Summary: She thought it was a fair deal. She was wrong.
A/N: This is an idea that's been swirling around my mind for a few weeks. I felt I had to write it after I saw Episode 1x21 Funk. Spoilers up through that episode. The title comes from Les Mis, from the song "On My Own." This chapter's title comes from the Dashboard Confessional song "Belle of the Boulevard." I've only watched some of the more recent episodes, so if things are a little out of character on Rachel's side, I apologize. This is a bit of a character exploration of Shelby.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, Judge Judy, Sound of Music, or any other references that I made that managed to slip in.
Shelby checked the contents of her purse one last time, just to be sure everything she would need for rehearsal was in there, before placing it on a side table near the front door. With a quiet sigh, she headed towards the couch and TV in her living room. The principal had made a fuss about her keeping her Vocal Adrenaline kids after school every day of the week from 2:30 to 7:30 for rehearsals, and insisted that she give them a break. So she did – today's rehearsal would start at 5:00 sharp instead of 2:30, and they would rehearse until about 8:30 and then go home. She thought it was a fair deal.
And, to be honest, she needed the break too. She had even let her 7th Block AP English class sneak out 10 minutes early, so that she would be able to maximize her time at home and relax. She had been on a bit of an emotional roller-coaster for a few weeks, and she felt like she had earned some time to just be herself instead of the hard and stern coach façade that she wore every single day. She'd given herself plenty of time to do what she needed, including making herself a dinner to bring to rehearsal (Frozen foods were, in fact, very tasty. She lived off of them. Nothing to do with her inability to cook, of course.), making sure her house was still clean (it was, as always, immaculate. That was easy when you lived alone.), and grading a few papers before deciding that it was time to relax for a while (they weren't so well written, and it almost made her want to break down after the last two weeks. It was really best that she stopped). After all, the whole point of taking a break was to actually unwind and calm down, right?
She flopped down on her couch, pulling a throw blanket around her and flipping on the TV. Her new plan was to put on some nonsense daytime TV show that she didn't really care to watch for background noise, and then take a nap, waking up in time to straighten out her appearance and walk out the door. Then it would be back to business.
Judge Judy was just coming on. With back to back episodes. Perfect. She watched the first case, needing the comedic entertainment, and feeling justified in agreeing with the Judge's opinion. During the second, she closed her eyes, wondering if imitating Judge Judy to yell at her kids about the quality of their double timed writings would be too intense. Honestly, half of them had realized that she was really a softie if they tolerated her long enough to get past her rigid exterior. She must have drifted off, because she jerked awake to a loud pounding. She looked towards the TV, wondering if that's where it came from, but Judge Judy was verbally obliterating some defendant, and the insistent pounding continued. Mildly perplexed, Shelby rubbed a hand over her face in an attempt to wake up, and got up from the couch, throwing the blanket off of her. The pounding seemed to be coming from her front door.
When was the last time she had had someone at her house? She hadn't ordered anything recently, so it wasn't a delivery person. And who would know that she had moved rehearsal to later today? Shelby could come up with no explanation, and so she opened the door, ready to sarcastically berate the person who had decided to interrupt her one opportunity for relaxation in months.
The tornado that blew once she'd opened the door in left her standing with her mouth gaping open, hand still on the doorknob.
"How dare you? How could you do this? I know you said you weren't going to go soft on me during Regionals, but I didn't think that you would mercilessly try to destroy me beforehand either. I mean what kind of mother allows her entire team to egg her daughter? Rivalry or not!" Rachel ranted, storming right into Shelby's house and whirling around, glaring at her.
Shelby stuttered a "Rachel…hi…," not fully prepared for her daughter to whirlwind in like this, covered in egg and yelling at her a mile a minute. And then she got to the end, and Shelby snapped out of her daze. When Rachel paused to take another breath, presumably intending to continue her rant, Shelby cut in with a crisp, angry "My team WHAT?" that silenced Rachel…for a moment.
"They egged me. Every member of your precious Vocal Adrenaline took eggs and threw them at me, killing those poor, defenseless little baby chicks," Rachel responded, giving Shelby a challenging look. Shelby met her gaze steadily, silently praying that she would be able to get Rachel to forgive her and no longer blame her for her student's despicable actions. Given the tentative status of their relationship, Shelby was afraid that one wrong word and they could have no future.
"I didn't send them, Rachel. I promise you, they will be punished for this. I specifically told them no more juvenile pranks after the TP incident and the tire-slashing. They directly disobeyed me. They will regret this." Through all of this, Shelby maintained eye contact, making sure to keep her voice direct and honest. She had to make sure Rachel believed her.
