Major MAJOR trigger warnings for rape in this chapter. I'll indicate with ... instead of . for breaks so you can skip past.

It took Rachel a minute to regain any composure. She tried to dash after Quinn when she'd first taken flight, but her legs had wobbled under her like they were made of Jello and she'd had to breath for a while. As fast as she could manage she dashed back to the dance, looking for a familiar blonde head of hair. She made her way back to the glee club, asking desperately, "Have you seen Quinn?", but no one seemed to hear her as Mercedes and Kurt dashed up to her and grabbed her hands.

"Girl, where you been? It's time to sing!" Mercedes said, pulling her forward.

"No, wait- I can't right now, I have to-"

"Come on, you're up right after Sam finishes, what are you dragging your feet for?"

"Stop!" Rachel demanded, and both Mercedes and Kurt, as well as all of the glee club members around her froze. Brittany and Santana inched forward from where they'd been against the wall, worry on their faces.

"Please. Have you seen Quinn?"

Everyone shook their heads. Rachel's heart leapt into her throat. "I have to find her."

"You made a commitment Rach," Kurt said, the tiniest bit of annoyance in his voice. "The show must go on, remember?"

"Look, you seem real freaked, if you want while we're up on stage we can look for her, all of us," Mercedes offered. "A whole team lookin' will be more effective than you runnin' around madly. Don't you think?" Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but Mercedes continued, "You can trust us, Rach. We're your teammates. 'Sides, we've got Santana and Britt to help us, it ain't like we're without Quinn experts."

There were nods all around, and despite her frustration that they were trying to make her sing right now, she felt a swell of affection that they would go out of their way to help her like this.

"Okay," Rachel conceded. "But- but I'm changing my song. Maybe if she hears it, she'll know- maybe it'll help more than me chasing after her."

This got her more than a few curious looks, but everyone moved out and Rachel took to the stage.

Rachel walked over to the band and requested a song change.

She stood in the spotlight, for once feeling uncertain. This might be a mistake. But it was what she knew how to do.

She started to sing.

"I just want you close

Where you can stay forever

You can be sure

That it will only get better

You and me together

Through the days and nights

I don't worry 'cause

Everything's gonna be alright

People keep talking they can say what they like

But all I know is everything's gonna be alright

No one, no one, no one

Can get in the way of what I'm feeling

No one, no one, no one

Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you

Can get in the way of what I feel for you"

Rachel finished singing and almost immediately was off the stage, searching for her friends. Artie was taking the stage now, and he gave her a shake of his head and an apologetic smile as he passed her by.

Her teammates trickled back, but every answer was a "no, haven't found her". The last back were Brittany and Santana, and even they didn't know.

Puck wandered back into the gym, smelling of smoke, and he ran a hand through his mohawk as he picked up on the tension. "Yo, what's up?"

"We can't find Quinn," Mercedes explained, when it looked like Rachel was too lost in thought to answer.

"Quinn? She pegged it, like, ten minutes ago."

"What?" Rachel demanded, her eyes wide.

"Yeah. Saw her when I was lighting up. She ran out of the school and left. I tried to call to her but she ignored me." He frowned a little. "Wait, what's going on? Is she okay?"

Rachel chewed on her bottom lip. She couldn't very well tell any of them what had transpired when she was pretty sure Quinn was upset about it. But she was mad at Puck for not stopping her, not doing something.

"I should go find her."

"Whoa, Rach, stop for a second, mija," Santana said, stepping in front of her. "Look, I know you got the best intentions. But ten minutes at a sprint? Not knowing which roads she took? She could be anywhere now. Plus, it's pretty clear she wanted to… you know…" Santana trailed off. "Get away from here." Get away from you. "Give her some space. She'll be okay."

"Out alone, on the streets at night?!" Rachel demanded.

"This is Lima, Rachel," Kurt deadpanned. "Not New York City. There are probably five cars out driving around by now. The most activity going on tonight is here."

Rachel's worry wasn't easing, but then Brittany stepped forward and put an arm around Rachel's shoulders. Of everyone, Brittany would understand Rachel's worries most. Rachel looked up at her. Brittany gave her a smile. "It's okay. She'll be okay. She needs fresh air. She'll be thinkin' too much, but it might circle back around again." Brittany leaned down and whispered in Rachel's ear. "Your lipstick is smudged."

