The weeks that followed were some of the hardest that Rachel had ever experienced. The desire to GO and FIX and FIGHT was so powerful she had to take breaks at least three times a day, find a quiet place and scream into her backpack or throw the stress ball she'd brought from home. She had to wrestle Santana away from fights near daily, pull Brittany out of her quiet guilt when the girl began to fade, try her best to focus on classes when they seemed pointless and downright cruel in the face of all they were dealing with. Her dads had offered her use of mental health days if she so needed but she declined, both because she knew that if she was allowed to sit at home she would slip into wallowing and because she knew, from reports, that Quinn ventured around the house at daytime when she wasn't there and she did not want to force Quinn to spend her day locked away so she wouldn't have to see Rachel more than she needed.

Over the weeks Quinn had begun to join them for meals even with Rachel's presence (though never when Santana and Brittany were over), but she never looked at Rachel. Her eyes skipped past Rachel like she was a void in the air as she made polite conversation with Rachel's dad and daddy while pointedly ignoring every utterance of Rachel. Besides meal time, Quinn stayed in her room when Rachel was home. Hiram had taken Quinn to the library a handful of times once she'd felt comfortable enough to leave the house and her room was now a revolving door for books. She had no shortage of entertainment to keep her occupied as she avoided Rachel in her own home.

It was painful, but a manageable pain in the grand scheme of current events. Sure, Rachel had cried herself to sleep more than once about the lost prospect of a blossoming something between them, the memory of Quinn's lips on hers. Rachel could nurse a broken heart, though, if it was broken by unrequited feelings. The part broken by the knowledge of evil in the world was much harder to tend to.

That was not to say that it did not feel like a gut punch every time Quinn's gaze flicked over her without meeting her eyes or acknowledging her existence. Rachel had seen her Dad flinch more than once in sympathy and Daddy do his best to keep a cool head at the blatant mistreatment of his daughter. They'd all three discussed the situation and agreed that it was not the time to push Quinn about being polite to Rachel when Quinn was held together by threads of spider silk. Leroy had been the hardest to convince. He'd pointed out that Quinn had been Rachel's bully once and pretending Rachel wasn't there was too similar to a bullying technique for him to ignore. He'd been talked down by an agreement that they would address it if it didn't get better after a month, with the caveat that Quinn would not be forced to engage Rachel further than polite acknowledgement if it was still that bad.

Rachel was only sorry she'd admitted her love of Quinn to them that night she'd barged into their room. She could have avoided the pity and arm pats from her sweet, well meaning Dad.

He'd even tried to talk to her about the particular hurt of same-sex crush rejection in an attempt at solidarity and Rachel had wanted to melt into the floor.

An unexpected side-effect of housing Quinn were the frequent visits of Ms. Pillsbury to their house. The first few times she'd appeared she'd looked more skittish than usual, no small feat. She'd showed up on a Saturday but when she had been given the go-ahead and it was clear that no one in the Berry household was going to hold her unprofessionalism against her she began showing up daily, usually around Glee Club practice and leaving just after Rachel's return home. They'd exchange pleasantries and Rachel resisted the urge to ask Ms. Pillsbury how Quinn was doing.

She always carried out an empty sandwich container.

Rachel didn't quite know what to make of Ms. Pillsbury's relationship with Quinn and it shamed her to admit that it bothered her, in part. Some of it was jealousy that Rachel worked hard to stamp down, but some of it was unfair judgment. Ms. Pillsbury was, well, odd. OCD if the rumors were to be believed, interested in Mr. Schuester of all people, and not particularly known for being helpful with most students. But Ms. Pillsbury's actions indicated a closeness that Rachel could hardly imagine given Quinn's frosty rejection of all around her. Ms. Pillsbury had asked Rachel to help Quinn and it wasn't just out of counselor concern. There was love there.

As odd as the woman herself.

