A/N: Trigger warnings for a serious illness and possible character death.
Hello, everyone! I was on a bit of a roll since Conditional Love(or so I thought), so I managed to get this out quickly! I really hope you enjoy, because it is really close to my heart.

CHAPTER ONE

The first time the pain comes, it is a Wednesday. She's sitting in Mr. Shuester's Spanish class, watching him painfully struggle through another lesson, this time about the verb ser/estar, which means to be. She's passing a note back to Santana, who's sitting directly in front of her, about how much it hurts to see the blind leading the blind. This is normal. For her, for mostly anyone. It's the least conspicuous any scene could be. Just two teenagers heckling their teacher behind his back in small-town Lima, Ohio.

That's when the pain comes. It doesn't take this opportunity to creep up out of nowhere and then leave in a blink. It doesn't send an electric shock going through her body or cause a surprised shriek and disrupt the "lesson". It doesn't come or go away so quickly that she's left wondering if it even happened. This is merely when it starts. She'll never doubt the reality of this. That would be impossible.

Her hand is in the air, making its way to Santana's desk, just as Mr. Shuester turns back to stare at the board in utter confusion, making the students question how he ever became a Spanish teacher, based on the fact that he knows absolutely nothing about the language. Her hand is in the air, making its way to Santana's desk, when she realizes something is wrong. Deathly wrong.

She freezes for a second, finding that it hurts to move, it hurts to hold her hand up. She knows this is not normal, not for her especially, a cheerleading protege. But she knows she has to carry through with the motion, if only for the sake of appearances.

Everything is about appearances, she knows that. It has been hammered into her mind since she was born. Even in the face of this excruciating pain, this hurt that goes so deep that she cannot begin to place its origins, she must carry on. The motions are vital, for her, for everyone around her. And even though now it hurts to do something as simple to move, and her hand gets tired from being held up for too long, the motions must be carried out.

The problem is, she's not sure if she can keep her eyes open. She looks down and sees that her hand is not still holding the note, so she must have passed it on to Santana. But why can't she be sure if she has done that?

She feels a wave of nausea come over her, and she asks to go to the bathroom. The hallways are particularly empty now, the one period that most people don't skip because it happens to be either math, English, or Spanish for everyone and even they need passable grades to continue the social hierarchy that occurs here in WMHS.

The nausea suddenly lifts, but in its place is a warm, feverish feeling that is not at all comforting. Deciding that she must have the flu, she continues on to the bathroom anyway for a few seconds of relief from… facing the world. Or, facing Lima, Ohio.

She walks into the bathroom at a brisk pace, only pausing when her lack of attention causes her to bump into a wall. She nurses her shoulder and finds a bruise already sprouting on its pale surface. Suffice to say, she is confused. She barely brushed her shoulder on the wall, but she still managed to look like she got into a fight. That has never happened to her before.

She decides to shake it off and ignore it, just like all good Fabrays do.

She waits a second in the bathroom to calm down the spiraling-into-darkness feeling that she just can't shake off, for whatever reason. When she realizes it probably isn't going away anytime soon, she walks back to class, unnecessarily exhausted from the two-minute walk when she slumps back in her seat.

What is with her today? She hopes she doesn't have to go home with the flu: she prefers to spend as little time at home as possible with the fragile environment created from the broken relationship of a child and her mother.

She's drawn back to reality when Santana leans back and shakes her a bit. "Are you okay, Q? I know Coach Sylvester's been working us hard, and your white ass doesn't accept anything less than perfection, but something seems a little off."

Quinn isn't sure how to answer that when she's not sure herself. "Yeah, San. Thanks for the concern, but I'm fine, I promise. I would tell you if something was wrong."

Santana seems satisfied with that answer, so she goes back to her work. Quinn and Santana had a rocky relationship for years, each relying on the other for popularity and only keeping up the facade of friendship. But after the events of sophomore year, they decided to (try to) repair their friendship, and they've shared a tentative relationship ever since. Santana's always been fiery on the outside, but once you get to the eye of the hurricane, you find a loyal and caring friend who will always be there for you, though will never hesitate to tease you about it.

Quinn trusts Santana, she really does. But she's hesitant to let the girl in this time because she's not sure what the issue is. She's just extremely fatigued, overly so for a day with so little exertion (Cheerios practice hasn't even occurred yet), and the pain has yet to completely fade away. She's starting to wonder, when will it?

