palm and Quinn flinched. Actually noticing the reaction, Finn put his hands back down to his sides. "Sorry… but I do mean it! Tell me who, give me names, I'll take care of it!"

"It's not that simple," Quinn said, leaning her back against the lockers and folding her arms.

"Well, why not?" Finn questioned helplessly.

"There are always ones you don't know about. Always- and you can't ever get them all. What if there's some jock footballer slapping around his Cheerios girlfriend, and she isn't telling anyone? Or one of your singers, would you even think twice on it?"

"That's not possible," Finn stammered.

"The statistic for domestic violence against women is one in four. How many of your friends are girls? If you've got eight girl friends, that's two of them." Of course it wasn't quite that way, the numbers could be more or less than that, but explaining statistics to Finn seemed like a wasted effort.

"Two?" The boy asked, all the color draining from his face. "Like Tina? Like Rachel?"

Quinn shrugged. Jeez, the guy looked like he was going to burst into tears. She hadn't really expected that. It occurred to Quinn that Finn Hudson was a child trapped in a teen's body. That could be said for quite a few boys Finn's age, but for Finn it was more apparent. His emotions hummed at the surface, spark of annoyance unleashed as anger, being confronted by a hard truth almost unraveling Finn. She almost felt bad for him. Almost. But in the end she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for a boy hearing the truth for the first time.

"I don't understand," Finn muttered.

"Well, that makes two of us," Quinn said hoarsely.

Finn rubbed the back of his neck and shifted from foot to foot in obvious discomfort. "Is there, like, something I can do?" At Quinn's skeptical look he stammered, "I would never hurt a girl, and I've only ever gotten into fist fights with guys who I knew could take me, like Puck. I'm not asking how to not be a bully or a perv. What I mean is, is there anyway I can help? Like- if Rachel ever told me she got hurt- or any girl, or any little kid, what do I do?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes at Finn and snapped, "Well clearly you would go after the culprits with fists flying." She mimed Finn punching his hand with his fist.

"Is that wrong?" Finn asked urgently, his puppy eyes shining. "I really don't know, okay? I'd want to kill anyone who hurt my friends! It seems pretty natural. I guess it's wrong, but punching a person who's hurt someone should be allowed."

"It doesn't help anyone but you, you dillhole," Quinn grumbled. At Finn's confused look she sighed. She wasn't sure how to explain this to Finn, and in all honestly it wasn't always true. "Okay, so there are people who would want nothing more than for you to cave in the face of someone who's hurt them. I bet my friend would have gotten a kicker out of seeing Puck punch Ritter in the gut."

"How-"

"It doesn't matter how I know what Puck did. What I'm saying is, Puck didn't do that for her. Not really. He did it for himself, to make himself feel better. My friend wasn't there, she didn't know it was going to happen. It wasn't for her benefit. And if you went after people you knew hurt others, it would be for yourself." Quinn smiled a little at Finn's confused face. He wasn't really getting it. "So okay, do it if you want to. If you know it won't come back and bite other people in the ass, like hurting Ritter hurt that little kid Rigby. But if you do it make sure you know it's for you and not for them, for your own satisfaction. As for helping them… well, I guess you can just be there. For whatever they need you to do. Make yourself available when you can, and back off when they say so."

"What if they tell me and they tell me not to tell anyone?" Finn asked with worry. "What if I find out by accident, even, and they tell me to keep it a secret?"

Quinn felt a very powerful headache coming on. She massaged her temple with a hand and wished that this conversation was not taking place in any way, shape or form. "I dunno! You listen to them, it's none of your business."

At this Finn frowned and shook his head. "That doesn't sound right. I was more asking if I should tell a teacher or the police or their parents or something… not if I should actually keep it a secret. Because I shouldn't, right? Keep it a secret? That seems like a bad thing to do."

"Well sometimes it's not!" Quinn snapped angrily. "Sometimes, it's the right thing to do so that whoever's dealing with that shit can survive!" Finn quailed at her ferocity.

"… that doesn't really sound like surviving… What if they really got hurt?"

Quinn shook her head. "We should get to class."

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Are you walking me or not?"

Finn looked up and down the empty hallway realizing that they were both late to class. "Oh, sorry!" The two started walking.