Others had asked to visit but Rachel had thusfar turned them away. Britt and San were allowed to come and go with relative impunity and they'd exercised their own understanding of Quinn to limit their visits for Quinn's comfort. Every time they came they waited to see if she'd show face, but so far no luck. Mercedes had been one of the first to ask, to Rachel's surprise. She then offered to take Quinn to church and said her congregation had been praying for Quinn. Rachel had wanted to reject the offer on Quinn's behalf, she couldn't imagine Quinn appreciating the attention she'd receive if that was the case, but she relayed the message to her dad and he promised to pass it on.

Finn was the most persistent in asking to visit. He was distraught and the type of person who wanted to see someone with his own eyes to verify they were okay. He showed up with flowers, chocolates, ice cream, a whole pizza with bacon because Quinn had mentioned in passing once to Finn that she loved bacon. Rachel became more and more frustrated with him not being able to take the hint. Finally she yelled at him to back off and give the Berry household space for a while. After a brief outburst of anger where he kicked over a potted plant on their stoop he gave Rachel a look like a kicked puppy and wandered off. He hadn't spoken to Rachel directly since, some combination of ashamed and mad.

Rachel's relationship with Puck had not improved in the slightest in the weeks that had followed Quinn's escape. She rarely looked at him and refused to speak to him. Santana had finally picked up on the tension and had demanded answers that Rachel had been terrified to offer. She and Brittany had been able to devise a plan to best impart the knowledge that Puck had withheld critical information until it was too late, because if Santana was given the right excuse Puck was a dead man. During a sleepover at the Lopez house Rachel, Brittany, Mercedes, and Tina had teamed up to tell Santana what Puck had said while she had been vomiting her pain out in the next room over. All five of them had been forced to sit on Santana to keep her from immediately rushing out to behead Puck. The other three girls had tried to argue Puck's case but when Santana had turned sobbing red eyes Rachel's way and demanded to know if Rachel agreed that Puck "had his reasons", Rachel had been unable to say anything. Santana's rage had redoubled and she came close to unseating all of them in a crawling scramble to get to her bedroom door until Rachel had said, "I've decided to think of it as making sure I'm not in jail when Quinn's justice finally arrives."

Santana stopped struggling as much after that.

But that next Monday, Santana and Puck both vanished after second period. Rachel noticed almost immediately and her panic was all consuming as she texted every glee club member to try and find the missing duo. No one found them and Rachel was sweating bullets by the time glee rolled around. She let out a breath she'd been holding for hours when Santana and Puck wandered in. Her relief was short-lived as she took in the state of the two of them. They had very clearly beaten the shit out of each other. Puck's left eye was swollen most of the way shut and his nose was visibly crooked, maybe broken. Santana had a horrible bruise that took over her entire left cheek and she clutched her ribs as she walked.

"Santana!" Rachel yelped as she rushed to Santana's side to check her over.

Half the glee club started screaming at Puck as he stood with his arms crossed. Santana yelled out, "Esperate!" and they all stopped. She glared around the choir room and said, "I'd have killed him if he hadn't fought back. That would have been disrespectful."

"And you would have literally slit my throat with your nails," Puck grumbled. Sam gave him a none-too friendly punch and Puck complained, "Ow!"

"Damn straight," Santana said with a nod.

Puck was still in the doghouse but punishment had been rendered. Maybe now she would be able to look him in the eye again. Someday.

.

"I'm here to see Quinn."

"Mami… I don't know if she'll come down," Rachel said anxiously. She looked past Maribel as she stood in the Berry doorway, looking to see if Santana was there as well. From what she could tell, Maribel Lopez was alone. Rachel gave Maribel an apologetic smile. "She's only said 'yes' to Ms. Pillsberry."

"Then I won't phrase it as a question," Maribel said. She walked past Rachel as Rachel stood agape and took her meaning in. As soon as she had proceed she ran after Maribel.