But her mind was racing a mile a minute, unable to believe that not only had Vocal Adrenaline disobeyed her and egged a student, but they had egged Rachel, the only member of New Directions that she cared about. "Besides, those chicks were dead the moment they entered the grocery store, my team didn't kill them." And her mind caught up with her mouth too late. The moment she realized what she'd said, her hand came up to cover her mouth, staring cautiously at Rachel, who must have had some reason to believe eggs were…defenseless baby chicks. But her daughter no longer looked angry, she just looked sad, almost depressed. And, unlike when she'd entered Shelby's house, she now looked like she was going to cry rather than yell.
"You didn't send them?" The inquiry was softly spoken, and Shelby's hand lowered from her mouth, feeling an unfamiliar pull at her heart at the expression on Rachel's face.
"No, Rachel, I didn't. I would never. Especially to you." Shelby said gently, and then when Rachel didn't respond, added "After all, everyone may think I'm an evil, insane, slave-driver of a coach, but physical isn't my style. I'm all about the rhetorical wit." She quirked a half smile, but Rachel was still staring at her, almost imploring her to do something. But she couldn't do anything else, could she? "Look Rachel, I'm sorry. I didn't know they were going to do this. And I'm furious at them. So…" She reached for the doorknob, cursing silently at herself for not knowing what to do in a situation like this. I'm not a good mother, and I'm a horrible mom. The thought came unbidden, but it only made her feel worse, doubling her guilt at Rachel just standing there, obviously fighting back tears, and staring at her, begging for something. Shelby didn't even know what she could want.
Rachel's gaze flicked to Shelby's hand on the doorknob, but immediately returned to staring pitifully at her. Shelby sighed quietly, dropping her hand back to her side. She couldn't just kick Rachel out. She furtively glanced down, forcing her facial expression to not show her displeasure at the yellow yolk dripping down off of Rachel and onto her white linoleum floor. Instead she brought her eyes back up to meet Rachel's, noticing that something had changed in Rachel's expression – Rachel probably thought she was still planning to make her leave.
"Um…would you, uh. Would you like to take a shower, get the egg off of you? I can't imagine it doesn't feel gross," Shelby offered. Maybe that would help? "Or, uh…I could…get you some water," she finished lamely, knowing she must sound like an idiot. And she usually had such command over the English language.
Rachel nodded, and Shelby felt a frown pull at the corners of her mouth. Shouldn't she be able to read Rachel better than this? "Which one, hon?" She said tenderly, knowing that feeling of not wanting to talk in fear of bursting out in tears. Her poor daughter.
"The shower. Please." The response was whispered, and Shelby felt another twinge of sympathy when Rachel broke eye contact, her eyes searching the floor.
But Shelby finally had something to do, and so she smoothly slid into action. "Okay, well, follow me. And, once you're in the bathroom, you can give me your clothes and I'll throw them in the wash." Rachel followed her dutifully, but didn't say a word. So Shelby just led her up the stairs and into her bedroom, then into the bathroom, grabbing a towel on their way past her linens closet. Shelby gestured with her arm, at a loss as to what else to say to a teenager who clearly didn't want to talk. "I'll, uh, just be downstairs in the living room. If you need anything. Everything else you need should be in the shower."
"You were going to wash my clothes." Everything Rachel said was so quiet, and sounded so defeated. It was nothing like the limited amount Shelby knew about Rachel's character. She wasn't used to dealing with this, either – when her students got morose like this she ignored it, figuring they'd come to her for help if they wanted it, or, in the case of her Vocal Adrenaline kids, let them take a five minute break to recuperate before they rejoined practice. Shelby nodded, caught up in her thoughts.
"Oh. Right. Well. I'll just step outside, just open the door slightly and hand them to me when you're ready." She stepped outside, closing the door behind her, and turned her back to it, crossing her arms. She guessed this was what she deserved, giving in to pressure and changing rehearsal time. This was her fault; her kids wouldn't have been able to egg Rachel if she hadn't given them the time. Now she just had to figure out a suitable punishment to make them suffer.
Rachel cleared her throat lightly. Shelby bit her cheek roughly to keep from making a sound, unwilling to let her daughter know that she was lost in her thoughts and hadn't even heard the door open. She turned around, smiling lightly at Rachel, who was huddling slightly behind the door. She gently tugged dirty jacket, shirt, and pants out of Rachel's hand, and with another smile turned to hightail it back downstairs. She didn't want to seem like she was fleeing, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't highly uncomfortable.
