Okay so basically this fiction takes place about 15 years from now. Hypothetically, Quinn gave away her baby to Terri, who named the baby Drizzle. Emma helps Drizzle untangle her messy past and helps her realize the five (or six) people who will always love her.

Enjoy!

XOXO

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee at all, but I guess I own aspects of Drizzle's personality, considering she isn't an official Glee cast member quite yet. :P

Number 5

"Number 1 is what I called her in my mind, because I knew there were five of them altogether. Number 1 is my biological mother who gave me up to my current mother. She didn't want me, I guess, or didn't love me. I don't know the story very well. Number 2 is my biological father, and all I know is that he was not supposed to happen, not supposed to be my dad, but he was anyway. I guess you could call me an accident with a capital "A" because just like one drunken night between my parents, I wasn't supposed to happen. Number 3 is my biological mother's boyfriend at the time. He loved me, a lot, apparently, till he found out that I wasn't his after all. Number 4 is my adopted mom. She's the only one out of all five of them that still actually loves me today, or at least that's what I thought a few months ago. Now I know better. Number 5 was her husband. He knew she was expecting me, an actual baby, but he left her anyway for someone else. I used to think you had be heartless to do something like that, but now I know the truth.

What I've learned, though, is that the truth can hurt much much more than you think."

X

It was a lonely, dreary day in our fair state of Ohio. It was in the middle of November, which meant that I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in nearly a month. Every November, my mom has night terrors that leave her sweating and screaming his name, begging for him to come back. She'll sit up and frantically pat the bed beside her, as if he would be there, but he isn't. She sobs and cries and pretends that I don't hear her, even though she knows I can. Sometimes I bring her a glass of water with one ice cube, but sometimes I don't. My mother has it in her head that I can fix everything. She knows I can't but doesn't let herself believe it.

I know she needs help, serious help. I can't go to the local community center myself, I'm fourteen and don't have a car or one single person to drive me. Well, I do, but I'm not about to ask my favorite teacher at school to drive me to the community center to sign my mother up for mental help. No thanks.

But as the bags underneath my eyes get bigger and darker, purple flashes against my tan skin, I know I have to get her help somehow. If I can't fix it, maybe someone else can. This is how I found out about Number 5. He was last on my list but I discovered him first. That's the thing-- me finding out about my Numbers was not in an orderly fashion. No. It was jumbled and messy but finally I had them all.

And that same day, I discovered a sixth number. But I never told anyone that, that was for me to know only. I walked into Mrs. Schue's office, my Converse sneakers slapping the linoleum. It was after school and on a Tuesday, and I knew she would have her SAT prep course soon.

I tap on her glass door-- whoever made a guidance counselor's office completely of glass was the stupidest person since George W. Bush-- and I notice how she cringes as I do so. Fingerprints on her door, probably. Mrs. Schuester is the cleanest person I've ever met in all of my years, even then I remember her office smelling like Lysol and Germ-X. I'd always liked that smell, but it was forbidden from our apartment ever since I could remember.

Once I had come home from school with a hint of it on my palms from a visit with school counselor, and my mother made me scrub my hands till it was gone. I caught her crying on the phone with my Aunt Kendra later about some Doe-Eyed-Ginger-Harlot-- how I'd come home smelling just like her. She said this with such disgust that I realized that the woman Number 5 had left my mother for had probably smelled like that. I knew this woman had to be awful, right?

To steal an expecting father away from his home, his life, the baby he was supposed to love? I didn't know the whole story then. This was the first experience I could remember where she or where They were mentioned. The first time I, Drizzle Williams, had wanted to learn about what had really happened to my family that now lay in shambles.

I snapped out of my trance when Mrs. Schue said, "Hello, Drizzle," she smiled brightly and flipped her already-flawless hair. It must take hours, unlike my unruly dirty blonde curls. "I-I wasn't expecting you. Shouldn't you be, umm, at Glee?"

"It just ended," I fibbed, feeling stupid immediately because she was married to the Glee coach after all, she knew it wasn't over. But she nodded politely. "I need a pamphlet about the therapy at the community center."

"Oh," she said quietly, beginning to hand over the pamphlet but re-thinking this and pulling it back before I could grab it. "Y-you know you can talk to me about anything, right?" she asked. I knew I could, but this wasn't for me. I remembered very suddenly why I had come here and said simply,

"It isn't for me."