Rachel blushed bright red and grabbed Brittany's hand, pulling her towards the bathroom.

But Brittany was probably right. Quinn needed to clear her head.

.

When Quinn couldn't run anymore in her heels, she took them off and ran barefoot. She just needed to go, go, go. She couldn't be there anymore, around Rachel, who she'd almost hurt. Who had looked at her with such trust in her eyes, not knowing the monster she was with, the beast trying to tear its way out of her skin.

She'd lost herself, all the wrong instincts coming into play as she'd been consumed by the kiss. It was wrong, awful, it proved that she was an irredeemable monster. To take a moment so pure, so powerful, and taint it into what she had almost done? No, there wasn't any hope for her.

It was almost vindicating, to get the confirmation.

Mostly, it made her feel like walking into traffic.

The walk home would be long, but Quinn needed the air. She needed the cold, even, a sort of punishment for herself. Suffer, you deserve it. Don't try to warm yourself up, just walk.

The walk home took hours. She'd run at the beginning, but she'd slowed down eventually and taken a round about way home to stay out just a little while longer.

Her traitorous mind kept traveling back to the kiss, to the way it had felt at first. For most people, knew that fireworks weren't a thing when they kissed. But for Quinn, she had felt them. Explosions of feelings all throughout her body, her mind. For the first time she'd felt something sexual that was her choice and it had been an overload on her system. Something that she could barely process or deal with.

She'd lost all control and the monster had stepped in.

Was it any wonder that she'd run?

...

Quinn got home at around 3 in the morning. She'd retained her purse and keys despite running out of there without much warning. It was good she hadn't left them in the car when she'd gotten out of the car. She'd thought about it but decided against it as a sort of buffer, keeping it slung over her shoulder even when she was dancing with Finn.

Quinn pulled her keys out and opened the door. She went up the stairs and immediately headed for the shower, but at the last second turned back to her room to get her dress off. Despite everything she didn't want to get her silk dressed messed up by throwing it in a pile on the bathroom floor. She threw her shoes in her closet and started to mess with the zipper of her dress.

She heard a creaking in the hallway.

Quinn's head whipped around to see her father looming in the doorway.

"… what are you doing up?"

"I heard you come in, I was worried. Why are you home?" Quinn was very conscious of the way he was looking at her. She had purposefully dressed at Santana's house to avoid this very scenario, her dad seeing her all dressed up for a dance. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"I wasn't- it wasn't fun. I walked home."

"You walked home? Quinnie, you could have called." There was a note of worry under the chastisement, but it was like a parrot mimicking a sound it had heard before, nothing real about it.

"I didn't want to bother you."

Her dad sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know… I'm worried about you, sweetheart. You've been acting different. Pulling away from me."

The word you're looking for is happy. Quinn just stood there, silent.

Russell's eyes met hers, and fear coursed up her spine like lightning. "Dad-" she ventured, but she knew something was off, and she had never been more scared in her life.

"You look so pretty tonight, Quinn."

Warning signs flared in Quinn's mind's eye like they never had before, and she actually ran. Or tried to. Her dad was in the doorway, blocking her escape, so she dove for her window, only for huge arms to grab her around the waist and neck, spinning her and throwing her at her bed. She stumbled, regained her balance, and turned toward him, crouched to run again. "What the hell was that?" Russell Fabray rumbled, stepping toward her. So tall, so big. So much bigger than her.

"Leave me alone," Quinn croaked, putting her hands out as if to stop him.

Russell froze. Quinn knew why. She hadn't tried to get him to leave her alone in… years. If ever. Had Quinn ever said the word no? Her mind was racing, drawing a blank. She couldn't remember.

Russell's face darkened, and before she could move he lashed out, not a slap but a punch, colliding with her cheekbone and throwing her back. She hadn't been expecting it, had never expected anything like that to happen, and she collapsed against her bed, blackness dancing around her vision as she lost track of everything.

Russell grabbed her and threw her on the bed and she couldn't even move of her own volition, any attempts to tell her brain to move resulting in twitches as her brain continued to try to recover from being rattled against her skull. "No," she groaned, but her voice was barely audible. She felt Russell's hands tear at her dress, heard a rip, registered that he started to pull down his pants.