"You can be mad at all the jocks if you want," Finn said as they walked. Quinn looked at the gigantic boy. He gave her a smile. "I get it, I guess. I mean, I don't, but I get it more. You can be mad at all the jocks, because you can't know which ones suck and which ones don't. The nice ones have to prove they're nice to you more than the mean ones have to prove they're mean. Right?"

"I don't need your permission to be mad at the jocks," Quinn bit out.

"Oh. Right, sorry."

"… but yeah, the nice ones have prove they're nice. Consistently."

Finn grinned lopsidedly at her. "I can do that. I can try anyway. Is that okay?"

Quinn stared at the boy, all dimples and clumsiness and hope. She didn't smile back, kept her mask in place, but she replied, "Yeah, that's okay."

When they got to Mr. Schuester's classroom Finn apologized to his glee coach about keeping Quinn from being on time. A very confused Mr. Schue told Finn not to let it happen again. Finn gave a goofy wave to Quinn as he left.

Santana and Brittany were in class already. This was a surprise to Quinn, because she'd assumed they'd both be at the emergency Cheerios 'thingie' that Finn had mentioned. Apparently only Rachel had been needed, because hers was the only vacant seat in the class. Santana was smirking at Quinn as she went back to her seat, clearly amused by the secret service detail that had been shadowing Quinn for a week now. Brittany cast a beaming smile Quinn's way. God, how Quinn wished Brittany wouldn't smile at her like that.

.

Rachel was surprised to find herself sitting across from Coach Sylvester alone.

She'd gotten the text from Sue to meet her at the end of third period, citing her Cheerios manager duties as the reason. Rachel had been disappointed that she wouldn't be able to meet up with Quinn herself, but Finn had been on hand and she'd asked him to escort Quinn to Spanish just in case. If she had known that neither Santana nor Brittany would be in the meeting with her, she would have just texted one of them. Usually when Rachel was called in for a Cheerios brainstorm she was joined by Cheerios captain Santana and Coach's own personal assistant Becky Jackson. In her time as Cheerios manager she couldn't remember one instance of being alone with Sue in her office. It was a little worrying.

Sue was making a point to draw out the anxiety by blending one of her protein shakes and ignoring Rachel's presence, a tactic Coach used when she wanted to make sure someone was on edge. It was a tactic Rachel had seen many a time, but had rarely if ever been used on Rachel Berry herself. She couldn't figure out what had sparked Coach Sylvester's apparent anger at her. As far as she knew the last thing that Sue Sylvester had been pissed at her about was her handling of the Quinn/Mack/Ritter situation. Coach Sylvester had every right to be angry at her for that particular decision, but Rachel had been under the impression that it had all been resolved and Sue was over it. Perhaps not? Perhaps Coach had called her into her office to give her a more private chastising. Rachel couldn't imagine why Coach Sylvester hadn't done this before, if that were the case, but other than that Rachel had no ideas what this could be about.

Sue Sylvester finally sat down, placing her shake on the desk and folding her arms in front of her. "So, how's tricks, kid?"

Rachel's mouth fell open in surprise. Had Coach Sylvester called her into her office to ask how Rachel was doing? "I'm fine, Coach." Sue stayed silent, seemingly waiting for more, and Rachel chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. Was Sue wondering about how her quest to reform the school was going? "My anti-bully crusade is going well consider-"

"I don't really care about that," Sue interrupted. Rachel stopped talking, and the two sat in silence for a few moments again. Coach Sylvester finally sighed and leaned forward. "A little birdie told me that you're helping out Q."

Rachel nodded slowly. "Yes, I thought you knew about-"

"Not the bullying, Berry. Helping her out with other things, on the orders of a certain ginger pygmy elf."

"How did you-"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, Twinkles, but this specific fact only came to my attention recently. I had assumed you were just chasing Fabray around for your own amusement, you can imagine my surprise when I found that a faculty member had put you up to the task."

Rachel frowned, affronted by the implication that her desire to befriend Quinn was anyone's idea other than her own. Ms. Pillsbury's involvement had come well after the fact. It was certainly validating to have the counselor's support, but the choice to be Quinn's friend was Rachel's and Rachel's alone. "I'm sorry, Coach, I believe you might be mistaken by the order of events. Ms. Pillsbury was happy to hear that I had decided on my own to become Quinn's friend."

