Credit for "Nightingale in Berkley Square" in this story goes to Bobby Darin. All rights to characters and places forfeited to Fox's Glee and The Glee Project with the exception of the original character Thomas Keane.

The first day of school is annoying. The first day of a new school is frightening. The first day of a new school in a new country…Thomas Keane couldn't keep the smile off his face. That was a challenge.

Before landing in Ohio, Thom initially had this vision of standing in front of the school in black jeans and leather duster, black hair mussed exactly right. He'd take his sunglasses off, toss a smoldering blue-eyed gaze at the nearest cheerleader, and walk in the double doors, king of the school. He'd seen it happen enough on TV that the fantasy seemed plausible, at least. As it turned out, the reality was about as far from that dream as life could possibly get.

To start, the trunk with his clothes in it had gotten misplaced somewhere between Ireland and the States, so he had exactly two pairs of worn out jeans, one faded T-shirt and one suit that his mother insisted he keep with him, just in case. So the leather jacket and black jeans were out. But, he comforted himself, at least he still had the hair and sunglasses down. As the young man walked up to the square, bland façade of William McKinley High school, Thom scanned the mass of people for that one lucky cheerleader. And scanned again. And again. It wasn't that there wasn't a cheerleader. There were at least four, all in helpful bright red uniforms, and all gorgeous. It was the sheer mass of people that stopped Thom in his tracks. He had been homeschooled until he was ten and then placed in a tiny Catholic school just down the road from his centuries old family home. Nothing could have prepared him for this tumult of people shouting, pushing, laughing… But when one of the ubiquitous cheerleaders caught his slightly slackjawed gaze and gave him a wink, stealing his initial plan of attack, Thom immediately decided that America was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Once inside the school, the chaos lessened slightly. Or at any rate, it divided itself up into easier to handle smaller groups. Trying to follow his map as inconspicuously as possible, Thom drank in as much of the totally alien environment as he could. Here and there he could clearly pick out the American archetypes- popular, band kid, nerd, and jock. In fact, one of the jocks, an American footballer by the meat of the guy, gave him a not so subtle once over as he passed. Thom grinned a little back at the big guy, who immediately scowled and turned away. Ah well. Just because he was straight didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a compliment.

Thom finally arrived at Classroom 305, Intro to American Literature. He headed for a desk near the center of the room. A wildly over the top goth Asian girl was applying a coat of black nail polish at the desk next to his. She glanced up as Thom slung his backpack down and settled himself in the seat. She flashed him an unexpectedly warm smile, at odds with her standoffish attire..

"Hey," she said quietly. Her voice was barely audible over the rest of the chatter in the room. "I'm going to guess you didn't do the reading?"

Thom was a little taken aback, but shrugged gamely.

"Ah, no," he said, half his attention engaged on the pretty blonde on the arm of some great hulking fellow who just walked in. "Today's my first day."

The Asian girl grinned. "Awesome, so I won't be the only one who gets picked on for slacking off today. Cool accent, by the way. My name's Tina, welcome to McKinley."

Thom nodded and offered a halfhearted smile in return. "Thanks." He was about to ask what the assignment had even been on, but – what was her name? Tina?- had already bent back over her nails, effectively ending the conversation.

OK, nice to meet you too, Thom thought to himself, one eyebrow slightly raised. Moving on!

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of class changes and introductions. They all followed the same pattern- a hello, followed by studied nonchalance or wide eyed expressions of glee when Thom said hey back. In fact, the young Irishman was beginning to suspect that he could have been a purple one-eyed hunchback and still have scored a handful of party invites as soon as he opened his mouth. But why look a gift horse in the mouth? Game and match for true American stereotypes!

Even considering the extra hour and a half he had to spend in the office, being grilled by the principal on his background and religious leanings, couldn't take away from a really excellent first day. Thom walked down the now empty hallways streaming with afternoon light, loaded down with an incredibly dense stack of papers. He was mulling over the humorous possibilities of getting his mum to fill everything out in Gaelic when a sudden burst of noise from a propped open door startled him out of his thoughts.