The next Tuesday, the pain has not really gone away. Now, Quinn's just mainly confused, because it's been so long and she shouldn't be sick anymore. She hasn't stayed home at all, choosing to instead go over to Santana or Brittany's house after school to rest while telling them that she has a bug. That's what it must be, after all.

And they understand her apprehensiveness to going home, for after the first time she showed up on Santana's doorstep, crying, with a busted lip and a black eye, the questions hadn't stopped coming until they received an answer. Santana tried to get her to call CPS, tried and tried and still tries, but Quinn is just so tired now and doesn't know what to do and every time she's about to hit call, that voice echoes in her head and she just can't.

So she spends her afternoons sleeping on her friends' couches, trying not to worry them, and hoping she doesn't get sick enough to have to miss school. That would be an ordeal, to say the least.

On Tuesday, she's feeling a bit better. Or so she tells Santana, anyway. She needs to stop wallowing in self-pity, she knows that. It's just another lesson that she learned as a young child. Sometimes, she thinks she learned too many lessons.

Tuesday is also the day of Coach Sylvester's all important monthly weigh-in, and Quinn has a feeling that this month she is doing very well. She hasn't been focusing on her diet or exercising lately, the pain being too distracting, but somehow, it seems like she has lost a pound or two. And she is never opposed to Coach's praise.

Santana has noticed her new weight loss too, but is less than happy. At first, Quinn thought that it was just jealousy, an overpowering feeling in the bottom of her stomach because Quinn, Quinn-who-had-a-baby-last-year, is Head Cheerleader and back on top. But then, Quinn caught a glimpse in her friend's eyes of what looked disconcertingly like fear. It was only a quick flicker, a furtive break through Santana's strong walls before they were up again, but it was enough for echoes of that same emotion to be traveling inside Quinn then, and follow her to now. Because Santana Lopez does not get scared, just like Quinn Fabray keeps up appearances. Sometimes, Quinn thinks that their values are one and the same.

Waiting outside of Coach Sylvester's ridiculously large office, Santana is eyeing Quinn again. This time, she makes sure to keep the fearful look in her eyes expertly hidden away, but she can't stop herself from observing the same blonde that seems to get sicker and sicker every day instead of better. Santana can't shake the feeling that she's had for almost a week now, that something is really wrong.

She is shaken out of her thoughts by a piercing voice calling her friend in for a weighing. "Q! Come on in! I don't have all day."

Quinn enters the office, looking too excited for her coach's taste. "You think you did well this month?" Quinn nods. "Well, we'll see about that. Even when you shave off a pound or two, nothing will be enough to counter your rolls of fat."

She tries not to let it get to her: it's Coach Sylvester, after all. She knows it's not personal. But today, she's feeling sick and feverish, and she just wants to be happy for once. Why can't any of the adults in her life just leave her alone? She's fine enough without them butting in and ruining her fragile contentment. But outwardly she knows any sign of weakness is just her sadistic coach's kindling, so she just nods again, keeping her features indifferent.

Quinn steps on the scale, Coach Sylvester lowering the measurements. Lowering and lowering. "Q, you've managed to cut off quite a few pounds this month! You still have many more to go before you look even passable for the Cheerios, but out of all the incompetent students I have, you seem to be one of the least inadequate."

"Thank you?" Quinn says perplexedly. She is slightly confused. That sounded too much like a compliment for it to come out of Coach Sylvester's mouth. No one in the Cheerios, ever, in Coach's 15 years of coaching cheerleading at WMHS, has ever reported getting a compliment. And if they did, it would just be regarded as bogus. Everyone knows that Sue Sylvester doesn't give compliments. Even people outside of the Cheerios. It's just one of those facts, like how everyone knows that the Earth rotates the sun.

Then she peeks at the scale, and the compliment actually makes a lot of sense. Even for Coach Sylvester. She has lost about ten pounds in a month! That's a lot, especially for Cheerios, who are usually already at their minimum healthy weights. Like Quinn was . . . or at least, like she thought she was.

"Q! You've been standing in here too long and now my office reeks of you, whereas it should smell of the gold making up my infinite trophies. Leave. And tell Santana to come in."

"Okay, Coach."

