First ever FanFic! Hope I did everything justice! More chapters to come. Enjoy!

Rachel Berry always knows exactly what she wants. She loves being in control and making things go her way. She practically lives to do what people say she cannot do!

Sure that may have cost her a few friends and gained her a few enemies along the way, but isn't it worth it? To be the best at what she loves?

Performimg. That is what Rachel loves. And being in New Directions allows her to perform every day! Well, as long as no one is trying to steal her solo.

Rachel was walking down the stairs of McKinely after Glee practice when she had her accident. Everyone was long gone because she had stayed behind to practice the choreography for this week's number. She knew her dancing skills were above par, but she needed to perfect them in order to help the people who were lacking.

Well, everyone was gone except the football players and the Cheerios, who had extended practices mid-season. That is why she heard a pack of football players and Cheerios walking down the hallway.

Rachel was standing at the top of the stairs when she saw them with the slushies. The slushie facials she received weekly were a cruel and unusual form of ridicule that always seemed to entertain the meathead jocks.

Okay, I just need to sneak past them without getting those slushies thrown in my face. Rachel thought to herself. And then I'll be free. Until tomorrow.

That of course, was much easier thought than done. She was frozen with fear and moving out of the way was something that slipped her brain for a moment.

"Oh look who it is! Mayor of Loserville!" Shouted out Azimo, a heavyset football player holding a blue slushie.

"Hey Berry, nice knee socks!" called out Karofsky. His slushie was red.

Rachel looked at all of them below her, making their way up the stairs. She counted 7 slushies total among the group, and briefly wondered how many would end up on her.

This is what it takes to be the best Rachel, she thought. The tiny brunette briefly registered Puck and Santana walking a couple of feet behind the pack of Neanderthals, but they had not even passed Rachel's locker yet.

Keep your head down and get to your locker. They may let you go.

Rachel started down the stairs but was met halfway down by at least four slushies. She stood there and let the icy liquid drip down her spine, her cheeks flaming red.

And then there came the other three slushies.

"Catch ya later, loser!"

Oh well for that plan. Just keep going. Chin up. Cry later. Chin up, cry later.

The pack kept up the stairs laughing. One might have even taken a photo.

Rachel began the rest of her decent, but the icy fluid on the floor had a different plan.

Rachel's feet left the ground as she sailed into the air and started tumbling down the rest of the stairs. She hit the floor and heard a sickening crack. Warm liquid was coming from her temple and was a stark contrast to the ice she was still coated in.

The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was Puck and Santana running towards her. The Latina was screaming Spanish profanities in the direction behind her and Rachel could have sworn she saw anger and concern in Puck's eyes. He was whispering something as he knelt down beside her. It sounded like "kill those fuckers," but she couldn't be sure. Rachel was just thankful that at least it wasn't his signature smirk. She couldn't have handled it.

Her eyes drifted shut and she wasn't sure if the warm and strong arms picking her up were a dream or not.

Rachel's eyelids fluttered open and she could feel a sharp pain near her temple that made her wince. She let her eyes fall closed again. When she felt that she had the pain under control she allowed herself to look around.

There was a door to her left and a small T.V. hanging above it. A machine was making a steady beeping noise next to the bed she was lying in, and upon further investigation she discovered one of its tubes led to her arm.

To her right was a table with what looked to be a wide variety of cards, balloons, and stuffed animals. All of them seeming to say the same message, "Get Well Soon".

But there was just one thing. Rachel had no clue what any of it meant.

What happened to me?

A sudden sound in the corner startled her. Was that a snore? Sitting in a plastic upright chair against the wall in the corner was a sleeping man. He had a Mohawk and was incredibly handsome. Rachel heard the beeping sound next to her speed up.

The machine's noise woke him. He stood up, stretched, and made his way over to her bed. His eyes opening wider when he noticed she was awake.

"Oh! You're up!" Puck's voice was coated with sleep and laced with concern and shock, but Rachel could tell under normal circumstances it was probably very sexy.

"Who are you?" Her voiced sounded weak and he cocked his head to the side. She coughed and tried again. "Who are you?

The question frightened him. His jaw dropped before he snapped it shut and began to study her. Puck suddenly barked out a laugh. It sounded tired and in no way comical.

"That shit wasn't funny, babe. Don't try and pull that with me."

Babe? Have I ever met him before? I'm sure I haven't!

"I'm not being funny. I do have no idea who you are," her voice rose with panic. Rachel needed someone to tell her who he was and where she was and what had happened to her.

"Doc? Get in here! She's up!" Puck opened that door and called out in distress. His hazel eyes flickered to her and then the door and then her again. "We have a problem!"

A middle-aged man in a white coat walked in holding a clipboard. "What seems to be the problem, son?" His eyes flashed to me and they considerably brightened. "She's woken up. This is good news!"

"She can't remember who I am." He winced as he said it and his tone sounded dead.

This news made the older man pale. "I was afraid it could happen. I wasn't sure, but I had a suspicion. You know her well, right? Please step outside with me for a moment."

Puck and the doctor, whose name he learned was Dr. Smithson, walked outside and shut the door behind them. "First of all, where are her fathers? Her medical records say she has two. And assuming that she has been in a coma for the last five days, I thought they would be here instead of her boyfriend!"

Puck let the boyfriend thing slide. "Berry's dads do like international business or some shit. Apparently they are stuck halfway around the world for like another week or something. They're hard to get in contact with," Puck explained to the doctor.

"Well, until they arrive you will have to substitute as my information source. We need to figure out how much she remembers," Dr. Smithson explained. "Wait, what is your relation to her? Her boyfriend, right? Is there someone else she is closer to?"

"Naw, Doc. I'm not her boyfriend. Berry doesn't have a lot of people there for her," Puck explained wincing slightly. He knew most of that was his fault. He was the one who started tossing slushies at her.

The doctor seemed to contemplate this. "Hmmm, ok. Ready then?"

Puck nodded and they headed back in.

"Okay Miss, my name is Dr. Smithson and I'm going to ask you some questions. If you don't know the answer, don't be afraid to say so." He said the whole thing as if talking to a five-year-old.

Rachel nodded and then winced, putting one of her little hands to her temple trying to dull the pain. Puck felt a strong desire to hold her. He quickly pushed it to the back of his mind where it seemed to take up permanent residence.

"To start off, do you know you name?" Dr. Smithson asked Rachel.

Both men held their breath, waiting for what seemed like ages for her answer.

"That's a ridiculous question! Of course I know my own name! Its…. Its…. Shit! How do I not know my own name?"

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