"Oh?" she pressed on, not too prying but just prying enough to get me talk. This was her job, to let me open up about my feeling and everything, but it annoyed me that she wanted to know everything. There was something about her I couldn't place. Between her, Mr. Schuester, and Quinn Hudson the cheerleading coach, I had stored up enough knowing glances to last someone a lifetime. It was like they already know everything about me even though we'd barely ever talked.

But then I saw her face, the genuinely concerned look, like she knew what I was facing every night. Back then, I had felt that if you weren't strong you were nothing. But it was hard being a teenager, being strong, and seeing your mother sobbing and screaming for someone named "Will" in her sleep every November, the month he had left her.

I told her everything. I spilled my heart out, my innermost feelings I had never told anyone. It wasn't that I had wanted to tell her in particular, but I needed to tell someone. To put it all out in the open, and she was one close by at the time. It was one of those right place right time things, where I would have said it to the random guy on the corner if he had agreed to listen. My small kid heart had been broken, my brain exploding with situations way beyond my maturity level. I took a breath, I needed her to know, I needed someone to know.

"My mom married this guy," I explained. "And they were int love and... and everything. He knew she was expecting, knew I was on the way but he left her anyway for someone else. It's all I know about him, besides his first name, but I call him Number 5. Because he's one of the five who were supposed to love me... supposed to love me but never did end up doing it. He left my mom for some 'Doe-Eyed-Ginger-Harlot' as my Aunt Kendra calls her."

The woman cringed so visibly I thought I spotted tears forming in the corner of her huge eyes, but they were gone as soon as she pumped Germ-X onto her palms and sighed. "Drizzle," she began hesitantly, as if she was truly stumped. Maybe I shouldn't have told her after all. "Do... do you know anything else about him? D-do you miss him, or think your, umm, life would be better if he was your father now?" She didn't give me advice, just more questions.

It was like salt in an open wound to me. I had thought about this often, but brushed the thoughts away. He was the bad guy. She hadn't done anything wrong-- but I knew she had. "Maybe," I said, feeling smaller than ever before. I felt like she was genuinely curious, that she wanted to heal my hurt. "I-I... I would like to think he was awful to my mother because then that would make her innocent... but I know that she probably wasn't. I've only ever heard her side of the story, even she says she probably drove him to it, but that's just who she is, right? But... maybe I'm not giving him enough credit. Maybe he was good, maybe I just don't know it." I swiped a tear away from my eyes and got up to leave, "I have to go."

It was getting late at night, and my mother was probably worrying about me. I grabbed the glossy pamphlet and left quickly, thanking her. I had no idea as I walked into the chilly night that I had hurt her, too. That my story, my not knowing, my environment had made her feel evil. If she hadn't been around, would I have a better life? I still wonder that now, but I know the answer is no. I wouldn't take away the love of someone I love, even if that person indirectly caused me hurt, caused me pain. I'm older now, I'm not fourteen anymore, and I can admittedly say that I love all five-- all six-- of my "parents".

But then again, as I left McKinley high school and mounted my rickety Cruiser bicycle, I had no idea that I would soon come to love the person I had just crushed, or Number 5, or the rest of my Numbers too. I swallowed, fearful of coming home to a depressed mother, stuffing Chinese food in her mouth. I knocked on the door, hoping she made dinner, but for November that was wishful thinking. Unless it was a holiday or birthday, Great Taste's By Mr. Wok would have to do as take-out.

She was in sweat pants with bags under her eyes, and I could hear my Aunt Kendra from the couch. After her messy divorce when I was three, my Aunt Kendra could be counted on to be at our house, staying stupid things and invading my space. Sometimes when she would say something ridiculous and outrageous, I would let myself get angry in silence. I would think harshly, I wish someone else had adopted me! But then take the thought back as soon as it was unearthed. I loved my family even if they were crazy. They were all I had.

My mother, Terri Elizabeth Williams, might have been crazy. But out of five people, she was the only one who loved me. Who wanted me. And that would have to be enough-- that always would be enough, for me, for her.