Walking outside the red and gold world of the cheerleading coach's lair, Quinn feels like she's walking on a cloud. Which could be a result of her high fever, but she prefers to think is because of her compliment and new weight loss.

"Santana! It's your turn."

"Okay. But why do you look so happy? Coach always tears us down, but you look like somebody gave you a puppy."

"No reason."

"Okay…"

"Anyway, go in! Coach is waiting for you!"

Without another word, Santana walks into Coach Sylvester's office. Quinn decides not to dwell on this, and goes to her next class.

It's Thursday of the next week that the nosebleeds start. And when they do, they don't stop. Well, they pause, of course. But all too often, Quinn finds herself in the bathroom with a paper towel pressed on her nose, trying to slow or stop the flow of blood that she sees gushing out.

The fever still hasn't gone away, and her bruises have increased although she has barely hurt herself. She knows that sometimes she is clumsy, but she shouldn't have this many. With every day that she continues to have a fever, and every bruise that she gets, Quinn gets more sure that something is wrong.

Somehow, other than Santana asking if everything is okay with increasing regularity, nobody seems to notice. The nosebleeds, though, are more prominent. Quinn knows that someday soon, a few are going to occur during class, and if anyone just looks, they will see that something is off.

She doesn't know if she is trying to hide, or why she would hide in the first place. But something about the idea of other people seeing her in a time of vulnerability makes her feel even sicker. If that's possible.

Quinn comes to school on Thursday defeated. She has been up all night tending to her nosebleeds and she just can't find the energy anymore. So when Coach Sylvester calls her into her office, Quinn doesn't have any fight left in her.

"Q, step on the scale again."

"What? We had monthly weigh-ins a week ago! And I promise I didn't gain more weight! I mean, I haven't been super careful but I just know-"

"Stop rambling. Do you want to sound like Berry? Don't fight me; you know you don't want to. It would be like a little half-blind puppy (you) against a fully-grown male lion (me). You don't want to see the end result of that altercation."

Quinn knows not to cross her coach. Everyone knows that. Sue Sylvester might be a maniacal sadist who enjoys preying on her students, but she has a ridiculous amount of power over any and every person of importance within the state, if not the country.

She steps up to the scale, eyeing it with more trepidation than usual - which is saying something, as Coach Sylvester's weigh-ins are infamous and feared schoolwide. Why is Coach making her weigh-in now? It has just been a week since the last one, so it makes no sense. Not that Coach usually makes sense, but this seems weirder than usual.

She expects Coach to increase the weight and stare at her with unadulterated disdain, saying how disappointed she is in the student that used to remind her of herself but now just reminds her of a stick of butter. But that isn't what happens, to Quinn's surprise, because Coach Sylvester looks… worried. That's a new one. Usually the only emotions ever to appear on her face are rage, disappointment, and rage again.

"Q, you've lost three pounds in a week. That's not healthy. I usually appreciate my Cheerios starving themselves, I do, but this is getting a little out of control. You're not healthy anymore, Q, and when people see a Head Cheerleader, they're looking for the picture of health and beauty, but your features are just getting gaunter by the day. Do you need to see a shrink? I'm sure Ella would appreciate some more foot traffic in her office. As long as you make sure to keep all of the surfaces near her clean." Coach Sylvester lets out a chuckle. "Go get better, and you'll have your spot on my team waiting for you. But until then, you are sidelined."

What? Out of all the things that Quinn thought her coach might say, this is definitely not one of them. She's shocked into silence. Temporarily. "Coach, I promise I'm not starving myself. I've actually been eating the same as I had before. And exercising about the same, as well. I'm not trying to lose this much weight!"

"That seems hard to believe. But assuming that that is true - which I am not assuming for one second, as this is purely hypothetical - why would you have lost this much weight?" One of Coach Sylvester's eyebrows raise, imitating the famous Fabray move.

"I don't know, Coach! I think I'm sick or something. Not with an eating disorder, but like sick, sick. I've had a fever for about two weeks, I get bruises all the time, and now you tell me I'm losing so much weight! Oh, and the nosebleeds! That's a new one. But Coach, really! You have to believe me!" At the end of her little monologue, Quinn's eyes start to water. She hates getting emotional in front of her coach, she really does, but she just can't help it this time. She feels so crappy, all the time, and there's not much she can do about it.