No, impossible. He wouldn't, he-

"You said- you said-" she whimpered, managing to shove at him a little. It was against the church, an abomination, having sex with her. He was her father.

"Please," she cried, tears streaming down her face, hurting her burning cheekbone as if it was scalding water.

"You. Are. Mine," Russell growled, and he thrust into her.

Quinn screamed.

...

Quinn watched the sky start to grow light from her bed, her entire body aching. She was pretty sure she had as close to a concussion as one could get without actually having a concussion, and he'd hit her side once to get her to stop from squirming away. It had been hours, trapped in her room with him. She'd passed out once, for a few minutes, and that gave her the idea to fake passing out a second time. Eventually, thinking she was unconscious, he'd left, and she'd opened her eyes to see that the world was ever so slightly going from black to blue as the sun neared the horizon.

She stood, and it took a lot of effort not to cry out. Her dress hung off her by threads so she shook it off, kicking it into the back of her closet, ruined with rips and blood on the back of it. She grabbed a pair of sweats and shirt, slipped on a robe, and opened her window.

The fall from her window wasn't horrible, but she hit the ground wrong and rolled her ankle. It hurt to walk on but she ignored it as best she could as she walked away from her house.

Quinn walked about an hour, then reached down to grab a few rocks as she reached her destination. She threw them at a window, waited, threw more, and when she saw Rachel's face appear briefly she started heading towards the Berry front door.

Rachel was fast. It took her less than 30 seconds to get to the front door. She threw it open, panic and horror on her face as she took in Quinn's blooming black eye, her bedraggled appearance.

"Quinn?! What on earth-"

"Rachel," Quinn said, her voice quiet, hollow. "I need your help."

.

Quinn was pretty sure that 85 percent of her had vacated the premises, elected to die a quiet death between three in the morning and when her dad had left her room. The other fifteen percent, apparently, had autopiloted her to Rachel Berry's house. Whatever was left of her was not the guilt ridden, self loathing part that had fled from the dance.

No, this part was numb.

Not her body. Her body hurt all over. But her mind. Like Russell had poured acid onto her brain as he fucked her.

Heh. Fucked her. That was so weird to think, even after everything.

He'd said he never would. It was the greatest sin. Well, she supposed her dad already knew he was going to hell, had decided to double down.

Rachel led her up to her room, not touching her, staying at least five feet away from her. Probably a good idea. Rachel closed her bedroom door and asked:

"What happened? Quinn, please, you have to tell me?"

Have to? No, that wasn't true. Both the dead part of her and the alive part knew that. Still, she heard herself saying, "My dad- no. Sounds wrong. Russell raped me."

Quinn watched with a degree of interest as Rachel's entire face turned white as a sheet. She expected her own self to react to what she'd said, the secrets she had been hiding all her life thrown out into the world. Nothing. As if her own heartbeat had stopped. Shock, her mind supplied, like an echo. You're in shock. Didn't people die from shock? Hm. Something to consider. She filed it away next to her dead self.

Rachel was saying something, a flurry of words, but Quinn stopped paying attention, bulled over her by saying, "Can I get a shower?"

Rachel nodded.

Quinn started towards Rachel's bathroom when a hand grabbed her wrist. There. A flare of something. Anger, fear? She wrenched her wrist from Rachel's hand, balling her own into a threatening fist.

"No- I'm sorry, I didn't-" Rachel stammered.

Quinn looked at her.

"… Um, let me pull out some clothes for you? I'll put them on my bed. Then you can undress in here and while you're taking a shower I can pick them up and throw them in the wash. Everything will be all- you know, taken care of, by the time you get out?"

Quinn watched Rachel, looking at the way Rachel's eyes were flickering around, the tightness of her body. "Rachel."

"Yes?"

"Don't tell anyone."

Rachel's eyes widened. "What? Quinn, I can't-"

"Don't tell anyone. Or I'm leaving."

"… if you don't want me to tell anyone, why tell me?"

Quinn shrugged. "Don't know. Not all me."

Rachel's face fell in confusion, but Quinn didn't know what else to say so she left it.

"Promise you won't tell."

The pause was long. Rachel stared at Quinn. "… I promise."

