A/N: Lyric is from the song "Don't Rain on My Parade" written by Bob Merril and Jule Styne

It was almost time. Rachel Berry stood in the wings of the NYADA stage and waited for her name to be called, practicing her calming breathing exercises, as she had done many times before. She was grateful no one she knew was in the audience to distract her—her dads waited outside the auditorium, and Finn was waiting in Lima, glued to his phone for her verdict. All she had to do was focus on giving the NYADA faculty her essence, a distillation of all she had worked for: a patented, meticulously assembled and polished, Rachel Berry performance. Everything was riding on it, and nobody in the Universe wanted it more, she told herself. Nobody. She was going to make the hairs stand on the backs of their necks, their tear ducts overflow, and compel them to give her the spot. She was going to be fierce.

As overwhelming the pressure was on her, it actually felt good to be so focused again, she thought. As much as she loved Finn, Rachel was relieved that both of them decided not to get married right away. Finn understood that, finally, bless him. It couldn't have been easy, considering where his head was at. Yet he insisted she turn her endeavors only to winning this NYADA slot; he'd be there behind her every step of the way, married or not. When this was over, Rachel vowed to herself, she was going to devote her efforts to helping him find his dreams in New York with her. By God she would.

She knew everyone worried about her decision to apply only to NYADA.

Her dads, Ms. Pilsbury, Mr. Shue, even Finn, wondered why she had not applied to any backup schools. Only Kurt, of course, understood. So she tried to explain the thinking behind her decision to her dads and Finn at a family dinner one night.

"When you go to a big theatre audition, you almost never have a 'backup job'—it's all or nothing. You have to put everything you have into it, because there is no safety net if you fail! When I audition at NYADA, I can't let the knowledge I have backup schools encourage even a sliver of complacency. Do you understand? "

Rachel's dads seemed unconvinced, but, much to her surprise, Finn sat there nodding.

"Sometimes you gotta roll the hard six," he said.

The entire Berry family looked at him blankly.

"It's something Adama said on 'Battlestar Galactica,'" Finn explained, "It means to get what you want, sometimes you have to take the highest risk, because that can bring the greatest reward." He gazed at her admiringly. "The person who gets a spot at NYADA has to want it so badly she can taste it. More than anything. Only someone willing to risk everything deserves it." He stopped and took both of her hands. "And you deserve it."

She smiled, relieved. He got it. He got her. As Fanny Brice said, it was one roll for the whole shebang.

There was still some kind of administrative discussion going on in the auditorium. Rachel fidgeted, glad for the custom-designed black silk dress her dads had given her as a present for the audition. It fit perfectly, she wasn't even aware it was there. No annoying bunching, no hot spots to distract her. Her engagement ring felt good on her hand; it made her feel safe and whole. Breaths now came easily, calm and measured. The clean musty smell of the stage was comforting. Her voice was supple and ready to soar, muscles toned and eager to move.

In a few seconds they would call her name, she told herself, and she would confidently walk to the center of the stage. Then she would pour her entire being, the combined result of her life and work, into her art for the judges to experience. She may not have been on this Earth for very long, but what a life it had been so far! It amused her to think that at one time she believed she hadn't really lived enough to write an original song.

She had been adopted, raised and loved by two men in a society that for all intents and purposes despised them. She had been found, then rejected, by her birth mother. She had been an outcast, bullied, shunned and ridiculed. She had been friendless. Yet Rachel Berry had known love, first from a man who brutally betrayed her, and then from the only person other than her parents who understood and accepted her for what she was. Her hand had been asked in marriage. She had known the peaks of joy and the valleys of heartbreak. And she was only seventeen.

In a few seconds, these judges were going to get a performance backed by the sum of her young, but very rich, life. They'd better be ready.

"Rachel Barbra Berry," said a disembodied voice. She straightened her posture and took one last, cleansing breath. It was time. Showtime. Time to roll the hard six.

Hey Mister Arnstein, here I am.