Chapter One

"So I thought since Q moved to New York City with her new ritzy ditzy boyfriend last year, she'd be hanging out with us more? It's been, like, six months since we last saw or heard from her."

Rachel smiled at Santana, who was currently bent over trying on a new pair of heels, trying to decide if they'd really been worth the money she'd spent on them. "Aww, is Santana jealous?"

Santana stood up, blowing some of her hair out of her face, and crossed her arms defensively, tilting her head to give Rachel a look. "I'm not jealous."

"Yes, you are," Rachel stated matter of factly, "You're not with Dani anymore, and even though you live here with me, and we've somehow managed to develop a healthy friendship, I can tell you crave a deeper level of best friendship, something like Kurt and I have - and you were secretly wishing that Quinn would fill that void when she moved here."

Santana's face twisted in a confused expression, something that happened frequently when conversing with Rachel. "What secret void? What are you even talking about, Berry?!"

"Jealous!" Rachel singsonged at her with that I know I'm right smile of hers, the one that always made Santana want to slap it right off her face.

"Oh, please! If anything, I was excited that I would have someone to go to the clubs with, someone who could handle more than two drinks - unlike Lady Hummel, who got kicked out of the last club we went to for upchucking all over the dance floor, not to mention my favorite dress."

She stood up, drawing herself to her full height - which, embarrassingly, was really only a couple of inches taller than Rachel was.

"And you! Why do you always have to turn everything into a musical? You don't always have to sing, you know - sometimes you can just have sex!"

"Kurt had food poisoning that night," Rachel retorted. "And I...well, I like performing. I'm an actress - that's what I do!"

With that, she executed as perfect a diva storm-out as she could in the loft, and dramatically pulled closed the curtain to her room closed. It wasn't as satisfying as slamming a door shut, but she'd learned to do what she could with what she had available.

Just as Santana was about to respond with her usual witty, sarcastic remark, there came a soft knock at the door. Sighing, she walked over to the door, and as always, her heels clicked annoyingly on the hardwood floor, every step of the way. How she hated that sound! She swore she'd never be able to get used to it. It just made her miss the plush carpets she'd grown up with in her house back home in Lima all over again.

When she slid the door open, whatever she might have expected to encounter, she was definitely not prepared for the sight of the complete disaster on the other side. Her eyes widened with complete shock, her entire body frozen in utter disbelief.

It was Quinn Fabray, smiling weakly at Santana standing in the doorway, swaying unsteadily on her feet and looking like death warmed over - only without the warmth.

"Quinn?"

"Santana..."

With shaky legs she took a tiny step forward, needing to get inside the apartment. It hadn't been easy for to make her daring escape, and now she wanted nothing more than to be inside and hidden.

"I need – your help -" she gasped out, feeling her body finally beginning to succumb to the pain and fatigue. Her bruised and bloody body was in desperate need of rest, and now that she was in what felt like a place of safety at last, she collapsed in her friend's arms.

"What the fuck, Quinn?" Santana murmured lowly, barely able to comprehend what was happening as she caught the blonde before she hit the floor, maneuvering her so that she was carrying her bridal style. She rushed over to the couch, screaming, "Rachel! Rachel!"

"If you're calling me out here just so you can make fun of the way I dance at the club..." the petite brunette warned as she came through the curtain to see Santana with what looked like a person in her arms. Both hands flew to her mouth when she caught a glimpse of the blonde hair spilling over Santana's arm.

"Oh my God!" she cried out. "Is - is that Quinn!?"

Santana swallowed hard as she knelt down beside the couch, carefully cradling Quinn's head in her hands.

"Quinn..." she said softly, trying to get her friend to wake up, fearful that she might have a concussion. She'd seen that unfocused, glassy-eyed look in the blonde's eyes before, when she'd taken a frightening fall during an afternoon Cheerios practice, and had never forgotten the terror she'd felt at that moment. That feeling returned to her now, many times stronger than it had been then.

Rachel slowly made her way over to the couch, unable to believe her own eyes as she took in the sight of the one-time HBIC of McKinley High School, now sprawled out on her couch, battered, bruised, and unhealthily thin. She was in sweat pants that were way too big for her, and her tank top didn't hide any of the marks on her arms - there were clearly visible hand prints on her upper arm and around her neck, and other bruises as well.

"We have to call 911," she finally said, choking back horrified tears at the blood seeping through where Quinn's white tank top rested on her abdomen.

"No." Quinn murmured. "You…you can't call them." She struggled to open her eyes, only able to squint through the swelling that had developed around them.

"Quinn, we have to get you to the hospital," Santana pleaded, not understanding why Quinn would come all this way for help, then refuse to let them act.

"You can't! He knows people there - he'll find me," Quinn cried, clearly panicked. She grabbed Santana's hand and squeezed it, hard. "Please. Don't. I'll be fine."

Santana carefully searched Quinn's eyes - she'd been about to disagree and allow Rachel call to 911, but the fright she found behind those hazel orbs was nothing like she had ever seen before, so she nodded in acquiescence.

"Okay, but let us clean you up, at least," she said at last. A tear fell slowly down her cheek as she heard Quinn's grateful sigh of relief.

She held up a hand to Rachel, a signal for her not to make the call. Just as she was about to get up to go search for first aid supplies, Quinn managed to wrap a frail hand around Santana's wrist, giving it as much of a squeeze as she could.

"Don't leave me." Quinn pleaded. "Please, don't go."

"I'm just going to get – "

"San..." Quinn whimpered. Her eyes fluttered shut as a wave of pain washed over her, rendering her unable to say anything more.

"Okay, Quinn, I'll stay with you," Santana said quietly, looking over her shoulder to find Rachel frozen in place, watching with red-rimmed eyes.

"Don't we have a first aid kit in the bathroom or something?" she asked. When the petite brunette didn't move, Santana tried again. "Rachel!?"

Rachel jolted when Santana's voice echoed through the apartment. She let out a slow, shaky breath and nodded, kind of glad she had an excuse to leave for just a second so she could get her emotions under control. She headed to the bathroom with a million and one thoughts spinning through her head, remembering that her dads had left a first aid kit under the bathroom sink the last time they'd come to visit.

She already knew what had happened, and if Quinn didn't want to deal with it right now at this moment, she figured that was fine - but Rachel had watched enough television and movies to know that if they were going to eventually take action, they needed evidence.

Slowly, Rachel knelt down next to Santana and handed her the first aid kit, still not able to fully look at Quinn. Instead, she held up her phone.

"We need to take pictures," she explained grimly. "If she doesn't want to go to the hospital or call the police, we…we'll need to present evidence of our own."

Santana nodded dumbly, her mind reeling as she raised the hem of Quinn's shirt to see the array of welts and bruises and scratches all over her abdomen. How could she possibly help, she wondered helplessly. Where was she even to begin?

But she couldn't give up before she'd even started. Not when Quinn needed them so badly. Sighing, she opened the first aid kit with shaking hands and began to pull out first aid cream, gauze and and bandages, knowing that this was going to be the longest day - and night - of her life.

A/N: Hello, good people! It's been a while, hasn't it? I want to thank my friend and collaborator, DivineEscape, for coming up with the idea for this story, and for her invaluable contributions to it. I would also like to thank any and all of you out there who have taken the time to read this chapter. I hope you'll stick around for the ride, because we have a lot more to come, with many more chapters already written. Please leave a review and let us know what you like, what you don't like, and any suggestions, questions and / or ideas you may have. Oh, and one more thing: Glee forever!