"Will you stay upstairs? Please?" Rachel requested. Shelby almost didn't hear it. Part of her wanted to pretend she hadn't, but the feeling that she was failing her daughter hit her again. So she turned, nodding at Rachel.
"Let me just bring the clothes down to throw them in the washing machine and get some papers I need to grade, and then I'll come right back up." Shelby didn't wait for a response, merely slipping out of the bedroom. She let out a small sigh of relief when she heard the bathroom door close, knowing that Rachel would now shower.
It felt right having Rachel in her house. It felt right to take care of her. And none of that could feel right, it wasn't supposed to. The no-nonsense, all-business part of her took over, moving her on autopilot to the washing machine where she deposited Rachel's clothes, then to her foyer where she cleaned the egg yolk off of her floor, and finally into her kitchen to grab her stack of papers from the table before she headed back up the stairs.
But any ability to distance herself emotionally from the situation failed when she got back in her bedroom and could hear Rachel sobbing through the bathroom door, even over the water from the shower. Shelby lowered her head, sitting down on her bed with her papers and beginning to grade.
I'm grateful for her. From afar. I'm grateful for her from afar. For now, I can only be grateful for her from afar. Anything we share is going to be confusing for her and that's not fair. I can't be selfish and hurt her because I want a daughter. She doesn't need me. She doesn't.
Shelby shook her head, trying to quell her thoughts. She could contemplate this later. Right now, her full attention needed to be on her papers. She started skimming the top essay on her stack. A wince at the thesis statement, a slight clenching of her fist around her pen at the first quotation of evidence from the passage…and then a loud sound of aggravation when her student skipped to a comparison of American Idol to the illustrative manner of discussing complex feelings; Shelby threw down her pen, giving in to the absolute frustration she was feeling. What was this, some last ditch effort to suck up to her through music? Her students were better than this, she had taught them how to write these essays flawless…She'd forgotten to give Rachel clothes. What was she supposed to wear if hers were in the wash? Damn it, bad, BAD mother.
Shelby scrambled up from her bed and began digging through her clothes. She found a suitable pair of sweatpants and a tank top, and then tentatively went and knocked on the bathroom door. Through the door, she heard Rachel's breath hitch, then a soft "come in."
"Rachel? I brought you a pair of sweatpants and a shirt to put on when you get out. I'm just…grading papers. So. If you hear loud screams of displeasure, they're not directed at you." Not that she would think they were. Open mouth, insert foot, Shelby.
"Thank you! And, um, I won't worry?"
Shelby shook her head, putting the clothes on the countertop and closing the door again. Brilliant.
~•~
By the time Rachel came out of the bathroom, Shelby had only graded about 10 papers, thrown 4 pens on the floor, and given up, opting for going through Vocal Adrenaline notes. She glanced up when she heard the door open, watching as Rachel gingerly stepped over one of her pens.
"Are you okay? I mean, do you need your pen back? Or, I guess, pens," Rachel commented as she approached the bed.
Shelby raised her thumb up to her mouth, biting on the nail and mumbling "I should be asking you that. And no, I don't need the pens back. I'll rip the essays to shreds later." Rachel's face became more somber and serious.
"I'm okay. I think. I'm still upset, but…at least I don't have egg in my hair anymore." Shifting uncertainly from foot to foot, Rachel ran her fingers through her wet hair. A small frown appeared on Shelby's face, trying not to reflect on how much more uncomfortable Rachel seemed in her house now.
"Come here, Rachel," Shelby requested in a calm voice.
Rachel stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Why?"
"Because I want to French braid your hair for you."
The suspicious look stayed firmly in place. "Again, why?"
Because I want to be your mom, not just the enemy coach. Shelby choked down that thought before she could accidentally speak it. "Because if you leave your hair down to dry like that, it'll get frizzy. Trust me; you're better off braiding it." As she spoke, she moved to the edge of the bed, swinging her legs over and placing her feet on the ground. She used what she liked to call her 'teacher voice' because it sounded factual and knowledgeable, hoping it would work as well on her daughter as it did on her students.
It did. Rachel nodded, accepting that response, and moved to sit in front of Shelby. Once she was settled, Shelby grabbed her brush from the bedside table, beginning to run it through Rachel's hair. Her daughter seemed relaxed under her touch, but she wasn't sure if Rachel was acting or not. She hoped she was doing the right thing.
"Your shower curtain is covered in gold stars."