"You've been feeling this bad for that long and haven't seen a doctor? That's a little thick, even for you, Q." Quinn's not sure, but she thinks she might hear a layer of concern in Coach Sylvester's voice. Then she shakes that thought out of her head, because that is just completely impossible. If Coach Sylvester is concerned, then that means Quinn most certainly should be. And she's not there yet. She just wants to be naively happy for a little longer. Is that too much to ask?

"I know, Coach, and I realize it was stupid, but… I don't even have an excuse. I guess I'm just scared."

Sylvester's voice goes softer, nothing like Quinn's ever heard before. She's kind of scared that her current predicament makes her notoriously cruel coach gain some humanity. It takes a lot for that to happen. "Yes, that's understandable. But you are going to go to the doctor. And I'm not taking no for an answer. You aren't well, and I can't have that. I'll write you a pass and we'll go see the school nurse, okay?"

"Yeah. But wait, 'we'? You're coming with me?"

"Do you think I would let my invalid Head Cheerleader go to the nurse alone?"

Well… yes. "No, of course not. Sorry, Coach. Let's go."

This is how Quinn finds herself in a surprisingly bright room ten minutes later, accompanied by her usually-barbarous cheerleading coach and the ridiculously-happy school nurse.

"What are your symptoms?" The nurse tones down her optimism because of the terrifying woman standing next to her (she's not referring to Quinn), and she makes sure to leave an edge in her tone. She won't be disrespected, no matter how much of a laughing stock she is in this school.

"Um, they started about two weeks ago. A fever, a lot of bruises, weight loss, fatigue, sudden pains, and nosebleeds."

Oh wow. The nurse thought that this would be an easy case of the flu or a stomach bug, but she's starting to suspect that it might be a little bit more. Quinn's symptom list is so long, and the nurse can't believe that she waited this long before coming to a doctor. That wasn't smart, and not that she knows Quinn, but she can't help thinking that the girl knows better than this.

"Okay. First, I'm going to take your temperature."

Quinn winces involuntarily at the cool material against her forehead, which only causes more concern from the nurse.

"103. Okay, Quinn, that's not good. That fever, coupled with the other symptoms, is cause for a hospital visit."

"What? No, no, I can't go to the hospital! It's a school day, and I feel fine! Totally fine, right as rain! Just peachy!" Quinn is breathing so quickly that she starts to feel faint.

Coach Sylvester senses her protege's stress and jumps in. "Q, I can take care of the school stuff. And your lying has never been especially convincing: it's even less so now as you're in obvious pain. Stop being a ridiculous pain in my ass, and cooperate!"

"Fine." She doesn't want to, but she's terrified of the woman giving the command. And she knows that if she doesn't give in now, she will later.

The nurse brings Quinn to her car, thinking that an ambulance is overkill and a bus is too big. The drive to the hospital is silent, but heavy-laden with thoughts.

Halfway through the ride, Quinn blurts out, "Do you think I'm gonna be okay?"

The nurse isn't sure what she's going to say for a second, and Quinn sees it. She's gotten good at reading people's facial expressions ever since she's learned to hide hers. "Of course. Of course you will be okay. I just wanted to make sure. But I know you will be fine."

That's not extremely reassuring, Quinn knows, but it's the best she has. "Thank you."

Neither one speaks again until they get to the hospital.

The hospital room is the opposite of the nurse's office: monotonous and claustrophobic. They didn't have to wait long in the waiting room after telling the doctor Quinn's symptoms and temperature. Quinn's not sure whether his worried but caring expression makes her feel better or worse. No, she is sure. It makes her feel worse.

The first thing that the doctor does once she's admitted is a blood test.

She's not sure why that makes her feel so nervous, but it does. Hospitals in general make her feel nervous. She has her family to thank for that.

When her doctor comes back into the room, his features are grave. Quinn is not used to hospital protocol, but she knows this is a bad sign. She's here with only the school nurse, as her mother has been contacted but does not care enough to come in. She's not sure if she can handle bad news with this as her only support system. She's not sure if she can handle bad news at all.

The doctor says, "Miss Fabray, we just got the results of your blood test. When putting that together with your symptoms, we have come to the conclusion that you have leukemia."

This is where Part I ends. I hope that you enjoyed it!