X

It was the next day a Glee rehearsal I had realized what I had done. "William!" Sue Sylvester called bitterly, marching into the room, "Figgins wants to speak to you, ASAP." She flicked him in the shoulder and stomped out, her red tracksuit swishing in the breeze.

William.

That could be shortened, could be shortened to Will.

The smell of Germ-X on my hands was what my mother hated.

Mr. Schuester's name was Will. I had always known this, but after my conversation yesterday with his wife, the jigsaw pieces finally slid together in my mind.

Mrs. Schuester smelled like cleaning products.

And had read hair.

And doe eyes.

And my mother told me that he had met this other woman at work. And they had always worked together.

I needed to get out of that place.

"I have to go!" I cried, rushing from the room, bumping into my teacher. He looked puzzled when I swiped at my eyes and dashed off towards the guidance office. I was smart for fourteen, I had figured this out on my own. It was a stretch, but it would explain why Mr. Schue had always taken a liking to me, why Mrs. Schue was so surprised to see me, so apparently hurt by my statements.

I had made a huge mess. "I'm sorry!" I called out to him over my shoulder. He had no idea what for unless his wife had told him of our meeting, which was against the law. I knew he would forgive me sometime, forgive me for secretly hating Number 5.

But it was Number 5 I disliked, not Mr. Will Schuester. My opinion of someone, I realized, could drastically change once I had a face to match the name.

I pulled open the door to her office, tears streaming from my face. "Drizzle, wh--" she began, but I stopped her.

"Mrs. Schue? Listen, I-I... I might be completely wrong and off, and if I am don't hate me for it, please, but... but there's something I need to say."

"Alright," she stood up, her voice worried and small. She seemed fragile, like I could break her if I touched her. I realized she probably had been broken before, but Mr. Schue had fixed her. I was thankful for that, at least, that now I had someone to talk to and who would listen.

I guess if he had stuck around my house, that wouldn't have been the same.

"I'm sorry for calling you a Doe-Eyed-Ginger-Harlot," I whispered, and she hugged me. "It's alright, Drizzle," she said, patting my head. "You didn't... you couldn't have known..."

"It isn't your fault, Mrs. Schue... I was wrong about him, about you. You're both good, I think." She began to speak but I interrupted, "I know my mother must have done something to have it end up t-this way... but I don't want to know, not now. Not yet," I said, and she nodded, agreeing with me silently.

"I'm always here for you, Drizzle," she said. "I know how strong you are... you don't always have to be so strong."

"I'm not," I told her. "Strong. I'm nothing b-because I don't know who I am.... I need to know who the Numbers are. They're what's going to make me whole, because I'm so many people combined into one. My name is from Number 3, my looks and traits from 1 and 2, my personality from 4... my life from 5. And... and Number 6..." I trailed off, and Mrs. Schuester cocked her head to the side, but not talking. She knew who I was talking about. "Number 6 is a good person who cares about me still, even though I hurt her."

She put her hand on her heart, surprised. Her smiled was infectious, and I swiped my eyes again. "I-I... I need your help. I know you wont tell me who they are. But I need you to help me find myself, no matter how long it might take?"

"Okay," she said, smiling.

I knew that I wasn't alone in finding my Numbers anymore. In one meeting, I had checked off Number 5. I knew him now, he knew me. I had a feeling that Mrs. Schuester was going to be there when the Numbers came back, came back for me. I knew I would find them all, and I knew I had at least one person alongside for the lifelong journey it would be.

I wasn't ready then for the truth, not yet. I was hurt by Mr. and Mrs. Schuester even though they hadn't wronged me. It had been programmed in me for so long that I didn't understand yet how backwards I had the situation. I still had to be loyal to my mother, I felt like I was betraying her. I was just finding out who I was underneath it all, though, and I knew those feelings of betrayal would fade.

It would be years before I discovered the next in my series of Numbers, but I knew I had an ally waiting when I needed one. After all, Mrs. Schuester was honest and impartial, qualities I needed from someone in my life. My mother gave me love, but she would never encourage me to find out who had left me, loved me before she had.

I was glad though, that there was someone who could.

Who could.

Thanks! This is going to be a five or six part throughout the stages in Drizzle's life. She wont find out the Numbers in order, but it will be in chronological order. The next chapter should be up soon-ish! Review please please please!

love and kisses,

XOXO