Thom peered into the doorway and stopped still, dumbfounded. A group of kids, even one in a wheelchair –incredible - were dancing around and singing. Well, the one kid was wheeling, but even so. Thom shook himself from his reverie, and barely realizing what he was doing, moved silently into the theatre. He had seen musical theatre before and his older sister had actually been in a community show group for a few years. In fact, that group was technically much better than this one. But somehow, the passion that these kids radiated was even more enthralling. It was, Thom thought with a twinge, a lot how he felt when he was singing. Always alone, of course. He'd never make it up on any stage. But if he could, this would be the way to do it.

Totally unaware of how much time he was spending absolutely rapt, Thom sat through three more numbers before a man that Thom recognized as his third period Spanish teacher called a stop. As the kids gathered in a huddle in front of the stage, Thom was also surprised to recognize that goth girl…Tina. He never would have pegged her as the performing type. Minus one for American stereotypes.

Thom tuned back in for the end of the Spanish teacher's speech.

"…really promising dry runs, guys. If we keep this level of energy, Nationals are in the bag!" A ripple of excitement ran through the club, a few high fives and grins all around.

"But we have got to recruit some new blood. We're graduating a really strong class this year and we need equally strong team players to step up and keep us fresh. Alright?" Thom couldn't see Mr…Wooster? Schuester's? face, but he could hear the earnestness in his voice. It seemed to affect the club in the same way. A scattered chorus of "You know it!" and whistles were the enthusiastic response.

"Alright, see you guys Thursday. Great first Glee Club rehearsal. Break!"

Thom shrank back into his shadowy nook as the Glee Club disbanded and walked out in chattering groups of two or three. He knew he should head out too, but couldn't make himself leave.

After a few minutes of silence, Thom started walking down the aisle to the stage. He moved quickly, pulled by an inexplicable desire to be standing on the dusty black platform, but trying to drink in the soaring space as he walked. He paused briefly in the pit and then jumped easily up to the stage. He turned around to face the great gaping space that was the audience. Most of the lights were off, so he could clearly see the rows and rows of seats. Objectively, he admitted to himself, the space wasn't that large or impressive. He had gone to see his mother speak at venues that held upwards of 10,000 people. But somehow, when he was the one facing the empty, expectant seats…a pleasurable thrill worked its way up Thom's back.

He walked slowly backwards, trainers giving off faint squeaks that reverberated in the emptiness of the theatre. When he judged he was about halfway back, Thom stopped. He took a deep breath in, reveling in the feel of the air, stale as it was, filling up his lungs. He wasn't a superstitious person, but he fancied for a minute that the strains and notes and passions of previous performers were floating around him. All he had to do was catch them. Another breath in, and he began to sing.

"That certain night, the night we met
There was magic abroad in the air
There were angels dining at the Ritz
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square"

Thom grinned like a fool as he sang, a rich, deep baritone bursting out and filling up the silence of the theatre. His Irish accent was barely noticeable, but a word here and there was caught up in the lilt and lent a flirtation to the already heady song. As the first verse drew to a close, he started moving upstage. Not dancing exactly – he would've considered two left feet an improvement over his actual abilities- but moving in time with the song in a joyous, loose sort of way. Thom could almost hear the big band backing him. In his mind, the beat up jeans and pale green T-shirt transformed into a silky black tuxedo. The trombones blared brassy, snares lightly kept time, and the violins blended with the trumpets to a soaring crescendo. With a smile and wink at imaginary girls in the audience, Thom started in on the final verse.

"The streets of town were paved with stars
It was such a romantic affair
And as we kissed and said good-night
A nightingale sang
A nightingale sang
I know 'cause I was there
That night in Berkeley Square!"

Thom flung his arms out as the last lines came bursting out. The McKinley High auditorium rang with bass vibrato and with eyes screwed tight, Thom imagined he was hearing the swell of a standing ovation taking over the final triumphant chords of his live band. He stood there for a minute, head spinning and chest heaving with adrenaline before a tiny crescendo of real claps broke through his big band fantasy.