"No, Mami, you can't force her!" Rachel protested, ducking under Maribel's arm and planting herself in front of the stairs with both hands holding onto the banister and handrail and blocking Maribel's way. "We have to respect her autonomy, it's so important-"

"I hear what you are saying, mija," Maribel said in an even tone that wasn't reflected in the sharpness of her gaze. "However, sometimes children don't know what they need."

"Mami!" Rachel pressed. Maribel held up a hand, palm flat in rejection. Rachel felt anger start to rise in her, nothing like she'd ever felt toward Mirabel before, and she got ready to argue.

"Listen to me, Rachel," Maribel said, her voice more firm, more adult as it boxed Rachel's ears and nearly got her to instantly relent. "Quinn turns to isolation during moments of great distress. We've seen that, haven't we? But it's no good for her to stay cooped up in this house, seeing no one, doing nothing but read. Your fathers are angels on earth but they hardly know Quinn. I may have a gap in time, but I care about that girl more than you will ever understand. I understand her better. She isn't ready to see my daughter and that's fine, but I won't let her lock herself in a tower to shut out the world. Understand?"

"But-"

"I'm overruling you, Rachel," Mirabel said, before taking Rachel's wrist and moving her hand off the banister before moving past Rachel and up the stairs.

Rachel didn't agree with what Mirabel was doing at all, but the parental pressure on her shoulders kept her in place at the bottom of the stairs.

A knocking came from out of view and Mirabel's voice called out, "Quinn? Mija, it's Mami. Please let me in."

Silence followed. Then, to Rachel's amazement, the distinct clicking of a door opening came, followed by Mirabel's gentle, "Thank you." The door clicked shut.

.

"Quinn? Mija, it's Mami. Please let me in."

Quinn had been reading a library copy of Emma when she was startled back into the real world by a familiar voice. She couldn't believe her ears. Mirabel Lopez had come to check on her? She had fantasized about this happening while equally dreading the thought, a tearing contradiction that flared in her chest when the imagined scenario unfolded. Swallowing around a lump in her throat before going to the door and opening it. Mirabel looked down upon Quinn with warm brown eyes. "Thank you," she said, stepping in and allowing Quinn to shut the door behind her.

"Of course, Mrs. Lopez," Quinn replied automatically, defaulting to respect adults mode. She'd been functioning in that approximate zone most of the time, only turning it off when she hung out with Ms. P. It wasn't club, wasn't any sort of counseling. Quinn hung out with Ms. P every weekday and most weekends, now, talking about books and music, Quinn's writing, everything. Her time with Ms. P had returned to being her favorite part of each day.

Mirabel's gaze became critical, assessing, as she looked at Quinn in silence after the use of her last name and formal title. "Mija," she finally tsked. "You know better."

Quinn didn't respond. She sat on the edge of her bed and fiddled with the tassel of the bookmark sticking out of her book.

Mirabel let out a sigh before she sat down next to Quinn. Quinn risked a glance to see Mirabel staring straight ahead, lips pressed into a considering frown and eyebrows knit together. Quinn looked back down at the tassel. Of course she had disappointed Mirabel within minutes.

"Quinn, please look at me."

Quinn obeyed.

Mirabel Lopez's eyes swam with tears and Quinn's breath caught in her throat. "I am so sorry that I didn't rescue you," Mirabel said, before leaning in and grabbing Quinn into the strongest hug that Quinn had ever felt.

Quinn's own eyes suddenly filled with tears. This more than anything startled her. She thought she had cried all her tears out. "Don't- don't… there was nothing you could have done."

"Of course there was. I knew that man was evil, I could feel it in my bones. But I worried if I pressed he would stop allowing you to come to our house, and at least there I knew you would be loved. I never imagined- but I should have done something. And when you and Santana stopped being friends, I thought maybe she had said or seen something, but she never answered any of my questions about what had happened. I wondered all these years- you don't know the joy I felt when you came to our home and I saw you again." Maribel finally let Quinn go, peeling back to reveal all her makeup ruined by tears. "And now I have only regrets."