Quinn nodded her head, then gestured for Rachel proceed. Get her some clothes. Leave the room.

Rachel hesitated. Quinn waited.

"Has he- has he done this before?"

"No," Quinn said. "…or yes. I don't know. Not like this."

"Okay," Rachel said, tears in her voice. It made Quinn mildly annoyed. "Okay."

Rachel pulled out clothes and then left the room.

.

Rachel waited until she heard the water running in her shower. Then, she sprung into action.

First thing's first. She went down to her kitchen and grabbed plastic ziplock bags. Gloves. A permanent marker. She went up to her room and started gathering Quinn's clothing. She put every article in a separate bag, barring the robe which was too big. She tried not to look at Quinn's underwear, damp and bloody, as she put it into a bag and labeled it with shaking handwriting.

Put those downstairs.

Run to the downstairs bathroom. Vomit.

That was done. Second order of business. Betray Quinn.

She didn't even hesitate. Wondered if she should, or should at least feel guilt at breaking a promise made no more than ten minutes ago. But this was bigger than her desire for a romance with Quinn, a friendship with Quinn, or anything at all with Quinn. She'd burn that bridge in a heartbeat to help her.

Rachel went into her dads' room and woke them up. Her dad sat bolt upright, looking for a threat. Her daddy put on his glasses and blinked sleepily at her. "Princess?"

"Quinn's in my room. Dads… it's bad. It's evil."

She explained what had happened. Her dad was calling the cops and an ambulance as soon as Rachel finished telling them that Russell Fabray had raped his daughter, but Rachel continued, going back and back, explaining about meeting Quinn, wanting to befriend her, Ms. Pillsbury, Ms. Sylvester, Britt and Santana, how she was in love. She was sobbing by the end, her small frame wracked with heavy heaves as her daddy and dad encircled her in a protective hug.

All three of them heard the water turn off in her room. A minute later, there was a knock on their front door.

Rachel bodily got in the way of any cops who tried to come in first, using her chorus training to project her voice as she said, "EMTs are first. Don't you step one foot towards her until she's been looked over."

Her dads apologized to the cops for her but they didn't seem phased as the EMTs went upstairs, a woman EMT in the lead.

It took a few minutes for Quinn to come down. She still looked awful, like her soul had been sucked out of her body. Rachel had nearly fainted when she'd seen Quinn, and it had only been compounded on when Quinn had talked to her like she was dead inside. Quinn descended the stairs between two EMTs and went to the door without struggle. Her eyes met Rachel's and Rachel felt like she was going to die, too.

There was hatred there.

It was muted, but it was there. Quinn walked by her, out the door, without a word. She got into the ambulance, and she looked so small, so alone. Rachel wanted to run forward and demand she ride with Quinn, but she knew it would only cause a scene and Quinn didn't want her there anyway.

So instead, she got into the car with her dads and they trailed behind the ambulance and cop cars to the hospital. Her daddy rode in the back with her and she held his hand so tight her joints locked up and it took effort to open it again when they had to get out of the car.

For some reason, the first part seemed like it had happened in the blink of an eye.

Comparably, the second part felt like an age.

Rachel sat between her dads and waited for news on Quinn in the waiting room, knowing that they weren't family and that any news about her condition might not even come to them. Her dads had to leave a few times to talk to the hospital about paperwork, their relation to Quinn, how and when they'd found out about Quinn and her father. The cops came to talk to Rachel twice and she recounted the story the same way both times.

The third time they got up to talk to some authority figures, Rachel was sitting by herself for only a minute before someone sat next to her, splaying their track suit clad legs out in front of them like they were settling down in a couch.

"Coach," Rachel said. It was the first time she'd talked to anyone but cops since she'd gotten to the hospital.

"Rachel," Sue Sylvester said, her voice hard, her face set forward.

Rachel waited. She'd been crying off and on for hours, and she knew she looked a mess. Sue expected her kids to always look their best. Rachel wondered what she was thinking of her now.

"You've been here four hours, Rachel, did you know that?"

"Oh. No."

Sue looked at Rachel for the first time since sitting, and Rachel almost gasped when she saw that Sue's eyes were red rimmed. She'd been crying, sometime recently but not too recent, because to others it would be barely noticeable.

