A/N: Hey there... Soo... This is my first story... EVER! So just... Read and review. Thanks! 3

Taking My Socks Off

Chapter 1

Quinn POV

"Hi there, sweetie! My name is Dr. Quinn. But you can just call me Ms. Fabray, because you seem pretty cool. I'm going to be your therapist for the next few months. How does that sound?"

It's always like this... With most of the girls. She looks young... Maybe 12? 13 at the oldest. She has long blond hair, yellow-green eyes and she looks like she's about to pee her pants. I hate it when they seem scared. I continue to look at her, trying my best to keep this fake smile on my face, when really, I want to cry my eyes out and find a way to never look away from her. She reminds me of what Beth might have looked like at this age... Not that I'll ever know. She was my daughter. I got pregnant in high school and had to give her up. Goodness, I want to hug this girl and NEVER let her go...

Noah Puckerman. HE got me pregnant. He was also my first time... Not that I can remember or anything... We were both too intoxicated to form an intelligent thought. Not exactly the ideal way to lose my virginity, know what I mean? But without having to experience the pain and loss of giving up a child, I probably wouldn't be here today. I love helping people solve their problems... It makes me feel like I have a small chance of fixing mine. I understand what these people are going through, and I do EVERYTHING I can to help get them back on their feet when they need it most.

Oh, wait. I'm in the middle of an appointment... How long have I been 'monologue-ing' about my problems in my mind? Well crap... She probably thinks I'm on drugs. I guess I better stick to the problem at hand.

Note to self: Need too get checked for ADD.

I scribble the little note into my handy dandy notebook, (hey, I sound like that guy from Blue's Clue's! Oh my... Note to self #2: Get checked THIS AFTERNOON.)

"Can you tell me your name at least?" I ask, trying not to break down and pull the shaking child into my arms.

"M-My name i-is Emma," she says, fiddling with her fingers and looking down at her orange flip-flops.

"Emma," I repeat, "That's a very pretty name." I grin, wanting her to make eye contact. It's always better that way. I feel like we're both more comfortable if I can see her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispers. My grin broadens when she looks up, smiling, a slight blush forming on her freckled cheeks. Getting better...

Emma finally starts to talk, and the session goes rather well. I don't find much out about why she's so shy and hesitant to speak, but we can save that for our next session.

I live in Florida. I work as a therapist in a downtown building. I am not married, nor do I want to be. Marriage is merely papers and money wasted on flowers that most people are allergic to and overly dramatic dresses that look like various types of pastries. I am perfectly content with living alone in my cozy apartment just outside out Miami. It's not that I don't have the option, I go out on dates and hang out with friends all the time. I just don't want anything to be final. And yet, I live with the love of my life. Zoe, my Siberian husky. She's definitely my best friend.

Being a therapist is... Emotional. But I was told that I would be perfect for the job, considering that I'm young, attractive, and can relate to people. I love all of my patients. Each and every one of them.

After Emma's session, two more sessions of newcomers and a regular (Mike), I finally come to my last appointment of the day. One of my favorites actually, (but you didn't hear me say that), her name is Rachel. Rachel Berry. She's 17, and she comes because she feels like people walk all over her. No matter what advice I've given her, she still can't find it in her to take a stand for once, and stop caring about what other people think. So, we'll just see how today goes...

"Hi, Rachel," I say, smiling as she enters my office and takes a seat. I notice she's smiling as well. I take that as a good thing and write it down in my notebook just as she places her school bag on the white carpet next to her.

"Hello, Ms. Fabray."

"So, let's cut to the chase. Have you been feeling more confident over the last week?"

"Yes. I actually have. I've been myself for a few days, not considering other people's opinions." The smile still hasn't left her face.

"That's great, Rachel! What did you do to gain such confidence so quickly?" I ask, genuinely proud in the sudden change of mood.

"Well... I took my socks off!" If possible, her smile gets a little wider. I think she's officially gone crazy. Taking her socks off? What does that even mean? Is it some new teen phrase I should know about? I'm utterly confused at this point.

"Erm... Rachel? Are you high by any chance?" I ask seriously.

This girl has got to be insane...

A/N: So... How did I do? Feel free to review! I'm going to do the next chapter in Rachel's POV, and then Jessie's after that. I'll try to post the next chapter ASAP! Just let me know how I did...

Love you!

-Alex