Sue Sylvester tented her hands in front of her mouth, watching Rachel critically. After a moment she pushed away from her desk and stood up. She walked over to a file cabinet behind her desk. "As you may or may not know, Quinn Fabray was going to be my Cheerios captain in her freshman year. A feat that has not been achieved by anyone else to this day."

"Santana-"

"I chose Lopez after a fashion, that's true. At the time you were not privy to the infighting and cannibalism the Cheerios went through after Quinn abruptly left the position. In truth, I chose Santana as Captain hoping that Quinn would come back to the fold. I knew that Santana would not be as opposed to stepping down. Santana, I believe, had similar thoughts, which is why she accepted. She had no desire to be Captain then. Now she'd claw your eyes out for the position, but not back then." Sue opened the file cabinet and withdrew a file.

Rachel listened with barely concealed interested. In the months before her friendship with Santana and Brittany blossomed and before her position as Cheerios manager was sealed, she had missed upheaval in the Cheerios ranks. She only knew of it in passing and had never known how serious it had been.

"I still think that Fabray quitting the Cheerios was one of the most stupid moves I've ever seen. Still, I find myself interested in her wellbeing, if only from an observer's position in her life. I'll admit that I hadn't noticed how far she'd fallen. That's on me and I am mortified that I could have missed something so obvious."

"Coach, it's not your fault. Quinn- if she doesn't want people to know, they don't know."

Sue Sylvester's icy eyes were furious when the turned on Rachel, but Rachel was familiar enough with Coach rage that she knew when it wasn't directed at her. She circled the desk and held out the file. Rachel took it, noticing the label read Fabray, L. Q.

"That excuse may work on others, Rachel, but I will not accept it for myself. It's unacceptable that I missed Quinn's spiral so thoroughly."

Rachel opened the file and after a quick glance slammed it shut. "Coach! This is Quinn's school records! I can't look at this!"

"I wasn't showing you her records, Rachel, that's for my use only. Flip to the back."

Warily Rachel did, and found a photo of Sue and Quinn. Young Quinn had her blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail and was wearing a brand new Cheerios uniform. Both Coach and Quinn were smiling into the camera. Sue Sylvester, smiling in a photo.

"She was a Cheerio for a week, and it was one of my favorite and most rewarding weeks of my teaching career," Coach Sylvester said sharply. Rachel looked up at Sue in astonishment. She hadn't ever known Sue to be sentimental… or even fond of any of her girls. Not in the traditional sense.

"I want you to know all this so that you take me seriously when I say that I want to know what is going on," Coach Sylvester said, snatching back Quinn's file and moving back behind her desk.

"I- Coach, I had no idea-"

"Of course not, just like you have no idea if I'm fond of you or not. I don't go around broadcasting my feelings, Twinkles," Coach Sylvester dismissed as she sat back down. "Now, tell me, what have you found out?"

"I-" Rachel stopped, unsure of what she should say. It seemed like a terrible breach of privacy to blab to Coach Sylvester about anything she'd learned at all. Sue's raptor eyes never left Rachel so she said, "She was having a really rough time at school… She got slushied when we were walking together to a class. I had to help her clean up, but she had a spare set of clothing just in case so I have to assume it's a fairly common event."

Sue's face turned hard, and she wrote a note down. At Rachel's questioning look, Sue explained, "I'm going to have the cafeteria remove its slushie machine. Go on."

"I invited her over to my house on the weekend. We had a great time. She was uncomfortable at first, but we ended up watching movies and pigging out on the couch until she had to go home, and she even asked me for movie recommendations."

"Boring, that's not what I'm looking for Rachel." Sue put down her pen. "Why did she quit my Cheerios?"

"I don't know, Coach."

"Why is she dressed like the sticky substance on the floor of a Linkin Park concert?"

"I don't know, Coach."

"Unacceptable. I expected better from you, Berry."

"Coach, it's like trying to walk on a frozen lake with tennis shoes. It's slow going."