Shelby almost dropped the section of hair she was holding when Rachel spoke, but she held on to it, once again silently cursing at herself for not expecting Rachel to talk. "I live alone, okay? I told you gold stars are my thing, and I found the perfect shower curtain. I can put it up if I want to." And then, realizing how defensive she sounded, Shelby scoffed lightly, and added in a friendlier tone, "It just made the bathroom seem more festive."
"I like it," Rachel said softly. She was silent for a moment, and Shelby was just getting to the main part of the braid when Rachel spoke again, seeming uncertain again. "Mom?"
Shelby felt her heart leap at being called Mom, but ruthlessly crushed down the feeling, knowing that she couldn't get attached. "Yes?"
"I don't think it was actually the entire team. But. Jesse was there. He, uh. He was the last one to egg me. He broke it right in my face. I think that was the worst part." Hurt colored Rachel's voice, and Shelby found anger boiling into her veins. How dare he? She should take away his solos for what he had done! She wouldn't be surprised if he was the leader of this little prank.
"I'm going to kill him." Shelby spoke without thinking, winding a hair tie around the end of Rachel's braid. The moment she was done, Rachel turned to stare at her incredulously, and she realized what she said. "Uh, I mean." She sighed. "He'll regret it, Rachel. They all will. I'm not going to let them get away with this crap." She rested her hand lightly on top of Rachel's head for a moment, and then stood up from the bed, glancing at her alarm clock to check the time. 3:50 PM – she had a little longer. So long as she left her house at around 4:20, she could be at Carmel High by 4:30. "Would you like some sort of snack? Or at least something to drink? I'm not big on this whole cooking thing, but I might have something edible in my kitchen." Shelby was already heading towards the door, assuming Rachel would follow. Unless, of course, Rachel was ready for this interaction to end. After all, who would want a mom who can't even cook?
"Wait!" Rachel yelped, clearly thrown off by Shelby's sudden attempt to distance herself. She stood, catching up to Shelby quickly. "What do you mean not big on the whole cooking thing? You said you live alone, how do you survive if you don't cook for yourself?"
"Listen, kid, you'd be surprised how proficient I am at living off Lean Cuisines. It's shockingly easy to live off of eating out, bringing in, and making frozen meals," Shelby responded dryly. She turned to see what Rachel's reaction would be, and instantly regretted it. Had it been anyone else, she would have snapped that she didn't need her pity. But she restrained herself, merely grimacing and walking the rest of the way to the kitchen in silence. "So what would you like to eat?" Shelby asked, wandering around and pointedly avoiding looking at Rachel.
"Do you ever get lonely?"
"Of course I do," Shelby snapped, "I have nectarines, do you like nectarines?" She whirled back around to face her daughter, wielding the fruit like a weapon. Guilt flooded her immediately when she saw the hurt on Rachel's face, but a stubborn voice in her mind insisted that Rachel had deserved it.
"Yes, uh. Yeah, I do." Rachel reached out, taking the nectarine from her, but now she was avoiding eye contact. Great.
Shelby sighed, leaning against the countertop. "Look, Rachel, I'm not very good at this whole…being a mom thing. I'm sorry. I can be a bit…acerbic at times." Her mouth twisted into a grim line.
"You're trying too hard, then." Rachel whispered. Shelby gave her a puzzled look, but Rachel had already moved on. "Do you have a knife? I like to cut my nectarines in half before I eat them." Shrugging and deciding that Rachel wanted her comment to seem ambiguous, Shelby handed her a knife, watching as she sliced the nectarine down the middle and twisted it apart.
"Do you want to talk?" Shelby asked, thinking that it was something her own mother would ask her if she was upset.
"About what?" Rachel scoffed, but she was fidgeting with the nectarine in a way that let Shelby know that she was bluffing. She simply raised an eyebrow at Rachel and watched as her demeanor changed to a stiffer one. But her daughter was strong, and she locked eyes with Shelby, challenging her to force the conversation. And Shelby had no desire to be confrontational.
"Do you ever wear earrings?" Shelby asked instead. Rachel nodded, reaching up and squeezing her earlobe between her thumb and the knuckle of her index finger.
"I do, but I don't wear them often. I…have a hard time picking them," Rachel responded. Shelby nodded in understanding. "Do you wear a lot of jewelry?"
Shelby smiled lightly. "I wouldn't say a lot, but I do enjoy wearing jewelry. Long necklaces, bracelets…" She fiddled with the simple silver band around her wrist absentmindedly. "Usually I keep my earrings simple. Silver balls, small hoops…not too much glitz." Rachel seemed to be clinging to every word. Taking a chance, she added "You know, I think simple pearl, or imitation pearl, earrings would look good on you. They match just about any outfit, and add just a little bit of class. In my opinion, at least. I have a pair, upstairs on my dresser, if you want to go try."