"Mami…" Quinn trailed off before pausing, shocked that she'd slipped up so easily. She had never ever imagined anyone apologizing to her in this way. In Quinn's mind there was nothing to apologize for, and yet here Mirabel was, crying for her.

"All I can do now is beg your forgiveness and make sure you never have to see that man again," Mirabel seethed, clenching a fist above her heart in promise.

Quinn didn't know what to say so instead she looked at her lap and gave the nod she thought Mirabel must be looking for.

Unlike her daughter Mirabel knew when to pull back. She looked around Quinn's current living space and hummed thoughtfully as she took in the barren room. It was the quintessential guest bedroom, framed art from a museum gift shop decorating the walls, floral sheets and pillows, a simple dresser and mirror. The only personal touch that had been added was use of the small bookshelf for the books she rotated from the library, all the knicknacks that had previously called the bookshelf home pushed to the sides to make room. "Is this where you spend your days now, mija?" Mirabel inquired, looking more than a little disturbed by the thought.

"Yes," Quinn answered, feeling somewhat defensive. She was sure she was being the model guest in the Berry household, keeping to herself and biding her time until she was able to leave at eighteen.

"Being cooped up in here is no good," Mirabel argued. "You have to get out of this house!"

"Why?" Quinn asked with a small scowl. "I can learn here just as well as I ever could at McKinley. I'm not going back."

"I don't mean you have to go back to school," Mirabel said.

"I go to the library," Quinn added. "Every few days. That's leaving the house."

"That's a start. But isn't there anywhere else? Anyone you would like to see that isn't that daughter of mine or Brittany?"

Quinn wanted to get out of this conversation as quickly as she possibly could. It was too confronting in the fact that Quinn had no one else in her life who she could turn to, no real connections. She didn't know why it embarrassed her for Mirabel Lopez to know that. "Not really," she murmured.

"Ay, mija," Mirabel worried. It was like nails driving into Quinn's skull.

"Mercedes invited me-" she stammered, stopped herself as she realized what she was saying. She blushed with the awareness that she had been overcome by the desire for Mirabel not to think her terribly pathetic.

"Mercedes Jones?" Mirabel asked. A huge smile grew across her face, the most happy she had looked since arrival. "She's an angel! Invited you where?"

Quinn wished she could vanish into the carpet. "... to church?" she said, her voice turned up in uncertainty. She was pretty sure that was what the invitation had been. She tended to tune out Hiram whenever he delivered messages from Rachel or any of her little warblers.

She wouldn't have gotten a bigger reaction of happiness if Mercedes had invited her to goddamn Paris. Mirabel's already huge smile began to glow with feverish delight at the idea of Quinn going to church. She'd forgotten that Mirabel was a strong believer in Jesus and Christianity. On the occasions that Russell had been out of town on business and Quinn had asked to stay at the Pierce's but really ended up at the Lopez residence, Quinn had been taken to more than one service at the Lopez's parish. They were Catholics too, but it didn't count because they were the "ethnic" kind. Still, Quinn had known all the right things to say and Mirabel had always been quick to compliment her on her manners before turning to Santana to go into a, "Why can't you act like Quinn, eh?" and Santana would pinch her when Mirabel wasn't looking. Even if Mercedes was a different denomination than them the idea of bringing Christ into the conversation seemed to overjoy Mirabel and stick Quinn in a bit of a situation. If Mirabel now had this bone to gnaw on she was very unlikely to let it go until it happened. Sure, she could start turning Mirabel away at the door, but she doubted she'd be able to keep the door closed for long now. She was Santana's mother after all, just a version of Santana that had been tempered and strengthened with age and time.

"Um…" Quinn's brain whirred, trying to think of a way to backpedal, but there was nothing. She hung her head in defeat. "Yeah. She invited me to church with her."

"Quinn, that sounds wonderful!" Mirabel gushed. "This upcoming weekend?"

"I haven't really answered her," Quinn said.

"I could drive you! I'm sure I can coordinate with the Joneses."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"No bother at all!"

Unfortunately from there, things moved quickly.