Sue shook her head. Rachel could feel the disappointment roiling off her. Rachel felt a twang of ineptitude, and she blurted out, "I don't think her home life is good."

Sue went still at this declaration and she looked at Rachel sharply. "What makes you say that?"

Rachel shrank in her seat. She felt extremely guilty for saying anything at all, especially when it was such a liable statement. "Santana said that Quinn was racist and homophobic when they first met. She lives alone with her father, who is reported to be an extremely toxic."

"Russell Fabray," Sue confirmed, opening Quinn's file and looking at it. "I've heard about him."

"She doesn't have any friends, I didn't seen any other pictures of family around the house. She lives in near isolation with her father. It can't be a happy home, Coach."

Sue started to drum her fingers against the desk. "I'm going to have to look more into that."

"Coach- what are you thinking?" Rachel felt unease settle in her gut, the same unease she'd been feeling off and on since getting to know Quinn. She'd never been confronted with the possibility of any friends living in unhappy households before now. Rachel was finding more and more that she was unprepared to deal with it.

"I'll get back to you on that. Now go," Sue gestured toward the door, smirking. "I pulled you out of Schuester's class for the sole purpose of frustrating him, but I suppose you should go learn Spanglish from the gringo."

Knowing a dismissal when she heard one, Rachel left.

.

Class was more than halfway over when Rachel arrived with her slip, giving Mr. Schuester an apologetic smile as she sat down.

Quinn was in class, which meant Finn had brought her to class safely. Rachel giggled to herself picturing giving Finn a treat and a pat on the head. When Quinn saw her she frowned, clearly annoyed that Rachel had sent anyone to walk with her at all. Rachel smiled brightly in response and Quinn rolled her eyes.

After class Rachel walked up to Quinn as she gathered her things. "Hello, I'm so sorry I missed meeting with you."

"You didn't miss anything because I wasn't aware we were supposed to be meeting," Quinn said dryly.

"Well, I'd like to walk with you now, if that's alright. I haven't seen you today and we didn't really text yesterday. I had a lot of fun on Saturday!"

Quinn gave Rachel a disarming smirk, making butterflies flutter around in Rachel's stomach. "Yeah, me too. Look… Can you please back up a little on the armed guard? It's weird."

Rachel's smile dropped a little. She looked down as she said quietly, "I just worry… seeing you after the slushie, I never wanted anything like that to happen again. I want to make sure that this school is safe for you, Quinn." Because I worry it's the only place you have.

Quinn's eyes widened and she didn't immediately respond. She finished packing up her backpack and Rachel grew worried that Quinn was mad at her, until Quinn said, "Thanks, Rachel… can you only assign certain people to me, though? You, S and B… Puck and Mike are cool, too. And Mercedes. The others- well a lot of them still try and stalk me instead of just walking with me, and it kind of sucks."

"Can do," Rachel replied, relaxing a little. She went over the list in her head and became mildly concerned again. "Was Finn not nice?"

Quinn fiddled with her backpack strap, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Um. No. I guess he was okay. You can send him, too. He used to make me nervous, he's so freakishly tall. But I guess he's just a big puppy."

"The biggest," Rachel confirmed with a laugh, and Quinn grinned.

They two started walking, and then Quinn mischievously mused, "I can't believe you dated that guy."

Rachel blushed bright red and stuttered, "How did you know I dated him?"

Quinn laughed. "Uh, duh, you're Rachel Berry and the gossip of the hour is always about you."

"'Bad girl' Quinn Fabray pays attention to gossip?"

It was Quinn's turn to blush, pale skin turning a pretty shade of pink as she replied, "Oh, shut up!"

Rachel giggled, and soon the girls' joined laughter could be heard singing through the halls.

I love Sue and Quinn's relationship on the show. It's a bit sporadic, as most Glee relationships are, but I love their later interactions in season 3. Also I'd like to say that there are some versions of Finn that I really do like, so I'm trying to write him as the well-meaning but unaware boy.

Also I tried to think of who Finn's closed gal pals were but besides Rachel and Quinn I couldn't actually remember any meaningful conversations he had with any of the other girls, and I absolutely hands down do not count his outing of Santana as a friendly interaction.