Thom's eyes shot open and his arms dropped like lead weights. Blue eyes darted left and right in the dim light before focusing on a small figure walking down the theatre aisle. Thom recognized her as the girl who had been at the forefront of nearly every number during the singing group's rehearsal. During the songs, she had been a chameleon, going from ecstatic, to pained, to honest-to-goodness tears during a particularly heartfelt ballad. Now the tanned face framed by dark hair shone with pleasure.

"That was wonderful," Rachel Berry enthused as she approached the boy, dark eyes bright and shining. She could already hear the two of them harmonizing at Nationals, bringing the judges to their knees in awe of their talent. She paused for a second, lost in the beautiful fantasy, before shaking herself back to the present. First she had to convince the boy to join Glee. But that shouldn't be too hard.

"Uh, hi," Thom said cautiously as the girl reached the stage at last. "Sorry if this is your space. I just got a little carried away." He coughed slightly around a growing tightness in his chest. How long had he had an audience for?

Rachel's eyes got wider, if that were even possible, at his Irish brogue.

"Oh, that explains why you're not already in Glee club. You're definitely not from here, are you?" She pulled herself up on stage and sat on the edge. She patted the floor next to her, motioning for the boy to come sit.

Thom glanced around, feeling oddly claustrophobic in the girl's wide eyed stare and expansive way of talking. But he couldn't see any reason why he couldn't sit for a minute. With a careful smile, he sat down cross-legged a few feet away from her.

Did she ever blink? He wondered to himself, giving her a once over now that she was better lit. Her outfit was interesting to say the least – short argyle skirt with a clean, pressed blouse, socks up over her knees and shiny patent leather loafers. The mass of dark brown hair was tightly pulled back from her forehead with an absurdly cutesy headband with tiny pink hearts dancing over it, at odds with the secretarial vibe of her clothing. Overall, the effect was disconcerting and hard to take seriously. Thom replaced his "small talk" smile with a more relaxed one. He really didn't think he was about to get in trouble.

Rachel saw the shift in the young man's features, and preened a little bit, reading it as a compliment to herself.

"My name is Rachel Berry. I'm the president of the Glee Club here at McKinley High School, and it is my pleasure to offer you a chance to audition for a spot in our upcoming season! I came back in because I really feel like we didn't give it our all during that last run through- Mr. Schue always says something about four hour practices being against school policy, but I think it's a policy designed to keep my talent at a minimum- anyway, I was going to do a run-through on my own, and imagine my surprise to hear a totally new bass voice! We have lots of tenors, but a real lack of baritones. So we'll expect you on Thursday? The audition is really just a formality, believe-"

"Ah, wait. One second," Thom cut in to Rachel's endless monologue. "Are you asking me to join your…what club?"

Rachel smiled sympathetically at the confused expression on Thom's face and reached over to pat him gently on the arm.

"Glee Club," she said slowly and enunciating. "It's a group that performs musical numbers with dancing and acting to complement the storytelling nature of our profession. What's your name by the way?"

Thom raised an eyebrow and Rachel noticed with a jolt just how blue his eyes were, especially when contrasted with his pale skin and dark hair.

"Thomas Keane, but everybody calls me Thom. Uh, and you're right, I'm new," He flashed a half grin at Rachel. "Me mum is a professor of Gaelic and she got a two year lecture tour Stateside."

Now it was Rachel's turn to look skeptical in the dim light.

"Out of Lima, Ohio," Rachel's voice was flat. It was clear that she didn't regard anywhere in Ohio, let alone Lima, as any kind of desirable destination.

"Aye, it's central to a lot of things," Thom shot back. Truth be told, three days in he was already a little tired of the sleepy town, but he wouldn't hear his mother's choices discredited. "She has to travel a lot and Ohio's pretty well the same distance to anywhere. Los Angeles, DC, New York-"

"New York! Your mother goes to New York City for lectures?"

The young man broke off. The mention of New York had lit Rachel's face up like a beacon. It was a bit unnerving, to be honest. Thom shifted slightly away, stage right. Rachel reined herself back in.

"I'm sorry. I know my presence on and off stage is a little blinding sometimes. But so was yours, when you were singing. How long have you been performing?"

Thom bit his lip and glanced away. "Ah, I don't really."