"You didn't call me."

"I haven't called anyone."

"Your orders were to call me once you knew something."

"Yeah."

Sue surveyed Rachel, lips pressed thin. "Berry, it's scary to hear you talk in one word sentences. Makes me fear the apocalypse. The world is coming to an end with Rachel Berry stops talking."

Rachel didn't speak, her head hung low. She'd failed everyone. She'd failed Sue. She'd failed Santana and Brittany. She'd failed Quinn, and now Quinn was in the hospital, paying the price.

"Judy Fabray is in an inpatient program for alcoholics in Columbus, drying out."

Rachel looked up, startled.

Sue nodded her head. "Yes, I found her. Only about a week ago. Threw her in there myself. Still, best case scenario she isn't coming out for another four weeks. It's a 90 day program, and she didn't chose it for herself. She's probably gonna relapse soon, and relapse hard. I was hoping she'd be done with the back and forth by the time we really needed her, but you can't always get what you want clearly. Quinn's mom can't take her, not like she is now."

Rachel's heart sank. "Where can she go? She can't- she can't go into the foster system, Coach. I don't know if she'll come back from this, but if she goes into the foster system it's even less likely. She'll feel abandoned, thrown away. I don't want her to feel like that, I never want her to feel like that. Please, there must be something."

Sue gave Rachel a wry smile. "There you are. A few more minutes without a babble and I would have checked you into the ER." Rachel scowled, preparing a rebuttal, but Sue continued, "But it's covered, Rachel. I made some calls to the mayor's office, got some paperwork finished up and pushed through. Did you know your fathers had been filing paperwork to be foster parents before they decided to get a surrogate?"

Rachel sat up straighter. "…no. I didn't. Are you saying that my dads are now foster fathers?"

"And well on their way to being assigned Quinn Fabray as a foster child."

"You- but how- do they know all this?"

"I've been texting your father since I heard about this. He's agreed. Didn't say anything to you because he said you were in some sort of state of shock and he was worried you'd start to try to run into the exam room if you knew."

Rachel let out a huff, feeling indignant. Sue only grinned. Rachel was very aware that she was starting to act more like herself, and Sue was glad. She still pouted and folded her arms over her chest.

"Wait… how did you know? How did you know any of this was happening?"

Sue smirked and leaned back in her seat, almost tripping a man passing by as she spread out her legs even further. "I have my ways. Little birds all over. I had the names Quinn Fabray and Russell Fabray set to send up flags, and when a Fabray, Q, was admitted to the ER I got a call within five minutes."

"That's… terrifying. You're terrifying, Coach."

"Thank you very much."

Rachel almost smiled, but it felt wrong and she looked down. "… what do I do now, Sue? What do we do?"

"Honestly, Rachel, I don't know. And I hate you for asking me that when I don't have an answer. But you should text Santana and Brittany. They should know Quinn is in the hospital, if not what has happened."

Guilt ripped through Rachel. She hadn't even thought of calling them. "I'm a horrible friend."

"Shut up. You're not. Let me guess, Quinn told you not to tell anyone what happened?"

Slowly, Rachel nodded her head.

"And you told anyway."

Another nod.

"You are a good friend, Rachel Berry. No one is perfect. Hell, maybe you should have waited, tried to get Quinn to come forward herself, I don't know the psychobabble. Maybe you were supposed to let her make that choice. I don't give a flying fuck. You got her here, you got the police to Russell Fabray's house. They found evidence, Rachel. Quinn isn't going back there, and you helped make that happen. Maybe if they hadn't found anything we'd be having an entirely different conversation. But they did, and it's done. We're skipping past multiple CPS reports to the nitty gritty, and next step is most definitely court."

Sue Sylvester put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. Rachel was shaking, tears running down her face again.

"You done good. It's time for you to suit up for the next battle."

Long chapter to get that over and done with it. So. Things are out in the open. Quinn told Rachel, Rachel told the cops, and Quinn is out of that household. I know it's been a long time coming. This scene has been in my head for ages now, and it's finally on paper. Interestingly this is one of the last concrete scenes in my head. But no worries on that front. I have three or four more concrete scenes and while one should be next chapter the others are a ways away, so you don't have to worry about me losing motivation. Thank you, as always, for your patience.