Title: Perseverance

Author: J. Rease

Disclaimer: I just play with them and put them back.

Rating: M/NC-17

Spoilers: It's current up until Laryngitis, but then detours before Rachel gets her mother's tape.

Summary: Through it all she smiles. Rachel Berry's drive is the only thing he can respect about her. She never quit. What happens when Noah and Rachel save each other? Mature Themes.

Warnings: Deals with abuse, Non-Con and violence. Please respect my creative attempt and not flame. R&R!

She stands. Her white sweater drenched down the valley of her chest; blue slushie staining and dripping all the way down to the waist-band of her plaid, pleated skirt. Her eyes were still shut tight, eyelashes heavy with crystallized juice drink as she swiped away the offense. She rubs it from her face, slams her locker closed (it was never a useful shield) and trots off defiantly to the girls bathroom, her face frozen from the cold; numb from the shock.

She hates when people shout her name. Her mind fools itself into thinking someone would ever call her without malice. But as reflect kicks in, she swirls her chocolate hair in a spin turning right into water balloons breaking in her line of sight. Wet again. She usually never has to change twice; they usually gave her that courtesy. But she today she dries slowly, getting shivers up her spine as she walks around wet, hating how her faint strawberry perfume smells now, drying along with her wet clothes— musky as school finally ends.

By the end of the day, she usually goes home thinking of the insults written on her locker. They only vandalize her locker. And then she thinks of how she will probably have to paint over them herself. Or see if the nail polish remover will remove the permanent marker. She sometimes wants to put a dry erase board on it, let them vocalize their hate for her in an easier to manage stain. Today it says "MAN FREAK". She wonders what tomorrows insult will be. She honestly wonders when they will get tired of breaking her spirit …and if that day will come soon.

She wonders when she'll look forward to night times with her father, well, night times with Alan. Her Daddy was away on business (that was becoming too often), and Alan had started to resent her, their lives; their lifestyles. She doesn't know why he stays. But she assumes that he has no security for himself. He needs them both to keep their facade; their reputations. And so they sit. It sounds easy enough, but there used to be laughter in their lives. Love in their family. There used to be pride. She never knew when it left. But Alan started talking about his Jonah going off on business trips to be with other men. He'd turn to her in their dark living room and unload all of the secrets he knew about Daddy, and how much he wants to leave him.

The first time Alan hit her, he busted her lip. She'd caught him flirting with the bookstore cashier, his hand dipping up her skirt and she twirled her auburn hair in fingertip-sized ringlets. And Rachel gasped when she saw them kiss. Her homosexual father was puckering his lips for a woman, in broad daylight. It was her freshman year of high school. Alan took her arm and ushered her back to the car. Pushing her into her seat, he got into the drivers side and buckled his seat belt. His breathing labored, measured, furious. She didn't know what to do. And the shock of the back of his hand meeting her face was more paralyzing than any slushie facial could ever be. And she recoiled, biting down on her bottom lip so hard when her neck snapped back that she left teeth marks. She didn't cry. She wiped away the blood and nodded when he coddled and apologized to her. And when they parked in the garage he unbuckled his safety belt and leaned over to kiss her. And he trailed those kisses all the way up to her temple. And Alan asked her not to tell her Daddy, because he would never, ever forgive him. And she never did.

She hates that she needs to be touched. She needs to engage in random acts of intimacy. It's the only thing that can explain why she aches to kiss the boys who only agree to kiss her in private, away from prying judgments and distant from their ever-pressing reputations. Boys like Finn who kissed her (her first kiss) and told her to never tell anyone. Like Noah, who only kissed her in indifference, bored with practice and aroused they kissed for a while, ending only when he tried to reach under her shirt. She'd wanted him to go further. But if he did he'd see the bruises on her back, her stomach. So she stopped him. Like Jesse. She just knew she couldn't trust him. But she stays. He shows her love. Though superficial it's that happy kind of romance that teenagers engage in. The only time she gets to be that bubbly person she pretends to be, because someone is there to listen, even if their motives aren't as clear as they should be. She gets to have that, she needs to. It was the only part of her life she looked forward to. She still did even when her glee-mates pegged him suspicious.

They don't know that she'd rather let him break her heart. Because that's the only time she gets the affection. The only time she gets to feel connection to another human being that she lacks with everyone who currently torments her life. The insults, the pranks, the jokes all somehow entertain most of her peers. The ones who shake their heads in ignorance, and duck behind open locker doors and excuses are just as guilty. And she never tells their secrets. She never convicts them of their small sins…because it would cause so much more of all the torment.

And through it all she keeps her head up. Because Daddy didn't raise her to not be proud. She set her camera up every day, to practice, to showcase. She sung to her Myspace page like it was the audience listening with open ears, empathetic to the raw emotion that poured through every single number. And for every ten insults there would be a fan. A simple "Cool" could brighten her day. And she could wish away all the small little things people did to her, or prejudged about her. And she'd wake up every day knowing that one day she'd make it away from it all. She needed to get far away from all the suffering. She knew one day she'd persevere.

She was off putting to everyone. So vocal about her opinion that everyone collectively ignored everything she would ever have to say. She had to believe in herself because she had no one else who would. So when they told to her "No.", she'd make a way. And when they told her she didn't matter, she'd only try harder. She needed as much motivation from herself that she could muster; because everyone else was too busy muting her voice otherwise. Through it all; she smiles.

SCHOOL.

"Rachel!"

She snapped her head in the direction her name came from, wincing and tensing only momentarily when she realized someone actually needed her. Brittany bounced up to Rachel alone, tugging on her arm and urging her to walk the halls, elbows linked.

"I need a favor."

Rachel furrowed her brows, confusion asking more questions than her words could, so Brittany continued.

"I need a song to sing for Glee this week."

"Brittany it's a song about your favorite thing to do, I can't pick a song for you."

"Well I don't know any songs about what I like to do. And I didn't want to go read or like, use a computer to search for stuff—those things never work when I use them. So, I thought I'd ask you, since you were all knowledgeable about that stuff."

"Well, Brittany, what do you like to do?"

"I like to…"

Rachel waited.

"Um."

Rachel nodded and urged her on.

"I like to have sex."

"Well I don't think Mr. Schue would want to know that."

"Well…um. I like to dance."

"Well, try Dancing Queen-"

Brittany left before Rachel could finish her sentence. And the rest of her day was a blur.

She got home to a note from Daddy.

Had to catch a late flight. Will be back in a few days, Starshine, Alan will be home with dinner—Daddy.

Her heart dropped. She hadn't seen her Daddy in days. And she didn't know what kind of mood Alan would come home in. So she went to her room and started her homework. She periodically checked her phone. Usually the only messages in her inbox were alerts from theatrical release sites and motivational mantras that sporadically brightened her everyday routine. She heard the door slam shut when she closed her math textbook. She straightened her skirt and went to address her father.

Alan Berry was no small man. His tall lengthiness was overwhelming. His chocolate skin was smooth and clear. His soulful brown eyes were dominant on his distinguished brow. He was a gorgeous man. But tonight he was terrifying.

"RACHEL!"

His scream seemed to shake the pictures hanging on the walls as she trotted down the stairs.

"Hi Alan."

"You left your car in the driveway AGAIN, Rachel"

And he pummeled her. He pushed her backwards and kneaded his frustration into her stomach; her back, her side. And he walked into the other room, sat in his recliner, and turned on the television set.

When she finally pulled herself together, she got in her car and drove to Temple. She never thought she'd fine Noah Puckerman there.

End of Chapter One.