"Really?" Rachel's voice was surprised and she frowned slightly. Then her expression cleared. "Oh well, just means we won't have any bad habits to break!" She glanced down at her watch and stood up, carefully rearranging her skirt.

"I'm thrilled that I got to meet you Thom, but this little chat has cost me ten minutes of my precious solo rehearsal time. You're welcome to stay and watch, but I need to get started. I can't wait for the rest of Glee to meet you though! Be in the choir room at 3PM this Thursday!" Rachel flashed her trademark 1000 watt smile at the Irish boy. She knew it was 1000 watts primarily because she had spent hours practicing it in the mirror. It dropped to around 999 watts at Thom's response.

"It was nice to meet you too, Rachel," Thom said sincerely. Odd, but nice, he thought behind carefully cordial eyes. He reached out to give the girl a firm handshake. "But I don't think I'll be auditioning for your club. Thanks!" He turned around and hopped off the stage, landing with a loud thump and slight stagger. Behind him, he heard the click of Rachel's loafers as she walked to the edge of the stage.

"But why? You have such an incredible voice! Just picture it, you in front of thousands- well, dozens anyway- of people, all hanging on to your every note!" She sounded utterly bemused and a little annoyed. Thom didn't bother turning around to respond.

"It's, ah, just not really my thing," he called out, quickening his pace. He didn't really think she'd come running after him, but just in case… Thom reached the double doors with no flying tackle and gratefully pushed through them into the tiled fluorescence of McKinley High's hallways.

Behind him, Rachel Berry stood on the stage, frowning and hands firmly on her hips. That boy had stage presence, undeniable charisma, a fantastic voice…Glee club needed- what was his name? – Thom Keane. They needed a bass voice that would propel them to Nationals . And she, Rachel Berry, would make sure that they got him. Frown gone, smile fixed firmly in its place, Rachel stepped back and started a series of scales and arpeggios. In deference to her determination, she kept them in minor keys.

The harsh sharps and flats floated out to the otherwise silent hallway where Thom leaned on a bank of lockers, ironically similar to the notes that lured him into the auditorium to start with. He rubbed a hand over his already messy hair and trailed it along his face, ending with it pressed in the middle of his chest. His heart was pounding furiously and the tightness at the base of his throat was rapidly expanding. Thom willed himself to take slow, if not deep, breaths as he slid down to a seating position. His leather duster caught on one of the locks, forcing him to slip his left arm out of the sleeve before it immediately found its way back to his chest, pressing hard. With his right hand, he scrambled deep in the other pocket for the small plastic and metal cylinder that he never left home without. Finally, Thom's fingers closed around the inhaler and brought it to his mouth. He sucked greedily at the puff of medication.

Within seconds, the world expanded from the tiny circle of linoleum, jeans, and deep wheezes back to normal. Thom let his head fall back against the cold red metal doors and just stared at the ugly beige institutional ceiling floating above him. The worst of the attack over, he could feel red heat flooding his cheeks. It never failed, he groaned to himself.

Probably it had been the dusty theatre that triggered the breathing problems, but it was Rachel's unexpected appearance and subsequent declaration that Thom would be performing or she'd know why that really pushed it over the edge. Ironically for the son of a woman who gave mass lectures for a living, Thom had been cursed with crippling stage fright since he could remember, and asthma for even longer than that. He could dream all he wanted to about being the Big Band Revival, but it would always be just a dream. An impossible fantasy.

Thom stayed seated for a few minutes longer, making sure that he wasn't going to need another round before pushing himself upright. He felt a little wobbly, but nothing new there. The hallway had remained deserted throughout the episode, for which Thom was intensely grateful. He started off down the hall, Rachel's effortlessly there voice still piercing through the cinderblocks to tease him with its twinned promise and threat of stardom.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! My co-author and I had great time dreaming up Thomas Keane and his story. If you hadn't guessed, we're Team Damian on The Glee Project But here's the thing- Thomas' story is still being written. Does he make to auditions? Does he require a little more prodding? Please help us out by leaving suggestions, criticisms, even praise if you feel like it in the reviews. Thanks again, and we really hope you enjoyed it!