A grin flashed onto Rachel's face, the first real smile she'd gotten from her all afternoon. "Can I?" Shelby nodded.
"Go ahead up. I'll be up in a minute." I have nothing to hide from her. I just…need a moment. Rachel rushed up the stairs enthusiastically, and Shelby leaned heavily on the counter, covering her face with both hands. This was taking a larger toll on her emotions than she was expecting. She couldn't even imagine what Rachel must be feeling. She took a deep breath, counting for four beats in and exhaling for four, and repeated it twice before she felt ready to join Rachel upstairs.
"I love them, you're absolutely right. Even with just a tank top and sweats, the pearls look stunning," Rachel said as soon as Shelby entered the room. Shelby swallowed, looking away for a moment as she smiled at Rachel.
"I'm glad. You can have them if you…" And then her eye caught the time. "Shit! Rachel, I'm sorry, but I have to go. Now. How is it already 4:25?" Shelby pressed a hand to her forehead for a moment, astounded that she had lost track of time.
"Where do you have to go?" Rachel asked, stepping forward, closer to Shelby.
"I have rehearsal," Shelby responded, already halfway down the stairs. She heard Rachel's footsteps behind her, but didn't stop to face her until her purse was in hand.
The angered edge was back in Rachel's voice. "After what they did to me, you're just going to go to rehearsal?"
"I have no choice, Rachel. Shelby Corcoran does not just skip Vocal Adrenaline rehearsals." Shelby responded calmly, feeling her temper beginning to flare but fighting it down. Rachel couldn't honestly expect her to miss the rehearsal.
"I'm coming with you!" Rachel burst out, glaring defiantly at Shelby. Her daughter was still standing two steps up, hands on her hips. Shelby laughed, a harsh and cold sound, shaking her head at Rachel.
"No, absolutely not. Don't you have your own rehearsal to go to? I'm already late, Rachel, I don't have time for this." Shelby hit her keys against her thigh for a moment, before turning and unlocking the door, holding it open and staring at Rachel, waiting for her to come down the stairs and leave so that Shelby could.
"Our practice was already canceled for the day. Mr. Schue had something he needed to do. Besides, I am your daughter, if you want any type of mother-daughter relationship you have to side with me." Rachel stated, not budging. Anger was beginning to spread over her face again, and Shelby hoped that it was because she was remembering what Vocal Adrenaline had done, not becoming frustrated with her.
Still, her argument was faulty. Not to mention unfair. "Rachel, stop it. You cannot make me choose. Now come down here so that I can leave." Rachel shook her head slowly, still as stubborn as before, and Shelby felt desperation kick in. "Fine, fine, you can come, but you are not coming into rehearsal and you will not go anywhere near any of my Vocal Adrenaline members." Shelby set her jaw, hoping to show Rachel just where she inherited her perseverance from.
Rachel looked surprised for a moment, and Shelby was sure she wasn't expecting her to give in. Hands falling away from her hips, Rachel came down the final two steps, striding towards Shelby. And then abruptly stopped. And held out her hand. "I'm driving."
Shelby raised an eyebrow at her disbelievingly. "You can't be serious. Do you even have your learner's permit? You are not driving my car." Rachel was close enough to Shelby now that she was able to reach out, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her out the door so she could lock up.
"I am serious. Your team has done something unforgivable to me, and I insist that I have the opportunity to confront them face to face. So I'm driving," Rachel insisted. Shelby fought against it desperately, knowing that it would only urge Rachel to continue, but couldn't. She burst into laughter, much warmer this time, doubling over slightly. Rachel stared at her furiously before demanding, "What, what is so funny? Stop laughing at me! Tell me what exactly is so funny! I thought you urgently needed to get to your rehearsal, you're only slowing this down."
Sucking in a huge gulp of air, Shelby used all of her self control to force herself to stop laughing. She straightened herself back up, amusement dancing in her eyes, and said "You, my dear, are exactly like me. You know how to get what you want. However, you're not driving." And with that, Shelby strode quickly to her car, getting in and turning it on. She opened the window, leaning out and shouting "Now or never, Rachel. Get in the car or I leave without you." Tempting as it was, she was pretty sure Rachel would never forgive her if she just drove off with no warning. Luckily, Rachel hurried to the car, climbing into the passenger seat. "And you're not going inside, understood?"
Shelby had pulled out of the driveway before Rachel's seatbelt was even on.